Just now Hate is in the saddle, and spurs and
pricks forward as she can, to get ahead of Love who is indisposed
to move. Ah! Love, what has become of thee? Come out now, and
thou shalt see what a host has been brought up and opposed to
thee by the enemies of thy friends. The enemies are these very
men who love each other with such a holy love for love, which is
neither false nor feigned, is a precious and a holy thing. In
this case Love is completely blind, and Hate, too, is deprived of
sight. For if Love had recognised these two men, he must have
forbidden each to attack the other, or to do any thing to cause
him harm. In this respect, then, Love is blind and discomfited
and beguiled; for, though he sees them, he fails to recognise
those who rightly belong to him. And though Hate is unable to
tell why one of them should hate the other, yet she tries to
engage them wrongfully, so that each hates the other mortally.
You know, of course, that he cannot be said to love a man who
would wish to harm him and see him dead. How then? Does Yvain
wish to kill his friend, my lord Gawain? Yes, and the desire is
mutual. Would, then, my lord Gawain desire to kill Yvain with
his own hands, or do even worse than I have said? Nay, not
really, I swear and protest.
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