Four Arthurian Romances
feathers were more brilliant than any gilt. This dart is barbed with the
golden tresses that I saw the other day at sea. That is the dart which
awakes my love. God! What a treasure to possess! Would he who could gain
such a prize crave other riches his whole life long? For my part I could
swear that I should desire nothing else; I would not give up even the
barb and the notch for all the gold of Antioch. And if I prize so highly
these two things, who could estimate the value of what remains? That is
so fair and full of charm, so dear and precious, that I yearn and long
to gaze again upon her brow, which God's hand has made so clear that it
were vain to compare with it any mirror, emerald, or topaz. But all this
is of little worth to him who sees her flashing eyes; to all who gaze on
them they seem like twin candles burning. And whose tongue is so expert
as to describe the fashion of her well-shaped nose and radiant face, in
which the rose suffuses the lily so as to efface it somewhat, and thus
enhance the glory of her visage? And who shall speak of her laughing
mouth, which God shaped with such great skill that none might see it and
not suppose that she was laughing? And what about her teeth? They are so
close to one another that it seems they are all of one solid piece,
and in order that the effect might still be enhanced Nature added her
handiwork; for any one, to see her part her lips, would suppose that the
teeth were of ivory or of silver. There is so much to be said were I
to portray each detailed charm of chin and ears, that it would not be
strange were I to pass over some little thing. Of her throat I shall
only say that crystal beside it looks opaque. And her neck beneath her
hair is four times as white as ivory. Between the border of her gown and
the buckle at the parted throat, I saw her bosom left exposed and whiter
than new-fallen snow. My pain would be indeed assuaged, if I had seen
the dart entire. Gladly would I tell, if I but knew, what was the nature
of the shaft. But I did nor see it, and it is not my fault if I do
not attempt to describe something I have never seen. At that time Love
showed me only the notch and the barb; for the shaft was hidden in the
quiver, to wit, in the robe and shift in which the damsel was arrayed.
Upon my faith, malady which tortures me is the arrow--it is the dart at
which I am a wretch to be enraged. I am ungrateful to be incensed. Never
shall a straw be broken because of any distrust or quarrel that may
arise between Love and me. Now let Love do what he will with me as with
one who belongs to him; for I wish it, and so it pleases me. I hope that
this malady may never leave me, but that it may thus always maintain its
hold, and that health may never come to me except from the source of my
illness."
(Vv. 873-1046.) Alexander's complaint is long enough; but that of the
maiden is nothing less. All night she lies in such distress that
she cannot sleep or get repose. Love has confined within her heart a
struggle and conflict which disturbs her breast, and which causes her
such pain and anguish that she weeps and moans all night, and tosses
about with sudden starts, so that she is almost beside herself. And when
she has tossed and sobbed and groaned and started up and sighed again
then she looked within her heart to see who and what manner of man it
was for whom Love was tormenting her. And when she has refreshed herself
somewhat with thinking to her heart's content, she stretches and tosses
about again, and ridicules all the thoughts she has had. Then she takes
another course, and says: "Silly one, what matters it to me if this
youth is of good birth and wise and courteous and valorous? All this is
simply to his honour and credit. And as for his beauty, what care I? Let
his beauty be gone with him! But if so, it will be against my will, for
it is not my wish to deprive him of anything. Deprive? No, indeed! That
I surely will not do. If he had the wisdom of Solomon, and if Nature had
bestowed on him all the beauty she can place in human form, and if God
had put in my power to undo it all, yet would I not injure him; but I
would gladly, if I could, make him still more wise and fair. In faith,
then, I do not hate him! And am I for that reason his friend? Nay, I am
not his any more than any other man's. Then what do I think of him so
much, if he pleases me no more than other men? I do not know; I am all
confused; for I never thought so much about any man in the world, and
if I had my will, I should see him all the time, and never take my eyes
from him. I feel such joy at the sight of him! Is this love? Yes, I
believe it is. I should not appeal to him so often, if I did not love
him above all others. So I love him, then, let it be agreed. Then shall
I not do what I please? Yes, provided he does not refuse. This intention
of mine is wrong; but Love has so filled my heart that I am mad and
beside myself, nor will any defence avail me now, if I must endure the
assault of Love. I have demeaned myself prudently toward Love so long,
and would never accede to his will; but now I am more than kindly
disposed toward him. And what thanks will he owe to me, if he cannot
have my loving service and good-will? By force he has humbled my pride,
and now I must follow his pleasure. Now I am ready to love, and I have
a master, and Love will teach me--but what? How I am to serve his will.
But of that I am very well informed, and am so expert in serving him
that no one could find fault with me. I need learn no more of that. Love
would have it, and so would I, that I should be sensible and modest and
kind and approachable to all for the sake of one I love. Shall I love
all men, then, for the sake of one? I should be pleasant to every one,
but Love does not bid me be the true friend of every one. Love's lessons
are only good. It is not without significance that I am called by the
name of Soredamors. [214] I am destined to love and be loved in turn,
and I intend to prove it by my name, if I can find the explanation
there. There is some significance in the fact that the first part of
my name is of golden colour; for what is golden is the best. For this
reason I highly esteem my name, because it begins with that colour with
which the purest gold harmonises. And the end of the name calls Love to
my mind; for whoever calls me by my right name always refreshes me with
love. And one half gilds the other with a bright coat of yellow gold;
for Soredamors has the meaning of 'one gilded over with Love.' Love has
highly honoured me in gilding me over with himself. A gilding of
real gold is not so fine as that which makes me radiant. And I shall
henceforth do my best to be his gilding, and shall never again complain
of it. Now I love and ever more shall love. Whom? Truly, that is a fine
question! Him whom Love bids me love, for no other shall ever have
my love. What will he care in his ignorance, unless I tell him of it
myself? What shall I do, if I do not make to him my prayer? Whoever
desires anything ought to ask for it and make request. What? Shall I
beseech him, then? Nay. Why? Did ever such a thing come about that a
woman should be so forward as to make love to any man; unless she were
clean beside herself. I should be mad beyond question if I uttered
anything for which I might be reproached. If he should know the truth
through word of mine I think he would hold me in slight esteem, and
would often reproach me with having solicited his love. May love never
be so base that I should be the first to prefer a request which would
lower me in his eyes! Alas, God! How will he ever know the truth, since
I shall not tell him of it? As yet I have very little cause to complain.
I will wait until his attention is aroused, if ever it is to be aroused.
He will surely guess the truth, I think, if ever he has had commerce
with Love, or has heard of it by word of mouth. Heard of it? That is a
foolish thing to say. Love is not of such easy access that any one may
claim acquaintance by hear-say only and without personal experience.
I have come to know that well enough myself; for I could never learn
anything of love through flattery and wooing words, though I have often
been in the school of experience, and have been flattered many a time.
But I have always stood aloof, and now he makes me pay a heavy penalty:
now I know more about it than does the ox of ploughing. But one thing
causes me despair: I fear he has never been in love. And if he is not in
love, and never has been so, then I have sowed in the sea where no seed
can take root. So there is nothing to do but wait and suffer, until
I see whether I can lead him on by hints and covered words. I shall
continue this until he is sure of my love and dares to ask me for it. So
there is nothing more about the matter, but that I love him and am his.
If he loves me not, yet will I love him."
(Vv. 1047-1066.) Thus he and she utter their complaint, unhappy at night
and worse by day, each hiding the truth from the other's eyes. In such
distress they remained a long time in Brittany, I believe, until the end
of the summer came. At the beginning of October there came messengers
by Dover from London and Canterbury, bearing to the King news which
troubled him. The messengers told him that he might be tarrying too long
in Brittany; for, he to whom he had entrusted the kingdom was intending
to withstand him, and had already summoned a great army of his vassals
and friends, and had established himself in London for the purpose of
defending the city against Arthur when he should return.
(Vv. 1067-1092.) When the King heard this news, angry and sore
displeased he summons all his knights. In order the better to spur them
on to punish the traitor, he tells them that they are entirely to blame
for his trouble and strife; for on their advice he entrusted his land to
the hands of the traitor, who is worse than Ganelon. [215] There is not
a single one who does not agree that the King is right, for he had only
followed their advice; but now this man is to be outlawed, and you may
be sure that no town or city will avail to save his body from being
dragged out by force. Thus they all assure the King, giving him their
word upon oath, that they will deliver the traitor to him, or never
again claim their fiefs. And the King proclaims throughout Brittany that
no one who can bear arms shall refuse to follow him at once.
(Vv. 1093-1146.) All Brittany is now astir. Never was such an army seen
as King Arthur brought together. When the ships came to set sail, it
seemed that the whole world was putting out to sea; for even the water
was hid from view, being covered with the multitude of ships. It is
certainly true that, to judge by the commotion, all Brittany is under
way. Now the ships have crossed the Channel, and the assembled host is
quartered on the shore. Alexander bethought himself to go and pray the
King to make him a knight, for if ever he should win renown it will be
in this war. Prompted by his desire, he takes his companions with him
to accomplish what he has in mind. On reaching the King's quarters, they
found him seated before his tent. When he saw the Greeks approaching, he
summoned them to him, saying: "Gentlemen, do not conceal what business
has brought you here." Alexander replied on behalf of all, and told him
his desire: "I have come," he says, "to request of you, as I ought to do
of my liege lord, on behalf of my companions and myself, that you should
make us knights." The King replies: "Very gladly; nor shall there be any
delay about it, since you have preferred your request." Then the
King commands that equipment shall be furnished for twelve knights.
Straightway the King's command is done. As each one asks for his