The Romance of Tristan: The Tale of Tristan's Madness by Beroul
Author:Beroul
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Fairy Tales; Folk Tales; Legends & Mythology, Classics, Poetry, Medieval, epic, General
Publisher: Penguin UK
Published: 2005-03-31T05:09:58+00:00
11
THE LOVE POTION
MY lords, you have heard of the wine they drank which caused them to suffer greatly for so long. But you do not know, I think, the duration of the efficacy of the love-drink, the wine mixed with herbs: Yseut’s mother, who brewed it, made it for three years of love. She made it for Mark and her daughter; another tasted it and suffered because of this. For as long as the three years lasted the potion had such power over Tristan and the queen that each of them could say:
‘I am not weary.’2
The day after St John’s day the three years to which the potion was limited came to an end. Tristan had risen from his bed, Yseut remained in the bower. Tristan took aim at a stag and shot an arrow that pierced its side. The stag fled and Tristan gave chase. He followed it until evening. As he was running after the beast, it came to the very hour when he had drunk the love potion, and he stopped. Instantly he began to repent, and said to himself:
‘God, I have had so much hardship! For fully three years today there has not been a moment when I was not suffering, either on a feast-day or a week-day. I have forgotten chivalry and the life of a knight at court. I am an exile in this country and there is nothing left of the light and grey furs I had. I am not in the company of the knights at court. God, how dearly my uncle would love me if I had not caused him so much distress. God, how badly things are going for me! I ought now to be at the court of a king with a hundred squires in attendance, preparing to win their spurs and enter my service. I ought to go to another land where I could fight battles to win rewards. And it grieves me to think of the queen. I give her a bower of leaves in place of a curtained room. She is in the wood, and she could be living with her servants in fine rooms hung with silken cloths. For my sake she has erred in following this way of life. I call for
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