Come to be eased of the least pain he hath For all his love and all his foolish wrath And all the heavy manner of his mind. Thus is he like a fisher fallen blind That casts his nets across the boat awry To strike the sea, but lo, he striketh dry And plucks them back all broken for his pain And bites his beard and casts across again And reaching wrong slips over in the sea. So hath this man a strangled neck for fee, For all his cost he chuckles in his throat. This Theophile that little hereof wote Laid wait to hear of her what she might be: Men told him she had name of Dorothy, And was a lady of a worthy house. Thereat this knight grew inly glorious That he should have a love so fair of place. She was a maiden of most quiet face, Tender of speech, and had no hardihood But was nigh feeble of her fearful blood; Her mercy in her was so marvellous From her least years, that seeing her school-fellows That read beside her stricken with a rod, She would cry sore and say some word to God That he would ease her fellow of his pain. There is no touch of sun or fallen rain That ever fell on a more gracious thing. In middle Rome there was in stone-working The church of Venus painted royally. The chapels of it were some two or three, In each of them her tabernacle was And a wide window of six feet in glass Coloured with all her works in red and gold. The altars had bright cloths and cups to hold The wine of Venus for the services, Made out of honey and crushed wood-berries That shed sweet yellow through the thick wet red, That on high days was borne upon the head Of Venus' priest for any man to drink; So that in drinking he should fall to think On some fair face, and in the thought thereof Worship, and such should triumph in his love. For this soft wine that did such grace and good Was new trans-shaped and mixed with Love's own blood, That in the fighting Trojan time was bled; For which came such a woe to Diomed That he was stifled after in hard sea. And some said that this wine-shedding should be Made of the falling of Adonis' blood, That curled upon the thorns and broken wood And round the gold silk shoes on Venus' feet; The taste thereof was as hot honey sweet And in the mouth ran soft and riotous. This was the holiness of Venus' house. It was their worship, that in August days Twelve maidens should go through those Roman ways Naked, and having gold across their brows And their hair twisted in short golden rows, To minister to Venus in this wise: And twelve men chosen in their companies To match these maidens by the altar-stair, All in one habit, crowned upon the hair. Among these men was chosen Theophile. This knight went out and prayed a little while, Holding queen Venus by her hands and knees; I will give thee twelve royal images Cut in glad gold, with marvels of wrought stone