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From Legends and Satires From Mediæval Literature, edited by Martha Hale Shackford; Ginn and Company; Boston; 1913; pp. 139-160.

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LAY

SIR ORFEO,< COLOR="330033">*

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141

SIR ORFEO¹

Orfeo was a king,
In Inglond an heighe lording,
A stalworth man and hardi bo,²
Large and curteys, he was al so;
His fader was comen of king Pluto
And his moder of king Juno,
That sum time were as godes y hold,
For aventours that thai dede and told.
This king sojurned in Traciens,
That was a cite of noble defens,
For Winchester was cleped³ tho
Traciens, with outen no.
The king hadde a quen of priis,
That was y cleped dame Herodis.
The fairest levedi⁴ for the nones⁵
That might gon on bodi and bones,
Ful of love and godenisse
Ac no man may telle hir fairnise.

Bifel so in the comessing of May,

When miri and hot is the day,
And oway beth winter schours,
And everi feld is ful of flours,
And blosme breme⁶ on everi bough,
Over al wexeth miri anough,
This ich⁷ quen dame Heurodis,
142 Tok to maidens of priis,
And went in an undren tide.⁸
To play bi an orchard side
To se the floures sprede and spring,
And to here the foules sing:
Thia sett hem doun al thre,
Under a fair ympe⁹ tre,
And wel sone this fair quene,
Fel on slepe opon the grene.
The maidens durst hir nought awake,
Bot let hir ligge and rest take,
So sche slepe til after none,
That under tide was al y done;
Ac as sone as sche gan awake,
Sche crid and lothli bere gan make;
Sche froted¹⁰ hir honden and hir fet,
And crached her visage, it blede wete,
Hir riche robe hye al to rett,¹¹
And was reneyd¹² out of hir witt.
The two maidens hir biside
No durst with hir no leng abide,
But ourn¹³ to the palays ful right,
And told bothe squier and knight,
That her quen awede¹⁴ wold,
And bad hem go and hir at hold.
Knightes urn,¹³ and levedis al so,
Damisels sexti and mo,
In the orchard to the quen hye come,
And her up in her armes nome,¹⁵
143 And brought hir to bed attelast,
And held hir there fine fast;
Ac ever sche held in o cri
And wold up and owy.
When Orfeo herd that tiding
Never him nas wers for no thing;
He come with knightes tene
To chaumber right bifor the quene,
And biheld and seyd with grete pite:
O lef¹⁶ liif, what is te,¹⁷
That ever yete hast ben so stille,
And now gredest¹⁸ wonder schille¹⁹;
Thi bodi, that was so white y core,²⁰
With thine nailes is al to tore,
Allas! thi rode,²¹ that was so red,
Is al wan as thou were ded;
And also thine fingres smale,
Beth al blodi and al pale;
Allas! thi lovesum eyghen²² to
Loketh so man doth on his fo;
A dame, Ich biseche merci,
Let ben al this reweful cri,
And tel me what the is, and hou,
And what thing may the help now?
Tho lay sche stille attelast,
And gan to wepe swithe²³ fast,
And seyd thus the king to:
Allas! mi lord, sir Orfeo,
Seththen²⁴ we first to gider were,
144 Ones wroth never we nere,
Bot ever Ich have y loved the
As mi liif, and so thou me,
Ac now we mot²⁵ delen ato,
Do thi best, for y mot go.
Allas! quath he, forlorn Ich am,
Whider wiltow go and to wham?
Whider thou gost Ichil with the,
And whider Y go thou schalt with me.
Nay, nay, sir, that nought nis,
Ichil the telle al how it is:
As Ich lay this under tide,
And slepe under our orchard side,
Ther come to me to fair knightes
Wele y armed al to rightes,
And bad me comen an heighing,²⁶
And speke with her lord the king;
And Ich answerd at wordes bold,
Y durst nought, no y nold.
Thai priked oghain²⁷ as thai might drive,
Tho com her king also blive,
With an hundred knightes and mo,
And damissels an hundred al so;
Al on snowe white stedes,
As white as milke were her wedes,
Y no seighe never yete bifore
So fair creatours y core!
The king hadde a croun on hed,
It nas of silver, no of gold red,
Ac it was of a precious ston;
145 As bright as the sonne it schon:
And as son as he to me cam,
Wold Ich, nold Ich, he me nam,
And made me with him ride,
Opon a palfrey bi his side,
And brought me to his pallays,
Wele atired in ich ways;
And schewed me castels and tours,
Rivers, forestes, frith²⁸ with flours;
And his rich stedes²⁹ ichon,
And seththen me brought oghain hom,
In to our owhen orchard,
And said to me after ward:
Loke dame, to morwe thatow be
Right here under this ympe tre;
And than thou schalt with ous go
And live with ous ever mo,
And yif thou makest ous y let,
Where thou be, thou worst y fet³⁰
And to tore thine limes al,
That nothing help the no schal,
And thei thou best so to torn
Yete thou worst with ous y born.

When king Orfeo heard this cas,

O we!³¹ quath he, allas! allas!
Lever me were to lete³² mi liif,
Than thus to lese the quen mi wiif,
He asked conseyl at ich man,
Ac no man him help no can.
A morwe the under tide is come.
146 And Orfeo hath his armes y nome,
And wele ten hundred knightes with him,
Ich y armed stout and grim;
And with the quen wenten he,
Right unto that ympe tre.
Thai made scheltrom³³ in ich aside,
And sayd thai wold there abide,
And dye ther everichon,
Er the quen schuld fram hem gon:
Ac yete amiddes hem ful right,
The quen was oway y twight,³⁴
With fairi forth y nome,
Men wist never wher sche was bicome,
Tho was ther criing, wepe and wo,
The king into his chamber is go,
And oft swoned opon the ston
And made swiche diol³⁵ and swiche mon,
That neighe his liif was y spent;
Ther was non amendement.
He cleped to gider his barouns,
Erls, lordes of renouns,
And when thai al y comen were:
Lordinges, he said, bifor you here
Ich ordainy min heigh steward
To wite³⁶ mi kingdom after ward,
In mi stede ben he schal,
To kepe mi londes over al,
For now Ichave mi quen y lore,³⁷
The fairest levedi that ever was bore;
Never eft y nil no woman se,
147 Into wildernes Ichil te,³⁸
And live ther ever more,
With wilde bestes in holtes³⁹ hore;
And when ye under stond that y be spent,
Make you than a parlement,
And chese you a newe king:
Now doth your best with al mi thing.

Tho was ther wepeing in the halle,

And grete cri among hem alle;
Unnethe⁴⁰ might old or yong
For wepeing speke a word with tong.
Thai kneled adoun al y fere,⁴¹
And praid him yif his wille were,
That he no schuld nought from hem go.
Do way! quath he, it schal be so:
All his kingdom he forsoke,
But a sclavin⁴² on him he toke;
He no hadde kirtel, no hode,
Schert, no nother gode,
Bot his harp he toke algate,⁴³
And dede him barfot out atte gate:
No man most with him go.
O way! what the was wepe and wo,
When he that hadde ben king with croun,
Went so poverlich out of toun.
Thurch wode, and over heth,
Into the wildernes he geth,
Nothing he fint that him is ays,⁴⁴
Bot ever he liveth in gret malais⁴⁵;
148 He that hadde y werd the fowe⁴⁶ and griis,⁴⁷
And on bed the purper biis,⁴⁸
Now on hard hethe he lith,
With leves and gresse he him writh⁴⁹:
He that hadde castels, and tours,
River, forest, frith with flours;
Now, thei it commenci to snewe and frese,
This king mot make his bed in mese⁵⁰:
He that had y had knightes of priis.
Bifor him kneland, and levedis,
Now seth he no thing that him liketh,
Bot wild wormes by him striketh:
He that had y had plente
Of mete and drink, of ich deynte,
Now may he al day digge and wrote,⁵¹
Er he finde his fille of rote;
In somer he liveth bi wild frut,
And berren, bot gode lite;
In winter may he no thing finde,
Bot rote, grases, and the rinde;
Al his bodi was oway dwine
For missays,and al to chine,⁵²
Lord! who may telle the sore
This king sufferd ten yere and more:
His here of his berd, blac and rowe,⁵³
To his girdel stede was growe;
His harp, where on was al his gle,
He hidde in an holwe tre;
And, when the weder was clere and bright,
149 He toke his harp to him wel right,
And harped at his owhen wille,
Into alle the wode the soun gan schille,
That alle the wilde bestes that ther beth,
For joie abouten him thai teth⁵⁴;
And all the foules that ther were,
Come and sete on ich a brere;
To here his harping a fine,⁵⁵
So miche melody was ther in.
And when he his harping lete wold,
No best bi him abide nold.

He might se besides

Oft in hot under tides,
The king o fairy, with his rout,
Com to hunt him al about:
With dim cri and bloweing,
And houndes also with him berking;
Ac no best thai no nome,
No never he nist whider thai bi come.
And other while he might him se
As a gret ost bi him te,
Wele atourned⁵⁶ ten hundred knightes,
Ich y armed to his rightes;
Of cuntenaunce stout and fers,
With mani displaid baners;
And ich his swerd y drawe hold:
Ac never he nist whider thai wold.
And other while he seighe other thing:
Knightes and levedis com daunceing,
In queynt atire gisely,
150 Queyitt pas, and softly:
Tabours and trimpes yede him bi,
And al maner menstraci.

And on a day he seighe him biside

Sexti levdis on hors ride,
Gentil and jolif, as brid on ris⁵⁷;
Nought o man amonges hem ther nis;
And ich a faucoun on hond bere,
And riden on haukin bi o rivere,
Of game thai founde wel gode haunt,
Maulardes, hayroun, and cormeraunt;
The foules of the water ariseth,
The faucouns hem wele deviseth,
Ich faucoun his pray slough:
That seighe Orfeo, and lough.
Par fay, quath he, ther is fair game!
Thider Ichil bi Godes name,
Ich was y won⁵⁸swiche werk to se.
He aros, and thider gan te;
To a levedi he was y come,
Biheld, and hath wele under nome,
And seth, bi al thing, that it is
His owhen quen dam Heurodis.
Yern he biheld hir, and sche him eke,
Ac noither to other a word no speke:
For messais that sche on him seighe,
That had ben so riche and so heighe,
The teres fel out of her eighe;
The other levedis this y seighe,
And maked hir oway to ride,
151 Sche most with him no lenger abide.
Allas! quath he, now me is wo!
Whi nil deth now me slo,
Allas! wroche, that Y no might
Dye now, after this sight!
Allas! to long last mi liif
When Y no dar nought with mi wiif,
No hye to me, o word speke,
Allas! whi nil min hert breke!
Parfay, quath he, tide what bitide,
Whider so this levedis ride,
The selve way Ichil streche,
Of liif, no deth, me no reche.
His sclavin he dede on, all so spac,⁵⁹
And henge his harp upon his bac,
And had wel gode will to gon;
He no spard noither stub no ston.
In at a roche the levedis rideth,
And he after, and nought abideth;
When he was in the roche y go,
Wele thre mile, other mo,
He com in to a fair cuntray,
As bright so sonne on somers day,
Smothe, and plain, and al grene;
Hille, no dale nas ther non y sene;
Amidde the lond a castel he sighe,
Riche, and real,⁶⁰and wonder heighe;
Al the ut mast wal,
Was cler and schine as cristal;
And hundred tours ther were about,
152 Degiselich⁶¹ and bataild stout;
The butras com out of the diche,
Of rede gold y arched riche,
The bonsour⁶² was avowed⁶³ al,
Of ich maner divers animal;
With in ther wer wide wones,⁶⁴
Al of precious stones,
The werst piler on to biholde,
Was al of burnist gold;
Al that lond was ever light,
For when it schuld be therk⁶⁵ and night,
The riche stones⁶⁶ light gonne,
As bright as doth at none the sonne,
No man may telle, no thenche in thought,
The riche werk that ther was wrought,
Bi al thing, him think that it is
The proude court of paradis.
In this castel the levedis alight,
He wold in after, yif he might.

Orfeo knokketh atte gate,

The porter was redi ther ate,
And asked, what he wold have y do.
Parfay, quath he, Icham a minstrel lo,
To solas thi lord with my gle,
Yif his swete will be.
The porter undede the gate anon,
And lete him in to the castel gon.

Than he gan bihold about al,

And seighe full liggeand⁶⁷ with in the wal,
153 Of folk that were thider y brought,
And thought dede and nare nought:
Sum stode with outen hade⁶⁸;
And sum on armes nade;⁶⁹
And sum thurch the bodi hadde wounde;
And sum lay wode⁷⁰ y bounde;
And sum armed on hors sete;
And sum astrangled as thai ete;
And sum were in water adreynt⁷¹;
And sum with fire al for schreynt⁷²;
Wives ther lay on child bedde;
Sum ded, and sum awedde⁷³;
And wonder fele ther lay bisides,
Right as thai slepe her under tides;
Eche was thus in this warld y nome,
With fairi thider y come.
Ther he seighe his owhen wiif,
Dame Heurodis his liif liif
Slepe under an ympe tre;
Bi her clothes he knewe that it was he.

And when he hadde bihold this mervails alle,

He went in to the kinges halle;
Then seighe he ther a semly sight,
A tabernacle blisseful and bright;
Ther in her maister king sete,
And her quen fair and swete;
Her crounes, her clothes, schine so bright,
That unnethe bihold he hem might.
When he hadde biholden al that thing,
He kneled adoun bifor the king;
154 O Lord, he seyd, yif it thi wille were,
Mi menstraci thou schust y here.
The king answerd, what man artow,
That art hider y comen now?
Ich, no non that is with me,
No sent never after the.
Seththen that ich here regni gan,
Y no fond never so fole hardi man
That hider to ous durst wende,
Bot that Ichim walde of sende.
Lord, quath he, trowe ful wel,
Y nam bot a pover menstrel,
And, sir, it is the maner of us,
To seche mani a lordes hous,
Thei we nought welcom no be,
Yete we mot proferi forth our gle.

Bifor the king he sat adoun,

And tok his harp so miri of soun,
And tempreth his harp as he wel can,
And blisseful notes he ther gan,
That al that in the paleys were,
Com to him for to here,
And liggeth adoun to his fete,
Hem thenketh his melody so swete.
The king herkneth, and sitt ful stille,
To here his gle he hath gode wille.
Gode bourde⁷⁴ he hadde of his gle,
The riche quen al so hadde he.
When he hadde stint⁷⁵ his harping,
Than seyd to him the king,
155 Menstrel, me liketh wele thi gle,
Now aske of me what it be,
Largelich Ichil the pay,
Now speke, and tow might asay.
Sir, he seyd, Ich beseche the,
Thatow woldest give me,
That ich levedi bright on ble,⁷⁶
That slepeth under the ympe tre.
Nay, quath the king, that nought nere,
A sori couple of you it were,
For thou art lene, rowe, and blac,
And sche is lovesome with outen lac;
A lothlich thing it were forthi,⁷⁷
To sen hir in thi compayni,

O sir, he seyd, gentil king,

Yete were it a wele fouler thing
To here a lesing⁷⁸ of thy mouthe,
So, sir, as ye seyd nouthe,⁷⁹
What Ich wold aski have Y schold;
And nedes thou most thi word hold.
The king seyd, seththen it is so,
Take hir bi the hand, and go;
Of hir Ichil thatow be blithe.
He kneled adoun, and thonked him swithe.⁸⁰
His wiif he tok bi the hond
And dede him swithe⁸¹ out of that lond;
And went him out of that thede,⁸²
Right as he came the way he yede.⁸³
So long he hath the way y nome,
157 To Winchester he is y come,
That was his owhen cite,
Ac no man knewe that it was he,
No forther than the tounes ende,
For knoweleche no durst wende,
Bot with a begger y bilt ful narwe,
Ther he tok his herbarwe,⁸⁴
To him, and to his owhen wiif,
As a minstrel of pover liif,
And asked tidings of that lond,
And who the kingdom held in hond.
The pover begger, in his cote,⁸⁵
Told him everich a grot⁸⁶
How her quen was stole owy,
Ten yer gon with fairy,
And how her king en exile yede,
Bot no man niste in wiche thede,
And how the steward the lond gan hold,
And other mani thinges him told.

A morwe ogain none tide

He maked his wiif ther abide,
The beggers clothes he borwed anon,
And heng his harp his rigg⁸⁷ opon,
And went him in to that cite,
That men might him bi hold and se.
Erls, and barouns bold,
Burjays, and levedis, him gun bi hold;
Lo! thai seyd, swiche a man,
How long the here hongeth him opan!
Lo! how his berd hongeth to his kne,
157 He is y clongen⁸⁸ al so a tre.
And as he yede in the strete,
With his steward he gan mete,
And loude he sett on him a crie,
Sir steward, he seyd, merci,
Icham an harpour of hethenisse,
Helpe me now in this distresse!
The steward seyd, com with me, come,
Of that Ichave thou schalt have some;
Everich gode harpour is welcom me to,
For mi lordes love, sir Orfeo,

In the castle, the steward sat atte mete,

And mani lording was bi him sete;
There were trompour and tabourers,
Harpours fele, and crouders,⁸⁹
Miche melody thai maked alle,
And Orfeo sat stille in the halle,
And herkneth when thai ben al stille,
He toke his harp and tempred schille,
The blifulest notes he herped there,
That ever ani man y herd with ere,
Ich man liked wel his gle.
The steward biheld and gan y se,
And knewe the harp als blive;
Menstrel, he seyd, so mot thou thrive,
Where hadestow this harp, and hou?
Ypray that thou me telle now.

Lord, quath he, in uncouthe thede,

Thurch a wildernes as Y yede;
Ther Y founde in a dale,
158 With lyouns a man to torn smale,
And wolves him frete⁹⁰ with teth so scharp;
Bi him Y found this ich harp,
Wele ten yere it is y go.
O! quath the steward, now me is wo!
That was mi lord, sir Orfeo!
Allas! wreche what schall Y do,
That have swiche a lord y lore,⁹¹
A way, that Ich was y bore,
That him was so hard grace y yarked,⁹²
And so vile deth y marked!
Adoun he fel aswon to grounde,
His barouns him tok up in that stounde,⁹³
And telleth him hou it geth,
It is no bot⁹⁴ of mannes deth.
King Orfeo knewe wel bi than,
His steward was a trewe man,
And loved him as he aught to do,
And stont up, and seyt thus lo,
Steward, herkne now this thing,
Yif Ich were Orfeo the king,
And hadde y suffred ful yore,
In wildernisse miche sore;
And hadde y won mi quen owy,
Out of the lond of fairy;
And hadde y brought the levedi hende,⁹⁵
Right here to the tounes ende,
And with a begger her in⁹⁶ y nome,
And were mi self hider y come,
Poverlich to the thus stille,
159 For to asay thi gode wille;
And Ich founde the thus trewe,
Thou no schust it never rewe,
Sikerlich for love, or ay,⁹⁷
Thou schust be king after mi day,
And yif thou of my deth hadest ben blithe,
Thou schust have voided al so swithe.

Tho al tho that ther in sete,

That it was king Orfeo under gete,⁹⁸
And the steward him wele knewe,
Over and over the bord⁹⁹ he threwe,
And fel adoun to his fet;
So ded everich lord that ther sete,
And al thai sayd at o criing,
Ye beth our lord, sir, and our king.
Glad thai were of his live,
To chaumber thai ladde him als bilive,^*1
And bathed him and schaved his berd,
And tired him as a king apert^*2;
And seththen with gret processioun,
Thai brought the quen in to the toun,
With al maner menstraci;
Lord, ther was grete melody!
For joie thai wepe with her eighe;
That hem so sounde y comen seighe.
Now king Orfeo newe coround is,
And his quen dame Heurodis;
And lived long afterward;
And seththen was king the steward.
Harpours in Bretaine after than
160 Herd hou this mervaile bigan,
And made her of a lay gode likeing,
And nempned^*3 it after the king.
That lay Orfeo is y hote^*4;
Gode is the lay, swete is the note.
Thus com sir Orfeo out of his care;
God graunt ous alle wele to fare! Amen.

FOOTNOTES