Pearl: Section I (Modern version)

I 1 Pearl, the precious prize of a king, Chastely set in cherished gold, In all the East none equalling, No peer to her could I behold. So round, so rare, a radiant thing, So smooth she was, so small of mold, Wherever I judged gems glimmering I set her apart, her price untold. Alas, I lost her in earth’s green fold; Through grass to the ground, I searched in vain. I languish alone; my heart grows cold For my precious pearl without a stain. 2 Since in that spot it slipped from me, I lingered, longing for that delight That from my sins once set me free And my happiness raised to the highest height. Her going wounds me grievously; It burns my breast both day and night. Yet I never imagined a melody So sweet as she, so brief, and slight. But memory flowed through my mind’s sight: I thought how her color in clods had lain O dust that dims what once was bright, My precious pearl without a stain. 3 Rare spices on that spot must spread: Such riches there to rot have run, Blooms of yellow and blue and red, Their sheen a shimmer against the sun, Flower and fruit nor faded nor dead, Where the pearl dropped down in mouldering dun; Each grass from a lifeless grain is bred, Else to harvest no wheat were won: Always from good is good begun. So seemly a seed could not die in vain, That sprig nor spice there would be none Of that precious pearl without a stain. 4 To the spot which I in speech portray, I entered in that arbor green, In August on a holy day, When the corn is cut with sickles keen. On the little rise where my pearl rolled away, The fairest flowers formed a screen: Gillyflower, ginger, gromwell spray, With peonies powdered in between. If they were seemly to be seen, Far sweeter the scents from that domain, More worthy her dwelling, well I ween, My precious pearl without a stain. 5 I mourned, hands clenched, before that mound, For the piercing cold of grief had caught Me in the doleful dread and bound My heart, though reason solace sought. I longed for my pearl, locked in the ground, While fierce contentions in me fought. In Christ, though comfort could be found, My wretched will was still distraught. I fell upon that flowery plot. Such odors eddied in my brain, To sudden slumber I was brought By that precious pearl without a stain.