主題 Topic Medieval French romance
書刊名 TitleLanval
作者 AuthorMarie de France; trans. Judith P. Shoaf
出版社 Publisher
出版年 Year
1991, 2005
語言 Language
裝訂 Binding□ 平裝 Paperback    □ 精裝 Hardcover
頁數 Pages
(10 / 13)
Bibliography Reference  (STC, Duff, GW . . .)
Web Link
撰寫日期 DateJune 16, 2016

A.   簡介 Introduction (within 100 words, Chinese or English)


B.   文本摘錄 Extracts (4-6 Pages)

The adventure of another lay,
Just as it happened, I’ll relay:
It tells of a very nice nobleman,
And it’s called Lanval in Breton.
King Arthur was staying at Carduel--
That King of valiant and courtly estate--
His borders there he guarded well
Against the Pict, against the Scot,
Who’d cross into Logres to devastate
The countryside often, and a lot.
He held court there at Pentecost,
The summer feast we call Whitsun,
Giving gifts of impressive cost
To every count and each baron
And all knights of the Round Table.
Never elsewhere so many, such able
Knights assembled! Women and land
He shared out with generous hand
To all but one who’d served. Lanval
He forgot: no man helped his recall.
For being brave and generous,
For his beauty and his prowess,
He was envied by all the court;
Those who claimed to hold him dear,
If Fortune had brought him up short,
Would not have shed a kindly tear.
A king’s son, he’d a noble lineage,
But now, far from his heritage,
He’d joined the household of the King.
He’d spent all the money he could bring
Already. The King gave him no more—
He gave just what Lanval asked for.
Now Lanval knows not what to do;
He’s very thoughtful, very sad.
My lords, I don’t astonish you:
A man alone, with no counsel--or bad—
A stranger in a strange land
Is sad, when no help’s at hand.
This knight--by now you know the one—
Who’d served the King with many a deed,
One day got on his noble steed
And went riding, just for fun.
Alone he rode out of the town,
And came to a meadow--still alone—
Dismounted by a flowing brook.
But his horse trembled now and shook,
So he took off the tackle and let him go,
Rolling free in the broad meadow.
The knight took his own cloak, folded
It into a pillow for his head.
He lay thinking of his sad plight;
He saw nothing to bring delight.
He lay thus, in a kind of daze,
Following the river-bank with his gaze.
Then he saw coming two ladies,
The fairest he’d seen in all his days.
They were both quite richly dressed,
In deep-dyed tunics, of the best
Silk, fastened with tight-tied laces;
And very lovely were their faces.
A bowl was borne by the elder maid,
Golden, delicate, finely made
(I tell the truth without fail or foul)
--The younger maiden carried a towel.
These two ladies came straightaway
To the place where Lanval lay.
Lanval, mannerly, well-bred,
Quickly scrambled to his feet;
The ladies spoke, first to greet
Him, then with a message.
They said, “Lord Lanval, the lady we owe duty—
A lady of valor, wisdom, beauty—
It’s for you our lady has sent
Us. Now come along with us, do!
Safely we’ll conduct you through—
Not far--look, you can see her tent!”
The knight went with them, of course;
He forgot all about his horse,
Grazing in the meadow right in front of him.
They brought him where a tent rose above him,
A lovely, well-placed pavilion.
Semiramis, Queen of Babylon,
When her power was on the rise,
And she was so rich as well as so wise,
Or Octavian, who ruled the whole map,
Couldn’t have paid for one tent-flap.
On top was set an eagle, pure gold;
How much it cost, more or less--
Or the cords or the poles to hold
Up the tent walls--I couldn’t guess.
No King under heaven, with all his wealth,
Could ever buy any of this for himself.
This tent was the maiden’s bower:
New-blown rose, lily-flower,
When in Spring their petals unfurl—
Lovelier than these was this girl.
She lay upon so rich a bed,
You’d pay a castle for the sheet--
In just her slip she was clothèd.
Her body was well-shaped, and sweet.
A rich mantle of white ermine,
Lined with silk, alexandrine,
Was her quilt, but she’d pushed it away,
On account of the heat; she didn’t hide
Her face, neck, breast, her whole side,
All whiter than hawthorn blossom in May.