less. Wherefore, Lord Phoebus, this is my request, Do this mirácle, or do mine heartë brest; That now, next at this oppositión, Which in the sign shall be of the Lión, As prayë her so great a flood to bring, That five fathóm at least it overspring The highest rock in Armoric’ Bretágne, And let this flood endurë yearës twain: Then certes to my lady may I say, “Holdë your hest, the rockës be away.” Lord Phoebus, this mirácle do for me, Pray her she go no faster course than ye; I say this, “pray your sister that she go No faster course than ye these yearës two: Then shall she be even at full alway, And spring-flood lastë bothë night and day. And but she vouchësafe in such mannére To grantë me my sov’reign lady dear, Pray her to sink every rock adown Into her owen darkë regioún Under the ground, where Pluto dwelleth in Or nevermore shall I my lady win. Thy temple in Delphos will I barefoot seek. Lord Phoebus! see the tearës on my cheek And on my pain have some compassioún.” And with that word in sorrow he fell down, And longë time he lay forth in a trance. His brother, which that knew of his penánce, Up caught him, and to bed he hath him brought, Despaired in this torment and this thought Let I this woeful creatúrë lie; Choose he for me whe’er he will live or die.
Arviragus with health and great honoúr (As he that was of chivalry the flow’r) Is comë home, and other worthy men. Oh, blissful art thou now, thou Dorigen! Thou hast thy lusty husband in thine arms, The freshë knight, the worthy man of arms, That loveth thee as his own heartë’s life: Nothing list him to be imaginatif If any wight had spoke, while he was out, To her of love; he had of that no doubt; He not intended to no such mattére, But danced, jousted, and made merry cheer. And thus in joy and bliss I let them dwell, And of the sick Aurelius will I tell. In languor and in torment furious Two year and more lay wretch’d Aurelius, Ere any foot on earth he mightë gon; Nor comfort in this timë had he none, Save of his brother, which that was a clerk. He knew of all this woe and all this work; For to none other creatúre certáin Of this matter he durst no wordë sayn; Under his breast he bare it more secré Than e’er did Pamphilus for Galatee. His breast was whole withoutë for to seen, But in