And note they this his cruel tyranny,
That feeds him with my care, and misery!

9 Since I was his, hour rested I never,

Nor look to do; and eke the wakey nights
The banish'd sleep may in no wise recover.

By guile and force, over my thralled sprites
He is ruler; since which bell never strikes
That I hear not as sounding my plaints to renew.
Himself he knoweth that I say true.

10 For never worms old rotten stock have eaten,
As he my heart, where he is resident,

And doth the same with death daily threaten;
Thence come the tears, and thence the bitter

torment,

The sighs, the words, and eke the languishment, That annoy both me, and peradventure other: Judge thou, that know'st the one, and eke the other.'

11 Mine adversare with such grievous reproof,

Thus he began; 'Hear, Lady, the other part;
That the plain truth, from which he draweth aloof,
This unkind man may show, ere that I part:
In his young age, I took him from that art,
That selleth words, and make a clattering knight,
And of my wealth I gave him the delight.

12 Now shames he not on me for to complain,
That held him evermore in pleasant game,
From his desire, that might have been his pain:
Yet thereby alone I brought him to some frame;
Which now as wretchedness, he doth so blame :

And toward honour quickened I his wit,
Where as a dastard else he might have sit.

13 He knoweth how great Atrides, that made Troy freat;1

And Hannibal to Rome so troublous; Whom Homer honoured, Achilles that great; And African Scipion, the famous;

And many other, by much honour glorious ; Whose fame and acts did lift them up above; I did let fall in base dishonest love.

14 And unto him, though he unworthy were,
I chose the best of many a million;
That under sun yet never was her peer

Of wisdom, womanhood, and of discretion;
And of my grace I gave her such a fashion,
And eke such way I taught her for to teach,
That never base thought his heart so high might
reach.

15 Evermore thus to content his mistress,
That was his only frame of honesty,
I stirred him still toward gentleness;
And caus'd him to regard fidelity;
Patience I taught him in adversity:
Such virtues learned he in my great school;
Whereof repenteth now the ignorant fool.

16 These were the same deceits, and bitter gall, That I have us'd, the torment and the anger, Sweeter than ever did to other fall;

Of right good seed ill fruit, lo, thus I gather; And so shall he that the unkind doth further: 1Freat:' waste.

A serpent nourish I under my wing,
And now of nature 'ginneth he to sting.

17 And for to tell, at last, my great service;

From thousand dishonesties have I him drawen,
That, by my means, him in no manner wise
Never vile pleasure once hath overthrowen;
Where in his deed, shame hath him always
gnawen;

Doubting report that should come to her ear:
Whom now he blames, her wonted he to fear.

18 Whatever he hath of any honest custom,

Of her, and me, that holds he every whit:
But, lo, yet never was there nightly phantom
So far in error, as he is from his wit

To plain on us: he striveth with the bit,
Which may rule him, and do him ease and pain,
And in one hour make all his grief his gain.

19 But one thing yet there is, above all other:

I gave him wings, wherewith he might upfly
To honour and fame; and if he would to higher
Than mortal things, above the starry sky:
Considering the pleasure that an eye

Might give in earth, by reason of his love;
What should that be that lasteth still above?

20 And he the same himself hath said ere this: But now, forgotten is both that and I, That gave him her, his only wealth and bliss.' And at this word, with deadly shriek and cry, Thou gave her once,' quod I, but by and by Thou took her ayen from me, that woe-worth thee!' 'Not I, but price; more worth than thou,' quod he.

21 At last, each other for himself concluded,

I trembling still, but he, with small reverence; 'Lo, thus, as we each other have accused,

Dear lady, now we wait thine only sentence.'
She, smiling at the whisted' audience,

'It liketh me,' quod she, 'to have heard your
question,

But longer time doth ask a resolution.'

COMPLAINT OF THE ABSENCE OF HIS LOVE.

So feeble is the thread, that doth the burden stay
Of my poor life; in heavy plight, that falleth in decay;
That, but it have elsewhere some aid or some succours,
The running spindle of my fate anon shall end his course.
For since the unhappy hour, that did 2 me to depart
From my sweet weal, one only hope hath stay'd my
life apart:

Which doth persuade such words unto my sored mind, 'Maintain thyself, O woful wight, some better luck to find:

For though thou be depriv'd from thy desired sight, Who can thee tell, if thy return be for thy more delight?

10

Or, who can tell, thy loss if thou mayst once recover, Some pleasant hour thy woe may wrap, and thee defend and cover.'

Thus in this trust as yet it hath my life sustained; But now, alas, I see it faint, and I by trust am trained.3 The time doth fleet, and I see how the hours do bend So fast, that I have scant the space to mark my coming end

'Whisted:' silent.-2Did:' caused.- Trained:' deceived.

Westward the sun from out the east scant shews his

light,

17

When in the west he hides him straight, within the dark of night;

And comes as fast, where he began his path awry, From east to west, from west to east, so doth his journey lie.

The life so short, so frail, that mortal men live here;

So great a weight, so heavy charge the bodies that we bear;

That when I think upon the distance and the space, That doth so far divide me from my dear desired

face,

I know not how t' attain the wings that I require,
To lift me up, that I might fly, to follow my desire.
Thus of that hope, that doth my life something sustain,
Alas! I fear, and partly feel, full little doth remain.
Each place doth bring me grief, where I do not
behold

Those lively eyes, which of my thoughts were wont the keys to hold,

30

Those thoughts were pleasant sweet, whilst I enjoy'd

that grace;

My pleasure past, my present pain when I might well embrace.

And for because my want should more my woe increase;

In watch, in sleep, both day and night, my will doth

never cease

That thing to wish, whereof since I did lose the

sight,

Was never thing that might in ought my woful heart delight.