and his barons are coming: the
Bretons rejoice greatly thereat.

Into the ship in which the king crossed entered neither youth nor
maiden save Alexander alone; and the queen of a truth brought
thither Soredamors, a lady who scorned Love. Never had she heard
tell of a man whom she could deign to love however much beauty
prowess dominion or high rank he had. And yet the damsel was so
winsome and fair that she might well have known Love if it had
pleased her to turn her mind to it; but never had she willed to
bend her mind thereto. Now will Love make her sorrowful; and Love
thinks to avenge himself right well for the great pride and
resistance which she has always shown to him. Right well has Love
aimed; for he has stricken her in the heart with his arrow. Oft
she grows pale; oft the beads of sweat break out, and in spite of
herself she must love. Scarce can she refrain from looking
towards Alexander; but she must needs guard herself against my
Lord Gawain her brother. Dearly does she buy and pay for her
great pride and her disdain. Love has heated for her a bath which
mightily inflames and enkindles her. Now is he kind to her, now
cruel; now she wants him, and now she rejects him. She accuses
her eyes of treachery and says: "Eyes, you have betrayed me.
Through you has my heart which was wont to be faithful conceived
hatred for me. Now does what I see bring grief. Grief? Nay, in
truth, but rather pleasure. And if I see aught that grieves me,
still have I not my eyes under my own sway? My strength must
indeed have failed me; and I must esteem myself but lightly if I
cannot control my eyes and make them look elsewhere. By so doing
I shall be able to guard myself right well from Love, who wishes
to be my master. What the eye sees not the heart does not lament.
If I do not see him there will be no pain. He does not entreat or
seek me: if he had loved me he would have sought me. And since he
neither loves nor esteems me, shall I love him if he loves me
not? If his beauty draws my eyes, and my eyes obey the spell,
shall I for that say I love him? Nay, for that would be a lie. By
drawing my eyes he has done me no wrong of which I can complain;
and I can bring no charge at all against him. One cannot love
with the eyes. And what wrong, then, have my eyes done to me if
they gaze on what I will to look at? What fault and wrong do they
commit? Ought I to blame them? Nay. Whom, then? Myself, who have
them in my keeping? My eye loo