As wel his wordes, as his contenance.
And I so loved him for his obeisance,
And for the trouthe I demed in his herte,
That if so were that any thing him smerte,
Al were it never so lite, and I it wist,
Me thought I felt deth at myn herte twist.
And shortly, so ferforth this thing is went,
That my will was his willes instrument;
This is to say, my will obeied his will
In alle thing, as fer as reson fill,
Keping the boundes of my worship ever:
Ne never had I thing so lefe, ne lever,
As him, God wot, ne never shal no mo.

This lasteth lenger than a yere or two,
That I supposed of him nought but good.
But finally, thus at the last it stood,
That fortune wolde that he muste twin
Out of that place, which that I was in.
Wher me was wo, it is no question;
I cannot make of it description.
For o thing dare I tellen boldely,

I know what is the peine of deth therby,
Swiche harme I felt, for he ne might byleve.
So on a day of me he toke his leve,
So sorweful eke, that I wend veraily,
That he had felt as mochel harme as I,
Whan that I herd him speke, and saw his hewe.
But natheles, I thought he was so trewe,
And eke that he repairen shuld again

Within a litel while, soth to sain,
And reson wold eke that he muste go
For his honour, as often happeth so,
That I made vertue of necessitee,
And toke it wel, sin that it muste be.

As I best might, I hid fro him my sorwe,
And toke him by the hond, Seint John to borwe,
And said him thus; lo, I am youres all,

Beth swiche as I have ben to you and shall.

What he answerd, it nedeth not reherse; Who can say bet than he, who can do werse? Whan he hath al wel said, than hath he done. Therfore behoveth him a ful long spone, That shal ete with a fend; thus herd I say.

So at the last he muste forth his way,

And forth he fleeth, til he come ther him lest.
Whan it came him to purpos for to rest,
I trow that he had thilkertext in mind,
That alle thing repairing to his kind
Gladeth himself, thus sain men as I gesse:
Men loven of propre kind newefangelnesse,
As briddes don, that men in cages fede.
For though thou night and day take of hem hede,
And strew hir cage faire and soft as silke,
And give hem sugre, hony, bred, and milke,
Yet right anon as that his dore is up,
He with his feet wol spurnen doun his cup,
And to the wood he wol, and wormes ete;
So newefangel ben they of hir mete,
And loven noveltees of propre kind;
No gentillesse of blood ne may hem bind.
So ferd this tercelet, alas the day!
Though he were gentil borne, and fresh, and gay,
And goodly for to seen, and humble, and free,
He saw upon a time a kite flee,

And sodenly he loved this kite so,
That all his love is clene fro me ago:
And hath his trouthe falsed in this wise.
Thus hath the kite my love in hire service,


And I am lorn withouten remedy.

And with that word this faucon gan to cry, And swouneth eft in Canacees barme. Gret was the sorwe for that haukes harme, That Canace and all hire women made; They n'isten how they might the faucon glade. But Canace hom bereth hire in hire lap, And softely in plastres gan hire wrap, Ther as she with hire bek had hurt hireselve. Now cannot Canace but herbes delve Out of the ground, and maken salves newe Of herbes precious and fine of hewe, To helen with this hauk; fro day to night She doth hire besinesse, and all hire might. And by hire beddes hed she made a mew, And covered it with velouettes blew, In signe of trouth, that is in woman sene; And all without the mew is peinted grene, In which were peinted all thise false foules, As ben thise tidifes, tercelettes, and owles; And pies, on hem for to cry and chide, Right for despit were peinted hem beside.

Thus lete I Canace hire hauk keping. I wol no more as now speke of hire ring, Til it come eft to purpos for to sain, How that this faucon gat hire love again Repentant, as the story telleth us, By mediation of Camballus The kinges sone, of which that I you But hennesforth I wol my processe hold To speke of aventures, and of batailles, That yet was never herd so gret mervailles. First wol I tellen you of Cambuscan, That in his time many a citee wan:


And after wol peke of Algarsif,
How that he wan Theodora to his wif,
For whom ful oft in gret peril he was,
Ne had he beh holpen by the hors of bras.
And after wol speke of Camballo,
That fought in fistes with the brethren two
For Canace, er that he might hire winne,
And ther I left I wol again beginne.


C. Whittingham, College House, Chiswick.

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