Previous - next
had liefer I should give you:--'Woe is me, the wave of the sea!' But no
tabret have I: wherefore choose which of these others you will have.
Perchance you would like:--'Now hie thee to us forth, that so it may be
cut, as May the fields about.'" "No," returned the queen, "give us
another." "Then," said Dioneo, "I will sing:--'Monna Simona, embarrel,
embarrel. Why, 'tis not the month of October.'"(1) "Now a plague upon
thee," said the queen, with a laugh; "give us a proper song, wilt thou?
for we will have none of these." "Never fear, Madam," replied Dioneo;
"only say which you prefer. I have more than a thousand songs by heart.
Perhaps you would like:--'This my little covert, make I ne'er it overt';
or:--'Gently, gently, husband mine'; or:--'A hundred pounds were none too
high a price for me a cock to buy.'" The queen now shewed some offence,
though the other ladies laughed, and:--"A truce to thy jesting, Dioneo,"
said she, "and give us a proper song: else thou mayst prove the quality
of my ire." Whereupon Dioneo forthwith ceased his fooling, and sang on
this wise:--
So ravishing a light
Doth from the fair eyes of my mistress move
As keeps me slave to her and thee, O Love.
A beam from those bright orbs did radiate
That flame that through mine own eyes to my breast
Did whilom entrance gain.
Thy majesty, O Love, thy might, how great
They be, 'twas her fair face did manifest:
Whereon to brood still fain,
I felt thee take and chain
Each sense, my soul enthralling on such wise
That she alone henceforth evokes my sighs.
Wherefore, O dear my Lord, myself I own
Thy slave, and, all obedience, wait and yearn,
Till thy might me console.
Yet wot I not if it be throughly known
How noble is the flame wherewith I burn,
My loyalty how whole
To her that doth control
Ev'n in such sort my mind that shall I none,
Nor would I, peace receive, save hers alone.
And so I pray thee, sweet my Lord, that thou
Give her to feel thy fire, and shew her plain
How grievous my disease.
This service deign to render; for that now
Thou seest me waste for love, and in the pain
Dissolve me by degrees:
And then the apt moment seize
My cause to plead with her, as is but due
From thee to me, who fain with thee would sue.
When Dioneo's silence shewed that his song was ended, the queen accorded
it no stinted meed of praise; after which she caused not a few other
songs to be sung. Thus passed some part of the night; and then the queen,
taking note that its freshness had vanquished the heat of the day, bade
all go rest them, if they would, till the morning.
(1) The song is evidently amoebean.
--
Endeth here the fifth day of the Decameron, beginneth the sixth, wherein,
under the rule of Elisa, discourse is had of such as by some sprightly
sally have repulsed an attack, or by some ready retort or device have
avoided loss, peril or scorn.
--
Still in mid heaven, the moon had lost her radiance, nor was any part of
Previous - next
