The Testament of Cresseid

Ane doolie sessoun to ane cairfull dyte
    Suld correspond, and be equivalent;
Richt sa it wes quhen I began to wryte
    This tragedie; the wedder richt fervent,
    Quhen Aries, in middis of the Lent,
Schowris of haill can fra the North discend,
That scantlie fra the cauld I micht defend.

Yit nevertheles within myne orature
    I stude, quhen Titan had his bemis bricht
Withdrawin doun, and sylit under cure,
    And fair Venus, the Bewtie of the Nicht,
    Uprais, and set unto the west full richt
Hir goldin face, in oppositioun
Of God Phebus, direct discending doun.

Throwout the glas hir bemis brast sa fair
    That I micht se on everie syde me by
The northin wind had purifyit the air,
    And sched the mistie cloudis fra the sky;
    The froist freisit, the blastis bitterly
Fra Pole Artick come quhisling loud and schill,
And causit me remufe aganis my will.

For I traistit that Venus, Luifis Quene,
    To quhome sum-tyme I hecht obedience,
My faidit hart of lufe scho wald mak grene;
    And therupon, with humbill reverence,
    I thocht to pray hir hie magnificence;
Bot for greit cald as than I lattit was,
And in my chalmer to the fyre can pas.

Thocht lufe be hait, yit in ane man of age
    It kendillis nocht sa sone as in youthheid,
Of quhome the blude is flowing in ane rage,
    And in the auld the curage douf and deid,
    Of quhilk the fire outward is best remeid:
To help be phisike quhair that nature faillit,
I am expert, for baith I have assailit.

I mend the fyre, and beikit me about,
    Than tuik ane drink my spreitis to comfort,
And armit me weill fra the cauld thairout;
    To cut the winter nicht, and mak it schort,
    I tuik ane quair, and left all uther sport,
Written be worthie Chaucer glorious,
Of fair Cresseid and lustie Troylus.

And thair I fand, efter that Diomeid
    Ressavit had that Lady bricht of hew,
How Troÿlus neir out of wit abreid,
    And weipit soir, with visage paill of hew;
    For quhilk wanhope his teiris can renew
Quhill esperance rejoisit him agane;
Thus quhyle in joy he levit, quhile in pane.

Of hir behest he had greit comforting,
    Traisting to Troy that scho suld mak retour,
Quhilk he desyrit maist of eirdly thing,
    For-quhy scho was his only paramour;
    Bot quhen he saw passit baith day and hour
Of hir ganecome, than sorrow can oppres
His wofull hart in cair and hevines.

Of his distres me neidis nocht reheirs,
    For worthie Chauceir, in the samin buik,
In gudelie termis, and in joly veirs,
    Compylit hes his cairis, quha will luik.
    To brek my sleip ane uther quair I tuik,
In quhilk I fand the fatall destenie
Of fair Cresseid, that endit wretchitlie.

Quha wait gif all that Chauceir wrait was trew?
    Nor I wait nocht gif this narratioun
Be authoreist, or fenyeit of the new,
    Be sum poeit, throw his inventioun
    Maid to report the lamentatioun
And wofull end of this lustie Cresseid
And quhat distres scho thoillit, and quhat deid.

Quhen Diomed had all his appetyte,
    And mair, fulfillit of this fair Ladie,
Upon ane uther he set his haill delyte,
    And send to hir ane lybell of repudie;
    And hir excludit fra his companie.
Than desolait scho walkit up and doun,
And, sum men sayis, into the court commoun.

O, fair Creisseid! the flour and A per se
    Of Troy and Grece, how was thow fortunait!
To change in filth all thy feminitie,
    And be with fleschelie lust sa maculait,
    And go amang the Greikis air and lait,
So giglotlike, takand thy foull plesance!
I have pietie thow suld fall sic mischance.

Yit, nevertheles, quhat-ever men deme or say
    In scornefull langage of thy brukkilnes,
I sall excuse, als far furth as I may,
    Thy womanheid, thy wisdome, and fairnes:
    The quhilk Fortoun hes put to sic distres
As hir pleisit, and nathing throw the gilt
Of thé, throw wickit langage to be spilt.

This fair Lady, in this wyse destitute
    Of all comfort and consolatioun,
Richt privelie, but fellowschip, on fute
    Disgysit passit far out of the toun
    Ane myle or twa, unto ane mansioun,
Beildit full gay, quhair hir father Calchas
Quhilk than amang the Greikis dwelland was.

Quhen he hir saw, the caus he can inquyre
    Of hir cumming; scho said, siching full soir,
“Fra Diomeid had gottin his desyre
    He wox werie, and wald of me no moir.”
    Quod Calchas: “Douchter, weip thow nocht thairfoir;
Peraventure all cummis for the best:
Welcum, to me thow art full deir ane gest.”

This auld Calchas, efter the law was tho,
    Wes keiper of the tempill, as ane preist,
In quhilk Venus and hir sone Cupido
    War honourit, and his chalmer was thame neist,
    To quhilk Cresseid with baill aneuch in breist,
Usit to pas, hir prayeris for to say;
Quhill at the last, upon ane solempne day,

As custome was, the pepill far and neir,
    Befoir the none, unto the tempill went
With sacrifice, devoit in thair maneir;
    Bot still Cresseid, hevie in hir intent,
    Into the Kirk wald not hir self present
For giving of the pepill ony deming
Of hir expuls fra Diomeid the King;

Bot past into ane secreit orature,
    Quhair scho micht weip hir wofull desteny.
Behind hir bak scho cloisit fast the dure,
    And, on hir kneis bair, fell doun in hy;
    Upon Venus and Cupide angerly
Scho cryit out, and said on this same wyse:
“Allace! that ever I maid yow sacrifice.

“Ye gave me anis ane devine responsaill
    That I suld be the flour of luif in Troy,
Now am I maid ane unworthie outwaill,
    And all in cair translatit is my joy.
    Quha sall me gyde? quha sall me now convoy
Sen I fra Diomeid and nobill Troylus
Am clene excludit, as abject odious?

“O fals Cupide, is nane to wyte bot thow,
    And thy Mother, of lufe the blind Goddes!
Ye causit me alwayis understand and trow
    The seid of lufe was sawin in my face,
    And ay grew grene throw your supplie and grace,
Bot now, allace! that seid with froist is slane,
And I fra luifferis left, and all forlane.”

Quhen this was said, doun in ane extasie
    Ravischit in spreit, intill ane dreame scho fell,
And, be apperance, hard, quhair scho did ly,
    Cupide the King ringand ane silver bell,
    Quhilk men micht heir fra hevin unto hell;
At quhais sound befoir Cupide appeiris
The sevin Planetis discending fra thair spheiris,

Quhilk hes power of all thing generabill
    To reull and steir be thair greit influence
Wedder and wind, and coursis variabill:
    And first of all, Saturne gave his sentence,
    Quhilk gave to Cupide litill reverence,
Bot, as ane busteous churle, on his maneir,
Come crabitlie, with auster luik and cheir.

His face fronsit, his lyre was lyke the leid,
    His teith chatterit and cheverit with the chin;
His ene drowpit, how sonkin in his heid;
    Out of his nois the meldrop fast can rin;
    With lippis bla, and cheikis leine and thin;
The ice-schoklis, that fra his hair doun hang,
Was wonder greit, and as ane speir als lang.

Atour his belt his lyart lokkis lay
    Felterit unfair, ourfret with froistis hoir;
His garmound and his gyte full gay of gray;
    His widderit weid fra him the wind out woir,
    Ane busteous bow within his hand he boir:
Under his girdill ane flasche of felloun flanis,
Fedderit with ice, and heidit with hailstanis.

Than Juppiter richt fair and amiabill,
    God of the starnis in the firmament,
And nureis to all thing genérabill,
    Fra his father Saturne far different,
    With burelie face, and browis bricht and brent;
Upon his heid ane garland, wonder gay,
Of flouris fair, as it had bene in May.

His voice was cleir; as cristall wer his ene;
    As goldin wyre sa glitterand was his hair;
His garmound and his gyte full gay of grene,
    With golden listis gilt on everie gair;
    Ane burelie brand about his middill bair;
In his right hand he had ane groundin speir,
Of his father the wraith fra us to weir.

Nixt efter him came Mars, the God of ire,
    Of strife, debait, and all dissensioun,
To chide and fecht, als feirs as ony fyre;
    In hard harnes, hewmond, and habirgeoun;
    And on his hanche ane roustie fell fachioun;
And in his hand he had ane roustie sword;
Wrything his face with mony angrie word.

Schaikand his sword, befoir Cupide he come
    With reid visage and grislie glowrand ene;
And at his mouth ane bullar stude of fome,
    Lyke to ane bair quhetting his tuskis kene,
    Richt tuilyeour-lyke, but temperance in tene;
Ane horne he blew with mony bosteous brag,
Quhilk all this warld with weir hes maid to wag.

Than fair Phebus, lanterne and lamp of licht
    Of man and beist, baith frute and flourisching,
Tender nureis, and banischer of nicht,
    And of the warld causing, be his moving
    And influence, lyfe in all eirdlie thing,
Without comfort of quhome, of force to nocht
Must all ga die, that in this warld is wrocht.

As King royall he raid upon his chair,
    The quhilk Phaeton gydit sum tyme unricht:
The brichtness of his face, quhen it was bair,
    Nane micht behald for peirsing of his sicht:
    This goldin cart with fyrie bemis bricht
Four yokkit steidis, full different of hew,
But bait or tyring, throw the spheiris drew.

The first was soyr, with mane als reid as rois,
    Callit Eöye into the Orient;
The secund steid to name hecht Ethiös,
    Quhytlie and paill, and sum deill ascendent;
    The thrid Peros, richt hait and richt fervent;
The feïrd was blak, callit Philegoney,
Quhilk rollis Phebus down into the sey.

Venus was thair present, that goddes gay,
    Hir sonnis querrel for to defend, and mak
Hir awin complaint, cled in ane nyce array,
    The ane half grene, the uther sabill-black;
    Quhyte hair as gold, kemmit and sched abak;
Bot in hir face semit greit variance,
Quhyles perfyte treuth, and quhyles inconstance.

Under smyling scho was dissimulait,
    Provocative with blenkis amorous,
And suddanely changit and alterait,
    Angrie as ony serpent vennemous,
    Richt pungitive with wordis odious:
Thus variant scho was, quha list tak keip,
With ane eye lauch, and with the uther weip;

In taikning that all fleschelie paramour
    Quhilk Venus hes in reull and governance,
Is sum-tyme sweit, sum-tyme bitter and sour,
    Richt unstabill, and full of variance,
    Mingit with cairfull joy and fals plesance,
Now hait, now cauld, now blyith, now full of wo,
Now grene as leif, now widderit and ago.

With buik in hand, than come Mercurius,
    Richt eloquent and full of rethorie,
With pólite termis and delicious,
    With pen and ink to réport all reddie,
    Setting sangis and singand merilie;
His hude was reid, heklit atour his croun,
Lyke to ane poeit of the auld fassoun.

Boxis he bair with fine electuairis
    And sugerit syropis for digestioun,
Spycis belangand to the pothecairis,
    With mony hailsum sweit confectioun,
    Doctour in Phisick, cled in skarlot goun,
And furrit weill, as sic ane aucht to be,
Honest and gude, and not ane word culd le.

Nixt efter him come Lady Cynthia,
    The last of all, and swiftest in hir spheir,
Of colour blak, buskit with hornis twa,
    And in the nicht scho listis best appeir;
    Haw as the leid, of colour nathing cleir;
For all hir licht scho borrowis at hir brother
Titan, for of hir self scho hes nane uther.

Hir gyte was gray, and full of spottis blak;
    And on hir breist ane churle paintit full evin,
Beirand ane bunche of thornis on his bak,
    Quhilk for his thift micht clim na nar the hevin.
    Thus quhen thay gadderit war thir Goddis sevin,
Mercurius thay cheisit with ane assent
To be foirspeikar in the parliament.

Quha had bene thair, and lyking for to heir
    His facound toung and termis exquisite,
Of rhetorick the prettick he micht leir,
    In brief sermone ane pregnant sentence wryte;
    Befoir Cupide veiling his cap a lyte,
Speiris the caus of that vocatioun.
And he anone schew his intentioun.

“Lo!” quod Cupide, “quha will blaspheme the name
    Of his awin God, outher in word or deid,
To all Goddis he dois baith lak and schame,
    And suld have bitter panis to his meid:
    I say this by yonder wretchit Cresseid,
The quhilk throw me was sumtyme flour of lufe,
Me and my mother starklie can reprufe;

“Saying of hir greit infelicitie
    I was the caus, and my mother Venus,
Ane blind Goddes hir cald, that micht not se
    With sclander and defame injurious.
    Thus hir leving unclene and lecherous
Scho wald returne on me and on my mother,
To quhome I schew my grace abone all uther.

“And sen ye ar all sevin deificait,
    Participant of devyne sapience,
This greit injurie done to our hie estait
    Me think with pane we suld mak recompence;
    Was never to Goddes done sic violence.
As weill for yow, as for myself I say;
Thairfoir ga help to revenge, I yow pray.”

Mercurius to Cupide gave answeir
    And said, “Schir King, my counsall is that ye
Refer yow to the hiest Planeit heir,
    And tak to him the lawest of degre,
    The pane of Cresseid for to modifie:
As God Saturne, with him tak Cynthia.”
“I am content,” quod he, “to tak thay twa.”

Than thus proceidit Saturne and the Mone,
    Quhen thay the mater rypelie had degest,
For the dispyte to Cupide scho had done,
    And to Venus oppin and manifest,
    In all hir lyfe with pane to be opprest,
And torment sair, with seiknes incurabill,
And to all lovers be abominabill.

This duleful sentence Saturne tuik on hand,
    And passit doun quhair cairfull Cresseid lay,
And on hir heid he laid ane frostie wand;
    Than lawfullie on this wyse can he say:
    “Thy greit fairnes, and all thy bewtie gay,
Thy wantoun blude, and eik thy goldin hair,
Heir I exclude fra the for evermair.

“I change thy mirth into melancholy,
    Quhilk is the mother of all pensivenes;
Thy moisture and thy heit in cald and dry;
    Thyne insolence, thy play and wantones
    To greit diseis; thy pomp and thy riches
In mortall neid; and greit penuritie
Thow suffer sall; and as ane beggar die.”

O cruell Saturne, fraward and angrie,
    Hard is thy dome, and to malitious!
On fair Cresseid quhy hes thow na mercie,
    Quhilk was sa sweit, gentill, and amorous?
    Withdraw thy sentence, and be gracious
As thow was never; so schawis thow thy deid,
Ane wraikfull sentence gevin on fair Cresseid.

Than Cynthia, quhen Saturne past away,
    Out of hir sait discendit down belyve,
And red ane bill on Cresseid quhair scho lay,
    Contening this sentence diffinityve:
    “Fra heit of bodie I the now depryve,
And to thy seiknes sal be na recure,
Bot in dolour thy dayis to indure.

“Thy cristall ene minglit with blude I mak;
    Thy voice sa cleir, unplesand, hoir, and hace;
Thy lustie lyre ouirspred with spottis blak,
    And lumpis haw appeirand in thy face;
    Quhair thow cummis, ilk man sall fle the place;
Thus sall thow go begging fra hous to hous,
With cop and clapper lyke ane lazarous.”

This doolie dreame, this uglye visioun,
    Brocht to ane end, Cresseid fra it awoik,
And all that Court and Convocatioun
    Vanischit away; than rais scho up and tuik
    Ane poleist glas, and hir schaddow culd luik;
And quhen scho saw hir face sa deformait,
Gif scho in hart was wa aneuch, God wait!

Weiping full sair, “Lo! quhat it is,” quod scho,
    “With fraward langage for to mufe and steir
Our crabbit Goddis, and sa is sene on me!
    My blaspheming now have I bocht full deir;
    All eirdlie joy and mirth I set areir.
Allace, this day! allace, this wofull tyde!
Quhen I began with my Goddis to chyde.”

Be this was said, ane chyld come fra the hall,
    To warne Cresseid the supper was reddy;
First knokkit at the dure, and syne culd call,
    “Madame, your Father biddis you cum in hy,
    He hes mervell sa lang on grouf ye ly,
And sayis, ‘Your prayers bene to lang sum deill,
The Goddis wait all your intent full weill.’”

Quod scho, “Fair chylde, ga to my Father deir,
    And pray him cum to speik with me anone.”
And sa he did, and said: “Douchter, quhat cheir?”
    “Allace,” quod scho, “Father my mirth is gone.”
    “How sa?” quod he, and scho can all expone,
As I have tauld, the vengeance and the wrak,
For hir trespas, Cupide on hir culd tak.

He luikit on hir uglye lipper face,
    The quhilk befor was quhyte as lillie flour;
Wringand his handis, oftymes he said, Allace!
    That he had levit to se that wofull hour:
    For he knew weill that thair was na succour
To hir seiknes, and that dowblit his pane;
Thus was thair cair aneuch betuix thame twane.

Quhen thay togidder murnit had full lang,
    Quod Cresseid, “I wald not be kend,
Thairfoir in secreit wyse ye let me gang
    To yone hospitall at the tounis end;
    And thidder sum meit, for cheritie, me send,
To leif upon; for all mirth in this eird
Is fra me gane; sic is my wickit weird.”

Than, in ane mantill and ane bevar hat,
    With cop and clapper, wonder prively
He opnit ane secreit yet, and out thairat
    Convoyit hir, that na man suld espy,
    Unto ane village half ane myle thairby;
Delyverit hir in at the Spittaill hous,
And daylie sent hir part of his almous.

Sum knew her weill, and sum had na knawledge
    Of hir, becaus scho was sa deformait
With bylis blak ouirspred in hir visage,
    And hir fair colour faidit and alterait.
    Yit thay presumit, for her hie regrait,
And still murning, scho was of nobill kin:
With better will thairfoir they tuik hir in.

The day passit, and Phebus went to rest,
    The cloudis blak ouirquhelmit all the sky;
God wait gif Cresseid was ane sorrowfull gest,
    Seeing that uncouth fair and herbery.
    But meit or drink scho dressit hir to ly
In ane dark corner of the hous allone;
And on this wyse, weiping, scho maid hir mone.