The Canterbury Tales · The Man of Law’s Tale · The Tale 1424 (4/4)

Long was the sobbing and the bitter pain,

Ere that their woeful heartës mightë cease;

Great was the pity for to hear them plain,1723

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.

But finally, when that the sooth is wist,1724

That Alla guiltless was of all her woe,

I trow an hundred timës have they kiss’d,

And such a bliss is there betwixt them two,

That, save the joy that lasteth evermo’,

There is none like, that any creatúre

Hath seen, or shall see, while the world may dure.

Then prayed she her husband meekëly

In the relief of her long piteous pine,1725

That he would pray her father specially,

That of his majesty he would incline

To vouchësafe some day with him to dine:

She pray’d him eke, that he should by no way

Unto her father no word of her say.

Some men would say, how that the child Mauríce

Did this messáge unto the emperor:

But, as I guess, Alla was not so nice,1726

To him that is so sovereign of honór

As he that is of Christian folk the flow’r,

Send any child, but better ’tis to deem

He went himself; and so it may well seem.

This emperor hath granted gentilly

To come to dinner, as he him besought:

And well rede1727 I, he looked busily

Upon this child, and on his daughter thought.

Alla went to his inn, and as him ought

Arrayed1728 for this feast in every wise,

As farforth as his cunning1729 may suffice.

The morrow came, and Alla gan him dress,1730

And eke his wife, the emperor to meet:

And forth they rode in joy and in gladness,

And when she saw her father in the street,

She lighted down and fell before his feet.

“Father,” quoth she, “your youngë child Constance

Is now full clean out of your rémembránce.

“I am your daughter, your Constance,” quoth she,

“That whilom ye have sent into Syrie;

It am I, father, that in the salt sea

Was put alone, and damned1731 for to die.

Now, goodë father, I you mercy cry,

Send me no more into none heatheness,

But thank my lord here of his kindëness.”

Who can the piteous joyë tellen all,

Betwixt them three, since they be thus y-met?

But of my talë make an end I shall,

The day goes fast, I will no longer let.1732

These gladdë folk to dinner be y-set;

In joy and bliss at meat I let them dwell,

A thousand fold well more than I can tell.

This child Maurice was since then emperór

Made by the Pope, and lived Christianly,

To Christë’s Churchë did he great honór:

But I let all his story passë by,

Of Constance is my tale especially,

In the oldë Roman gestës1733 men may find

Mauríce’s life, I bear it not in mind.

This King Alla, when he his timë sey,1734

With his Constance, his holy wife so sweet,

To England are they come the rightë way,

Where they did live in joy and in quiét.

But little while it lasted, I you hete,1735

Joy of this world for time will not abide,

From day to night it changeth as the tide.

Who liv’d ever in such delight one day,

That him not moved either conscience,

Or ire, or talent, or some kind affray,1736

Envy, or pride, or passion, or offence?

I say but for this endë this senténce,1737

That little while in joy or in pleasance

Lasted the bliss of Alla with Constance.

For death, that takes of high and low his rent,

When passed was a year, even as I guess,

Out of this world this King Alla he hent,1738

For whom Constance had full great heaviness.

Now let us pray that God his soulë bless:

And Dame Constancë, finally to say,

Toward the town of Romë went her way.

To Rome is come this holy creature,

And findeth there her friendës whole and sound:

Now is she scaped all her áventure:

And when that she her father hath y-found,

Down on her kneës falleth she to ground,

Weeping for tenderness in heartë blithe

She herieth1739 God an hundred thousand sithe.1740

In virtue and in holy almës-deed

They liven all, and ne’er asunder wend;

Till death departeth them, this life they lead:

And fare now well, my tale is at an end.⁠—

Now Jesus Christ, that of his might may send

Joy after woe, govérn us in his grace

And keep us allë that be in this place.