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| LE LAIS DU LAUSTIC (English translation) |
| The adventure in my next tale The Bretons made into a lai Called "Laustic," I've heard them say, In Brittany; in French they call The "laustic" a "rossignol" And in good English, "nightingale." Near St. Malo there was a town (Somewhere thereabouts) of great renown. Two knights lived there, no lowly vassals, In houses that were built like castles. These barons were so good, their fame Gave their village goodness's own name. One of them had married lately: Polite and polished, such a lady! She was wise to her own worth (--Normal in ladies of high birth). The other lord was a bachelor, Famed for prowess and for valor, Loved by all, for he knew how to live: Joust a lot, spend a lot, what you have give Away freely. He loved the wife of his neighbor. He begged so much, and prayed yet more --And goodness was his striking feature-- So she loved him more than any creature, Because of the deeds he was famous for, And because he lived in the castle next door. Wisely and well they loved, these lovers; They guarded their love under various covers And hid it from general sight, Lest anyone think it not right. But who'd suspect? Who would suppose...? Their two houses were built so close, Together they stood, side-by-side, No bar, no fencing to divide Tower from tower, hall from hall-- Nothing but one high dark stone wall. At the window of her bedroom suite The lady would stand, and, oh! how sweet! Talking thence with her loving friend On the other side. They'd often send Love-gifts flying through the air-- Toss and catch. Those evenings were fair: Nothing's missing from their pleasure! They had all they wanted, at their leisure, Except coming together alone, you know, And going as far as they'd like to go. For her man used to guard and restrict Her when he rode out in the district. Still, day or night, if either lover Longed to set eyes upon the other, They had their hope and their refuge: No-one detected their subterfuge, No-one could tell her not to stare Out her own window--and he'd be there. Long had they loved each other dear When there came the summer of one year. Now woods and meadows are green again, Orchards in blossom are seen again, The birdie all his sweet notes showers In joyous play on the sweet flowers. A man or woman who loves someone-- Where else would their sweet thoughts run? To tell the truth about this knight: That's where his thoughts run, all right; And the lady, at her window, higher, Speaks, and looks, only desire. Nights, when the moon her pale light shed, When her husband had gone to bed, The lady rose up from his side, Wrapped herself in a mantle wide, Went to stand at the window, true To her friend waiting there, she knew; For both their lives were just the same, They waked all night till morning came. The rapture of looking made them so glad (That rapture the only one they had). She stood there so often, so often got up, That her lord and master got all het up; Then he'd ask her to represent Why she got up and where she went. "Lord," she said, "That girl or boy Has never known this good world's joy Who never heard the laustic's song. That's why I stand here all night long. I hear him sing so sweet at night, It seems to me just pure delight; I feel pleasure, such longing--I Need to listen--I can't shut my eye." He listened to her, every word, Laughed, cruel, angry, at what he heard. He made his plan, which must not fail: He would trap the nightingale. For every house-servant one task he set, To fashion a snare, or a trap, or a net. In the orchard they spread them; no big Strong chestnut tree nor hazel twig Lacked some snare or sticky lime. Of course, they caught the bird, in time. They took it to their lord, the husband. Glad to be holding in his hand The laustic, still full of life, He went to show it to his wife. "Lady, where are you? Speak some word to us! Look! I caught this bird-- Come here, now! See how my lime glue Got him! This nightingale kept you Awake so often, night-long, when You should sleep in peace. Well, never again!" The lady listened to her master Hurt and angry at this disaster. --Could she have the bird? If her lord willed it? In a fit of temper her lord killed it. With both hands the neck he broke (A vile deed, worthy of churlish folk!) And at the lady he threw the body, Getting her chemise all bloody A little, in front, on the breast. He left, not waiting to see the rest. The lady took up the body small. Weeping hard, she cursed them all, Those traitors to the laustic Who made the traps and snares to sneak Away her joy forever more! "Alas," she said, "my love next door! Never again I'll rise up at night To stand at the window, to catch a sight of my friend as oft I used to do! I know one thing, as true as true: When I'm not there, my faith he'll doubt. This is a problem I must think out. I'll send my friend this nightingale. All that's happened, he'll hear the tale." The birdie she covered with a fold Of samite, all in precious gold Embroidered and inscribed. She called her servant and described The message and package she wanted to send. He took both next door to her friend. The servant came to the knight next door And greeted him with his lady's favor. He spoke his piece as she'd bade him speak And handed over the laustic. When he'd told the story and shown the bird The knight, who'd listened to every word, Was sad as could be at how things had turned out. No vile churl he, though, no lazy lout: He ordered the best smith to mold A tiny vessel, all pure gold (No iron or steel), and good stones, Precious ones, expensive ones, And make a good tight-fitting lid. Inside, the laustic he hid. Then he sealed up this reliquary To ever after with him carry. This adventure was widely known: They couldn't hide it for more than a week. It was sung as a lai by some Breton And men call it "Laustic." |
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