<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=346082" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Sir Orfeo</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">We often read and written find,<br>as learned men do us remind,<br>that lays that now the harpers sing<br>are wrought of many a marvellous thing.<br>Some are of weal, and some of woe,<br>and some do joy and gladness know;<br>in some are guile and treachery told,<br>in some the deeds that chanced of old;<br>some are of jests and ribaldry,<br>and some are tales of Faërie. <br>Of all the things that men may heed<br>'tis most of love they sing indeed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In Britain all these lays are writ,<br>there issued first in rhyming fit,<br>concerning adventures in those days<br>whereof the Britons made their lays;<br>for when they heard men anywhere<br>tell of adventures that there were,<br>they took their harps in their delight<br>and made a lay and named it right.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Of adventures that did once befall<br>some can I tell you, but not all.<br>Listen now, lordings good and true,<br>and 'Orfeo' I will sing to you.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sir Orfeo was a king of old,<br>in England lordship high did hold;<br>valour he had and hardihood,<br>a courteous king whose gifts were good.<br>His father from King Pluto came,<br>his mother from Juno, king of fame,<br>who once of old as gods were named<br>for mighty deeds they did and claimed.<br>Sir Orfeo, too, all things beyond<br>of harping's sweet delight was fond,<br>and sure were all good harpers there<br>of him to earn them honour fair;<br>himself he loved to touch the harp<br>and pluck the strings with fingers sharp.<br>He played so well, beneath the sun<br>a better harper was there none;<br>no man hath in this world been born<br>who would not, hearing him, have sworn<br>that as before him Orfeo played <br>to joy of Paradise he had strayed<br>and sound of harpers heavenly,<br>such joy was there and melody.<br>This king abode in Tracience,<br>a city proud of stout defence;<br>for Winchester, 'tis certain, then<br>as Tracience was known to men.<br>There dwelt his queen in fairest bliss,<br>whom men called Lady Heurodis,<br>of ladies then the one most fair<br>who ever flesh and blood did wear;<br>in her did grace and goodness dwell,<br>but none her loveliness can tell.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It so did chance in early May,<br>when glad and warm doth shine the day,<br>and gone are bitter winter showers,<br>and every field is filled with flowers,<br>on every branch the blossom blows,<br>in glory and in gladness grows,<br>the lady Heurodis, the queen,<br>two maidens fair to garden green<br>with her she took at drowsy tide<br>of noon to stroll by orchard-side,<br>to see the flowers there spread and spring<br>and hear the birds on branches sing.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There down in shade they sat all three<br>beneath a fair young grafted tree;<br>and soon it chanced the gentle queen<br>fell there asleep upon the green.<br>Her maidens durst her not awake,<br>but let her lie, her rest to take; <br>and so she slept, till midday soon<br>was passed, and come was afternoon.<br>Then suddenly they heard her wake,<br>and cry, and grievous clamour make;<br>she writhed with limb, her hands she wrung,<br>she tore her face till blood there sprung,<br>her raiment rich in pieces rent;<br>thus sudden out of mind she went.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Her maidens two then by her side<br>no longer durst with her abide,<br>but to the palace swiftly ran<br>and told there knight and squire and man<br>their green, it seemed, was sudden mad;<br>'Go and restrain her,' they them bade.<br>Both knights and ladies thither sped,<br>and more than sixty damsels fled;<br>to the orchard to the queen they went,<br>with arms to lift her down they bent,<br>and brought her to her bed at last,<br>and raving there they held her fast;<br>but ceaselessly she still would cry,<br>and ever strove to rise and fly.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When Orfeo heard these tidings sad,<br>more grief than ever in life he had;<br>and swiftly with ten knights he sped<br>to bower, and stood before her bed,<br>and looking on her ruefully,<br>'Dear life,' he said, 'what troubles thee,<br>who ever quiet hast been and sweet,<br>why dost thou now so shrilly greet?<br>Thy body that peerless white was born<br>is now by cruel nails all torn.<br>Alas! thy cheeks that were so red<br>are now as wan as thou wert dead;<br>thy fingers too, so small and slim,<br>are stained with blood, their hue is dim.<br>Alas! thy lovely eyes in woe<br>now stare on me as on a foe.<br>A! lady, mercy I implore.<br>These piteous cries, come, cry no more,<br>but tell me what thee grieves, and how,<br>and say what may thee comfort now.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then, lo! at last she lay there still,<br>and many bitter tears did spill,<br>and thus unto the king she spake:<br>'Alas! my lord, my heart will break.<br>Since first together came our life,<br>between us ne'er was wrath nor strife,<br>but I have ever so loved thee<br>as very life, and so thou me.<br>Yet now we must be torn in twain,<br>and go I must, for all thy pain.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Alas!' said he, 'then dark my doom.<br>Where wilt thou go, and go to whom?<br>But where thou goest, I come with thee,<br>and where I go, thou shalt with me.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Nay, nay, sir, words avail thee naught.<br>I will tell thee how this woe was wrought:<br>as I lay in the quiet noontide<br>and slept beneath our orchard-side,<br>there came two noble knights to me<br>arrayed in armour gallantly.<br>'We come,' they said, 'thee swift to bring<br>to meeting with our lord and king.'<br>Then answered I both bold and true<br>that dared I not, and would not do.<br>They spurred then back on swiftest steed;<br>then came their king himself with speed;<br>a hundred knights with him and more,<br>and damsels, too, were many a score,<br>all riding there on snow-white steeds,<br>and white as milk were all their weeds;<br>I saw not ever anywhere<br>a folk so peerless and so fair.<br>The king was crowned with crown of light,<br>not of red gold nor silver white,<br>but of one single gem 'twas hewn<br>that shone as bright as sun at noon.<br>And coming, straightway he me sought,<br>and would I or no, he up me caught,<br>and made me by him swiftly ride <br>upon a palfrey at his side;<br>and to his palace thus me brought,<br>a dwelling fair and wondrous wrought.<br>He castles showed me there and towers,<br>Water and wild, and woods, and flowers,<br>and pastures rich upon the plain;<br>and then he brought me home again,<br>and to our orchard he me led,<br>and then at parting this he said:<br>'See, lady, tomorrow thou must be<br>right here beneath this grafted tree,<br>and then beside us thou shalt ride,<br>and with us evermore abide.<br>If let or hindrance thou dost make,<br>where'er thou be, we shall thee take,<br>and all thy limbs shall rend and tear --<br>no aid of man shall help thee there;<br>and even so, all rent and torn,<br>thou shalt away with us be borne.''</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When all those tidings Orfeo heard,<br>then spake he many a bitter word:<br>'Alas! I had liever lose my life<br>than those thee thus, my queen and wife!'<br>He counsel find him help or plan.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">On the morrow, when the noon drew near,<br>in arms did Orfeo appear,<br>and full ten hundred knights with him,<br>all stoutly armed, all stern and grim;<br>and with their queen now went that band<br>beneath the grafted tree to stand.<br>A serried rank on every side<br>they made, and vowed there to abide,<br>and die there sooner for her sake<br>than let men thence their lady take.<br>And yet from midst of that array<br>the queen was sudden snatched away;<br>by magic was she from them caught,<br>and none knew whither she was brought.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then was there wailing, tears, and woe;<br>the king did to his chamber go,<br>and oft he swooned on floor of stone,<br>and such lament he made and moan<br>that nigh his life then came to end;<br>and nothing could his grief amend.<br>His barons he summoned to his board,<br>each mighty earl and famous lord,<br>and when they all together came,<br>'My lords,' he said, 'I here do name<br>my steward high before you all<br>to keep my realm, whate'er befall,<br>to hold my place instead of me<br>and keep my lands where'er they be.<br>For now that I have lost my queen,<br>the fairest lady men have seen,<br>I wish not woman more to see.<br>Into the wilderness I will flee,<br>and there will live for evermore<br>with the wild beasts in forests hoar.<br>But when ye learn my days are spent,<br>then summon ye a parliament,<br>and choose ye there a king anew.<br>With all I have now deal ye true.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then weeping was there in the hall,<br>and great lament there made they all,<br>and hardly there might old or young<br>for weeping utter word with tongue.<br>They knelt them down in company,<br>and prayed, if so his will might be,<br>that never should he from them go.<br>'Have done!' said he. 'It must be so.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now all his kingdom he forsook.<br>Only a beggar's cloak he took;<br>he had no kirtle and no hood,<br>no shirt, nor other raiment good.<br>His harp yet bore he even so,<br>and barefoot from the gate did go;<br>no man might keep him on the way.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A me! the weeping woe that day,<br>when he that had been king with crown<br>went thus beggarly out of town!<br>Through wood and over moorland bleak<br>he now the wilderness doth seek,<br>and nothing finds to make him glad,<br>but ever liveth lone and sad.<br>He once had ermine worn and vair,<br>on bed had purple linen fair,<br>now on the heather hard doth lie,<br>in leaves is wrapped and grasses dry.<br>He once had castles owned and towers,<br>water and wild, and woods, and flowers,<br>now though it turn to frost or snow,<br>this king with moss his bed must strow.<br>He once had many a noble knight<br>before him kneeling, ladies bright,<br>now nought to please him doth he keep;<br>only wild serpents by him creep.<br>He that once had in plenty sweet<br>all dainties for his drink and meat,<br>now he must grub and dig all day,<br>with roots his hunger to allay.<br>In summer on wildwood fruit he feeds,<br>or berries poor to serve his needs;<br>in winter nothing can he find<br>save roots and herbs and bitter rind.<br>All his body was wasted thin<br>by hardship, and all cracked his skin.<br>A Lord! who can recount the woe<br>for ten long years that king did know?<br>His hair and beard all black and rank<br>down to his waist hung long and lank.<br>His harp wherein was his delight<br>in hollow tree he hid from sight;<br>when weather clear was in the land<br>his harp he took then in his hand<br>and harped thereon at his sweet will.<br>Through all the wood the sound did thrill,<br>and all the wild beasts that there are<br>in joy approached him from afar;<br>and all the birds that might be found<br>there perched on bough and bramble round<br>to hear his harping to the end,<br>such melodies he there did blend;<br>and when he laid his harp aside,<br>no bird or beast would near him bide.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There often by him would he see,<br>when noon was hot on leaf and tree,<br>the king of Faërie with his rout<br>came hunting in the woods about<br>with blowing far and crying dim,<br>and barking hounds that were with him;<br>yet never a beast they took nor slew,<br>and where they went he never knew.<br>At other times he would descry <br>a mighty host, it seemed, go by,<br>ten hundred knights all fair arrayed<br>with many a banner proud displayed.<br>Each face and mien was fierce and bold,<br>each knight a drawn sword there did hold,<br>and all were armed in harness fair<br>and marching on he knew not where.<br>Or a sight more strange would meet his eye:<br>knights and ladies came dancing by <br>in rich array and raiment meet,<br>softly stepping with skilful feet;<br>tabour and trumpet went along,<br>and marvellous minstrelsy and song.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And one fair day he at his side<br>saw sixty ladies on horses ride,<br>each fair and free as bird on spray,<br>and nnever a man with them that day.<br>There each on hand a falcon bore,<br>riding a-hawking by river-shore.<br>Those haunts with game in plenty teem,<br>cormorant, heron, and duck in stream;<br>there off the water fowl arise,<br>and every falcon them descries;<br>each falcon stooping slew his prey,<br>and Orfeo laughing loud did say:<br>'Behold, in faith, this sport is fair!<br>Fore Heaven, I will betake me there!<br>I once was wont to see such play.'<br>He rose and thither made his way,<br>and to a lady came with speed,<br>and looked at her, and took good heed,<br>and saw as sure as once in life<br>'twas Heurodis, his queen and wife.<br>Intent he gazed, and so did she,<br>but no word spake; no word said he.<br>For hardship that she saw him bear,<br>who had been royal, and high, and fair,<br>then from her eyes the tears there fell.<br>The other ladies marked it well,<br>and away they made her swiftly ride;<br>no longer might she near him bide.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Alas!' said he, 'unhappy day!<br>Why will not now my death me slay?<br>Alas! unhappy man, ah why<br>may I not, seeing her, now die?<br>Alas! too long hath lasted life,<br>when I dare not with mine own wife<br>to speak a word, nor she with me.<br>Alas! my heart should break,' said he.<br>'And yet, fore Heaven, tide what betide,<br>and whithersoever these ladies ride,<br>that road I will follow they now fare;<br>for life or death no more I care.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">His beggar's cloak he on him flung,<br>his harp upon his back he hung;<br>with right good will his feet he sped,<br>for stock nor stone he stayed his tread.<br>Right into a rock the ladies rode,<br>and in behind he fearless strode.<br>He went into that rocky hill<br>a good three miles or more, until<br>he came into a country fair<br>as bright as sun in summer air.<br>Level and smooth it was and green,<br>and hill nor valley there was seen.<br>A castle he saw amid the land<br>princely and proud and lofty stand;<br>the outer wall around it laid<br>of shining crystal clear was made.<br>A hundred towers were raised about <br>with cunning wrought, embattled stout;<br>and from the moat each buttress bold<br>in arches sprang of rich red gold.<br>The vault was carven and adorned<br>with beasts and birds and figures horned;<br>within were halls and chambers wide<br>all made of jewels and gems of pride;<br>the poorest pillar to behold<br>was builded all of burnished gold.<br>And all that land was ever light,<br>for when it came to dusk of night<br>from precious stones there issued soon<br>a light as bright as sun at noon.<br>No man may tell nor think in thought<br>how rich the works that there were wrought;<br>indeed it seemed he gazed with eyes<br>on the proud court of Paradise.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The ladies to that castle passed.<br>Behind them Orfeo followed fast.<br>There knocked he loud upon the gate;<br>the porter came, and did not wait,<br>but asked him what might be his will.<br>'In faith, I have a minstrel's skill<br>with mirth and music, if he please,<br>thy lord to cheer, and him to ease.'<br>The porter swift did then unpin<br>the castle gates, and let him in.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then he began to gaze about,<br>and saw within the walls a rout<br>of folk that were thither drawn below,<br>and mourned as dead, but were not so.<br>For some there stood who had no head,<br>and some no arms, nor feet; some bled<br>and through their bodies wounds were set,<br>and some were strangled as they ate,<br>and some lay raving, chained and bound,<br>and some in water had been drowned;<br>and some were withered in the fire,<br>and some on horse, in war's attire,<br>and wives there lay in their childbed,<br>and mad were some, and some were dead;<br>and passing many there lay beside<br>as though they slept at quiet noon-tide.<br>Thus in the world was each one caught<br>and thither by fairy magic brought.<br>There too he saw his own sweet wife,<br>Queen Heurodis, his joy and life,<br>asleep beneath a grafted tree:<br>by her attire he knew 'twas she.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When he had marked these marvels all,<br>he went before the king in hall,<br>and there a joyous sight did see,<br>a shining throne and canopy.<br>Their king and lord there held his seat<br>beside their lady fair and sweet.<br>Their crowns and clothes so brightly shone<br>that scarce his eyes might look thereon.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When he had marked this wondrous thing,<br>he knelt him down before the king:<br>'O lord,' said he, 'if it be thy will,<br>now shalt thou hear my minstrel's skill.'<br>The king replied: 'What man art thou<br>that hither darest venture now?<br>Not I nor any here with me<br>have ever sent to summon thee,<br>and since here first my reign began<br>I have never found so rash a man<br>that he to us would dare to wend,<br>unless I first for him should send.'<br>'My lord,' said he, 'I thee assure,<br>I am but a wandering minstrel poor;<br>and, sir, this custom use we all<br>at the house of many a lord to call,<br>and little though our welcome be,<br>to offer there our minstrelsy.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Before the king upon the ground<br>he sat, and touched his harp to sound;<br>his harp he tuned as well he could,<br>glad notes began and music good,<br>and all who were in palace found<br>came unto him to hear the sound,<br>and lay before his very feet,<br>they thought his melody so sweet.<br>He played, and silent sat the king<br>for great delight in listening;<br>great joy this minstrelsy he deemed,<br>and joy to his noble queen it seemed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">At last when he his harping stayed,<br>this speech the king to him then made:<br>'Minstrel, thy music pleaseth me.<br>Come, ask of me whate'er it be,<br>and rich reward I will thee pay.<br>Come, speak, and prove now what I say!'<br>'Good sir,' he said, 'I beg of thee<br>that this thing thou wouldst give to me,<br>that very lady fair to see<br>who sleeps beneath the grafted tree.'<br>'Nay,' said the king, 'that would not do!<br>for thou art black, and rough, and lean,<br>and she is faultless, fair and clean.<br>A monstrous thing then would it be<br>to see her in thy company.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'O sir,' he said, 'O gracious king,<br>but it would be a fouler thing<br>from mouth of thine to hear a lie.<br>Thy vow, sir, thou canst not deny,<br>Whate'er I asked, that should I gain,<br>and thou must needs thy word maintain.'<br>The king then said: 'Since that is so,<br>now take her hand in thine, and go;<br>I wish thee joy of her, my friend!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He thanked him well, on knees did bend;<br>his wife he took then by the hand,<br>and departed swiftly from that land,<br>and from that country went in haste;<br>the way he came he now retraced.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Long was the road. The journey passed;<br>to Winchester he came at last,<br>his own beloved city free;<br>but no man knew that it was he.<br>Beyond the town's end yet to fare,<br>lest men them knew, he did not dare;<br>but in a beggar's narrow cot<br>a lowly lodging there he got <br>both for himself and for his wife,<br>as a minstrel poor of wandering life.<br>He asked for tidings in the land,<br>and who that kingdom held in hand;<br>the beggar poor him answered well<br>and told all things that there befell:<br>how fairies stole their queen away<br>ten years before, in time of May;<br>and how in exile went their king<br>in unknown countries wandering,<br>while still the steward rule did hold;<br>and many things beside he told.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Next day, when hour of noon was near,<br>he bade his wife await him here;<br>the beggar's rags he on him flung,<br>his harp upon his back he hung,<br>and went into the city's ways<br>for men to look and on him gaze.<br>Him earl and lord and baron bold,<br>lady and burgess, did behold.<br>'O look! O what a man!' they said,<br>'How long the hair hands from his head!<br>His beard is dangling to his knee!<br>He is gnarled and knotted like a tree!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then as he walked along the street<br>He chanced his steward there to meet,<br>and after him aloud cried he:<br>'Mercy, sir steward, have on me!<br>A harper I am from Heathenesse;<br>to thee I turn in my distress.'<br>The steward said: 'Come with me, come!<br>Of what I have thou shalt have some.<br>All harpers good I welcome make<br>For my dear lord Sir Orfeo's sake.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The steward in castle sat at meat,<br>and many a lord there had his seat;<br>trumpeters, tabourers there played<br>harpers and fiddlers music made.<br>Many a melody made they all,<br>but Orfeo silent sat in hall<br>and listened. And when they all were still<br>he took his harp and tuned it shrill.<br>Then notes he harped more glad and clear<br>than ever a man hath heard with ear;<br>his music delighted all those men.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The steward looked and looked again;<br>the harp in hand at once he knew,<br>'Minstrel,' he said, 'come, tell me true,<br>whence came this harp to thee, and how?<br>I pray thee, tell me plainly now.'<br>'My lord,' said he, 'in lands unknown<br>I walked a wilderness alone,<br>and there I found in dale forlorn<br>a man by lions to pieces torn,<br>by wolves devoured with teeth so sharp;<br>by him I found this very harp,<br>and that is full ten years ago.'<br>'Ah!' said the steward, 'news of woe!<br>'Twas Orfeo, my master true.<br>Alas! poor wretch, what shall I do,<br>who must so dear a master mourn?<br>A! woe is me that I was born,<br>for him so hard a fate designed,<br>a death so vile that he should find!'<br>Then on the ground he fell in swoon;<br>his barons stooping raised him soon<br>and bade him think how all must end -<br>for death of man no man can mend.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">King Orfeo now had proved and knew<br>his steward was both loyal and true,<br>and loved him as he duly should.<br>'Lo!' then he cried, and up he stood,<br>'Steward, now to my words give ear!<br>If thy king, Orfeo, were here,<br>and had in wilderness full long<br>suffered great hardship sore and strong,<br>had won his queen by his own hand <br>out of the deeps of fairy land,<br>and led at last his lady dear<br>right hither to the town's end near,<br>and lodged her in a beggar's cot;<br>if I were he, whom ye knew not,<br>thus come among you, poor and ill,<br>in secret to prove thy faith and will,<br>if then I thee had found so true,<br>thy loyalty never shouldst thou rue:<br>nay, certainly, tide what betide,<br>thou shouldst be king when Orfeo died.<br>Hadst thou rejoiced to hear my fate,<br>I would have thrust thee from the gate.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then clearly knew they in the hall<br>that Orfeo stood before them all.<br>The steward understood at last;<br>in his haste the table down he cast<br>and flung himself before his feet,<br>and each lord likewise left his seat,<br>and this one cry they all let ring:<br>'Ye are our lord, sir, and our king!'<br>To know he lived so glad they were.<br>To his chamber soon they brought him there;<br>they bathed him and they shaved his beard,<br>and robed him, till royal he appeared;<br>and brought them in procession long<br>the queen to town with merry song,<br>with many a sound of minstrelsy.<br>A Lord! how great the melody!<br>For joy the tears were falling fast<br>of those who saw them safe at last.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now was King Orfeo crowned anew,<br>and Heurodis his lady too;<br>and long they lived, till they were dead,<br>and king was the steward in their stead.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Harpers in Britain in aftertime<br>these marvels heard, and in their rhyme<br>a lay they made of fair delight,<br>and after the king it named aright,<br>'Orfeo' called it, as was meet:<br>good is the lay, the music sweet.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thus came Sir Orfeo out of care.<br>God grant that well we all may fare!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Anonymous+Olde+English">Anonymous Olde English</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=346082" data-title="Sir Orfeo de Anonymous Olde English" data-description="We often read and written find, as learned men do us remind, that lays that now the harpers sing are wrought of many a marvellous thing. Some are of weal, and some of woe, and some do joy and gladness know; in some are guile and treachery told, in..."></div> </div> </div>

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