died; And to the tree she went, full hastily, And on this falcon looked piteously, And held her lap abroad, for well she wist The falcon mustë fallë from the twist When that she swooned next, for lack of blood. A longë while to waitë her she stood, Till at the last she apake in this mannére Unto the hawk, as ye shall after hear. “What is the cause, if it be for to tell, That ye be in this furial pain of hell?” Quoth Canacé unto this hawk above; “Is this for sorrow of death, or loss of love? For, as I trow, these be the causes two, That causë most a gentle heartë woe. Of other harm it needeth not to speak. For ye yourself upon yourself awreak; Which proveth well, that either ire or dread Must be occasion of your cruel deed, Since that I see none other wight you chase. For love of God, as do yourselfë grace, Or what may be your help? for, west nor east, I never saw ere now no bird nor beast That fared with himself so piteously. Ye slay me with your sorrow verily, I have of you so great compassioún. For Goddë’s love come from the tree adown; And, as I am a kingë’s daughter true, If that I verily the causes knew Of your disease, if it lay in my might, I would amend it, ere that it were night, So wisly help me the great God of kind. And herbës shall I right enoughë find, To healë with your hurtës hastily.” Then shriek’d this falcon yet more piteously Than ever she did, and fell to ground anon, And lay aswoon, as dead as lies a stone, Till Canacé had in her lap her take, Unto that time she gan of swoon awake: And, after that she out of swoon abraid, Right in her hawkë’s leden thus she said:
“That pity runneth soon in gentle heart (Feeling his simil’tude in painë’s smart), Is proved every day, as men may see, As well by work as by authority; For gentle heartë kitheth gentleness. I see well, that ye have on my distress Compassión, my fairë Canacé, Of very womanly benignity That nature in your princples hath set. But for no hopë for to fare the bet, But for t’ obey unto your heartë free, And for to make others aware by me, As by the whelp chastis’d is the lión, Right for that cause and that conclusión, While that I have a leisure and a space, Mine harm I will confessen ere I pace.” And ever while the one her sorrow told, The other