Where David on regal throne did reign;

  It abides not here on hill nor plain,

  But in Judah is that noble plot.

  As under moon ye have no stain

  Your home should be without a spot.

  78This spotless troop of which you tell,

  This thronging press many-thousandfold,

  Ye doubtless a mighty citadel

  Must have your number great to hold:

  For jewels so lovely ’twould not be well

  That flock so fair should have no fold!

  Yet by these banks where a while I dwell

  I nowhere about any house behold.

  To gaze on this glorious stream you strolled

  And linger alone now, do you not?

  If elsewhere you have stout stronghold,

  Now guide me to that goodly spot!’

  79That spot’, that peerless maid replied,

  ‘In Judah’s land of which you spake,

  Is the city to which the Lamb did ride,

  To suffer sore there for Man’s sake.

  The Old Jerusalem is implied,

  For old sin’s bond He there let break.

  But the New, that God sent down to glide,

  The Apocalypse in account doth take.

  The Lamb that no blot ever black shall make

  Doth there His lovely throng allot,

  And as His flock all stains forsake

  So His mansion is unmarred by spot.

  80There are two spots. To speak of these:

  They both the name “Jerusalem” share;

  “The City of God” or “Sight of Peace”,

  These meanings only doth that bear.

  In the first it once the Lamb did please

  Our peace by His suffering to repair;

  In the other naught is found but peace

  That shall last for ever without impair.

  To that high city we swiftly fare

  As soon as our flesh is laid to rot;

  Ever grow shall the bliss and glory there

  For the host within that hath no spot.’

  81‘O spotless maiden kind!’ I cried

  To that lovely flower, ‘O lead me there,

  To see where blissful you abide,

  To that goodly place let me repair!’

  ‘God will forbid that’, she replied,

  ‘His tower to enter you may not dare.

  But the Lamb hath leave to me supplied

  For a sight thereof by favour rare:

  From without on that precinct pure to stare,

  But foot within to venture not;

  In the street you have no strength to fare,

  Unless clean you be without a spot.

  82IF I this spot shall to you unhide,

  Turn up towards this water’s head,

  While I escort you on this side,

  Until your ways to a hill have led.’

  No longer would I then abide,

  But shrouded by leafy boughs did tread,

  Until from a hill I there espied

  A glimpse of that city, as forth I sped.

  Beyond the river below me spread

  Brighter than sun with beams it shone;

  In the Apocalypse may its form be read,

  As it describes the apostle John.

  83As John the apostle it did view,

  I saw that city of great renown,

  Jerusalem royally arrayed and new,

  As it was drawn from heaven down.

  Of gold refined in fire to hue

  Of glittering glass was that shining town;

  Fair gems beneath were joined as due

  In courses twelve, on the base laid down

  That with tenoned tables twelve they crown:

  A single stone was each tier thereon,

  As well describes this wondrous town

  In apocalypse the apostle John.

  84These stones doth John in Writ disclose;

  I knew their names as he doth tell:

  As jewel first the jasper rose,

  And first at the base I saw it well,

  On the lowest course it greenly glows;

  On the second stage doth sapphire dwell;

  Chalcedony on the third tier shows,

  A flawless, pure, and pale jewel;

  The emerald fourth so green of shell;

  The sardonyx, the fifth it shone,

  The ruby sixth: he saw it well

  In the Apocalypse, the apostle John.

  85To them John then joined the chrysolite,

  The seventh gem in the ascent;

  The eighth the beryl clear and white;

  The twin-hued topaz as ninth was pent;

  Tenth the Chrysoprase formed the flight;

  Eleventh was jacinth excellent;

  The twelfth, most trusty in every plight,

  The amethyst blue with purple blent.

  Sheer from those tiers the wall then went

  Of jasper like glass that glistening shone;

  I knew it, for thus did it present

  In the Apocalypse the apostle John.

  86As John described, I broad and sheer

  These twelve degrees saw rising there;

  Above the city square did rear

  (Its length with breadth and height compare);

  The streets of gold as glass all clear,

  The wall of jasper that gleamed like glair;

  With all precious stones that might there appear

  Adorned within the dwellings were.

  Of that domain each side all square

  Twelve thousand furlongs held then on,

  As in height and breadth, in length did fare,

  For it measured saw the apostle John.

  87AS John hath writ, I saw yet more:

  Each quadrate wall there had three gates,

  So in compass there were three times four,

  The portals o’erlaid with richest plates;

  A single pearl was every door,

  A pearl whose perfection ne’er abates;

  And each inscribed a name there bore

  Of Israel’s children by their dates:

  Their times of birth each allocates,

  Ever first the eldest thereon is hewn.

  Such light every street illuminates

  They have need of neither sun nor moon.

  88Of sun nor moon they had no need,

  For God Himself was their sunlight;

  The Lamb their lantern was indeed

  And through Him blazed that city bright

  That unearthly clear did no light impede;

  Through wall and hall thus passed my sight.

  The Throne on high there might one heed,

  With all its rich adornment dight,

  As John in chosen words did write.

  High God Himself sat on that throne,

  Whence forth a river ran with light

  Outshining both the sun and moon.

  89Neither sun nor moon ever shone so sweet

  As the pouring flood from that court that flowed;

  Swiftly it swept through every street,

  And no filth nor soil nor slime it showed.

  No church was there the sight to greet,

  Nor chapel nor temple there ever abode:

  The Almighty was their minster meet;

  Refreshment the Victim Lamb bestowed.

  The gates ever open to every road

  Were never yet shut from noon to noon;

  There enters none to find abode

  Who bears any spot beneath the moon.

  90The moon therefrom may gain no might,

  Too spotty is she, of form too hoar;

  Moreover there comes never night:

  Why should the moon in circle soar

  And compare her with that peerless light

  That shines upon that water’s shore?

  The planets are in too poor a plight,

  Yea, the sun himself too pale and frore.

  On shining trees where those waters pour

  Twelve fruits of life there ripen soon;

  Twelve times a year they bear a store,

  And renew them anew in every moon.

  91Such marvels as neath the moon upraised

  A fleshly heart could not endure

  I saw, who on that castle gazed;

  Such wonders did its frame immure,

  I stood there still as quail all dazed;

  Its wondrous form did me allure,

  That rest nor toil I felt, amazed,

  And ravished by that radiance pure.

  For with conscience clear I you assure,

  If man embodied had gained that boon,

  Though sages all assayed his cure,

  His life had been lost beneath the moon.

  92AS doth the moon in might arise,

  Ere down must daylight leave the air,

  So, suddenly, in a wondrous wise,

  Of procession long I was aware.

  Unheralded to my surprise

  That city of royal renown so fair

  Was with virgins filled in the very guise

  Of my blissful one with crown on hair.

  All crowned in manner like they were,

  In pearls appointed, and weeds of white,

  And bound on breast did each one bear

  The blissful pearl with great delight.

  93With great delight in line they strolled

  On golden ways that gleamed like glass;

  A hundred thousands were there, I hold,

  And all to match their livery was;

  The gladdest face could none have told.

  The Lamb before did proudly pass

  With seven horns of clear red gold;

  As pearls of price His raiment was.

  To the Throne now drawn they pacing pass:

  No crowding, though great their host in white,

  But gentle as modest maids at Mass,

  So lead they on with great delight.

  94The delight too great were to recall

  That at His coming forth did swell.

  When He approached those elders all

  On their faces at His feet they fell;

  There summoned hosts angelical

  An incense cast of sweetest smell:

  New glory and joy then forth did fall,

  All sang to praise that fair Jewel.

  The strain could strike through earth to hell

  That the Virtues of heaven in joy endite.

  With His host to laud the Lamb as well

  Indeed I found a great delight.

  95Delight the Lamb to behold with eyes

  Then moved my mind with wonder more:

  The best was He, blithest, most dear to prize

  Of whom I e’er heard tales of yore;

  So wondrous white was all His guise,

  So noble Himself He so meekly bore.

  But by His heart a wound my eyes

  Saw wide and wet; the fleece it tore,

  From His white side His blood did pour.

  Alas! thought I, who did that spite?

  His breast should have burned with anguish sore,

  Ere in that deed one took delight.

  96The Lamb’s delight to doubt, I ween,

  None wished; though wound He sore displayed,

  In His face no sign thereof was seen,

  In His glance such glorious gladness played.

  I marked among His host serene,

  How life in full on each was laid –

  Then saw I there my little queen

  That I thought stood by me in the glade!

  Lord! great was the merriment she made,

  Among her peers who was so white.

  That vision made me think to wade

  For love-longing in great delight.

  97DELIGHT there pierced my eye and ear,

  In my mortal mind a madness reigned;

  When I saw her beauty I would be near,

  Though beyond the stream she was retained.

  I thought that naught could interfere,

  Could strike me back to halt constrained,

  From plunge in stream would none me steer,

  Though I died ere I swam o’er what remained.

  But as wild in the water to start I strained,

  On my intent did quaking seize;

  From that aim recalled I was detained:

  It was not as my Prince did please.

  98It pleased Him not that I leapt o’er

  Those marvellous bounds by madness swayed.

  Though headlong haste me heedless bore,

  Yet swift arrest was on me made,

  For right as I rushed then to the shore

  That fury made my dream to fade.

  I woke in that garden as before,

  My head upon that mound was laid

  Where once to earth my pearl had strayed.

  I stretched, and fell in great unease,

  And sighing to myself I prayed:

  ‘Now all be as that Prince may please.’

  99It pleased me ill outcast to be

  So suddenly from that region fair

  Where living beauty I could see.

  A swoon of longing smote me there,

  And I cried aloud then piteously:

  ‘O Pearl, renowned beyond compare!

  How dear was all that you said to me,

  That vision true while I did share.

  If it be true and sooth to swear

  That in garland gay you are set at ease,

  Then happy I, though chained in care,

  That you that Prince indeed do please.’

  100To please that Prince had I always bent,

  Desired no more than was my share,

  And loyally been obedient,

  As the Pearl me prayed so debonair,

  I before God’s face might have been sent,

  In his mysteries further maybe to fare.

  But with fortune no man is content

  That rightly he may claim and bear;

  So robbed of realms immortally fair

  Too soon my joy did sorrow seize.

  Lord! mad are they who against Thee dare

  Or purpose what Thee may displease!

  101To please that Prince, or be pardon shown,

  May Christian good with ease design;

  For day and night I have him known

  A God, a Lord, a Friend divine.

  This chance I met on mound where prone

  In grief for my pearl I would repine;

  With Christ’s sweet blessing and mine own

  I then to God it did resign.

  May He that in form of bread and wine

  By priest upheld each day one sees,

  Us inmates of His house divine

  Make precious pearls Himself to please. Amen Amen

  SIR ORFEO

  Sir Orfeo is found in three manuscripts, of which the earliest gives very much the best text; this is the Auchinleck manuscript, a large miscellany made about 1330, probably in London, and now in the Advocates’ Library in Edinburgh. The other manuscripts, both of the fifteenth century, offer very decrepit versions of the poem; but the Auchinleck text has also suffered from the corruptions of error and forgetfulness, if much less so than the others. The translation follows the Auchinleck text (with some emendations), except at the beginning, where a leaf is lost from the manuscript. Auchinleck begins with Orfeo was a king (line 25 of the translation); but the manuscript Harley 3810 precedes this with the 24-line prologue which is here translated. This prologue appears also in a very corrupt state in the third manuscript, Ashmole 61; and, remarkably, also elsewhere in the Auchinleck manuscript, as the prologue of another poem, Lay le Freyne, which has been thought to be the work of the same author. In addition, lines 33-46 in the translation are introduced from the Harley manuscript; they are agreed to be genuine lines of the original. It is agreed that the references to England (line 26) and to Winchester (lines 49–50, and line 478), which are peculiar to the Auchinleck version, are not authentic.

  It cannot be said where or when Sir Orfeo was composed with any more precision than probably in the south-east of England in the latter part of the thirteenth century, or early in the fourteenth; and it seems at any rate more probable than not that it was translated from a French original.

  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 some the deeds that chanced of old;

  some are of jests and ribaldry,

  10and some are tales of Faërie.

  Of all the things that men may heed

  ’tis most of love they sing indeed.

  In Britain all these lays are writ,

  there issued first in rhyming fit,

  concerning adventures in those days

  whereof the Britons made their lays;

  for when they heard men anywhere

  tell of adventures that there were,

  they took their harps in their delight

  20and made a lay and named it right.

  Of adventures that did once befall

  some can I tell you, but not all.

  Listen now, lordings good and true,

  and ‘Orfeo’ I will sing to you.

  Sir Orfeo was a king of old,

  in England lordship high did hold;

  valour he had and hardihood,

  a courteous king whose gifts were good.

  His father from King Pluto came,

  30his mother from Juno, king of fame,

  who once of old as gods were named

  for mighty deeds they did and claimed.

  Sir Orfeo, too, all things beyond

  of harping’s sweet delight was fond,

  and sure were all good harpers there

  of him to earn them honour fair;

  himself he loved to touch the harp

  and pluck the strings with fingers sharp.

  He played so well, beneath the sun

  40a better harper was there none;

  no man hath in this world been born

  who would not, hearing him, have sworn

  that as before him Orfeo played

  to joy of Paradise he had strayed

  and sound of harpers heavenly,

  such joy was there and melody.

  This king abode in Tracience,

  a city proud of stout defence;

  for Winchester, ’tis certain, then

  50as Tracience was known to men.

  There dwelt his queen in fairest bliss,

  whom men called Lady Heurodis,

  of ladies then the one most fair

  who ever flesh and blood did wear;

  in her did grace and goodness dwell,

 

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