Now was this child as like unto Constance As possible is a creature to be: This Alla had the face in remembránce Of Dame Constance, and thereon mused he, If that the childë’s mother were aught she That was his wife; and privily he sight, And sped him from the table that he might.
“Parfay,” thought he, “phantom is in mine head. I ought to deem, of skilful judgëment, That in the saltë sea my wife is dead.” And afterward he made his argument, “What wot I, if that Christ have hither sent My wife by sea, as well as he her sent To my country, from thennës that she went?”
And, after noon, home with the senator Went Alla, for to see this wondrous chance. This senator did Alla great honór, And hastily he sent after Constance: But trustë well, her listë not to dance. When that she wistë wherefore was that sond, Unneth upon her feet she mightë stand.
When Alla saw his wife, fair he her gret, And wept, that it was ruthë for to see, For at the firstë look he on her set He knew well verily that it was she: And she, for sorrow, as dumb stood as a tree: So was her heartë shut in her distress, When she remember’d his unkindëness.
Twicë she swooned in his owen sight, He wept and him excused piteously: “Now God,” quoth he, “and all his hallows bright So wisly on my soulë have mercý, That of your harm as guiltëless am I, As is Mauríce my son, so like your face, Else may the fiend me fetch out of this place.”
Long was the sobbing and the bitter pain, Ere that their woeful heartës mightë cease; Great was the pity for to hear them plain, Through whichë plaintës gan their woe increase. I pray you all my labour to release, I may not tell all their woe till to-morrow, I am so weary for to speak of sorrow.