We often read and written find,as learned men do us remind,that lays that now the harpers singare wrought of many a marvellous thing.
Some are of weal, and some of woe,and some do joy and gladness know;in some are guile and treachery told,in some the deeds that chanced of old;some are of jests and ribaldry,and some are tales of Faërie.
Of all the things that men may heed'tis most of love they sing indeed.
In Britain all these lays are writ,there issued first in rhyming fit,concerning adventures in those dayswhereof the Britons made their lays;for when they heard men anywheretell of adventures that there were,they took their harps in their delightand made a lay and named it right.
Of adventures that did once befallsome can I tell you, but not all.
Listen now, lordings good and true,and 'Orfeo' I will sing to you.
Sir Orfeo was a king of old,in England lordship high did hold;valour he had and hardihood,a courteous king whose gifts were good.
His father from King Pluto came,his mother from Juno, king of fame,who once of old as gods were namedfor mighty deeds they did and claimed.
Sir Orfeo, too, all things beyondof harping's sweet delight was fond,and sure were all good harpers thereof him to earn them honour fair;himself he loved to touch the harpand pluck the strings with fingers sharp.
He played so well, beneath the suna better harper was there none;no man hath in this world been bornwho would not, hearing him, have swornthat as before him Orfeo played to joy of Paradise he had strayedand sound of harpers heavenly,such joy was there and melody.
This king abode in Tracience,a city proud of stout defence;for Winchester, 'tis certain, thenas Tracience was known to men.
There dwelt his queen in fairest bliss,whom men called Lady Heurodis,of ladies then the one most fairwho ever flesh and blood did wear;in her did grace and goodness dwell,but none her loveliness can tell.
It so did chance in early May,when glad and warm doth shine the day,and gone are bitter winter showers,and every field is filled with flowers,on every branch the blossom blows,in glory and in gladness grows,the lady Heurodis, the queen,two maidens fair to garden greenwith her she took at drowsy tideof noon to stroll by orchard-side,to see the flowers there spread and springand hear the birds on branches sing.
There down in shade they sat all threebeneath a fair young grafted tree;and soon it chanced the gentle queenfell there asleep upon the green.
Her maidens durst her not awake,but let her lie, her rest to take; and so she slept, till midday soonwas passed, and come was afternoon.
Then suddenly they heard her wake,and cry, and grievous clamour make;she writhed with limb, her hands she wrung,she tore her face till blood there sprung,her raiment rich in pieces rent;thus sudden out of mind she went.
Her maidens two then by her sideno longer durst with her abide,but to the palace swiftly ranand told there knight and squire and mantheir green, it seemed, was sudden mad;'Go and restrain her,' they them bade.
Both knights and ladies thither sped,and more than sixty damsels fled;to the orchard to the queen they went,with arms to lift her down they bent,and brought her to her bed at last,and raving there they held her fast;but ceaselessly she still would cry,and ever strove to rise and fly.
When Orfeo heard these tidings sad,more grief than ever in life he had;and swiftly with ten knights he spedto bower, and stood before her bed,and looking on her ruefully,'Dear life,' he said, 'what troubles thee,who ever quiet hast been and sweet,why dost thou now so shrilly greet?
Thy body that peerless white was bornis now by cruel nails all torn.
Alas! thy cheeks that were so redare now as wan as thou wert dead;thy fingers too, so small and slim,are stained with blood, their hue is dim.
Alas! thy lovely eyes in woenow stare on me as on a foe.
A! lady, mercy I implore.
These piteous cries, come, cry no more,but tell me what thee grieves, and how,and say what may thee comfort now.'Then, lo! at last she lay there still,and many bitter tears did spill,and thus unto the king she spake:'Alas! my lord, my heart will break.
Since first together came our life,between us ne'er was wrath nor strife,but I have ever so loved theeas very life, and so thou me.
Yet now we must be torn in twain,and go I must, for all thy pain.''Alas!' said he, 'then dark my doom.
Where wilt thou go, and go to whom?
But where thou goest,
I come with thee,and where I go, thou shalt with me.''Nay, nay, sir, words avail thee naught.
I will tell thee how this woe was wrought:as I lay in the quiet noontideand slept beneath our orchard-side,there came two noble knights to mearrayed in armour gallantly."We come," they said, "thee swift to bringto meeting with our lord and king."Then answered I both bold and truethat dared I not, and would not do.
They spurred then back on swiftest steed;then came their king himself with speed;a hundred knights with him and more,and damsels, too, were many a score,all riding there on snow-white steeds,and white as milk were all their weeds;
I saw not ever anywherea folk so peerless and so fair.
The king was crowned with crown of light,not of red gold nor silver white,but of one single gem 'twas hewnthat shone as bright as sun at noon.
And coming, straightway he me sought,and would I or no, he up me caught,and made me by him swiftly ride upon a palfrey at his side;and to his palace thus me brought,a dwelling fair and wondrous wrought.
He castles showed me there and towers,
Water and wild, and woods, and flowers,and pastures rich upon the plain;and then he brought me home again,and to our orchard he me led,and then at parting this he said:"See, lady, tomorrow thou must beright here beneath this grafted tree,and then beside us thou shalt ride,and with us evermore abide.
If let or hindrance thou dost make,where'er thou be, we shall thee take,and all thy limbs shall rend and tear --no aid of man shall help thee there;and even so, all rent and torn,thou shalt away with us be borne."'When all those tidings Orfeo heard,then spake he many a bitter word:'Alas!
I had liever lose my lifethan those thee thus, my queen and wife!'He counsel find him help or plan.
On the morrow, when the noon drew near,in arms did Orfeo appear,and full ten hundred knights with him,all stoutly armed, all stern and grim;and with their queen now went that bandbeneath the grafted tree to stand.
A serried rank on every sidethey made, and vowed there to abide,and die there sooner for her sakethan let men thence their lady take.
And yet from midst of that arraythe queen was sudden snatched away;by magic was she from them caught,and none knew whither she was brought.
Then was there wailing, tears, and woe;the king did to his chamber go,and oft he swooned on floor of stone,and such lament he made and moanthat nigh his life then came to end;and nothing could his grief amend.
His barons he summoned to his board,each mighty earl and famous lord,and when they all together came,'My lords,' he said, 'I here do namemy steward high before you allto keep my realm, whate'er befall,to hold my place instead of meand keep my lands where'er they be.
For now that I have lost my queen,the fairest lady men have seen,
I wish not woman more to see.
Into the wilderness I will flee,and there will live for evermorewith the wild beasts in forests hoar.
But when ye learn my days are spent,then summon ye a parliament,and choose ye there a king anew.
With all I have now deal ye true.'Then weeping was there in the hall,and great lament there made they all,and hardly there might old or youngfor weeping utter word with tongue.
They knelt them down in company,and prayed, if so his will might be,that never should he from them go.'Have done!' said he. 'It must be so.'Now all his kingdom he forsook.
Only a beggar's cloak he took;he had no kirtle and no hood,no shirt, nor other raiment good.
His harp yet bore he even so,and barefoot from the gate did go;no man might keep him on the way.
A me! the weeping woe that day,when he that had been king with crownwent thus beggarly out of town!
Through wood and over moorland bleakhe now the wilderness doth seek,and nothing finds to make him glad,but ever liveth lone and sad.
He once had ermine worn and vair,on bed had purple linen fair,now on the heather hard doth lie,in leaves is wrapped and grasses dry.
He once had castles owned and towers,water and wild, and woods, and flowers,now though it turn to frost or snow,this king with moss his bed must strow.
He once had many a noble knightbefore him kneeling, ladies bright,now nought to please him doth he keep;only wild serpents by him creep.
He that once had in plenty sweetall dainties for his drink and meat,now he must grub and dig all day,with roots his hunger to allay.
In summer on wildwood fruit he feeds,or berries poor to serve his needs;in winter nothing can he findsave roots and herbs and bitter rind.
All his body was wasted thinby hardship, and all cracked his skin.
A Lord! who can recount the woefor ten long years that king did know?
His hair and beard all black and rankdown to his waist hung long and lank.
His harp wherein was his delightin hollow tree he hid from sight;when weather clear was in the landhis harp he took then in his handand harped thereon at his sweet will.
Through all the wood the sound did thrill,and all the wild beasts that there arein joy approached him from afar;and all the birds that might be foundthere perched on bough and bramble roundto hear his harping to the end,such melodies he there did blend;and when he laid his harp aside,no bird or beast would near him bide.
There often by him would he see,when noon was hot on leaf and tree,the king of Faërie with his routcame hunting in the woods aboutwith blowing far and crying dim,and barking hounds that were with him;yet never a beast they took nor slew,and where they went he never knew.
At other times he would descry a mighty host, it seemed, go by,ten hundred knights all fair arrayedwith many a banner proud displayed.
Each face and mien was fierce and bold,each knight a drawn sword there did hold,and all were armed in harness fairand marching on he knew not where.
Or a sight more strange would meet his eye:knights and ladies came dancing by in rich array and raiment meet,softly stepping with skilful feet;tabour and trumpet went along,and marvellous minstrelsy and song.
And one fair day he at his sidesaw sixty ladies on horses ride,each fair and free as bird on spray,and nnever a man with them that day.
There each on hand a falcon bore,riding a-hawking by river-shore.
Those haunts with game in plenty teem,cormorant, heron, and duck in stream;there off the water fowl arise,and every falcon them descries;each falcon stooping slew his prey,and Orfeo laughing loud did say:'Behold, in faith, this sport is fair!
Fore Heaven,
I will betake me there!
I once was wont to see such play.'He rose and thither made his way,and to a lady came with speed,and looked at her, and took good heed,and saw as sure as once in life'twas Heurodis, his queen and wife.
Intent he gazed, and so did she,but no word spake; no word said he.
For hardship that she saw him bear,who had been royal, and high, and fair,then from her eyes the tears there fell.
The other ladies marked it well,and away they made her swiftly ride;no longer might she near him bide.'Alas!' said he, 'unhappy day!
Why will not now my death me slay?
Alas! unhappy man, ah whymay I not, seeing her, now die?
Alas! too long hath lasted life,when I dare not with mine own wifeto speak a word, nor she with me.
Alas! my heart should break,' said he.'And yet, fore Heaven, tide what betide,and whithersoever these ladies ride,that road I will follow they now fare;for life or death no more I care.'His beggar's cloak he on him flung,his harp upon his back he hung;with right good will his feet he sped,for stock nor stone he stayed his tread.
Right into a rock the ladies rode,and in behind he fearless strode.
He went into that rocky hilla good three miles or more, untilhe came into a country fairas bright as sun in summer air.
Level and smooth it was and green,and hill nor valley there was seen.
A castle he saw amid the landprincely and proud and lofty stand;the outer wall around it laidof shining crystal clear was made.
A hundred towers were raised about with cunning wrought, embattled stout;and from the moat each buttress boldin arches sprang of rich red gold.
The vault was carven and adornedwith beasts and birds and figures horned;within were halls and chambers wideall made of jewels and gems of pride;the poorest pillar to beholdwas builded all of burnished gold.
And all that land was ever light,for when it came to dusk of nightfrom precious stones there issued soona light as bright as sun at noon.
No man may tell nor think in thoughthow rich the works that there were wrought;indeed it seemed he gazed with eyeson the proud court of Paradise.
The ladies to that castle passed.
Behind them Orfeo followed fast.
There knocked he loud upon the gate;the porter came, and did not wait,but asked him what might be his will.'In faith,
I have a minstrel's skillwith mirth and music, if he please,thy lord to cheer, and him to ease.'The porter swift did then unpinthe castle gates, and let him in.
Then he began to gaze about,and saw within the walls a routof folk that were thither drawn below,and mourned as dead, but were not so.
For some there stood who had no head,and some no arms, nor feet; some bledand through their bodies wounds were set,and some were strangled as they ate,and some lay raving, chained and bound,and some in water had been drowned;and some were withered in the fire,and some on horse, in war's attire,and wives there lay in their childbed,and mad were some, and some were dead;and passing many there lay besideas though they slept at quiet noon-tide.
Thus in the world was each one caughtand thither by fairy magic brought.
There too he saw his own sweet wife,
Queen Heurodis, his joy and life,asleep beneath a grafted tree:by her attire he knew 'twas she.
When he had marked these marvels all,he went before the king in hall,and there a joyous sight did see,a shining throne and canopy.
Their king and lord there held his seatbeside their lady fair and sweet.
Their crowns and clothes so brightly shonethat scarce his eyes might look thereon.
When he had marked this wondrous thing,he knelt him down before the king:'O lord,' said he, 'if it be thy will,now shalt thou hear my minstrel's skill.'The king replied: 'What man art thouthat hither darest venture now?
Not I nor any here with mehave ever sent to summon thee,and since here first my reign beganI have never found so rash a manthat he to us would dare to wend,unless I first for him should send.''My lord,' said he, 'I thee assure,
I am but a wandering minstrel poor;and, sir, this custom use we allat the house of many a lord to call,and little though our welcome be,to offer there our minstrelsy.'Before the king upon the groundhe sat, and touched his harp to sound;his harp he tuned as well he could,glad notes began and music good,and all who were in palace foundcame unto him to hear the sound,and lay before his very feet,they thought his melody so sweet.
He played, and silent sat the kingfor great delight in listening;great joy this minstrelsy he deemed,and joy to his noble queen it seemed.
At last when he his harping stayed,this speech the king to him then made:'Minstrel, thy music pleaseth me.
Come, ask of me whate'er it be,and rich reward I will thee pay.
Come, speak, and prove now what I say!''Good sir,' he said, 'I beg of theethat this thing thou wouldst give to me,that very lady fair to seewho sleeps beneath the grafted tree.''Nay,' said the king, 'that would not do!for thou art black, and rough, and lean,and she is faultless, fair and clean.
A monstrous thing then would it beto see her in thy company.''O sir,' he said, 'O gracious king,but it would be a fouler thingfrom mouth of thine to hear a lie.
Thy vow, sir, thou canst not deny,
Whate'er I asked, that should I gain,and thou must needs thy word maintain.'The king then said: 'Since that is so,now take her hand in thine, and go;
I wish thee joy of her, my friend!'He thanked him well, on knees did bend;his wife he took then by the hand,and departed swiftly from that land,and from that country went in haste;the way he came he now retraced.
Long was the road. The journey passed;to Winchester he came at last,his own beloved city free;but no man knew that it was he.
Beyond the town's end yet to fare,lest men them knew, he did not dare;but in a beggar's narrow cota lowly lodging there he got both for himself and for his wife,as a minstrel poor of wandering life.
He asked for tidings in the land,and who that kingdom held in hand;the beggar poor him answered welland told all things that there befell:how fairies stole their queen awayten years before, in time of May;and how in exile went their kingin unknown countries wandering,while still the steward rule did hold;and many things beside he told.
Next day, when hour of noon was near,he bade his wife await him here;the beggar's rags he on him flung,his harp upon his back he hung,and went into the city's waysfor men to look and on him gaze.
Him earl and lord and baron bold,lady and burgess, did behold.'O look!
O what a man!' they said,'How long the hair hands from his head!
His beard is dangling to his knee!
He is gnarled and knotted like a tree!'Then as he walked along the
He chanced his steward there to meet,and after him aloud cried he:'Mercy, sir steward, have on me!
A harper I am from Heathenesse;to thee I turn in my distress.'The steward said: 'Come with me, come!
Of what I have thou shalt have some.
All harpers good I welcome
For my dear lord Sir Orfeo's sake.'The steward in castle sat at meat,and many a lord there had his seat;trumpeters, tabourers there playedharpers and fiddlers music made.
Many a melody made they all,but Orfeo silent sat in halland listened.
And when they all were stillhe took his harp and tuned it shrill.
Then notes he harped more glad and clearthan ever a man hath heard with ear;his music delighted all those men.
The steward looked and looked again;the harp in hand at once he knew,'Minstrel,' he said, 'come, tell me true,whence came this harp to thee, and how?
I pray thee, tell me plainly now.''My lord,' said he, 'in lands unknownI walked a wilderness alone,and there I found in dale forlorna man by lions to pieces torn,by wolves devoured with teeth so sharp;by him I found this very harp,and that is full ten years ago.''Ah!' said the steward, 'news of woe!'Twas Orfeo, my master true.
Alas! poor wretch, what shall I do,who must so dear a master mourn?
A! woe is me that I was born,for him so hard a fate designed,a death so vile that he should find!'Then on the ground he fell in swoon;his barons stooping raised him soonand bade him think how all must end -for death of man no man can mend.
King Orfeo now had proved and knewhis steward was both loyal and true,and loved him as he duly should.'Lo!' then he cried, and up he stood,'Steward, now to my words give ear!
If thy king,
Orfeo, were here,and had in wilderness full longsuffered great hardship sore and strong,had won his queen by his own hand out of the deeps of fairy land,and led at last his lady dearright hither to the town's end near,and lodged her in a beggar's cot;if I were he, whom ye knew not,thus come among you, poor and ill,in secret to prove thy faith and will,if then I thee had found so true,thy loyalty never shouldst thou rue:nay, certainly, tide what betide,thou shouldst be king when Orfeo died.
Hadst thou rejoiced to hear my fate,
I would have thrust thee from the gate.'Then clearly knew they in the hallthat Orfeo stood before them all.
The steward understood at last;in his haste the table down he castand flung himself before his feet,and each lord likewise left his seat,and this one cry they all let ring:'Ye are our lord, sir, and our king!'To know he lived so glad they were.
To his chamber soon they brought him there;they bathed him and they shaved his beard,and robed him, till royal he appeared;and brought them in procession longthe queen to town with merry song,with many a sound of minstrelsy.
A Lord! how great the melody!
For joy the tears were falling fastof those who saw them safe at last.
Now was King Orfeo crowned anew,and Heurodis his lady too;and long they lived, till they were dead,and king was the steward in their stead.
Harpers in Britain in aftertimethese marvels heard, and in their rhymea lay they made of fair delight,and after the king it named aright,'Orfeo' called it, as was meet:good is the lay, the music sweet.
Thus came Sir Orfeo out of care.
God grant that well we all may fare!
Translated by Tolkien from a mediaeval manuscript. 'Sir Orfeo is found in three manuscripts of which the earliest gives very much the best text; this is the Auchinleck manuscript, a large miscellany made about 1330, probably in London, and now in the Advocates' Library in Edinburgh.'
