THE ADVENTURES OF FLORE AND BLANCHEFLEUR by MARIE DE FRANCE

CHILDE FLORE as beauteous was to see
As stripling of his age could be;
Of stature tall, although fifteen
Were all the years he yet had seen;
A robe of purple hue had he,
Which was laced o'er becomingly;
Bareheaded by his love he stood,
With beauty like her own endued;
And she in like dishevelled state
Does, drowned in tears, her doom await.
Round was her head, her hair was light,
Her forchead more than ermine white,
Brown eyebrows, laughing hazel eyes,
With which no gem resplendent vies,
And pouting lips for kisses made,
A little full and ruby red.
Her teeth were small and close combined,
Whiter than silver thrice refined;
And from her mouth came breath so sweet,
'Twould feed you for a week complete.
On Monday, who her breath should smell
Would a whole week in safety dwell:
Their beauty filled with wonder, all
Who saw them reach the palace hall.
Not one so vile in all the train
For pitying them could tears retain.

The king had bade them both appear,
What they could say he chose to hear:
He questioned both of them, his name
Flore he commanded to proclaim;
Who answer made: 'My name is Flore;
I came to study at Montoire,
When from my sight Blanchefleur was ta'en,
Whom in this land I found again.
I swear by every saintly power,
Blanchefleur knew not I sought her tower:
Therefore if please your majesty,
Since she knew nought she should not die,
Me, for us both, decide to kill
This night, and justice you fulfil;
Sole culprit and offender I,
For my fault is she doomed to die.'

These words did Blanchefleur deeply move:
'Sire,' she exclaimed, 'I am his love;
And on my faith, on my account
Alone, he did your castle mount;
Had he not known Blanchefleur was there,
Your tower he had mounted ne'er;
'Twere grievous he should die for me,
Son of the Spanish King is he.
That he should live and I should die
Is just, an' please your Majesty.'
Flore cries: 'Her story ne'er believe,
Kill me, and let my sweetheart live.'

'You both shall die,' the King he said,
'Nor hope your sentence be delayed;
Both of you I myself will put
To death, and off your heads will cut.'
Then seized his naked sword the King,
To stand first Blanchefleur made a spring,
But Flore he dragged her back again:
'Not first,' he cried, 'shall you be slain;
I am a man, disgrace the worst
Were mine, to let you perish first.'
His outstretched neck in front he placed,
But Blanchefleur seized his hand in haste--
'You wrong me much!'--then sprang before,
Held out her neck, though weeping sore.
Thus to die first each of them chose,
Each does the other's choice oppose.
Beholding them the Barons all
Wept sadly in the palace hall;
Never was passed a sentence yet,
That from all folk such pity met.

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