Classic Poem

The God of Love, awaiting neither time
Nor fitting place, summoned his baronage
By letters begging or commanding them
To meet in parliament. They all appeared
Without excuse, ready to do his will
As each was able. I will name them all
Disorderly, as best befits my verse.
Dame Idleness, the garden keeper came
Beneath the biggest banner; Noble Heart
Came next with Wealth and Franchise and Largesse,
Hardihood, Pity, Honor, Courtesy,
Gladness, Simplicity, Companionship,
Youth, Mirth, Security, and Fond Delight,
Humility and Patience, Jollity,
Hidewell and Beauty and Forced Abstinence,
Who led False Seeming, who'd not come alone.
These were the chieftains who their forces led
With willing hearts. Only Forced Abstinence
Feigned readiness; False Seeming, too, appeared,
Whate'er he did, to have fraud in his heart.
False Seeming, who men's hearts appropriates,
Was son of Fraud and old Hypocrisy.
The shameful villainess who nourished him,
Giving him suck. This dirty Pharisee
Deceives full many a land, her rotten heart
Hiding beneath Religion's snowy cloak.
When Love saw him, his mind was much disturbed.

" What's this? " he asked. " Is it a dream? Tell me
Into my presence by whose leave you come. "
Forced Abstinence then took False Seeming's hand

And said, " I pray that you'll not be displeased,
But I brought him along. He comforts me,
Sustains me, does me honor, gives me ease.
I might of hunger die except for him,
So blame me not. I wish he might be loved
And called a worthy and a saintly man,
Although he loves men not. I am his love
And he the friend I keep for company. "
" So be it, " said the God of Love; and then
He briefly spoke to the assembled band:
" I've called you here to conquer Jealousy,
Who brings our lovers into martyrdom
And builds and holds in my despite her fort,
Which sorely irks my heart. So fortified
Is it that fiercely we shall have to strive
Ere we may take it; and I sadly grieve
That she Fair Welcome has immured therein,
Who helped our friends so much. I'm in bad case
If he cannot be rescued. At the death
Of old Tibullus, who well recognized
My qualities, I bow and arrow broke,
My ragged quiver dragged, and my poor wings,
All rumpled, to his tomb, so much I grieved —
So badly was I broken up with woe.
Venus so wept for him she nearly died;
No one there was but must for pity weep;
No rein or bridle could restrain our tears.
Catullus, Gallus, Ovid served us well;
They knew the art of love, but they are dead.
See William de Lorris, who's doomed to die,
Unless I rescue him, of pain and woe
This Jealousy, his adversary, deals.
Most willingly, he counsels me in this,
As is but right, for he's entirely mine,
And 'tis for him we are assembled here
By guile or force Fair Welcome to release.
He says he is unwise; but it would be
Great shame should I my faithful servant lose
When I both can and ought to succor him
Who shows great merit in his loyalty.
Therefore, as best I may, I will besiege
The mighty castle, and prepare assault
To break the walls and tower. Then will he serve
Me further. A Romance will he begin,
In which all my commands will find a place,
And write to where he has the Lover say
To him who guiltless now in prison lies:
" Dismay so troubles me that my heart fails.
If I lose your good will I shall despair;
For elsewhere I can find no confidence — "
Here William will break off to sleep his last,
And may his tomb be filled with myrrh and balm,
With aloes and with incense, he's so served
And praised me. Then Jean Chopinel shall come,
Joyous of heart, agile and sound of limb,
Who shall be born at Meun upon the Loire,
Who'll serve me all his life in feast and fast;
And he will be a very prudent man,
By neither avarice nor envy marred.
For Reason, who my ointments hates and blames
Although they smell more sweet than any balm,
He shall have little use. And should it chance
That he somehow should fail in anything
(For there's no sinless man; each has his stain),
His heart shall always be so true to me
That ever when he knows himself at fault
Sooner or later he'll repent his crime;
For he'll not trick me, but hold me so dear
That he will wish to finish the Romance
If time and place permit. Where William stops,
After his death will Jean take up the tale,
Following a lapse of more than forty years,
And he shall say in fear and hopelessness
Because of that mischance that made him lose
Fair Welcome's kindness, which before he'd had,
" Confidence being lost, I'm near despair . . ."
And all the other words, whate'er they be,
Foolish or wise, till he have plucked the bloom
From off the rosebush fair in flower and leaf
And shall have gained his beauteous vermeil Rose,
And 'twill be day, and from the dream he'll wake,
Then he'll the allegory so expound
That nothing shall remain unmanifest.
" If those two now could give me their advice,
They'd do so promptly; but the one cannot —
The other is not here; he's not yet born.
Of so great moment is this whole affair
That certainly if I fly not to him
And read him your decree when he is born,
Or at the latest ere he has grown up,
I swear to you and give you guarantee
He'll ne'er be able to complete the task.
" Lest it should happen that the unborn Jean
Should be, perhaps, prevented (which would be
A shame, a loss, a cause of dire lament
To all the lovers he might benefit),
I pray Lucina, deity of birth,
He may be born without disfigurement
Or weakness, so that he may have long life.
When he is weaned, and Jupiter him holds
Within his arms and offers him a drink
From those two tuns he has — one clear and sweet,
The other turbid, bitterer than soot
Or than the sea — when he's in cradle placed —
I'll spread my wings o'er him and sing him songs,
So much I'll love him. I'll teach him my art
That he may spread my doctrine in the speech
Of France in places where assemblies meet
Throughout the kingdom, and in all the squares.
Then those who hear will never die of love
And its sweet woes, for they'll believe in him;
And, rightly read, his book shall have such worth
That all men living should give it the name
Mirror for Lovers . Reading its contents good,
They'll no more trust in Reason, recreant wretch.
" Of you, my counselors, I now ask aid;
With clasped hands I beseech that you will help
And comfort William de Lorris in grief,
For well he's borne himself in my regard;
And, if I did not pray for him, I ought
Most certainly to ask your aid for Jean —
At least that he may easily endite.
I prophesy that he will come to birth;
Then this advantage you should give to him.
Moreover, aid all others who may come
Devotedly to follow my commands,
Which they will find inscribed within his book,
That they may overcome the tricks and guile
Of Jealousy, and all the castles raze
That she may dare to build. Advise me, then,
What we should do — how order best our hosts
Where we may strike most quickly to destroy. "
Thus spoke the God of Love; his speech was well received.