Page:Romance of the Rose (Ellis), volume 1.pdf/44

10

Love to a friend, nor hath one good

Kind thought towards those who share her blood—

Yea, sorely ’twould her heart distress

Her sire to see in happiness.

Right cruel is the price she pays,

Who walketh thus in devious ways.

And through her cursed spirit she

Suffers forsooth most bitterly;

For in her villain mind doth rage

Torment more rude than thought can gauge

Whene’er she hears of kindly deed

Or worthy act; and sore doth bleed

Her venomous heart enduring this.

Which God’s most righteous vengeance is

Upon her. Envy’s evil tongue

Spares no man, be he old or young.

And if ’twas hers to know perchance

The noblest knight who honours France.

Or one whose fame lies over-sea.

She’d deal them slander equally.

And should their names so fair be found

As made her villain words redound

To eke their praise, then would she try

By mean insinuating lie

To undermine their fame some deal

With venomous wound no balm could heal.

I noted how she seemed to glance

Sideways, with tortuous peep askance.

And furtive leer turned all awry.

Half-closed her slanting evil eye.

Her habit seemed, forsooth, innate

That she towards no man cast a straight