The prologue begins by observing, that in ancient times, lays, intended to be accompanied by the harp, were composed on all sorts of subjects.
Some both of war, and some of woe;
And some of joy and mirth also;
And some of treachery and of guile;
Of old aventures that fell while;
And some of bourdes[33] and ribaudy;
And many there beth of fairy;
Of all thinges that men seth,
Most of love, forsooth, there beth.
In Bretayne, by old time,
These lays were made, so sayeth this rhyme, &c.
The Bretons never failed converting into lays all the anecdotes they thought worth consigning to memory; and the following was thus composed, and called Lay le Fraine (frêne), or "The Aventure of the Ash."
In the "West countrie" lived two knights, men of opulence, friends from their infancy, and married about the same time. One of the ladies having twins, her husband sent to announce the event to his friend.
The messenger goth, and hath nought forgete,
And findeth the knight at his mete;
And fair he gret, in the hall,
The lord, the levedi, the meynè all;
And sith then, on knees down him set,
And the lord full fair he gret.
"He bade that thou should to him te,[34]
And, for love, his gossibbe[35] be."
"Is his levedi deliver'd with sounde?"[36]
"Ya, sir, y-thonked be God, yestronde."[37]
"And whether a maiden child, other a knave?"
"Tway sones, sir, God hem save!"
The knight thereof was glad and blithe,
And thonked Godes sonde swithe,
And granted his errand in all thing,
And gaf him a palfray for his tiding.
Then was the lady of the house
A proud dame, and malicious,
Hoker-full, iche mis-segging,[38]
Squeamous, and eke scorning;
To iche woman she had envie;
She spake these words of felonie:
"Ich have wonder, thou messenger,
Who was thy lordes conseillor,
To teach him about to send,
And tell shame in iche an end!"[39]
"That his wife hath tway children y-bore!
Well may iche man wite therfore
That tway men her han hodde in bower:
That is hir bothe dishonour!"
The messenger was sorely abashed by these unexpected and unjust reflections; the husband reprimanded his wife very severely for the intemperance of her tongue; and all the women of the country, amongst whom the story rapidly circulated, united in prayer, that her calumny might receive some signal punishment. Accordingly, the lady shortly after brought into the world two daughters. She was now reduced to the alternative of avowing herself guilty of a calumny against her innocent neighbour, or of imputing to herself, in common with the other, a crime of which she had not been guilty; unless she could contrive to remove one of the twins. The project of destroying her own child, was, at first, rejected with horror; but after revolving the subject in her mind, and canvassing with great logical acuteness the objections to this atrocious measure, she determined to adopt it, because she could ultimately cleanse herself from the sin, by doing private penance, and obtaining absolution.
Having thus removed her scruples, she called the midwife, and directed her to destroy one of the infants, and to declare that one only had been born. But she refused; and the unnatural mother was reduced to seek for a more submissive and supple agent. She had a maid-servant, educated in the family, to whom she imparted her difficulties; and this confidential counsellor at once proposed a contrivance for removing them: "Give me the child," said she, "and be assured that, without destroying, I will so remove it, that it shall never give you any further trouble. There are many religious houses in the neighbourhood, whose inhabitants cannot be better employed than in nursing and educating orphan children. I will take care your infant shall be discovered by some of these good people, under whose care, by the blessing of Providence, it will thrive and prosper; and in the mean time I will take such means that its health shall not suffer. Dismiss your sorrow, therefore, and trust in my discretion." The lady was overjoyed, and accepted the offer with assurances of eternal gratitude.
As it was her wish that those who should find the child might know it was born of noble parents,
She took a rich baudekine,[40]
That her lord brought from Constantine,[41]
And lopped the little maiden therein;
And took a ring of fine gold,
And on her arm it knit,
With a lace of silk in plit.[42]
The maid took the child her mid,[43]
And stole away in an even tide,
And passed over a wild heath;
Thorough field and thorough wood she geth,[44]
All the winter-long night.
The weather was clear, the moon was light,
So that she com by a forest side;
She wox all weary, and gan abide.
Soon after she gan heark,
Cockes crow, and dogs bark;
She arose, and thither wold;
Near and nearer, she gan behold,
Walls and houses fell the seigh,
A church, with steeple fair and high;
Then was there nother street no town,
But an house of religion;
An order of nuns, well y-dight,
To servy God both day and night.
The maiden abode no lengore;[45]
But yede her to the church door,
And on her knees she sate her down,
And said, weepand, her orisones.
"O Lord," she said, "Jesus Christ,
That sinful mannes bedes,[46]
Underfong[47] this present,
And help this seli innocent!
That it mote y-christen'd be,
For Marie love, thy mother free!"
She looked up, and by her seigh
An asche, by her, fair and high,
Well y-boughed, of mickle price;
The body was hollow, as many one is.
Therin she laid the child for cold,
In the pel,[48] as it was, byfold[49]
And blessed it with all her might.
With that it gan to dowe light.
The fowles up, and sung on bough,
And acre-men yede to the plough,
The maiden turned again anon,
And took the way she had ere gon.
The porter of the abbey arose,
And did his office in the close;
Rung the bells and tapers light,
Laid forth books, and all ready dight.
The church door be undid,
And seigh anon, in the stede,[50]
The pel liggen in the tree,
And thought well that it might be,
That thieves had y-robbed somewhere,
And gone there forth, and let it there.
Therto he yede, and it unwound,
And the maiden child therin he found.
He took it up between his honde,
And thanked Jesu Christes sonde,
And home to his house he it brought,
And took it to his daughter, and her besought
That she should keep it as she con,
For she was melche, and couthe thon.[51]
She bade it suck, and it wold,
For it was nigh dead for cold.
Anon, fire she a-light,
And warmed it well aplight,[52]
She gave it suck upon her barm,[53]
And siththen, laid it to sleep warm.
And when the mass was y-done,
The porter to the abbesse com full soon.
"Madame, what rede ye of this thinge?
To-day, right in the morning,
Soon after the first stound,[54]
A little maiden child ich found
In hollow ash thin out
And a pel her about;
A ring of gold also was there;
How it came thither I wot ne'er."
The abbesse was a-wondered of this thing.
"Go," she said, "on hying[55]
And fetch it hither, I pray thee;
It is welcome to God and me.
Ich will it helpen as I can,
And segge it to my kinswoman."
The porter anon it gan forth bring,
With the pel, and with the ring.
The abbesse let clepe a priest anon,
And let it christen in function.
And for it was in an ash y-found,
She cleped it Frain in that stound.
The name[56] of the ash is a frain,
After the language of Bretayn;
Forthy[57] Le Frain men clepeth this lay,
More than ash, in each country.
This Frain thriv'd from year to year;
The abbess niece men ween'd it were.
The abbess her gan teach, and beld.[58]
By that she was twelve winter eld,
In all England there was none
A fairer maiden than she was one.
And when she couthe ought of manhede,[59]
She bade the abbesse her wisse[60] and rede,
Which were her kin, one or other,
Father or mother, sister or brother.
The abbesse her in council took,
To tellen her she nought forsook,
How she was founden in all thing;
And took her the cloth and the ring,
And bade her keep it in that stede;
And, therwhiles she lived, so she did.
Then was there, in that cuntré,
A rich knight of land and fee,
Proud, and young, and jollif,
And had not yet y-wedded wife.
He was stout, of great renown,
And was y-cleped Sir Guroun.
He heard praise that maiden free,
And said, he would her see.
He dight him in the way anon,
And jolliflich thither is gone,
And bode his man segge, verament,
He should toward a tournament.
The abbesse, and the nonnes all,
Fair him grette in the guest-hall;
And damsel Frain, so fair of mouth,
Grette him fair, as she well couth.
And swithe well he gan devise,
Her semblant, and her gentrise,
Her lovesome eyen, her rode[61] so bright.
And commenced to love her anon-right;
And thought how he might take on,
To have her for his lemon [Errata: leman].
He thought, "Gificcome her to
More than ich have y-do,
The abbesse will souchy[62] guile,
And wide[63] her away in a little while."
He compassed another suchesoun;[64]
To be brother of that religion.
"Madam," he said to the abbesse,
"I-lovi[65] well, in all goodness,
Ich will give one and other
Londes and rentes, to become your brother,[66]
That ye shall ever fare the bet[67]
When I come to have recet."[68]
At few wordes they ben at one.
He graithes him[69], and forth is gone.
Oft he com, by day and night,
To speak with that maiden bright;
So that, with his fair behest,[70]
And with his glosing, at lest
She granted him to don his will,
When he will, loud and still.
"Leman," he said, "thou must let be
The abbesse thy neice,[71] and go with me;
For ich am riche, of swich powere,
Ye finde bet than thou hast here."
The maiden grant, and to him trist,
And stole away, that no man wist;
With her took she no thing
But her pel and her ring.
When the abbess gan aspy
That she was with the knight owy,[72]
She made mourning in her thought,
And her bement,[73] and gained nought.
So long she was in his castel,
That all his meynie loved her well.
To rich and poor she gan her 'dress,
That all her loved more and less;
And thus she led with him her life,
Right as she had been his wedded wife.
His knightes com, and to him speke,
And holy church commandeth eke,
Some lordis daughter for to take,
And his leman all forsake.
And said, him were well more fair
In wedlock to get him an heir,
Than lead his life with swiche one,
Of whose kin he knew none.
And said, "Here besides, is a knight
That hath a daughter fair and bright,
That shall bear his heritage,
Taketh her in marriage!"
Loth him was for that deed to do,
Oc, at last, he granted therto.
The forward[74] was y-marked aright,
And were at one, and troth plight.
Allas! that he no had y-wit,
Ere the forward were y-suit!
That she, and his leman also,
Sistren were, and twinnes two!
Of o father begeten they were,
Of o mother born y-fere:[75]
That hi[76] so were ne wist none,
Forsooth, I say, but God alone.
The new bride was graithed with oil,
And brought home to the lord is host,
Her father come with her also,
The levedi her mother, and other mo.
The bishop of the lond, withouten fail,
Come to do the spousail.