The Lay of Marie and Vignettes in Verse Part 12

One year or more within some secret bower, So dwelt the knight beneath the marble tower; Thoughts of his sire, at last, how he might bear His son's long absence, so awaken'd care, Needs must he back to Leon: vainly here Sues fond Nogiva's interdicting tear.

"Sad leave reluctantly I yield!" she cries, "Yet take this girdle, knit with mystick ties, Wed never dame till first this secret spell Her dextrous hands have loosen'd:--so farewell!"

"Never, I swear, my sweet! so weal betide!"

With heavy heart Sir Gugemer replied; Then hied him to the gate, when lo! at hand Nogiva's h.o.a.ry lord is seen to stand, (Brought by the fairy foe's relentless ire,) And l.u.s.tily he calls for knight and squire: Now with his trusty blade, of temper good, The stout knight clears his course to ocean's flood, Sweeps right and left the scatter'd rout away, And climbs the bark of his protectress fay; Light glides the ebon keel the waters o'er, And his glad footsteps press his native sh.o.r.e.

His father, who had long time, woe-begone, Bewail'd the absence of his darling son; Ween'd the best course to hold him now for life, Should be to link him closely to a wife.

Sir Gugemer, urg'd sore, at length avows, He never will take woman's hand for spouse, Save her's, whose fingers, skill'd in ladies' lore, Shall loose that knot his mystick girdle bore.

Straight all that Bretany contain'd of fair, Widows, and dainty maids, the adventure dare: Clerks were they all, I ween; but knots like these May not be loos'd when earthly beauties please.

Thus while it fares with those, in dungeon deep See sad Nogiva never cease to weep!

Doom'd by her jealous lord's revengeful mood, The well her beverage, bitter bread her food, Lo there with iron gyves chain'd down she lies, And wails unheard her hopeless miseries: Scarce brooking longer life, but that the thought Of Gugemer some gleams of solace brought: Him would she name full oft, and oft implore Heaven, but to view his winning face once more.

Long had she sorrow'd thus; her fairy friend Hears at the last, and bids her sufferings end: Burst by her magic touch the fetters fall, Wide springs the gate, and quakes the obdurate wall; Close to the sh.o.r.e the enchanted pinnace glides, Feels its fair guest within its arching sides, Then ploughs the foaming main with gallant state, Till Bretany's far coast receives the freight.

Meriadus--(that name the monarch bore, Where first Nogiva's footsteps prest the sh.o.r.e,) Meriadus such charms not vainly view'd; He saw, felt love, and like a sovereign woo'd: She briefly answers:--"None this heart may move, This bosom none inspire with mutual love, Save he whose skill this girdle shall unbind, Fast round my waist with mystick tie confin'd."

Much strove Meriadus, strove much in vain, Strove every courtly gallant of his train: All foil'd alike, he blazons far and wide A tournament, and there the emprize be tried!

There who may loose the band, and win the expectant bride!

Sir Gugemer, when first the tidings came Of the quaint girdle, and the stranger dame.

Ween'd well Nogiva's self, his dame alone, Bore this mysterious knot so like his own.

On to the tournament elate he hies, There his liege lady greets his wistful eyes: What now remain'd? "Meriadus! once more I view," he cries, "the mistress I adore; Long have our hearts been one! great king, 'tis thine Twin [Errata: Twain] lovers, sadly sunder'd long, to join.

So will I straight do homage, so remain Thy liegeman three full years, sans other gain, Thine with a hundred knights, and I their charge maintain."

Brave was the proffer, but it prosper'd nought; Love rul'd alone the unyielding monarch's thought.

Then Gugemer vows vengeance, then in arms Speaks stern defy, and claims Nogiva's charms: And, for his cause seem'd good, anon behold Many a strange knight, and many a baron bold, Brought by the tourney's fame, on fiery steeds Couch lance to aid; and mortal strife succeeds.

Long time beleagur'd gape the castle walls; First in the breach the indignant monarch falls: Nogiva's lord next meets an equal fate; And Gugemer straight weds the widow'd mate.

No. II.--EQUITAN;

A prince of Bretagne, so pa.s.sionately attached to chivalrous amus.e.m.e.nts, that he cared neither for business nor gallantry. Nothing but the necessity of heading his troops could withdraw him from the pleasures of hunting and hawking; and all affairs of state were managed by his steward, a man of equal loyalty and experience. Unfortunately this steward had a beautiful wife: the prince heard her much praised; and insensibly began to think his sport most agreeable, when it conducted him, at the end of the day, to the steward's castle; where he had a natural opportunity of seeing and conversing with the lovely hostess.

Overcome by his pa.s.sion, almost before he was conscious of it, he began by reflecting on the baseness of the part he was preparing to act; and ended, by determining not to endure the misery of privation and disappointment, if he could succeed in seducing her. Having devised, in the course of a sleepless night, as many arguments as were necessary to satisfy his own morality, and formed a plan for securing a long interview, he set off for the chase; returning after a short time, under pretence of sudden indisposition, and retiring to bed, he sent to request a visit from the lady, who then received a very long and eloquent declaration of love. To this she replied, at first, by proper expostulations; but when at length a.s.sured, with the utmost solemnity, that if her husband was dead she should become the partner of his throne, she suddenly gave way, and proposed, with his a.s.sistance, to destroy the steward, so artfully, that neither should incur the slightest suspicion. Equitan, far from being startled at this atrocious proposition, a.s.sured her of his concurrence, and she continued thus: "Return, sir, for the present, to your court; then come to pursue your diversion in this forest, and again take up your abode under our roof.

You must once more pretend to be indisposed; cause yourself to be blooded; and on the third day order a bath, invite my husband to bathe and afterwards to dine with you. I will take care to prepare the bathing tubs: that which I destine for him shall be filled with boiling water, so that he will be instantly scalded to death; after which you will call in your and his attendants, and explain to them how your affectionate steward had expired in the act of bathing." At the end of three months every thing was arranged for the execution of this diabolical plot; but the steward, who had risen early for some purpose of business or amus.e.m.e.nt, happening to stay rather beyond the time, the lovers had met during his absence, forgetting that their guilty project was not yet accomplished. A maid was stationed at the door, near which stood the fatal bath; but the husband returning with precipitation, suddenly forced it open, in spite of her feeble opposition, and discovered his wife in the arms of Equitan. The prince, under the first impulse of surprize and remorse, started from the bed, and, heedlessly plunging into the boiling bath, was instantly suffocated or scalded to death. The husband, almost at the same instant, seized on his guilty partner, and threw her headlong after her paramour. Thus were the wicked punished, by the means which they contrived for the destruction of another; and such is the substance of the lay which was composed by the Bretons under the name of Equitan.

No. III.--LAY LE FRAINE.

This ancient and curious little poem, translated from the French of Marie, is preserved in the Auchinlech MSS. It was communicated by Mr.

Walter Scott to Mr. Ellis, and is inserted amongst his Miscellaneous Romances. It is mutilated in two places, and wants the conclusion. These defects are supplied from the French prose.

The prologue begins by observing, that in ancient times, lays, intended to be accompanied by the harp, were composed on all sorts of subjects.

Some both of war, and some of woe; And some of joy and mirth also; And some of treachery and of guile; Of old aventures that fell while; And some of _bourdes_[33] and ribaudy; And many there beth of fairy; Of all thinges that men seth, Most of love, forsooth, there beth.

In Bretayne, by old time, These lays were made, so sayeth this rhyme, &c.

The Bretons never failed converting into lays all the anecdotes they thought worth consigning to memory; and the following was thus composed, and called Lay le Fraine (frene), or "The Aventure of the Ash."

In the "West countrie" lived two knights, men of opulence, friends from their infancy, and married about the same time. One of the ladies having twins, her husband sent to announce the event to his friend.

The messenger goth, and hath nought forgete, And findeth the knight at his mete; And fair he gret, in the hall, The lord, the levedi, the meyne all; And sith then, on knees down him set, And the lord full fair he gret.

"He bade that thou should to him _te_,[34]

And, for love, his _gossibbe_[35] be."

"Is his levedi deliver'd _with sounde?_"[36]

"Ya, sir, y-thonked be G.o.d, _yestronde._"[37]

"And whether a maiden child, other a knave?"

"Tway sones, sir, G.o.d hem save!"

The knight thereof was glad and blithe, And thonked G.o.des sonde swithe, And granted his errand in all thing, And gaf him a palfray for his tiding.

Then was the lady of the house A proud dame, and malicious, _Hoker-full, iche mis-segging_,[38]

Squeamous, and eke scorning; To iche woman she had envie; She spake these words of felonie: "Ich have wonder, thou messenger, Who was thy lordes conseillor, To teach him about to send, And tell shame _in iche an end!_"[39]

"That his wife hath tway children y-bore!

Well may iche man wite therfore That tway men her han hodde in bower: That is hir bothe dishonour!"

The messenger was sorely abashed by these unexpected and unjust reflections; the husband reprimanded his wife very severely for the intemperance of her tongue; and all the women of the country, amongst whom the story rapidly circulated, united in prayer, that her calumny might receive some signal punishment. Accordingly, the lady shortly after brought into the world two daughters. She was now reduced to the alternative of avowing herself guilty of a calumny against her innocent neighbour, or of imputing to herself, in common with the other, a crime of which she had not been guilty; unless she could contrive to remove one of the twins. The project of destroying her own child, was, at first, rejected with horror; but after revolving the subject in her mind, and canva.s.sing with great logical acuteness the objections to this atrocious measure, she determined to adopt it, because she could ultimately cleanse herself from the sin, by doing private penance, and obtaining absolution.

Having thus removed her scruples, she called the midwife, and directed her to destroy one of the infants, and to declare that one only had been born. But she refused; and the unnatural mother was reduced to seek for a more submissive and supple agent. She had a maid-servant, educated in the family, to whom she imparted her difficulties; and this confidential counsellor at once proposed a contrivance for removing them: "Give me the child," said she, "and be a.s.sured that, without destroying, I will so remove it, that it shall never give you any further trouble. There are many religious houses in the neighbourhood, whose inhabitants cannot be better employed than in nursing and educating orphan children. I will take care your infant shall be discovered by some of these good people, under whose care, by the blessing of Providence, it will thrive and prosper; and in the mean time I will take such means that its health shall not suffer. Dismiss your sorrow, therefore, and trust in my discretion." The lady was overjoyed, and accepted the offer with a.s.surances of eternal grat.i.tude.

As it was her wish that those who should find the child might know it was born of n.o.ble parents,

She took a rich _baudekine_,[40]

That her lord brought from _Constantine_,[41]

And lopped the little maiden therein; And took a ring of fine gold, And on her arm it knit, With a lace of silk in _plit._[42]

The maid took the child her _mid_,[43]

And stole away in an even tide, And pa.s.sed over a wild heath; Thorough field and thorough wood she _geth_,[44]

All the winter-long night.

The weather was clear, the moon was light, So that she com by a forest side; She wox all weary, and gan abide.

Soon after she gan heark, c.o.c.kes crow, and dogs bark; She arose, and thither wold; Near and nearer, she gan behold, Walls and houses fell the seigh, A church, with steeple fair and high; Then was there nother street no town, But an house of religion; An order of nuns, well y-dight, To servy G.o.d both day and night.

The maiden abode no _lengore_;[45]

But yede her to the church door, And on her knees she sate her down, And said, weepand, her orisones.

"O Lord," she said, "Jesus Christ, That sinful mannes _bedes_,[46]

_Underfong_[47] this present, And help this seli innocent!

That it mote y-christen'd be, For Marie love, thy mother free!"

She looked up, and by her seigh An asche, by her, fair and high, Well y-boughed, of mickle price; The body was hollow, as many one is.

Therin she laid the child for cold, In the _pel_,[48] as it was, _byfold_[49]

And blessed it with all her might.

With that it gan to dowe light.

The fowles up, and sung on bough, And acre-men yede to the plough, The maiden turned again anon, And took the way she had ere gon.

The porter of the abbey arose, And did his office in the close; Rung the bells and tapers light, Laid forth books, and all ready dight.

The church door be undid, And seigh anon, in the _stede_,[50]

The pel liggen in the tree, And thought well that it might be, That thieves had y-robbed somewhere, And gone there forth, and let it there.

Therto he yede, and it unwound, And the maiden child therin he found.

He took it up between his honde, And thanked Jesu Christes sonde, And home to his house he it brought, And took it to his daughter, and her besought That she should keep it as she con, For she was _melche, and couthe thon._[51]

She bade it suck, and it wold, For it was nigh dead for cold.

Anon, fire she a-light, And warmed it well _aplight_,[52]

She gave it suck upon her _barm_,[53]

And siththen, laid it to sleep warm.

And when the ma.s.s was y-done, The porter to the abbesse com full soon.

"Madame, what rede ye of this thinge?

To-day, right in the morning, Soon after the first _stound_,[54]