There was a Sarazin stronge and wight, That at this knight had great envye, He ran to him with all his might, They ranne together, with fperes longe, Than came twelve Sarazins in a rought, The knight keft foure unto the grounde, They laide on him on every fide, 360 With cruell ftrokes, and mortall, They gave him woundes fo depe and wide, That to the grounde downe did he fall. 370 The Sarazins went, and let him lye, With mortall woundes piteous to se, He called his page hastely, And faid, My time is come to die. In my herte is fo depe a wounde But, or thou me burye in the grounde, Of one thinge i thee praie: Out of mi body to cut my herte, And wrappe it in this yelowe here, This promiffe thou me without delay, The knight yelded up the gooft anone, The 380 page him buried as he had him bad, 390 And towarde Faguell is he gone, The herte, and here, with him he had. Somtime he went, fomtime he ran, With wofull mone and fory jeft, Till unto Faguell he came, Nere to a castell in a forest, The lorde of Faguell, without let, Was in the foreft with his meynè, With this page anone he met: Page, he said, what tidinges with thee? 400 With thi maister how is the cafe? Shew me lightly, or thou go, Or thou shalt never out of this place. The page for feare that he had, The herte unto the lorde he toke tho, In his courage he was full fad, He toke the heere to him alfo. He tolde him trothe of everi thinge, How that the knight in bataile was flaine, 410 And how he fent his lady that thinge, For a fpeciall token of love certainę. The lorde therof toke good hede, And behelde the herte, that high prefente; Their love, he faid, was hote in dede, They were bothe in great torment. Than home is he to the kechin gone: Make it fwete and delycate to eate, If that she wyft what were the meate, Therof fayd the lord full trewe, That meat was doleful and mortall, So thought the lady whan fhe it knewe, Than went the lorde into the hall. 420 Anone the lorde to meate was fet, And this lady not farre him fro, The hert anone he made be fet, Wherof proceded muche wo. 430 Madame, eate hereof, he fayd, For it is deynteous and plefaunte. The lady eate, and was not dismayde, For of good spyce there dyd none wante. Whan the lady had eaten wele, Anone to her the lorde fayd there, His herte have ye eaten, every dele, To whom you gave your yelowe here. 440 Your knight is dead, as you may fe, His owne herte eaten have ye, Madame, at the last we all must dye. Whan the lady herde him fo fay, She fayd, My herte for wo shall braft; Alas, that ever i fawe this day! Now may my lyfe no longer laft. Up the rofe, wyth hert full wo, And ftreight up into her chambre wente, She confefsed her devoutly tho, And shortely receyved the facrament. 450 |