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Bewayled the destruction Of Troy, and of Illyon,

Had never such sorow as I tho,
I durst no more say thereto,
For pure feare, but stale away,
And thus I lived full many a day,
That trewly I had no need,
Ferther than my beddes heed,
Never a day to seche sorrow,
I found it ready every morrow,
For why I loved in no gere.

"So it befell another yere,
I thought ones I would fonde,
To doe her know, and understonde
My wo, and she well vnderstood,
That I ne wilned thing but good,

And worship, and to keepe her name,"
Over all things, and drede her shame,
And was so busie her to serve,
And pitie were that I should sterve,
Sith that I wilned no harme iwis.

"So whan my lady knew all this,
My lady yave me all holly,
The noble yeft of her mercy,
Saving her worship by all ways,
Dredelesse, I mene none other ways,
And therewith she yave me a ring,
I trowe it was the first thing,
But if mine herte was iwaxe
Glad that it is no need to axe.

"As helpe me God, I was as blive
Raised, as fro death to live,.
Of all happes the alderbest,

The gladdest and the most at rest,
For truely that swete wight,

Whan I had wrong, and she the right,
She would alway so goodly
Foryeve me so debonairly,
In all my youth, in all chaunce,
She tooke in her gouernaunce,
Therewith she was alway so true,
Our joy was ever iliche newe,
Our hertes were so even a paire,
That never nas that one contrarie
To that other, for no wo
For soth iliche they suffred tho.
O blisse, and eke o sorow bothe,
Ilich they were both glad and wrothe,
All was vs one, without were,
And thus we lived full many'a yere,
So well, I can not tell how."

"Sir" (quod I) "where is she now?"
"Now" (quod he) and stinte anone,
Therewith he woxe as dedde as stone,
And saied, "Alas, that I was bore,
That was the losse, that here before
I tolde thee that I had lorne,

"Bethinke thee how I said here beforne, Thou woste full litle what thou menest,

I have loste more than thou wenest.

"God wote alas, right that was she." "Alas sir how, what may that be?"

"She is dedde?"-"Nay."-"Yes by my trouth," "Is that your losse, by God it is routhe."

And with that worde right anone,

They gan to strake forth, all was done
For that time, the hart huntyng.

With that me thought that this kyng,

Gan homeward for to ride,

Unto a place was there beside,

Which was from vs but a lite,
A long castell with walles white,
By sainct Johan, on a rich hill,
As me mette, but thus it fill.

Right thus me mette, as I you tell,
That in the castell there was a bell,
As it had smitte houres twelue,
Therewith I awoke my selue,
And found me lying in my bedde,
And the booke that I had redde,
Of Alcione and Seis the kyng,
And of the goddes of sleping,
Ifound it in mine hond full even,
Thought I, this is so queint a sweven,
That I would by processe of tyme,
Fond to put this sweven in ryme,

As I can best, and that anon,
This was my sweven, now it is done.

EXPLICIT.

My master, &c. whan of Christ our king,
Was asked, what is troth or sothfastnesse,
He not a worde answerde to that asking,
As who saith, no man is all true, I gesse:
And therefore, though I hight to expresse
The sorrow and wo that is in mariage,
I dare not writen of it no wickednesse,
Lest I my selfe fall eft in soche dotage.

I woll not say how that it is the chaine
Of Sathanas, on which he knaweth ever,
But I dare saine were he out of his paine,
As by his will he would be bounden never,
But thilke doted foole, that eft hath lever
Ichayned be, than out of prison crepe,
God let him never fro his wo discever,
Ne no man him bewayle, though he wepe.

But yet lest thou doe worse, take a wife,
Bet is to wedde, than brenne in worse wise.
But thou shalt have sorow on thy flesh thy life,
And ben thy wives thrale, as sain these wise,
And if that holy writ may not suffice,
Experience shall thee teach, so may happe,
Take the way leuer to be taken in frise,
Than eft to fall of wedding in the trappe.

This little writte, prouerbes or figures,
I sende you, take keepe of it I rede,
Unwise is he, that can no wele endure,
If thou be siker, put thee not in drede,
The Wife of Bathe, I pray you that ye rede
Of this matter that we have on honde,
God graunt you your lyfe freely to lede
In fredome, for foule is to be bonde.

EXPLICIT.

THE

ASSEMBLY OF FOWLS.

ALL fowls are gathered before nature on S. Valentines day, to chuse their makes. A formell eagle, being belov'd of three tercels, requireth

a years respite to make her choice: upon this trial, qui bien aime tard oublie: he that loveth well, is slow to forget.

THE lyfe so short, the craft so long to lerne,
Thassay so hard, so sharpe the conquering,
The dreadful joy, alway that flit so yerne,
All this mean I by Love, that my feeling
Astonieth with his wonderful werkyng,
So sore I wis, that whan I on him think,
Naught wete I wel, whether I flete or sink.

For all be that I know not Love in dede,
Ne wot how that he quiteth folke hir hire,
Yet happeth me full oft in bookes rede
Of his myracles, and of his cruell ire,
There rede I well, he woll be lorde and sire:
I dare not say his strokes be sore,
But God save soch a lorde, I can no more.

Of vsage, what for lust and what for lore,
On bookes rede I of, as I you told,
But wherfore speake I all this? naught yore
Agon, it happed me to behold

Upon a booke was iwritten with letters old,
And therevpon a certain thing to lerne,
The long day, full fast I radde and yerne.

For out of the old fieldes, as men saith,
Commeth al this new corne fro yere to yere,
And out of old bookes, in good faith,
Commeth all this new science that men lere,
But now to purpose, as of this mattere,
To rede forth it gan me so delite,
That all that day, me thought it but a lite.

This booke of which I make mencion,
Entitled was right thus, as I shall tell,
Tullius, of the dreame of Scipion :
Chapiters seven it had, of Heaven and Hell,
And Yearth, and soules that therein dwell,
Of which as shortly as I can it treate,
Of his sentence I woll you saine the greate.

First telleth it, whan Scipion was come
In Affricke, how he meteth Massinisse,
That him for joy, in armes hath inome,
Than telleth he her speach and all the blisse,
That was betwixt hem til the day gan misse,
And how his auncester Affrikan so dere,
Gan in his slepe that night til him appere.

Than telleth it, that from a sterrie place,
How Affrikan hath him Cartage shewed,
And warned him before of all his grace,
And said him, what man lered eyther leude,
That loveth common profite well itheude,
He should into a blisfull place wend,
There as the joy is without any end.

Than asked he, if folke that here been dede Have life, and dwelling in another place?

And Affrikan said Ye, without any drede, And how our present lives space, Ment but a maner death, what way we trace, And rightfull folke, shull gon after they die To Heaven, and shewed him the Galaxie.

Than shewed he him, the little Yerth that here is
To regard of the Heavens quantite,
And after shewed he hym the nine speris,
And after that the melodie heard he,
That commeth of thikke speres thrise three,
That welles of musicke been and melodie
In this world here, and cause of armonie.

Than said he him, sens Earth was so lite,
And full of tourment, and of hard grace,
That he ne should him in this world delite:
Than told he him, in certain yeres space,
That every sterre should come into his place,
There it was first, and all should out of mind,
That in this world is done of all mankind.

Than prayed him Scipion, to tell him all
The way to come into that Heaven blisse,
And he said: " First know thy selfe immortall,
And loke aie busely, that thou werche and wisse,
To common profite, and thou shalt not misse
To come swiftly vnto that place dere,
That full of blisse is, and of soules clere.

"And breakers of the law, soth to saine,
And likerous folke, after that they been dede,
Shall whirle about the world, alway in paine
Till many a world be passed out of drede,
And than foryeven all hir wicked dede,
Than shullen they come to that blisfull place,
To which to comen, God send thee grace."

The day gan failen, and the darke night,
That reveth beastes from hir businesse,
Beraft me my book for lacke of light,
And to my bedde I gan me for to dresse,
Fulfilled of thought and busie beauinesse,
For both I had thyng, which that I nold,
And eke I ne had that thing that I wold,

But finally my spirite at last,
For weary of my labour all that day,
Tooke rest, that made me to slepe fast,
And in my sleepe I met, as that I say,
How Affrikan, right in the selfe aray
That Scipion him saw, before that tide,
Was come, and stode right at my beds side.
The wearie hunter sleeping in his bedde,
The wood ayen his mind goeth anone,
The judge dremeth, how his plees be spedde,
The carter dremeth, how his cartes gone,
The rich of gold, the knight fight with his fone,
The sicke mette he drinketh of the tonne,
The lover mette he hath his lady wonne.

Can I not saine, if that the cause were,
For I had radde of Affrikan beforne,
That made me to mete that he stood there,
But thus said he: "Thou hast thee so wel borne
In looking of mine old booke all to torne,
Of which Macrobie raught not a lite,
That some dele of thy labour would I quite."

Citherea, thou blisful lady swete,

That with thy fire brond, dauntest whan the lest
That madest me this sweven for to mete,
Be thou my helpe in this, for thou maist best,
As wisely as I seigh the north northwest,
Whan I began my sweven for to write,
So yeve me might to rime it and endite.

This aforesaid Affrikan me hent anone,
And forthwith him to a gate brought,
Right of a parke, walled with grene stone,
And over the gate, with letters large iwrought,
There were verse ywritten as me thought
On either balfe, of full great difference,
Of which I shall you say the playne sentence:

"Through me men gon into the blisful place Of hertes heale and dedly wounds cure, Through me men gon into the well of grace, There grene and lusty May shall ever endure, This is the way to all good auenture,

Be glad thou reader, and thy sorow off cast, All open am I, passe in and spede thee fast."

[side)

"Through me men gon" (than spake the other
"Unto the mortall strokes of the speare,
Of which disdaine and danger is the gide,
There never tree shall fruit ne leaves beare,
This streme you ledeth to the sorowful were,
There as the fish in pryson is all dry,
The eschewing is onely the remedy."

These verses of gold and asure ywritten weare,
Of which I gan astonied to behold,
For with that one encreased all my feare,
And with that other gan my herte to bold,
That one me het, that other did me cold,
No wit had I for errour for to chese,
To enter or flie, or me to save or lese.

Right as betwene adamants two,
Of even weight, a peece of yron set
Ne hath no might to move to ne fro,

For what that one may hale that other let,
So fared I, that I nist where me was bet
To entre or leave, till Affrikan my gide,
Me hent and shove in at the gates wide.
And said, "It standeth written in thy face,
Thine errour, though thou tell it not me,
But dread thee not to come into this place,
For this writing is nothing meant by thee,
Ne by none, but he Loves servaunt bee,
For thou of love hast lost thy tast I gesse,
As sicke man hath, of swete and bitternesse.

"But natheles, although thou be dull,
That thou canst not doe, yet mayst thou see,
For many a man that may not stand a pull,
Yet liketh it him at the wrestlyng for to be,
And demeth yet, whether he doe bet, or he,
And if thou haddest connyng for tendite,
I shall thee shew matter of to write."

And with that my hand in his he toke anon,
Of which I comfort caught, and went in fast,
But Lord so I was glad, and well begon,
For ouer all, where I mine iyen cast,
Were trees clad with leaues, that aie shal last
Eche in his kind, with colour fresh and grene,
As emeraude, that joy it was to sene.
The bilder oke, and eke the hardy asshe,
The piller elme, the coffre vnto caraine,
The boxe pipe tree, holme to whips lasshe,
The sailing firre, the cipres death to plaine,
The shooter ewe, the aspe for shaftes plaine,
The oliue of peace, and eke the dronken vine,
The victor palme, the laurer to diuine.

A gardein saw I, full of blosomed bowis,
Upon a river, in a grene mede,
There as sweetnesse euermore inough is,
With floures white, blewe, yelowe, and red,
And cold welle streames, nothing dede,
That swommen full of smale fishes light,
With finnes rede, and scales silver bright.

On every bough the birdes heard I sing,
With voice of angell, in hir armonie,
That busied hem, hir birdes forth to bring,
The little pretty conies to hir play gan hie,
And further all about I gan espie,

The dredful roe, the back, the hart, and hind,
Squirrels, and beasts small, of gentle kind.

Of instruments of stringes in accord,
Heard I so play, a ravishing swetnesse,
That God, that maker is of all and Lorde,
Ne heard never better, as I gesse,
Therewith a wind, unneth it might be lesse,
Made in the leaves grene a noise soft,
Accordant to the foules song on loft.

The aire of the place so attempre was,
That never was ther greuance of hot ne cold
There was eke every holsome spice and gras,
Ne no man may there waxe sicke ne old,
Yet was there more joy o thousand fold,
Than I can tell or ever could or might,
There is ever clere day, and never night.

Under a tree, beside a well I sey
Cupide our lorde, his arrowes forge and file,
And at his feete his bowe already lay,
And well his doughter tempred all the while
The heddes in the well, with her wile
She couched hem after, as they should serve
Some to slea, and some to wound and carve.

Tho was I ware of Pleasaunce anon right,
And of Array, Lust, Beauty, and Curtesie,
And of the Craft, that can hath the might
To done by force, a wight to done folie:
Disfigured was she, I will not lie,
And by himselfe, vnder an oke I gesse,
Sawe I Delite, that stood with Gentlenesse.

Than saw I Beauty, with a nice attire,
And Youth, full of game and jolitee,
Foole Hardinesse, Flatterie, and Desire,
Messagerie, Mede, and other three,
Hir names shall not here be told for me,
And vpon pillers great of jasper long,
I sawe a temple of brasse ifounded strong.
And about the temple daunced alway
Women inow, of which some there were
Faire of hemself, and some of hem were gay,
In kirtils all disheueled went they there,
That was their office euer, fro yere to yere,
And on the temple, saw I white and faire,
Of doves sitting, many a thousand paire.

And before the temple doore full soberly,
Dame Peace sat, a curtaine in her honde,
And her beside wonder discretly,
Dame Pacience, sitting there I fonde,
With face pale, vpon an hill of sonde,
And alther next, within and without,
Behest and Arte, and of her folke a rout.

Within the temple, of sighes hote as fire,
I heard a swough, that gan about ren,
Which sighes were engendred with desire,
That made euery herte for to bren
Of newe flambe, and well espied I then,
That all the cause of sorowes, that they drie,
Come of the bitter goddess Jalousie.

The god Priapus, saw I as I went

Within the temple, in souerain place stond,
In such array, as whan the asse him shent
With crie by night, and with sceptre in hond,
Full busilie men gan assay and fond,
Upon his hedde to set of sondrie hewe,
Garlandes full of freshe floures newe.

And in a priuie corner, in disport
Found I Venus, and her porter Richesse,
That was full noble, and hauten of her port,
Darke was that place, but after lightnesse
I sawe a lite, vnnethes, it might be lesse,
And on a bed of golde she lay to rest,
Till that the hote Sonne gan to west.

Her gilte heeres, with a gold threde
Ibound were, vntressed as she lay,
And naked from the brest vnto the hede,
Men might her see, and sothly for to say,
The remnaunt, couered well to my pay,
Right with a little kerchefe of Valence,
There was no thicker clothe of defence.

The place gaue a thousand sauours soote,
And Bacchus god of wine sate her beside,
And Ceres next, that doeth of hunger boote,
And as I said, a middes lay Cupide,
To whom on knees, the yong folkes cride,
To be their helpe, but thus I let her lie,
And farther in the temple I gan espie.

That in dispite of Diane the chaste,
Full many a bowe ibroke hing on the wall,
Of maidens, such as gone hir times waste
In her seruice: and painted ouer all,
Of many a storie, of which I touch shall
A fewe, as of Calixte, and Athalant,
And many a maid, of which the name I want.

Semyramus, Candace, and Hercules,
Biblis, Dido, Tisbe, and Piramus,
Tristram, Isoude, Paris, and Achilles,
Helaine, Cleopatre, and Troilus,
Sylla, and eke the mother of Romulus,
All these were paynted on that other side,
And all hir loue, and in what plite they dide.

Whan I was commen ayen into the place
That I of spake, that was so soote and grene,
Forth walked I tho, my seluen to solace,
Tho was I ware, where there sate a quene,
That as of light, the sommer Sunne shene
Passeth the sterre, right so ouer measure,
She fairer was than any creature.

And in a laund, vpon an hill of floures,
Was set this noble goddesse Nature,
Of branches were her halles and her boures
Iwrought, after her craft and her measure,
Ne there nas foul, that cometh of engendrure,
That there ne were prest, in her presence,
To take hir dome, and yeue hir audience.

For this was on sainct Valentines day,
Whan euery foul cometh to chese hir make,
Of euery kind, that men thinke may,
And that so huge a noise gan they make,
That yearth, sea, and tree, and euery lake,
So full was, that vnneth there was space
For me to stand, so full was all the place.

And right as Alaine, in the plaint of kind,
Deuiseth Nature, of such araie and face,
In soche aray, men might her there find.
This noble empresse full of all grace,
Bad euery foule take hir owne place,
As they were wont alway, fro yere to yere,
On sainct Valentines day, standen there.

That is to say, the foules of rauine
Were highest set, and than the foules smale,
That eaten, as that nature would encline,
As worme or thing, of which I tell no tale,
But water foule sat lowest in the dale,
And foules that liueth by seed sat on the grene,
And that so many, that wonder was to sene.

There might men the royall egle find,
That with his sharpe looke perseth the Son,
And other egles of a lower kind,

Of which that clerkes well deuisen con,
There was the tyrant with his fethers don,
And grene, I mean the goshauke that doth pine
To birdes, for his outragious rauine.

The gentle faucon, that with his fete distreineth
The kings hand, the hardy sperhauke eke,
The quales foe, the merlion that peineth
Himself full oft the larke for to seke,
There was the doue, with her iyen meke,
The jelous swan, ayenst his deth that singeth,
The oul eke, that of deth the bode bringeth.

The crane, the geant, with his tromps soune,
The theif the chough, and the chattring pie,
The scorning jaie, the eles foe the heroune,
The false lapwing, full of trecherie,
The stare, that the counsaile can bewrie,
The tame ruddocke, and the coward kite,
The cocke, that horiloge is of thropes lite.
The sparow Venus son, and the nightingale
That cleapeth forth the fresh leaues new,
The swalow, murdrer of the bees smale,
That maken honie of floures fresh of bew,
The wedded turtell, with his herte true,
The pecocke, with his angel fethers bright,
The fesaunt, scorner of the cocke by night.

The waker gose, the cuckowe euer vnkind,
The popingeie, full of delicasie,
The drake, stroier of his owne kind,
The storke, wreker of aduoutrie,
The hote cormeraunt, ful of glotonie,

The rauin and the crowe, with her voyce of care,
The trostell old, and the frostie feldfare.

What should I say of fouls of euery kind,
That in this world haue fethers and stature,
Men might in that place assembled find,
Before that noble goddess of Nature,
And eche of them did his busie cure,
Benignely to chese, or for to take
By her accorde, his formell or his make.

But to the poinct, Nature held on her hond,
A formell egle, of shape the gentillest,
That euer she among her workes fond,
The most benigne, and eke the goodliest,
In her was euery vertue, at his rest

So farforth, that Nature her selfe had blisse,
To looke on her, and oft her beeke to kisse.

Nature, the vicare of the almightie Lord,
That hote, colde, heuie, light, moist, and drie,
Hath knit, by euen number of accord,
In easie voice, began to speake and say,
"Foules take hede of my sentence I pray,
And for your own ease, in fordring of your need,
As fast as I may speak, I will me speed.

"Ye know wel, how on S. Valentines day,
By my statute, and through my gouernance,
Ye doe chese your makes, and after flie away
With hem, as I pricke you with pleasaunce,
But nathelesse, as by rightfull ordinaunce,
May I not let, for all this world to win,
But he that most worthiest is, shall begin.

"The tercell egle, as ye know full wele,
The foule royall, aboue you all in degre,
The wise and worthie, the secret true as stele,
The which I haue formed, as ye may see,
In euery parte, as it best liketh mee,
It nedeth not his shape you to devise,
He shall first chese, and speaken in his gise.

"And after him, by order shall ye chese,
After your kind, euerich as you liketh,
And as your hap is, shall ye win or lese,
But which of you, that loue most entriketh,
God sende him her, that sorest for him siketh:"
And therewithall, the tercell gan she call,
And said, "My sonne the choise is to thee fall.

"But nathelesse, in this condicion

Must be the choice, of eueriche that is here,
That she agree to his election,

Who so he be, that should been her fere,
This is our vsage alway, fro yere to yere,
And who so may at this time haue his grace,
In blisfull time he came into this place."

With hed enclined, and with ful humble chere,
This roial tercell spake, and taried nought,
"Unto my soueraine lady, and not my fere,
I chose and chese, with will, herte, and thought,
The formell on your hand, so wel iwrought,
Whose I am all, and euer will her serue,
Doe what her luste, to doe me liue or sterue.
"Besechyng her of mercy, and of grace,
As she that is my ladie soverain,
Or let me die here present in this place,
For certes long may I not liue in pain,
For in my herte is coruen euery vain,
Hauing regard onely to my trouth,
My dere herte, haue on my wo some roath.

"And if I be found to her vntrue,
Disobeisaunt, or wilfull negligent,
Auauntour, or in processe loue a newe,
I pray to you this be my judgement,
That with these foules I be all to rent,
That ilke day that she me euer find
To her vntrue, or in my gilte vnkind.

"And sith that none loueth her so well as I,
Although she neuer of loue me behet,
Than ought she be mine through her mercy,
For other bonde can I none on her knet:
For well nor wo neuer shall I let

To serue her, how farre so that she wende,
Say what you list, my tale is at an ende."

Right as the fresh redde rose newe,
Against the sommer Sunne coloured is,
Right so for shame all waxen gan the hewe
Of this formell, whan she heard all this,
Neither she answerde well, ne said amis,
So sore abashed was she, till that Nature
Said, "Doughter drede you not, I you assure.”

Another tercell egle spake anon,

Of lower kind, and said "That should not be,
I loue her better than ye doe, by sainct John,
Or at the least I loue her as well as ye,
And lenger haue serued her in my degree,
And if she should haue loued for long louing,
To me alone had be the guerdoning.

"I dare eke say, if she me finde false,
Unkind jangler, or rebell in any wise,
Or jelous, doe me hang by the halse,
And but I beare me in her seruise
As well as my wit can me suffise,
Fro poinct to poinct, her honour for to saue,
Take she my life, and all the good I haue."

The third tercell egle answerde tho,
"Now sirs, ye see the little leaser here,
For euery foule crieth out to be ago
Forth with his make, or with his lady dere:
And eke Nature her self ne will not here
For tarying her, not half that I would sey,
And but I speake, I must for sorrow dey.

"Of long seruice auaunt I me nothing,
But as possible is me to die to day,
For wo, as he that hath be languishing
This twenty winter, and wel it happen may,
A man may serve better, and more to pay,
In half a year, although it were no more,
Than some man doth, that hath served full yore.

"I ne say not this by me, for I ne can
Do no service that may my lady please,
But I dare say, I am her trewest man,
As to my dome, and fainest wold her please:
At short wordes, till that death me cease,

I will be hers, whether I wake or winke,
And trewe in all that herte may bethinke."

Of al my life sith that day I was borne,
So gentle plee in love or other thing,
Ne herde never no man me beforne,
Who so that had leiser and conning
For to rehearse their chere, and their speaking,
And from the morrow gan this spech last,
Till downward went the Sunne wonder fast.

The noyse of foules for to be deliverd,
So loude rang, "Have don and let vs wend,"
That well weend I, the wood had al to shiverd:
"Come off" they cryd, " alas, ye will us shend,
Whan shal your cursed pleding have an end,
How should a judge either party leue,
For ye or nay, without any preue?"

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