Collected Works of Giovanni Boccaccio

by Giovanni Boccaccio

  I would, that day that your Arviragus

  Went over sea, that I, Aurelius,

  Had gone where I should never come again;

  For well I wot my service is in vain.

  My guerdon1 is but bursting of mine heart. 1reward

  Madame, rue upon my paine’s smart,

  For with a word ye may me slay or save.

  Here at your feet God would that I were grave.

  I have now no leisure more to say:

  Have mercy, sweet, or you will 1do me dey.”1 1cause me to die1

  She gan to look upon Aurelius;

  “Is this your will,” quoth she, “and say ye thus?

  Ne’er erst,”1 quoth she, “I wiste what ye meant: 1before

  But now, Aurelius, I know your intent.

  By thilke1 God that gave me soul and life, 1that

  Never shall I be an untrue wife

  In word nor work, as far as I have wit;

  I will be his to whom that I am knit;

  Take this for final answer as of me.”

  But after that 1in play1 thus saide she. 1playfully, in jest1

  “Aurelius,” quoth she, “by high God above,

  Yet will I grante you to be your love

  (Since I you see so piteously complain);

  Looke, what day that endelong1 Bretagne 1from end to end of

  Ye remove all the rockes, stone by stone,

  That they not lette1 ship nor boat to gon, 1prevent

  I say, when ye have made this coast so clean

  Of rockes, that there is no stone seen,

  Then will I love you best of any man;

  Have here my troth, in all that ever I can;

  For well I wot that it shall ne’er betide.

  Let such folly out of your hearte glide.

  What dainty1 should a man have in his life 1value, pleasure

  For to go love another manne’s wife,

  That hath her body when that ever him liketh?”

  Aurelius full often sore siketh;1 1sigheth

  Is there none other grace in you?” quoth he,

  “No, by that Lord,” quoth she, “that maked me.

  Woe was Aurelius when that he this heard,

  And with a sorrowful heart he thus answer’d.

  “Madame, quoth he, “this were an impossible.

  Then must I die of sudden death horrible.”

  And with that word he turned him anon.

  Then came her other friends many a one,

  And in the alleys roamed up and down,

  And nothing wist of this conclusion,

  But suddenly began to revel new,

  Till that the brighte sun had lost his hue,

  For th’ horizon had reft the sun his light

  (This is as much to say as it was night);

  And home they go in mirth and in solace;

  Save only wretch’d Aurelius, alas

  He to his house is gone with sorrowful heart.

  He said, he may not from his death astart.1 1escape

  Him seemed, that he felt his hearte cold.

  Up to the heav’n his handes gan he hold,

  And on his knees bare he set him down.

  And in his raving said his orisoun.1 1prayer

  For very woe out of his wit he braid;1 1wandered

  He wist not what he spake, but thus he said;

  With piteous heart his plaint hath he begun

  Unto the gods, and first unto the Sun.

  He said; “Apollo God and governour

  Of every plante, herbe, tree, and flower,

  That giv’st, after thy declination,

  To each of them his time and his season,

  As thine herberow1 changeth low and high; 1dwelling, situation

  Lord Phoebus: cast thy merciable eye

  On wretched Aurelius, which that am but lorn.1 1undone

  Lo, lord, my lady hath my death y-sworn,

  Withoute guilt, but1 thy benignity 1unless

  Upon my deadly heart have some pity.

  For well I wot, Lord Phoebus, if you lest,1 1please

  Ye may me helpe, save my lady, best.

  Now vouchsafe, that I may you devise1 1tell, explain

  How that I may be holp,1 and in what wise. 1helped

  Your blissful sister, Lucina the sheen,

  That of the sea is chief goddess and queen, —

  Though Neptunus have deity in the sea,

  Yet emperess above him is she; —

  Ye know well, lord, that, right as her desire

  Is to be quick’d1 and lighted of your fire, 1quickened

  For which she followeth you full busily,

  Right so the sea desireth naturally

  To follow her, as she that is goddess

  Both in the sea and rivers more and less.

  Wherefore, Lord Phoebus, this is my request,

  Do this miracle, or 1do mine hearte brest;1 1cause my heart

  That flow, next at this opposition, to burst1

  Which in the sign shall be of the Lion,

  As praye her so great a flood to bring,

  That five fathom at least it overspring

  The highest rock in Armoric Bretagne,

  And let this flood endure yeares twain:

  Then certes to my lady may I say,

  “Holde your hest,” the rockes be away.

  Lord Phoebus, this miracle do for me,

  Pray her she go no faster course than ye;

  I say this, pray your sister that she go

  No faster course than ye these yeares two:

  Then shall she be even at full alway,

  And spring-flood laste bothe night and day.

  And 1but she1 vouchesafe in such mannere 1if she do not1

  To grante me my sov’reign lady dear,

  Pray her to sink every rock adown

  Into her owen darke regioun

  Under the ground, where Pluto dwelleth in

  Or nevermore shall I my lady win.

  Thy temple in Delphos will I barefoot seek.

  Lord Phoebus! see the teares on my cheek

  And on my pain have some compassioun.”

  And with that word in sorrow he fell down,

  And longe time he lay forth in a trance.

  His brother, which that knew of his penance,1 1distress

  Up caught him, and to bed he hath him brought,

  Despaired in this torment and this thought

  Let I this woeful creature lie;

  Choose he for me whe’er1 he will live or die. 1whether

  Arviragus with health and great honour

  (As he that was of chivalry the flow’r)

  Is come home, and other worthy men.

  Oh, blissful art thou now, thou Dorigen!

  Thou hast thy lusty husband in thine arms,

  The freshe knight, the worthy man of arms,

  That loveth thee as his own hearte’s life:

  1Nothing list him to be imaginatif1 1he cared not to fancy1

  If any wight had spoke, while he was out,

  To her of love; he had of that no doubt;1 1fear, suspicion

  He not intended1 to no such mattere, 1occupied himself with

  But danced, jousted, and made merry cheer.

  And thus in joy and bliss I let them dwell,

  And of the sick Aurelius will I tell

  In languor and in torment furious

  Two year and more lay wretch’d Aurelius,

  Ere any foot on earth he mighte gon;

  Nor comfort in this time had he none,

  Save of his brother, which that was a clerk.1 1scholar

  He knew of all this woe and all this work;

  For to none other creature certain

  Of this matter he durst no worde sayn;

  Under his breast he bare it more secree

  Than e’er did Pamphilus for Galatee.

  His breast was whole withoute for to seen,

  But in his heart aye was the arrow keen,

 
And well ye know that of a sursanure

  In surgery is perilous the cure,

  But1 men might touch the arrow or come thereby. 1except

  His brother wept and wailed privily,

  Till at the last him fell in remembrance,

  That while he was at Orleans in France, —

  As younge clerkes, that be likerous1 — 1eager

  To readen artes that be curious,

  Seeken in every 1halk and every hern1 1nook and corner1

  Particular sciences for to learn, —

  He him remember’d, that upon a day

  At Orleans in study a book he say1 1saw

  Of magic natural, which his fellaw,

  That was that time a bachelor of law

  All1 were he there to learn another craft, 1though

  Had privily upon his desk y-laft;

  Which book spake much of operations

  Touching the eight and-twenty mansions

  That longe to the Moon, and such folly

  As in our dayes is not worth a fly;

  For holy church’s faith, in our believe,1 1belief, creed

  Us suff’reth none illusion to grieve.

  And when this book was in his remembrance

  Anon for joy his heart began to dance,

  And to himself he saide privily;

  “My brother shall be warish’d1 hastily 1cured

  For I am sicker1 that there be sciences, 1certain

  By which men make divers apparences,

  Such as these subtle tregetoures play. 1tricksters

  For oft at feaste’s have I well heard say,

  That tregetours, within a halle large,

  Have made come in a water and a barge,

  And in the halle rowen up and down.

  Sometimes hath seemed come a grim lioun,

  And sometimes flowers spring as in a mead;

  Sometimes a vine, and grapes white and red;

  Sometimes a castle all of lime and stone;

  And, when them liked, voided1 it anon: 1vanished

  Thus seemed it to every manne’s sight.

  Now then conclude I thus; if that I might

  At Orleans some olde fellow find,

  That hath these Moone’s mansions in mind,

  Or other magic natural above.

  He should well make my brother have his love.

  For with an appearance a clerk1 may make, 1learned man

  To manne’s sight, that all the rockes blake

  Of Bretagne were voided1 every one, 1removed

  And shippes by the brinke come and gon,

  And in such form endure a day or two;

  Then were my brother warish’d1 of his woe, 1cured

  Then must she needes 1holde her behest,1 1keep her promise1

  Or elles he shall shame her at the least.”

  Why should I make a longer tale of this?

  Unto his brother’s bed he comen is,

  And such comfort he gave him, for to gon

  To Orleans, that he upstart anon,

  And on his way forth-ward then is he fare,1 1gone

  In hope for to be lissed1 of his care. 1eased of

  When they were come almost to that city,

  1But if it were1 a two furlong or three, 1all but1

  A young clerk roaming by himself they met,

  Which that in Latin 1thriftily them gret.1 1greeted them

  And after that he said a wondrous thing; civilly1

  I know,” quoth he, “the cause of your coming;”

  Aud ere they farther any foote went,

  He told them all that was in their intent.

  The Breton clerk him asked of fellaws

  The which he hadde known in olde daws,1 1days

  And he answer’d him that they deade were,

  For which he wept full often many a tear.

  Down off his horse Aurelius light anon,

  And forth with this magician is be gone

  Home to his house, and made him well at ease;

  Them lacked no vitail1 that might them please. 1victuals, food

  So well-array’d a house as there was one,

  Aurelius in his life saw never none.

  He shewed him, ere they went to suppere,

  Forestes, parkes, full of wilde deer.

  There saw he hartes with their hornes high,

  The greatest that were ever seen with eye.

  He saw of them an hundred slain with hounds,

  And some with arrows bleed of bitter wounds.

  He saw, when voided1 were the wilde deer, 1passed away

  These falconers upon a fair rivere,

  That with their hawkes have the heron slain.

  Then saw he knightes jousting in a plain.

  And after this he did him such pleasance,

  That he him shew’d his lady on a dance,

  In which himselfe danced, as him thought.

  And when this master, that this magic wrought,

  Saw it was time, he clapp’d his handes two,

  And farewell, all the revel is y-go.1 1gone, removed

  And yet remov’d they never out of the house,

  While they saw all the sightes marvellous;

  But in his study, where his bookes be,

  They satte still, and no wight but they three.

  To him this master called his squier,

  And said him thus, “May we go to supper?

  Almost an hour it is, I undertake,

  Since I you bade our supper for to make,

  When that these worthy men wente with me

  Into my study, where my bookes be.”

  “Sir,” quoth this squier, “when it liketh you.

  It is all ready, though ye will right now.”

  “Go we then sup,” quoth he, “as for the best;

  These amorous folk some time must have rest.”

  At after supper fell they in treaty

  What summe should this master’s guerdon1 be, 1reward

  To remove all the rockes of Bretagne,

  And eke from Gironde to the mouth of Seine.

  He made it strange,1 and swore, so God him save, 1a matter of

  Less than a thousand pound he would not have, difficulty1

  1Nor gladly for that sum he would not gon.1 1see note 1

  Aurelius with blissful heart anon

  Answered thus; “Fie on a thousand pound!

  This wide world, which that men say is round,

  I would it give, if I were lord of it.

  This bargain is full-driv’n, for we be knit;1 1agreed

  Ye shall be payed truly by my troth.

  But looke, for no negligence or sloth,

  Ye tarry us here no longer than to-morrow.”

  “Nay,” quoth the clerk, 1”have here my faith to borrow.”1 1I pledge my

  To bed is gone Aurelius when him lest, faith on it1

  And well-nigh all that night he had his rest,

  What for his labour, and his hope of bliss,

  His woeful heart 1of penance had a liss.1 1had a respite

  from suffering1

  Upon the morrow, when that it was day,

  Unto Bretagne they took the righte way,

  Aurelius and this magician beside,

  And be descended where they would abide:

  And this was, as the bookes me remember,

  The colde frosty season of December.

  Phoebus wax’d old, and hued like latoun,1 1brass

  That in his hote declinatioun

  Shone as the burned gold, with streames1 bright; 1beams

  But now in Capricorn adown he light,

  Where as he shone full pale, I dare well sayn.

  The bitter frostes, with the sleet and rain,

  Destroyed have the green in every yard. 1courtyard, garden

  Janus sits by the fire with double beard,

  And drinketh of his bugle horn the wine:

  Before him stands the brawn of tusked swine

  And “nowel”1 crieth
every lusty man 1Noel

  Aurelius, in all that ev’r he can,

  Did to his master cheer and reverence,

  And prayed him to do his diligence

  To bringe him out of his paines smart,

  Or with a sword that he would slit his heart.

  This subtle clerk such ruth1 had on this man, 1pity

  That night and day he sped him, that he can,

  To wait a time of his conclusion;

  This is to say, to make illusion,

  By such an appearance of jugglery

  (I know no termes of astrology),

  That she and every wight should ween and say,

  That of Bretagne the rockes were away,

  Or else they were sunken under ground.

  So at the last he hath a time found

  To make his japes1 and his wretchedness 1tricks

  Of such a 1superstitious cursedness.1 1detestable villainy1

  His tables Toletanes forth he brought,

  Full well corrected, that there lacked nought,

  Neither his collect, nor his expanse years,

  Neither his rootes, nor his other gears,

  As be his centres, and his arguments,

  And his proportional convenients

  For his equations in everything.

  And by his eighte spheres in his working,

  He knew full well how far Alnath was shove

  From the head of that fix’d Aries above,

  That in the ninthe sphere consider’d is.

  Full subtilly he calcul’d all this.

  When he had found his firste mansion,

  He knew the remnant by proportion;

  And knew the rising of his moone well,

  And in whose face, and term, and every deal;

  And knew full well the moone’s mansion

  Accordant to his operation;

  And knew also his other observances,

  For such illusions and such meschances,1 1wicked devices

  As heathen folk used in thilke days.

  For which no longer made he delays;

  But through his magic, for a day or tway,

  It seemed all the rockes were away.

  Aurelius, which yet despaired is

  Whe’er1 he shall have his love, or fare amiss, 1whether

  Awaited night and day on this miracle:

  And when he knew that there was none obstacle,

  That voided1 were these rockes every one, 1removed

  Down at his master’s feet he fell anon,

  And said; “I, woeful wretch’d Aurelius,

  Thank you, my Lord, and lady mine Venus,

  That me have holpen from my cares cold.”

  And to the temple his way forth hath he hold,

  Where as he knew he should his lady see.

  And when he saw his time, anon right he

  With dreadful1 heart and with full humble cheer2 1fearful 2mien

  Saluteth hath his sovereign lady dear.