Ovide Moralisé VI

The Philomena of Chrétien de Troyes

(from the Ovide moralisé [Book VI. 2183-3855])

Because of the great sorrow which Pelops suffers

For Niobe his blood sister,

Which he cannot shake off,

There came, to comfort him,

The kings of many lands,

But king Pandion did not come with them

For at that time in his territory

King Pandion of Athens was fighting a war.

Barbarians had besieged him.

They would have made him poor and weak

And all his territory desolate

If it were not for the mounted warriors

The king of Thrace brought,

Who inflicted ruin on the barbarians.

He destroyed many of them, injured many of them,

And he put many of them in his prison.

The king of Thrace exerted himself so much

The he chased them forcibly from the country.

When the war was concluded,

Pandion offered him the elder

Of the two daughters he had.

Oh, god, it’s too bad he did not know

The great sadness and the anxiety

That afterwards came form this marriage,

For which at that time he cried many tears

And died of sorrow before his time!

For all I know, if he knew it,

This man never would have had her as his wife.

But I will not describe the tale

Except as Chretien tells it,

Who translated it very literally.

I don’t wish to put myself in the way.

I will recount to you his entire poem

And it will draw the allegory from it.

Chrétien de Troyes, Philomena

Pandion was king of Athens,

Powerful and generous and courteous

He had two daughters whom he loved a great deal:

The one was named Philomena,

The other Progne: she was the elder.

She was given to a husband.

A king of Thrace asked for her,

At which Pandion became very happy.

He became very happy at this? — True? — Why?

Because he had married her to a king.

To a king? Rather to a tyrannous bastard,

Tereus was the name,

To whom Pandion, without his making repeated requests,

Gave his beloved daughter Progne.

Tereus had an ill-fortuned wedding

For Hymeneus was not there,

The god who ought to be at a wedding,

No priest of cloth, however, chanted there,

And there was not any sign of joy here,

But all night long, in their harsh voices,

Below the bedroom sang the owl

And the screech owl and the cuckoo

And the white owl and the crow.

These were not very good omens,

Rather, they signified nothing but

Sorrow and trouble.

Their gathering together was a very unfortunate

For in the bedroom and in the hall

Flew all night the demons

Atropos and Tesiphoné

And all the evil fates.

When the wedding was concluded,

Tereus took his wife away with him

To Thrace as a sovereign lady.

There they had between the two of them a son.

In an evil hour did they have him!

The day the child was born

There were celebrations throughout the kingdom

And every year had a feast in honor of him

As if he were Tervagant,

For Tereus ordered it.

The infant grew and improved

And was very handsome within five years.

Itys was his name. Too bad it was a great sorrow

That he did not live longer.

I will tell you soon enough

What happened to him at the very end,

But first I will tell you something else.

(There had already passed, it seems to me,

More than five years,

For Progne and her husband).

She had a desire to go and see

Her sister Philomena

But she did not ask her lord

One day she put it to him the question,

Making him many oaths and promises,

That if he would let her go

To her sister beyond the sea

She would return from there very soon

And scarcely stop there at all,

And if he didn’t want her to make the journey,

So that she would not see her sister,

Then she prays him that he might go find her

And bring her back to their own territory.

He answers her that she may stay home

So that she might not lament her staying home,

That he will go, whenever he can

And so he will bring her back to Thrace.

Soon afterwards Tereus orders

His ships to be outfitted with provisions,

With masts, smooth sails and with booms (?).

Soon everything is done. Then he went aboard.

He had a large crew with him.

At his departing Progne prays him

That he soon bring her sister to her.

Then they set sail on the sea,

The lines and the sails stretch out

And they are off on the tracks of the stars.

They sail by day, they sail by night.

There was great suffering and great sorrow

Because they had traveled straight through,

And the sea was all too calm for them,

And because of this great evil comes to them,

Since she does not restrain the king,

And so many great evils derived from this.

Pandion heard tell of the ships

Which have arrived in his harbor.

When the news is told him [Pandion],

That his son-in-law is coming to see him.

It seems right for him to go to meet him;

Immediately he sets out to meet him.

He meets him as he is coming away from the harbor,

And greets him and kisses him often.

On the mouth and eyes and face.

He entertains him so much that he wears him completely out.

He greets all his people en masse

And leads them from there to the city

Then he inquires for news

About his daughter and his grandson,

If they are very happy and healthy and well.

And Tereus replies to him

That both are happy and healthy and well

And send him their greetings,

Then he tells him that he will conceal no longer

What is the occasion for his journey:

"Sire", he says, "Progne who has

So great a desire to speak

With her sister Philomena, sent me to you.

Your daughter asks you through me,

And if my asking may add anything to that,

I ask you, that you let her go.

It will be long for you to get her back again

For if she keeps her no more

Than a single day or a single hour,

I think that it will be too long for you

To get her back again to this place,

And so give yourself to the agreement,.

So that, as soon as I see the wind

Is fair and calm for returning

I will not allow her to stay

I will soon bring her back.

But now it is right that I complain

On behalf of her who didn’t come with me."

Then there came from a room

Philomena with her hair hanging loose

She did not look like a veiled nun,

For it will be a great miracle to describe

Her noble body and her bright face

That there could not, I think, be sufficient

To tell all her great beauty

The intelligence and tongue of Plato

Nor of Homer nor of Cato,

Who had very great knowledge.

Therefore I ought not be ashamed

If I fail in this after these three.

And I will put my whole effort into it.

Since I have undertaken this enterprise, I do not seek to abandon it:

Rather I will tell what no one could believe,

First about her head and then her body —

In every strand her hair

Was more sparkling than refined gold.

God made her such that Nature,

As far as I know, would have failed there,

If she had wished to improve anything.

She had a forehead while and clear, without any wrinkle;

Her eyes brighter than a hyacinth,

The eyebrows widely spaced and straight:

Neither painted nor made up.

She had a nose high and long and straight,

Such as beauty ought to have;

She had a fresh complexion

Of peonies and fleur de lis;

A smiling mouth, lips somewhat full

And a little bit reddish

More than red samite of scarlet tint,

And her breath smelled sweeter

Than spices or balm or incense.

She had small teeth, close together and white;

Chin and neck, throat and breast

She had, more white than any ermine that ever existed,

Just like two small apples

Were her two small breasts;

She had slender hands, long and white,

A slender waist, low hips.

Everything else was so very well formed

That no one ever saw anything so beautiful,

For Nature had put herself to more trouble

Than for any other born creature,

And put everything into her that she was able to.

Along with all the beauty that she had

She also knew whatever a maiden ought to know.

She was no less intelligent than beautiful,

If I am to tell the truth

She knew more about pleasure and amusement

Than Apollonius or Tristan:

She knew more than ten times the sum of that.

She knew about "tables" and chess,

The old game and "six and ace".

About buffe and hamee.

She was beloved and sought by high noblemen

On account their delight in her.

She knew about hawks and falcons

And about the jantil and the launer;

She knew well how a falcon molts

And a goshawk and a tercel.

She would never be following her desire

If she were not engaged in hunting in woods or river banks.

At the same time she was such a good worker

In working with purple cloth

That she had no equal in the entire world.

A diaper or baldachin

Or even the Troop of Hellequin

She would know how to depict on a cloth.

She knows the authors and grammar

And knew well how to make songs and write letters

And, when it pleased her, to occupy herself

With the psaltery and lyre:

She knew more about these than one could say,

And about the gigue and the rote.

There was not a lay or song or tune under heaven

That she didn’t know how to play well on the viol,

And she also knew how to speak so knowledgeably

That by her speaking alone

She knew how to teach.

The maiden, who had a face

Red and bright, came to her father,

She was clad in samite,

And Tereus embraced her

And greets and kisses her at the same time.

Her great beauty and her beautiful countenance

Makes his heart beat rapidly.

His wickedness puts him in hope

Of doing evil and folly;

Love villainously binds him

Villainously? — Yes, without doubt;

He devotes his entire energy to villainy,

Because when he turns his heart

To love the sister of his wife —

For this reason, if she were her fraternal sister

The love would not at all have been villainous,

For one of the gods which they had,

According to the law which they observed,

Had decided that they might do whatever

Their desire and their pleasure wanted.

Such a law had that one written for them

That whatever pleased or delighted them

Each one could do without committing a sin.

Such was the law paganism observed.

Therefore, if this had been forbidden

And he who had willed it had revoked it,

Whatever would have pleased them to do

No one ought to have considered evil.

But now let us leave their law be.

Who could oppose Love

That so very soon could perform his will?

Tereus wickedly set out from Thrace

To go to seek Philomena,

And Love started a war against him

And he was deceived and badly led

For in his heart the fire crackled

Which easily ignites and flames up.

The maiden he takes in his arms

And says to her thus: "My sweet friend,

Your sister greets you and asks

That you might come to enjoy yourself with her,

And I myself ask you for this,

If my asking can help the cause.

If prayers had any power in God’s presence

You would have been in Thrace long ago,

Besides there is no prayer that Progne makes

Except that she might be able to embrace you.

If I had let her come

She would have come here to you,

But I have held her back from that

Only by force, against her heart.

Your sister had a very great desire

To see you for a fortnight.

Take care that my effort may be spared in this

And ask my lord the king

To allow you to come with me.

I do not think that anything would hurt him

If he were to allow you to come to enjoy yourself

With your sister over there.

This much she said to me, she never concealed it,

When I took leave of her,

That I would never be her lord

And her friend for even a single day

If I did not bring her sister to her,

And certainly I would prefer

To be weak, white-haired and old,

Than have her give me a hurt look.

But so beseech, my dear friend,

Your father that, if it please him,

He allow you to come from here with me."

She, who was no fool,

Answers him: "Lord, what would my words

Be worth next to yours?

If you have regard for what’s right,

You ought to ask once,

— Such is the custom with the French—

Let one who wishes to obtain something,

If he has enough strength and knowledge,

Let him make the effort and exert himself to have it,

And if it happens that he fails in that

And cannot succeed with him,

Then he ought to take his request to someone else"—

"Damsel, you have spoken correctly

But nevertheless you could

Improve on it a little more;

First you ought to have asked

If I had asked him for this or not."

"Upon my soul, this I certainly should have!

If I had had enough sense

I would also have asked that.

But now tell me anyway:

Have you not spoken to him

At all concerning this matter?"

"I have told him indeed, without any quarrel."

"What did he answer you?" — "Not a thing."

"Then there is no need at all of commentary from me.

Since he does not wish to give you a response,

My sister can look for me as long as she wants

But she will not see me for months.

I knew well that my lord the king

Is not willing to give me leave.

This matter does not please him." —

"It doesn’t please him?" — "No, I think." —

"How do you know this?" — "How?

Because he does not choose to give you any answer." —

"You can explain it in another way

And hope for a different response."

He heard my whole request

And listened most willingly to it,

With the result that he did not say a word during that time,

And therefore I think that it pleases him,

Because he who keeps silent gives consent." —

"This is not a true interpretation,

Because we are still in doubt

With regards to his refusal or assent." —

Then Tereus speaks again to the king.

"Sire, wise king of Athens,

My message from your daughter

Progne has been well delivered to you,

If all the men who have been born

Requested something from you,

You ought rather to act on my behalf

Than for all of them together,

And for your daughters, it seems to me,

At least you ought to do it,

Even if you were not doing it for me,

For the one has asked you for this

And the other has commanded me

That I ask you for this and make a so great an effort

That I might bring her back with me from here."

Pandion leaned on his arm,

Because this is a very tiring matter.

It tires him as much as it is possible to be tired,

But it is necessary for him to respond.

"Friend," he says, "you well know

That I have nothing in this world

That you cannot take and possess

Completely for your own pleasure

If you were to have need of it,

But I believe, if only you knew

The benefits my daughter brings me,

Never would you beg me

For this gift you request of me.

I would be completely without hope

If I were one day without my daughter.

I will need a crutch or staff

From now on for me to lean on.

If it did not have to upset you,

There would be a postponement and delay

Regarding this gift you have requested of me." —

"A delay?" — "Yes" — "As much as you wish.

How long?" — "As long as I live,

For you should know this for certain:

I will not live long,

For I am old and very weak.

I have lived longer than Jacob did,

Than Abraham and Esau,

And I have had many possessions,

But now I have not a thing that pleases me;

In my daughter see all my comforts;

Entirely because of her alone do I live,

For I have no other sustenance.

If you only take her from me,

You wish to shorten my life for me.

By this I make you sure and certain

That my daughter watches and serves me

Both night and day and evening and morning;

I do not let anyone else lend a hand

At my getting up and not my lying down.

My sweet daughter holds me so dear

That she puts my shoes on, she puts my clothes on

And her services please me so much

That if her comforts did not exist,

I would have been dead a very long time ago.

Therefore, I ask, if you love me,

Withdraw this request."

Now Tereus is not at ease,

For he does not have the thing which pleases him

And thinks he has failed in everything.

Now he considers himself badly mistreated.

He does not know what to do or what to say,

But he is very downcast and sighs deeply

And gives the appearance of grieving greatly

When he does not get what he wants,

Though what he wants is wicked and foolish.

He completely loses the power of speech,

So that he doesn’t say a word, only complains.

His foolishness overcomes his knowledge.

Foolishness? But rather Love, I think,

Which conquers and destroys all

And, when it pleases him, in a short space of time

Puts the one who has been conquered back on top.

— Is love, then, if such power

That it makes the conquered conquer?

— Yes, those who cry out and hold forth about love

Give testimony and say this,

And since they give this testimony,

Those who serve and cultivate love,

Therefore I can prove properly

That one cannot find fidelity

In this Love, which changes so quickly,

Which alienates its friends from it

And hires new mercenary soldiers

And gives equal pay to all. —

Upon my word, then is Love just

Because it gives equal pay —

Rather it is openly unjust,

Because to each one, according to what he deserves

And according to what is worth more,

He ought to increase his pay.

But I know well how it happens

That love retains the worst

And refuses those who are worth more.

Do you know shy the better ones don’t succeed?

Because Love does not know how to choose

Who is better and who is worse.

— Doesn’t know? Then she is not very smart. —

— That’s right. But she has such feelings

That it makes no difference to her if she knows nothing,

As long as she can have what she wants.

Love is more changeable than the wind;

Because she is false and a liar

And is generous and noble in promising

But cheap and miserly in keeping those promises,

She does not prove of much good (?) to those

Who are subjected to her;

Love strikes and punishes those

Who exert themselves in its service,

And neither for boredom not for disaffection

Can they withdraw themselves from her,

For no one who once loved, certainly,

Received what he deserved from her,

But was conquered or worn out by her,

For no one can do enough for her.

Love does everything she wishes to

And one who complains much about her and laments

Is more inflamed and burns more fiercely,

For he takes neither joy nor solace from it.

Love is bad for those in whom the remedy

Causes the illness to become more deeply rooted.

No one knows what health is,

For he thinks to seek his cure

By doing its desires:

Because of that it binds and imprisons him more tightly.

Then Tereus would be wiser —

If he wished to retreat back from there

And to go back home without the girl,

But he sees she is so courtly and good looking

And well endowed with beauty

That if he does not succeed in his desire for her

His whole life will go crazy,

Because he cannot detach his heart from her.

What will he do then? He doesn’t know what to do.

He embraces the girl often

And sighs a lot and weeps.

He does not think to see the hour

That he might embrace her as he desires.

If the devil (who does not rest from doing evil),

Had bewitched him,

So that he thinks to himself and considers

That he must take her by force,

If he cannot conquer her by love,

Or take her away secretly at night,

But he would have acted in a less than noble fashion,

And he hesitated to undertake such a thing

Which he could not bring to a good end.

Therefore unless he had been able to disguise himself (?)

How foolish and villainous would be his efforts

If the city were stormed

While the people were asleep,

For not a single one of them could be allowed to depart from there alive.

Reason (who came to him, I do not know when)

Had pushed him away from this thought.

It is a wonder to me how that happened

That Reason did anything at that time,

For it had been quite convincingly destroyed.

— Destroyed? By what? — From loving more

Than anyone would dare to call love — (?)

Love? — Not really. — Then what? — Abuse,

Infidelity and folly,

For, if you think about naming it properly,

Acting foolishly is not love.

Tereus is acting very foolishly

And so becomes more and more foolish:

Therefore it causes me greatly astonishment

That no reason counsels him.

— Reason? How? — He did not retreat

From the foolish intention that he had taken,

And said that he still wants to try

Whether he will be able to succeed by asking.

Then he begins again his prayer;

To the king he speaks in this fashion:

"Sire," he says, "I knew and saw quite well

That you would do little for me

When you have refused me this gift.

I wasted my time for nothing,

When I came now to this place.

Now I’m sorry about it, but it is wrong,

If I depart from here just as I came.

Never have I held myself to be so much a fool

Over anything I might have done.

I wish I had never seen you here

Nor have crossed the sea.

You have found poor reason

For your daughter who treats you well!

If I lose my way in this account,

I will have worn myself out completely in vain.

Don’t you, then, have servants enough

And girls to serve you?

You can easily put up with them

For only three or four days,

If you would let her come play

With her sister, who sent me here.

I have made a long trip for no reason

And will feel very sorry if I fail in it,

Not on account of these reasons, but on account of my efforts,

And more on her account, who weighs on my mind more,

For Progne will tell me that I should leave on account of this

And never come back to her

For I would have failed her love

If I came back without her sister.

Therefore I do not know what I ought to do,

For if I see myself exiled on this account,

I will be very sorry because of my son,

And more because of her, if I lose her,

For I do not think I’ll ever get her back.

On account of these tears, as you can see,

I am extremely agitated

When you refuse such a little thing.

Good sire, now entrust her to me

With my solemn promise that before a fortnight

I will bring her back to you happy and healthy,

And with what I promise you

I entrust to you my word of honor in hostage

And all the gods I believe in.

Upon my oath and upon my word of honor,

Entrust her confidently to me."

Ha! Such a wicked man! How he lies to him now!

How he now betrays and deceives him!

Pandion, who sees him weeping,

Doesn’t have any suspicion that he is lying to him;

Because he is acting crazy, weeping,

He thinks that he weeps because of the great pity he feels.

So well has the wicked tyrant endeavored

By making promises and swearing oaths

And by praying and weeping

That he succeeds in just the way he wanted.

Pandion cannot keep himself

From weeping along with him.

The two of them wept so bitterly

That I don’t know which wept more.

It is right for a man, when he is old,

To weep often and easily.

"Friend," he says, "in accord with this covenant

That you have made and sworn to me,

In accord with your faithful pledge

You will lead my daughter away from here tomorrow.

I entrust her into your hands,

But understand that you are causing me great grief.

Watch over her just as you ought

And bring her back in a short time.

My eyes will not be free of tears

Nor my heart happy, no matter what happens,

Until my daughter returns to me.

If you wish to retain my love,

Then think of coming back soon

And bringing back my daughter.

Indeed, you ought to do everything you can

To accomplish what I ask you.

See that you do not forget it." —

"I will not do that," says Tereus,

"Sire, say no more about it,

For it would be more wrong for me than would be satisfying for you

If I did not return from there,

If I did not bring her back."

When the speech is ended,

And Tereus asks no more,

Pandion the king commands

That the tables soon be set up.

The seneschals, the constables,

The storekeeper, the cup-bearer,

Each devotes his care and special attention

To arranging and setting up

What is under his responsibility.

Some run to set up the tables,

Others go to devote themselves

To bringing water to various places.

There was no servant without something to do there,

No squire, no good valet,

Who did not provide service as he should,

They all put themselves out to do good service,

But Tereus takes no delight

In any service anyone might offer him

Except looking on the noble figure

And on the face of the girl

Who was at supper with him:

This is his drink, this his food.

He flatters her immensely

And attends her carefully and speaks a great deal to her,

But no one knows why he does this

Except himself, and he has no intent to hold himself back

From carrying out his great crime

Whenever the opportunity presents itself, but the delay is too long.

He looks at her with great infatuation,

And pays attention to nothing else.

He sat long at his food

And it gave him great pleasure to sit there,

More because of looking at the girl

Than because of the drink and food,

And there was no shortage there,

Peacocks and swans and pheasants

And fine and delicious wines,

But they had everything they could desire

In abundance and plenty,

As was proper to a royal table.

When the noblemen had finished dining

They get up and the servants

Bring in water in silver basins.

The nobles wash and dry themselves.

When they have washed then they lay down

On a couch, all together,

And each says what ever comes to mind

Good or bad, foolish or sensible,

And the valets occupy themselves,

In making up and preparing the beds.

This was not a matter of joy or happiness

To the traitor, to the wicked tyrant,

Who had no desire to sleep.

He would prefer to stay up the whole night,

If he were permitted to talk quietly

With her who held his heart captive—

What? Does she know nothing of this?—

No, I swear, for if she knew

That he had it in his heart

To act shamefully and vilely

Never would she have gone with him.

They talk so much, they stayed up so long

That their beds were ready,

And all the nobles went to bed.

This night Tereus never once took

Any rest or repose in bed.

Nor did he even close his eyes to sleep;

As long as the entire night lasted,

All night he tossed on his bed,

From side to side, end to end,

And he drove himself mad as a result,

And lay awake until day dawned;

All night he tossed and turned

And got up and lay down again.

Those who were lying in their beds

Slept in very great comfort

And knew nothing about this whole story,

And he was awake all night,

Because his foolishness was working away,

Until the tower guards

Began to trumpet the day.

When he heard the day announced,

Even if someone gave him thirty marks of gold

He would not have been as happy.

His companions woke up,

He made them get up quickly,

And they, at his command,

Got dressed very quickly.

The king heard they were awake

And were hurrying to get up.

How sharply he should blame himself,

How could he keep his word,

And keep to his promise,

To entrust his daughter to him?

She was very joyous and happy at this

And this turn of events pleased her immensely,

But often those who rejoice at something come

To experience instead misfortune.

She very certainly considers herself certain

To go and return in safety.

And how can it happen

That she would imagine the unexpected events

Which the tyrant might prepare for her?

Never would anyone imagine that.

Tereus led her from there to the harbor

And Pandion accompanied them there

And implored him the whole way

To return just as he promised him

At the end of the period he had agreed to with him.

"And you," he says, "my dear daughter,

Remember to come back soon

And also keep me in your thoughts

For I am so happy when I see you

And I have so much joy and well-being!

My sweet daughter, quickly return.

Return quickly. If you return quickly

Quickly my joy and my well-being will return."

A thousand times he repeats these words

And a thousand times kisses and hugs her

And more than a thousand times makes her return,

When she turns to board the ship,

Ad he holds her back as much as he can,

And when it is necessary for her to return,

He commends her to the traitor.

Thus he has made a shepherd of a wolf!

He has made him a shepherd, that’s no lie,

If he did not wish to repeat

His folly and his madness,

But he has no heart for it,

And instead he restrains and delays her for a long time.

Pandion weeps at the departure

And kisses with good will the disloyal man

Who is plotting treachery and evil.

He is plotting treachery. No matter who it grieves,

He will do whatever pleases him

Because he now has the power and the control.

The girl whom he takes from there

Will be in a short time brought to destruction!

The sail is completely filled with wind

And the ship runs before it not at all slowly

For they have the wind blowing in their direction

And they are soon at a distance from the harbor,

Where Pandion weeps very bitterly

For his daughter whom he sees going away from him.

And it is very right for him to weep bitterly,

Since he will never see her again

And she will not return to her homeland,

But he does not think of all this,

And Philomena is now very close

To danger and to trouble

Because he has taken her away on her own from there

To a deserted house of his,

He, who pursues this madness.

The house was in a forest,

— This Chretien li Gois narrates —

Far from cities in every direction

And far from cultivated fields and clearings,

Far from roads and paths.

Speaking, chatting together

Now of this, now of that, by treachery

He led her to his house,

And when they were alone together,

All on their own, the girl and he,

So that no one sees or hears them,

He, who had plotted this wickedness,

Drew her to him with his right hand.

She did not know what this can be

Not could she figure out

That he might wish to deceive her,

He who embraces and kisses her so sweetly.

It is true, when a thief sees his opportunity

For doing evil, then he does not care

Which end goes first.

Doing evil is a very pleasant thing

For the criminal who dares to commit it,

And it is a most bitter and savage a thing

To a noble, faithful and wise man.

But this fellow is not good or noble or refined,

He is instead wicked, evil and rash,

And when he does not abandon his wickedness

Everything becomes necessary to him that weighs on his heart

And he undertakes all his wicked intentions

As soon as doing so encounters no fear.

But until he acts wickedly or courteously (?)

As his love for her requires (?)

Let him not betray her in any way (?).

"Beautiful," he says, "now realize clearly

That I love you and so beg you

To make me your friend,

And this matter will be kept secret,

If you want it to go on."

"Kept secret, fair sir? Why?

I love you well, just as I ought

And I do not have any intention of keeping it secret,

But if you wish to ask me

To participate in a love that might be against the law,

Keep quiet about it; I have no desire for that." —

— "I will keep quiet, but keep quiet about it yourself.

I love you so much and you are so pleasing to me

That I wish that you would consent

To act according to my desires, of your own volition." —

—"Oh! sir, now you are not behaving like a gentleman!

May it never please god that such a betrayal of fidelity

Might involve us!

Remember my sister

Who is your loyal spouse!

Never shall my sister have cause to be jealous of me

Nor ever, unless I am forced to it,

Will I do anything which might displease her."—

"You will not?"—"No!" — "And I swear to you,

As long as I hold you here under my control

And have the power to do what I desire,

Whether it be agreeable to you, or completely a cause of grief,

There is no defense of any worth to you there:

I will do whatever my heart conceives."

— "You will?" — "Yes, without any delay,

And whoever wishes may watch me do it,

For I do care a bit who watches!"—

Then he made her afraid and she cries out

And struggles and twists;

She almost dies of fear;

Because of anger, anguish, and sorrow,

Her complexion changes color more than a hundred times,

She trembles, grows pale and also perspires,

And says that it was an evil day that she left

The land where she was born,

When she taken away to such dishonor.

"Ah," she says, "vile bastard,

Sad villain, what are you going to do?

Wicked villain, , unrestrained criminal,

Traitorous villain, perjured villain,

Tormented villain, lawless villain,

Villain, have you not promised the king

That you would treat me honorably

And that you would bring me back to him

Safe and happy to my homeland?

You swore an oath to him and thus you betray it.

Traitor, my father, who did not perceive

Your treachery, believed you,

Because you wept before him

And because you swore an oath to him

Upon all the gods in whom you believe.

Where are those gods? Where is that faith?

Have you forgotten them already?

Where are the tears I saw

When you wept before him?

Alas, why did I not recognize

Your hypocrisy and treachery?

Villain, why do you commit such a crime

And act so foolishly and madly?

Repent, and you will be acting wisely,

As long as it is possible for you to repent,

Without perjury, without betraying your faith."—

Thus the unhappy woman, sorrowing,

Begs him to repent;

But no prayer carries any weight with him,

And he assaults her without restraint

And forces himself on her and dominates her so much

That he has totally oppressed her by force

And has entirely gotten his way with her.

He says truly who says: "One evil always

Attracts another and nourishes itself with it."

And evil nourishment issues from it,

If such evil derives from it.

Tereus does not even stop there

And after this evil he does another that’s worse.

He took a small sharp knife,

And so that she may not be able

To tell anyone she might come across

This shame and this dishonor,

He says that he will cut her tongue

Out of her mouth immediately,

And she will never talk with it again.

When troubles come they never come alone:

He pulls her tongue from her throat,

And cuts it off near the middle.

Now he has committed a great crime

Both in this and in the other thing.

He leaves her closed up in the house

Where she weeps and cries and sobs.

He returns from there to his companions

Who knew all about these events,

But they feared the traitor so greatly,

Those whose king and lord he was,

That they did not dare say a word about it

And they kept quiet more for fear

Than they did for love.

But Tereus acted foolishly

When he put a peasant woman

With Philomena to guard her,

A peasant woman who lived off her own labor

For she knew how to spin and weave

And had a daughter of hers

Whom she instructed in her craft.

Tereus had no way of keeping watch there

When he ordered her to guard her,

And to let Tereus know

Everything which she asked of her,

And asked her to take care

That the girl not ramble far

By chance or for need

Since she would always have everything there.

She swears him an oath and he believes her.

Then Tereus departed form there;

He had no more wish to delay,

And he came to his city in Thrace.

Progne thought for sure

That her sister would come with him;

And for this reason she had very great joy in her heart,

But her joy lasted only a short time

For as soon as she saw

Her lord and his company

And did not see anything of her sister

With whom she planned to have a good time,

It didn’t please her at all to listen to anything

Nor did she have any desire to reply

Neither "Welcome" nor "God save you,"

But rather she asks, like a woman gone mad,

When they had all greeted her:

—"Where is my sister? Why as she not come?

What is she doing? What detains her?

And why does she delay so long?

Where has she stopped? And for how long?

Tell me where you have left her."—

The villain kept his head down

And gives the appearance and countenance

Of a man who felt both sorrow and anxiety

And deceitfully he gives

An obviously false sigh

In order to make his lie believable.

"Lady," he says, "it is a true thing

That one must be resigned to necessity

To what one cannot have."—

"That is true. You have said it for me.

My sister is not coming, I guess."—

"No lady, she has not come."—

"What obstacle has kept her then?"—

"What obstacle? Lady, that I will never tell you."—

"Why? Because I will also go

Off there to her if it is not disagreeable to you."—

"Lady, don’t cause any more quarrels,

For I will tell you the truth about it,

Since you want to know it;

But my desire would be not to tell you it.

I must tell you the truth,

Whatever it may be, either good or bad."

And then he drew another false sigh,

And in order to reinforce better his story

Began to weep from his eyes

Deceptively, like Reynard the fox.

—"Lady," he says, "I do not know what to say,

For my desire would be not to say

Anything from which you might derive sorrow.

Can’t you guess how truly great is

The sorrow that causes me to be I am so sorrowful

That I cannot keep myself from crying

No matter what I do?

I weep because you will have

Very great sadness when you know of it.

But concealing something is not worth anything to me,

Unless I lose speech and feeling,

So grievous a thing is it for me to tell."

As he says this he sighs again,

Without there being any great sorrow in his heart,

And when he has heaved this sigh,

Then he says what he had planned.

"Lady," he says, "he comes too soon

Who brings bad news.

Learn that your sister is dead."—

"My sister is dead? Poor woman, alas!"—

"Yes, I know nothing else that I would want to keep from you;

But moderate your feelings,

For one ought not to lament so much

Or be so sorrowful over a loss.

Death does what he wants to each person,

And neither good people nor evil can escape him.

We all owe this gift to death;

It is necessary for everyone of us to pay it,

And we will not know how to put him off at all;

And since such is the fortune

That death has taken as his right,

Which your sister owed him,

Don’t indulge in such great sorrow,

But suffer without too great grief

What it will be necessary for all to suffer."—

Thus the wicked tyrant thought to mingle

Honey with the gall

Whose bitterness he had by his deceit

Placed in her heart,

And he tries to assuage

The anger and the sorrow it causes,

But he does not know how best to console her

So that he can give her comfort,

For she nearly goes completely mad,

Then she calls herself unhappy, wretched,

And with such sorrow she does not know what to do.

Now she pulls her hair, now she beats her face,

Now she weeps, now cries and now faints,

Curses the gods and berates Death.

"Death," she says, " you did wrong

When you killed my sister,

And Nature ought to hate you greatly for this

When you have killed the most beautiful

Creature she ever made.

Death, you would be doing the noble thing,

If you put me with her.

Death, why do you hold back from sending

My soul to dwell with hers?

Death, you keep me too long from dying,

For I do not desire to live any longer.

Death, come now and set yourself free,

And help me in this need.

Death, why are you so far from me

That you neither hear nor listen to me?

Death, if I should live a hundred years,

My sorrow will never end.

Death, if you want to be on good terms with me,

Then do what I command you.

But always, in remembrance

Of this anger, anguish and sorrow,

I will wear clothes of black colors,

And that’s what I really ought to wear,

Because it is written in our law

That one who feels the anger and anguish of death

Should wear black clothing."—

Now she orders the clothes brought to her.

They are brought immediately

And she puts them on and speaks and swears an oath

That she will never wear clothing

Except like this or even worse.

Then a bull was brought to her

In order to make sacrifice to the gods.

The blood was put in an urn,

So that not a drop ever fell outside of it

When the bull was sacrificed.

She ordered a fire to be light in the temple,

Because such a custom and such an example

They maintained on account of their ancestors,

Because they sacrificed to Pluto.

Pluto was lord of the devils,

The most powerful of them all,

The most ugly and the most horrible.

The fire was prepared and light

As soon as she ordered it,

In front of the altar to this god,

And in order to send up more smoke,

And since this was the custom,

The bull was led into the fire.

Then she made promises and vows to the god

To perform such sacrifice

Each year before his altar,

So that he might guard the soul

Of her sister in hell with honor

And in happiness and rest.

When everything was burned up, both flesh and bone,

So that nothing remained there

Besides cinders and embers,

Then she poured the blood over it;

Afterwards she put everything in a white jar

In the most ritually pure manner she could.

Then she buried the jar in the earth

In a sarcophagus of brown marble.

When the sarcophagus had been closed up

She set up at one end

A statue, ugly to behold,

That she had made in the image

Of the one who has power

Over the souls that are in fiery hell

And over the devils who watch over them.

Then she had written in her own language,

Upon the sarcophagus, in front of the statue,

So that one could read it very well:

"O God, who are king and lord of hell,

Pluto, have mercy on the soul

Of her for whom I here offered

This sacrifice and performed this ritual,

Wherever her body may lie."—

Thus with great devotion

Progne gave her devoted attention

To carrying out the sacrifice,

In order to draw the soul of her sister

Out of a place where she should not be,

But previously she lived and with her life

She was grievously burdened and each day

The traitor renewed for her

Her sorrow, the vile hypocrite

Who burned with love for her,

And mistreated her so terribly

And forcibly took what he wanted

From her he had betrayed.

She had great need of help

And would have desired greatly, if she could have,

That her sister might have knowledge of her condition;

But she did not know to come up with a plan

To get word to her,

For she had no messenger who might go there

And she lacked the ability to speak,

For if she indeed had a messenger,

She could not show what was on her mind

Or tell him in any way.

On the other hand, she is also under such a sentence

That she has neither leave nor leisure

To go out of the house.

What? Why? Who holds her back?

Who? The peasant women who guards her

To whom Tereus entrusted her.

A thousand times she would have fled from her

If she could have, but she wasn’t free to.

So she remained for a long time

Until in the end she thought to herself,

Just as need taught her,

That there were in the house weavings,

For the old woman and her daughter

Had woven many of them,

And she didn’t lack the materials

To make a diapered tapestry;

And so she hit upon a strategy

By which she thinks to be certain

That her whole misadventure

Will be brought to the attention of her sister.

She does not stop at thinking about it.

Immediately, she wants to carry it out.

She comes to a chest, and opens it,

In which the peasant woman had put

Her skeins of thread and her spindles

And she takes them and also winds them

And begins with studied care

Her work just as wanted to.

The old woman did not forbid her,

But very willingly helped her

And as soon as she thought of it

Whatever was lacking for such work

She had it found and bought.

She found all her materials for her,

So that she had violet thread and red thread

And yellow and green in plentiful supply,

But she neither perceived nor knew

Anything of what it was she was weaving,

But the work was a distraction for her,

Who had been given to grieving greatly,

And she wove in at one end

That Philomena had made it:

Afterwards she portrayed there the ship

In which Tereus crossed the sea

When he went to seek her at Athens,

And then how he behaved

When he cane there to Athens,

And how he took her away from there,

And then how he raped her forcibly

And how he left her behind

After he cut out her tongue.

All this she inscribed in the tapestry,

And the house and the forest

Where she was imprisoned.

When she finished her work

As well as she knew how to work it,

If she could locate a man

Who would carry it to her sister,

It would comfort her greatly

From her sadness and her anxiety;

But she didn’t at all know by whom to send it,

Unless her guardian made the journey

Or sends her daughter on it,

For in that place these were only the three of them.

Phenomena was there six months

Without once being able start her plan in motion

Until she made new signs

About what she needed and found out

And discovered for a fact

That her guardian understood everything,,

Whatever it was she ever she asked of her,

And she never refused her

Anything, large or small,

Except leaving the house.

About that she was right,

Because the king had forbidden that.

She had suffered so much and waited so long

That now indeed she thinks kindly of finding

Security and protection n her prison.

One day she was at the window

Of the house, she and her guardian,

And she had not once been able to be

At a window or a door

Since Tereus put her there,

Tereus who had mistreated her so very badly.

There where she was leaning

At the window somewhat happily,

Between the forest and the river bank

She saw the city where her sister was,

And she begins to weep a great deal,

Just like one who was unable

To find comfort in her sorrow.

If her guardian had known

Anything that would have comforted her,

She would most gladly have consoled her with it,

Because she felt very great pity for her

For the great sadness which she was suffering,

And had she a wish for anything

Except to go from there,

She now would have done anything

To give he what she wanted.

When Philomena saw

Many times and realized

That she would do for her anything to please her,

And when she sees the time and opportunity,

She takes the tapestry

She has woven, then came back

To the place where her guardian was waiting for her,

She who understood her,

And never misunderstood her,

But rather understood her as clearly

As if she had spoken with her mouth.

Philomena comes and touches her,

And makes signs to her that she should send

To that city she sees there,

By means of her daughter, this tapestry

And present it to the queen.

The woman understood her wish completely,

But she has no hesitation at all

To do what she asks,

And does not know why she should delay,

For she does not see it as anything but good,

But rather thinks that, because of the reward

And the hope she has of receiving

What she might be owed for doing this for her,

She would like to be there for her

And is very willing to do

Everything that Philomena wants,

Who now showed much less than she was accustomed to

Of anger and anguish, and heavy heartedness,

And she has at least more hope

That, when her sister comes to know of the situation,

She will want to take her away from this place,

And she wants to put it off no longer,

Because it is foolishness—that’s what books say—,

To hold back on one’s plans

When they can be easily accomplished.

But in this she has the foresight

Not to delay doing what she’s decided on

Since she now has initiated it. (?)

Her guardian was not at all disappointed,

Since she does not think to lose anything by it.

"Daughter," she says, "now be wise.

You will carry out this request:

You will take to the queen

The tapestry and in addition hand it to her.

Don’t be slow in coming back.

Go quickly and come without any dawdling."

Then for the first time Philomena

Stopped weeping and counseled herself,

When this girl takes the tapestry from her,

Because she thinks she will get rescued soon.

The girl takes off at more than a trot,

And doesn’t once cease or stop

Until she comes to the queen,

And presents the tapestry to her,

And the queen unrolled it

And looks at it and recognizes the handiwork,

But she does not let on what she is thinking

Lest she cry out or cause a disturbance,

Rather she commands her to go back home.

The girl leaves and the queen follows,

Not too far or too close behind,

So that she never loses sight of her.

The girl does not become aware of this

Until she had made the journey home,

And Progne like a crazy woman

Came to the door and finds it barred (?).

She did not say a word or call out,

But knocks with her fist as well as she can,

And the peasant woman does not move,

But rather keeps quiet and acts deaf.

Philomena cries out and runs

To open the door for her sister.

The peasant woman runs to restrain her,

Trembling all over with fear,

And Progne knocks and bangs and strikes

The door so powerfully that it shatters and breaks.

The peasant woman senses she is in trouble

And so flees from there, because she does not dare stay around:

She locks herself up in a bedroom;

And Progne comes in like a madwoman,

When she finds her entry not blocked,

And she cries aloud at the top of her voice:

"Philomena, sister, where are you?

I am your sister. Don’t be afraid."

Philomena comes to meet her,

Weeping, and faster than a walk,

And Progne kisses her on the run

Almost out of her mind.

"Sister," she says, "come away from here,

For you’ve been here too long.

Most unhappily did you see that day dawn

On which that villain married me

Who has inflicted such harm on you

That now you cannot speak to me.

You must go away from here,

For you have been imprisoned here too long."

Then they go toward the city,

Bemoaning their sorrow together.

They do not stick to the roads or paths,

And Progne secretly leads her from there

Into an out-of-the-way room

Where they can lament their sorrow in secret.

There was no one there except the two of them alone,

And Progne weeps and gets hysterical:

"Sister," she says, "I am greatly saddened

To find you so injured

And I do not know how nor am I able to avenge you

On the villain who did this to you.

May god grant that he get a reward for it

That’s appropriate to his vile crime."

Then her son came into her presence,

Who was extremely good looking

And it was misfortune that led him

To come in to her then.

The mother sees her son come

And says in a low voice something very surprising,

As if the devil were advising her.

"Aha," she says, " here’s something suitable

For a traitor, or a wicked devil!

You must die a bitter death

Because of the crimes of your father.

You will pay for his crime.

You, who have in no way deserved it,

Will die unjustly for his sin.

If only I had never seen you

And God had not put into my mind

Something better suited for that other one!

And for this reason I want to slit your neck."

The child, who had heard nothing of all this

Runs to put his arms about her neck.

He kissed and behaved so lovingly towards her

That Progne ought to have been carried

From the thoughts she had begun contemplating,

As the law and nature requires

Of every human creature

And as pity/piety forbids it,

Namely, that a mother ought not kill

Or dismember her child.

But once she began to bring to mind

The traitor, the oath breaker,

The child would have no safety,

But rather she says that, however it might come about

He will have his head cut off

And she will give his father some of it for dinner:

In this way she can take vengeance for her sister

On the villain who injured her.

Although the child, out of love,

Holds her around the neck,

She, with diabolical will and pride

That the devil inspired in her,

Cut off the child’s head

And gave it to Philomena to look after,

Then they cooked the meat

Between the two of them, very well and quickly.

Part of it they set to roasting

And the rest they set to boiling.

When the meat was cooked and roasted

And it was time and occasion for dinner.

Progne delays a good while and waits

Until she can fully accomplished what she wants.

She approaches the king, who was not aware

Of any of this, and asks and suggests to him,

As the person in all the world (?)

That she thinks he most loves, (?)

That he might come to dinner and not bring with him

Either companion or squire,

Unless he was intent on annoying her

For there will only be the two of them:

She and he will be on their own

And she will serve him everything.

He responds to her that he will go,

As long as his son Itys is there also;

He desires no more company there

Except himself and her and their son.

"On my word, he will certainly be there,"

Says Progne, "I promise you that.

We will be all three alone there,

And there will be neither more nor less than that,

Nor is my wish that anyone will know

Where we have gone.

Come on; everything is set up

And well prepared, I think,

So that you dine at your leisure."

She told him the truth about this,

But he cannot tell

What sort of dinner she is inviting him to.

Don’t imagine she tells him

She is serving him their son for dinner!

He does not put off going any longer,

Since he doesn’t there’s anything to upset him.

Progne leads him from there and sits him down

Most pleasantly and in great comfort,

So that his dinner might be most pleasing.

He accepts with great pleasure what she serves him.

She has prepared the table for him

And the tablecloth was beautiful and white.

She brings him a haunch of Itys,

And he cuts in and eats and drinks

And asks for what he wants (?):

"Lady," he says, "where is Itys?

You promised me

That he would be here with us!"

—"Lord, you will be completely satisfied there,"

Says Progne, "and will not lack a thing.

Itys is not far from here.

If he is not here now, he will be

With scarcely any delay at all." —

Then some roasted meat was brought in,

And the whole time he keeps insisting to her,

While he eats and while he carves,

That she should go bring his son to him.

"Lady," he says, "you are not keeping

Your word to me when you do not bring Itys,

And I am unhappy he does not come.

I must go find him,

Since there is no one else I might send

And I am unhappy not to see him.

Now go find and call him."

She cannot any longer keep secret from him

What it is she has given him for dinner,

But she tells him straight out:

"You have what you seek inside you,

But he is not entirely there.

You have part of it inside your body

And part outside of it."

Philomena, who had remained

In a room next to that one there,

Came out with the head.

She comes to a stop right up in front of him,

And threw the head right in his face,

Completely covered in blood,

Tereus sees that he is betrayed,

And stood a while in surprise

And didn’t move or say a word

Because of the anguish and shame he felt.

He felt such shame as he ought to have

When he recognized the head of his son,

And this made his blood boil

And his anger and sorrow to double

Since he now realized what Progne

Had given him for dinner.

He was greatly shamed and very sorrowful,

And because of the shame he changed color

When he saw Philomena,

But soon he lost all sense of shame,

For he wants to avenge the death of his son.

Now the two sisters are in great danger

Of death, but they’re not much concerned about that.

Tereus leaps across the table

And lands on his feet, and spills onto the floor

Everything that was on the table.

Everything is thrown on the floor and everything is spilled,

And he sees a sword which hangs

On the wall, and he runs to grab it.

The women don’t dare stick around,

But instead they escape from there, and he chases them,

And threatens them with death,

Carried away with his lawless desires.

He chased and harried them

As far as the threshold of the door.

There, as it pleased the fates,

A very surprising thing happened,

Whose equal you have never heard,

For Tereus became a bird

Repulsive and despicable, small and old.

From his hand the sword fell

And he became a tufted lapwing,

As the fable tells it,

Because of the sin and the shame

He had inflicted on the girls.

Progne became a swallow

And Philomena a nightingale.

Still, those who would believe in fame

Would be completely ashamed

That disloyal death also destroys, (?)

The criminal and oath-breaker

And the one who has no love for joy

And all those who carry out wicked deeds

And crime and treachery

Against a wise and courteous girl,

For it grieves her and it disturbs her so much

That when it comes to the beginning of summer,

And winter has completely passed,

Because of the wicked deeds she resents so much,

She sings out in the sweetest way she knows

In the middle of the woods: "Kill! Kill!"—

Here I leave off about Philomena.

― This finishes the story of Philomena,

As Chretien’s retells it.

Now I will give the explanation

Of this version

So that you would be able to understand the story

Which is completely true, without any lies.

Because Philomena was held so long

Caged up in the woods—

Noble and brave, honest and well thought of,

Wise, courteous and joyful—

And because she sang so well,

In the place where she was

Completely safe, hidden and concealed in the wood

The fable pretends that she was transformed

Into a nightingale, but the queen,

Progne, who had made a roast meat

Out of her son, whom she had beheaded

Wickedly and sinfully,

Out of fear of her husband

Turned away in flight and protected herself

In a large tower, strong and beautiful:

And thus she became a swallow,

Who is accustomed to make its nest in such towers,

In chimneys and in corners.

Tereus, because of his iniquity,

Because of the filth and the vileness

That he performed in deceiving the beautiful women

And in deflowering the girl,

And because he had been

A knight who was around in many battles

With crested helmet and with shield

And with hauberk of mail,

The fable pretends, it seems to me,

That he became a filthy and vile lapwing.

— Now I will tell you the allegory

That this fable signifies.

The king of the city of Athens,

Is god, the immortal king,

All powerful and everlasting king,

Generous, courteous, and merciful.

Progne, who was his elder daughter,

She is the soul which God has formed

In his likeness and image,

And which God joins and gives in marriage

To the body, which is made from the earth.

The barbarian who started a war

Against the king of the city of Athens

Was the son of iniquity,

The devil, who wars against God,

And thinks to win the heavens from him

And would ravish them for himself

And tumble them down into the abyss,

Into hell, that horrible cage.

Because of this God made the marriage

Between the soul and the body to take place

So that through them the heavens

Could be replenished, which had been emptied

By the foolish presumptuous angels.

Contentedly, they lived together,

Soul and body, so it seems to me,

A longtime and were faithful, one to the other.

They had produced a son,

The good fruit of a holy life,

And they felt no temptation to evil

And lived honestly

In joyous and holy peace

Until Progne, human nature,

Inclined toward every low desire,

Had desire to have her sister with her,

And wanted to send the body to her.

Philomena, who signifies

Love deceivable and weak,

Stands for the transitory goods of the world,

Which God, in whom all good things abound,

Made to sustain the human creature

In a moderate measure.

God made worldly goods to exist

For each man and woman

That they might honor him in them

And serve and adore him,

But to gain these vain delights

The soul made the body to rouse itself

And travel over sea and land.

She wanted nothing else from God

Nor prayed him for any other good

And God granted it to her

For her own moderate use,

But the body immoderately turned

His thoughts and attention to her

And he wanted forcibly and injuriously

To use her in excess

And to live in a dissolute fashion.

He imprisoned and enclosed her and shut her up

In a strong house, in a tower made of stone,

Where he desires to live with her

In order to enjoy and please himself

With worldly delight.

An old woman is greedy avarice,

And guards her, locked up in prison,

So that she might not get out of the enclosure,

On account of earthly delight.

The soul offers sacrifice to Pluto,

Oblation and homage,

And like a sad and deranged woman

Tears off her golden robe,

In which she had been dressed and clothed,

And she dresses herself in black clothes:

The adornments of the dress of gold are

Those of a holy and virtuous life,

And the black and mournful robe

Denotes the sinful life

With which the sad and shameful soul

Dresses itself for the body which deceives her

And abuses her with vain delights,

And she makes offerings and sacrifice

To Pluto, when on account of the worldly delights

She joins and allies herself to him

And forgets God her creator,

To whom she ought to give all her attentions.

When the soul decided to lower itself

Immoderately and unreasonably,

Then Progne shatters the enclosure

Which holds Philomena captive.

When earthly delight goes

Beyond the bounds of covetousness,

Then the soul deceives and delights itself

Like a foolish and extravagant and prodigal person,

And likewise goes seeking only

To destroy the spiritual fruit

To feed and delight the gluttonous body,

And to go astray and indulge in folly

In order to satisfy the sad body.

Inspired by this gluttonous lechery, she also destroys

The good fruit of her life.

The wretched body, because of its gluttonous belly,

Is conquered and directs itself to vile behavior,

To shame and corruption,

And leads the soul to damnation

Within the hellish chimney.

The joy of the pleasures which she sought

Is brief and soon ended.

He who devotes himself to nothing

Except to live in pleasure

And to pursue the delights

Of the shameful and stinking flesh,

That delight goes fleeing away from him

More quickly than a nightingale flies,

And the wicked, foolish soul

Is sent to dwell in the fire of hell

As soon as it is flown from the body.

Thus the fable arrives at the truth.

The stinking body becomes a lapwing,

Full of stink and filth

And of shameful rottenness,

And the vain and changeable delights

Become the flighty nightingale.

— Above you have heard the tale,

Just as Chretien retold it,

Of the great misdeed and of the shame

Which Tereus did in the woods

With his sister-in-law whom he brought to shame,

And how Progne became his declared enemy

And, in order to get revenge for Philomela,

Caused the father to have his son for dinner,

For which, unless the story lies to me,

The gods took such vengeance

That for their transgressions and outrage

All three became flying birds.

When old Pandion came to know if this,

He had such sorrow and trouble over this

That he gave up his life in sorrow because of it.