www.public4you.fora.pl

wywm299471

A voice was heard by all that audience, Saying: "You have here slandered the guiltless Daughter of Holy Church, in high Presence; Thus have you done, and further I'll not press." Whereat were all the folk aghast, no less; As men amazed they stand there, every one, For dread of vengeance, save Constance alone. Great was the fear and, too, the repentance Of those that held a wrong suspicion there Against this simple innocent Constance; And by this miracle so wondrous fair, And by her mediation and her prayer, The king, with many another in that place, Was there converted, thanks to Christ His grace! This lying knight was slain for his untruth, By sentence of King Alla, hastily; Yet Constance had upon his death great ruth. And after this, Jesus, of His mercy, Caused Alla take in marriage, solemnly, This holy maiden, so bright and serene, And thus has Christ made fair Constance a queen. But who was sad, if I am not to lie, At this but Lady Donegild, she who Was the king's mother, full of tyranny? She thought her wicked heart must burst in two; She would he'd never thought this thing to do; And so she hugged her anger that he'd take So strange a wife as this creature must make. Neither with chaff nor straw it pleases me To make a long tale, here, but with the corn. Why should I tell of all the royalty At that wedding, or who went first, wellborn, The Canterbury Tales The Canterbury Tales 105Or who blew out a trumpet or a horn? The fruit of every tale is but to say, They eat and drink and dance and sing and play. They went to bed, as was but just and right, For though some wives are pure and saintly things, They must endure, in patience, in the night, Such necessaries as make pleasurings To men whom they have wedded well with rings, And lay their holiness a while aside; There may no better destiny betide.

[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]
[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]
[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]
[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]
On her he got a manchild right anon; And to a bishop and the warden eke He gave his wife to guard, while he was gone To Scotland, there his enemies to seek; Now Constance, who so humble is, and meek, So long is gone with child that, hushed and still, She keeps her chamber, waiting on Christ's will. The time was come, a baby boy she bore; Mauritius they did name him at the font; This constable sent forth a messenger And wrote unto King Alla at the front Of all this glad event, a full account, And other pressing matters did he say. He took the letter and went on his way. This messenger, to forward his own ends, To the king's mother rode with swiftest speed, Humbly saluting her as down he bends: "Madam," quoth he, "be joyful now indeed! To God a hundred thousand thanks proceed. The queen has borne a child, beyond all doubt, To joy and bliss of all this land about. "Lo, here are letters sealed that say this thing, Which I must bear with all the speed I may; If you will send aught to your son, the king, I am your humble servant, night and day." Donegild answered: "As for this time, nay; But here tonight I'd have you take your rest; Tomorrow I will say what I think best." This messenger drank deep of ale and wine, And stolen were his letters, stealthily, Out of his box, while slept he like a swine; And counterfeited was, right cleverly, Another letter, wrought full sinfully, Unto the king; of this event so near, All from the constable, as you shall hear. The letter said, the queen delivered was Of such a fiendish, horrible creature, That in the castle none so hardy as Durst, for a lengthy time, there to endure. The mother was an elf or fairy, sure, Come there by chance of charm, or sorcery, The Canterbury Tales The Canterbury Tales 106And all good men hated her company. Sad was the king when this letter he'd seen; But to no man he told his sorrows sore, But with his own hand he wrote back again: "Welcome what's sent from Christ, for evermore, To me, who now am learned in His lore; Lord, welcome be Thy wish, though hidden still, My own desire is but to do Thy will. "Guard well this child, though foul it be or fair, And guard my wife until my homecoming; Christ, when He wills it, may send me an heir More consonant than this with my liking." This letter sealed, and inwardly weeping, To the same messenger 'twas taken soon, And forth he went; there's no more to be done. O messenger, possessed of drunkenness, Strong is your breath, your limbs do falter aye, And you betray all secrets, great and less; Your mind is gone, you jangle like a jay; Your face is mottled in a new array! Where drunkenness can reign, in any rout, There is no counsel kept, beyond a doubt.