Boccaccio:
No Analogue
Petrarch:
nec res ulla denique nec mors ipsa nostro fuerit par amori». Admirans femine constantiam, turbato vultu abiit,
nor is there any other thing – not death itself – to equal our love." Marvelling at the steadfastness of the woman, he took his departure, his face agitated with emotion,
Chaucer:
Deth may noght make no comparisoun
Unto youre love!" and whan this markys say
The constance of his wyf, he caste adoun
His eyen two, and wondreth that she may
In pacience suffre al this array;
And forth he goth with drery contenance,
But to his herte it was ful greet plesance.
(close this window to return to the Clerk's Tale.)
No comments:
Post a Comment