"Now done our loos be blowe swithe, As wisely be thou euer blithe."

"

Gladly," quod she, "thou Eolus, Herest thou not what they prayen vs," "Madame yes, full well," quod he, "And I will trumpen it parde:" And tooke his blacke trumpe fast, And gan to puffen and to blast, Till it was at the worlds end.

With that I gan about wend,

For one that stode right at my backe, Me thought full goodly to me spake, And said, "Frende what is thy name? Arte thou come hider to haue fame?" Nay forsothe frende," quod I,

66

"I come not hither, graunt mercy,
For no soch cause by my heed,
Suffiseth me as I were deed,

That no wight haue my name in honde
I wot my selfe best how I stonde,
For what I drie or what I thinke,
I woll my selfe all it drinke,
Certaine for the more part,
As ferforth as I can mine art."

"What dost thou here than" (quod he:)
(Quod I)" that woll I tell thee,
The cause why I stand here,
Some new tidings for to lere,
Some new thing, I not what,
Tidings eyther this or that,
Of loue, or such things glade,
For certainely he that me made
To come hyder, said to mee
I sholde bothe heare and see,
In this place wonder things,
But these be no soch tidings

As I meant of:"-" No" (quod he)
And I answerde "No parde,
For well I wote euer yet,
Sith that first I had wit,

That some folke han desired fame,
Diuersly, and loos and name,
But certainly I nist how,

Ne where that fame dwelled or now,
Ne eke of her descripcion,

Ne also her condicion,

Ne the order of her dome,
Knew I not till I hider come."

"Why than be lo these tidings, That thou now hether brings,

That thou hast herde" (quod he to mee)
But now no force for well I see
What thou desirest for to lere,
Come forth and stande no lenger here,
And I woll thee without drede,
Into soch another place lede,
There thou shalt here many one."
Tho gan I forth with him gone,
Out of the castell sothe to sey.
Tho sawe I stand in a valey,
Under the castell fast by,
An house, that domus Dedali,
That Laborintus ycleped is,
Nas made so wonderly ywis,
Ne halfe so queintly ywrought,
And euermo, as swift as thought,
This queint house about went,
That neuermo it still stent,

And there came out so great a noyse,
That had it stonde upon Oyse,

Men might haue heard it easily
To Rome, I trowe sikerly,
And the noise which that I herde,
For all the world right so it ferde,
As doth the routing of the stone,
That fro thengin is letyn gone.

And all this house of which I rede,
Was made of twigges, salow, rede,
And green eke, and some were white,
Such as men to the cages twhite,
Or maken of these paniers.

Or els hutches or doffers,

That for the swough and for the twigges,
This house was also full of gigges,
And also full eke of chirkinges,
And of many other werkings,
And eke this house hath of entrees
As many as leues ben on trees,
In sommer whan they been greene,
And on the rofe yet men may seene
A thousand holes, and wel mo,
To letten the sowne out go,
And by day in euery tide
Bene all the dores open wide,
And by night eche one unshet,
Ne porter is there none to let
No maner tidings in to pace,
Ne neuer rest is in that place,
That it nis filled full of tidings,
Eyther loude or of whisperings,
And euer all the houses angles,
Is ful of rownings and of iangles,
Of werres, of peace, of mariages,
Of restes, and of labour, of viages,
Of abode, of death, and of lyfe,
Of loue, of hate, accord, of strife,
Of losse, of lore, and of winnings,
Of heale, of sicknesse, or of lesings,
Of faire wether, and eke of tempests,
Of qualme, of folke, and of beests,
Of diuers transmutacions,
Of estates and eke of regions,
Of trust, of drede, of ialousie,
Of witte, of winning, of folie,
Of plenty, and of great famine,
Of chepe, derth, and of ruine,
Of good or misgouernment,
Of fire, and of diuers accident.

And lo, this house of which I write,
Syker be ye it nas not lite,
For it was sixtie myle of length,
Al was the timber of no strength,
Yet it is founded to endure,
While that it list to auenture,
That is the mother of tidings,
As the sea of welles and springs,
And it was shaped lyke a cage.
"Certes" (quod I)" in all mine age,
Ne saw I soch an house as this,"
And as I wondred me ywis,
Upon this house tho ware was I,
How mine egle fast by,

Was perched hie upon a stone,
And I gan streight to him gone,
And said thus, "I pray thee
That thou a while abide mee
For goddes loue, and let me seene
What wonders in that place bene,
For yet paraunter I may lere
Some good therein, or somewhat here,

That lefe me were, or that I went."
"Peter that is now mine entent,"
(Quod he to me)" therefore I dwell,
But certaine one thing I thee tell,
That but I bryng thee therin,
Ne shall thou neuer conne the gin,
To come into it out of doubt,
So faste it whirleth lo about,
But sith that foues of his grace,
As I haue said will the solace,
Finally with these things
Uncouth sighes and tidings,
To passe with thine euinesse,

Soch routh hath he of thy distresse,
That thou suffredest debonairly,
And woste they seluen vtterly,
Desperate of all blisse,

Sith that fortune hath made a misse,
The swete of all thine hertes rest,
Languish and eke in poynt to brest,
But he through his mighty melite,
Wil do thee case, al be it lite,
And gaue in expresse commaundement,
To which I am obedient,

To forther thee with all my might,
And wish and teach thee aright,
Where thou maist most tidings here,
Thou shalt here many one lere."
With this word he right anone,
Hent me up bytwene his tone,
And at a window in me brought,
That in this house was at me thought,
And therewithall me thought it stent,
And nothing it about went,
And me set in the floore adoun
But such a great congregacioun
Of folke as I sawe rome about,
Some within and some without,
Nas neuer seene, ne shall be efte
That certes in this world nis lefte,
So many formed by nature,
Ne need so many a creature,
That wel vnneth in that place
Had I a foote brede of space,
And euery wight that I sawe there,
Rowned euerich in others eere,
A new tiding priuely,

Or els he told it all openly
Right thus, and said: "Nost nat thou
That is betidde, lo right now."

"Not" (quod he)" tell me what,"
And than he told him this and that,
And swore thereto that it was soth,
Thus hath he said, and thus he doth,
And this shal be, and thus herde I say,
That shal be found that dare I lay :
That all the folke that is on liue,
Ne haue the conning to discriue,
Tho thinges that I herde there,
What a loude, and what in eere,
But all the wonder most was this,
Whan one had herd a thing ywis,
He came streight to another wight
Ane gan him tellen anon right,
The same that him was told
Or it a forlong way was old,
And gan somewhat for to eche
To this tiding in his speche,
More than euer it spoken was,
And nat so sone departed nas

Tho fro him that he ne mette
With the third, and erhe lette
Any stound he told hym alse,
Where the tidings sothe or false,
Yet wold he tell it natheles,

And euermore with mo encrees,
Than it was erst: thus north and south,
Went euery tiding fro mouth to mouth,
And that encreasing euermo,
As fire is wont to quicken and go
From a sparcle sprongen amis,
Till a citie brent vp is.

And whan that was full vp sprong,
And waxen more on euery tonge
Than euer it was, and went anone
Up to a window out to gone,

Or but it might out there passe,
It gan out crepe at some creuasse,
And flewe forth fast for the nones.

And sometime I saw there at ones,
A leasing and a sadde sothe sawe,
That gounen of auenture drawe,
Out at a window for to pace,
And whan they metten in that place,
They were achecked both two,
And neyther of them might out go,
For ech other they gonne so croude
Till ech of hem gan crien loude,

"Let me gone first,"
,"-" nay but let mee,
And here I woll ensuren thee.

With vowes that thou wolt do so,
That I shall neuer fro thee go,
But be thine owne sworne brother,
We woll meddle vs eche in other,
That no man be he neuer so wrothe,
Shall haue one two, but bothe
At ones, as beside his leue,
Come we a morrowe or on eue,
But we cryde or still yrowned:"
Thus saw I salse and soth compowned,
Togider flie for o tiding.
Thus out at holes gonne wring,
Euery tidyng streight to Fame,
And she gan yeue eche his name,
After her disposicion,

And yeue hem eke duracion.
Some to wexe and wane soone,
As doth the faire white Moone,
And let hem goune, there might I seen
Winged wonders fast flien,
Twenty thousand in a route,
As Eolus hem blewe aboute,
And lord this house in all times
Was full of shipmen and pilgrimes,
With scrippes brette full of leasings,
Entermelled with tidings,

And eke alone by hemselue.
O many thousand times twelue
Saw I eke of these pardoners,
Currours, and eke messaungers,
With boxes crommed full of lies
As euer vessell was with lies.
And as I alther fastest went
About, and did all mine entent,
Me for to playen and for to lere,
And eke a tiding for to here,
That I had herde of some countree
That shall not now be told for mee,
For it no need is redely
Folke can sing it bet than I,

For al mote out late or rathe,
All the sheues in the fathe.

I herde a great noise withall
In a corner of the hall,
There men of loue tidings told
And I gan thitherward behold,
For I saw renning euery wight,
As fast as that they hadden might,

And everich cride "What thing is that,"
And some said "I not neuer what,"
And whan they were all on a hepe,
Tho behind gone up lepe,
And clamben up on other faste
And

up the noyse on highen caste,
And treden fast on others heles
And stampe as men done after eles.
At the last I saw a man,
Which that I nought ne can,
But he seemed for to be
A man of great auctorite.
And therewithall*I abraide
Out of my slepe halfe afraide,
Remembring well what I had sene
And how hie and ferre I had bene
In my goost, and had great wonder
Of that the god of thonder

Had let me knowen, and began to write
Like as ye have herd me endite,
Wherefore to study and rede alway,
I purpose to do day by day.

Thus in dreaming and in game,
Endeth this litell booke of Fame.

Lo Venus risen among you rows rede,
And floures freshe honour ye this daie,

For whan the Sun vprist than wold they sprede,
But louers that lie in any drede,

ye

Flieth least wicked tongues you aspie,
Lo yonde the Sun, the candell of jelousie.

With tears blew, and with a wounded herte
Taketh your leue, and with saint John to borow
Apeseth somewhat of your paines smert,
Time cometh eft, that cessen shall your sorrow,
The glad night is worth an heauy morow,
Saint Valentine, a foule thus heard I sing,
Upon thy day, or Sun gan vp spring.

Yet sang this foule, "I rede you all awake,
And ye that haue not chosen in humble wise,
Without repenting cheseth your make,
Yet at the least, renoueleth your seruice:
And ye that haue full chosen as I deuise,
Confermeth it perpetually to dure,
And paciently taketh your aventure."

And for the worship of this bigh feast,
Yet woll I my briddes wise sing,
The sentence of the complaint at the least,
That wofull Mars made at the departing
Fro fresh Uenus in a morowning,
Whan Phebus with his firie torches rede,
Ransaked hath euery louer in his drede.

Whilome the three Heauens lorde aboue,
As well by heavenlich reuolucion,
As by desert hath wonne Uenus his loue,
And she hath take him in subiection,
And as a maistresse taught him his lesson,
Commaunding him neuer in her seruice,
He were so bold no louer to dispise.

For she forbade him iealousie at all,
And cruelty, and boste, and tyranny,
She made him at her lust so bumble and tall,
That whan she dained to cast on him her iye,
He tooke in patience to liue or die,
And thus she bridleth him in her maner,
With nothing, but with scorning of her chere.

Who reigneth now in blisse but Uenus,
That hath this worthy knight in gouernance
Who singeth now but Mars that serueth thus,
The faire Uenus, causer of pleasaunce,
He bint him to perpetuel obeysaunce,
And she binte her to loue him for euer,
But so be that his trespace it disceuer,

Thus be they kint, and reignen as in Heuen,
By loking most, as it fell on a tide,
That by her both assent was set a steuen,
That Mars shall enter as fast as he may glide,
In to her next palais to abide,

Walking his course till she had him ytake,
And he prayed her to hast her for his sake.

Than said he thus, "Mine hertes lady sweete,
Ye know well my mischief in that place,
For sikerly till that I with you meete,
My life stante there in auenture and grace,
But whan I see the beaute of your face,
There is no drede of death may do me smert,
For all your luste is ease to mine herte."

She hath so great compassion of her knight,
That dwelleth in solitude till she come,
For it stode so, that ilke time no wight,
Counsailed him, ne said to him welcome,
That nigh her wit for sorow was ouercome
Wherfore she spedded as fast in her way,
Almost in one day as he did in tway.

The great ioy that was betwix hem two,
Whan they be mette, there may no tong tel,
There is no more but unto bedde they go,
And thus in ioy and blisse I let hem dwell,
This worthy Mars that is of knighthood well,
The floure of fairnesse happeth in his arms,
And Venus kisseth Mars the god of arms.

Sojourned hath this Mars of which I rede
In chambre amidde the palais priuely,
A certaine time, till him fell a drede,
Through Phebus that was commen hastely,
Within the palais yates sturdely,
With torch in hond, of which the stremes bright
On Venus chambre, knockeden ful light.

The chambre there as lay this fresh queene,
Depainted was with white boles grete,

And by the light she knew that shon so shene,
That Phebus cam to bren hem with his hete
This silly Uenus ny dreint in teares wete,
Enbraseth Mars, and said " Alas I die,
The torch is come, that al this world wol wrie."

Up sterte Mars, him list not to sleepe,
Whan he his lady herde so complaine,
But for his nature was not for to weepe,
Instede of teares from his eyen twaine,
The firy sparcles sprongen out for paine,
And hente his hauberke that lay him beside,
Flie wold he nought, ne might himself hide.

He throweth on his helme of huge weight,
And girt him with his swerde, and in his honde
His mighty speare, as he was wont to feight,
He shoketh so, that it almost to wonde,
Full heuy was he to walken ouer londe,
He may not hold with Uenus company,
But bad her flie least Phebus her espy.

O woful Mars alas, what maist thou sain
That in the palais of thy disturbaunce,
Art left behind in peril to be slain,
And yet there to is double thy penaunce,
For she that hath thine herte in gouernance,
Is passed halfe the stremes of thine eyen,
That thou nere swift, wel maist thou wepe and crien.

Now flieth Uenus in to Ciclinius tour,
With void corse, for fear of Phebus light,
Alas and there hath she no socour,
For she ne found ne sey no maner wight,
And eke as there she had but littel might,
Wherefore her selven for to hide and saue,
Within the gate she fledde in to a caue.

Darke was this caue, and smoking as the hell
Nat but two paas within the yate it stood,
A naturel day in darke I let her dwell,
Now wol I speake of Mars furious and wood,
For sorow he wold haue seene his herte blood,
Sith that he might haue done her no company,
He ne rought not a mite for to die.

So feble hc wext for hete and for his wo,
That nigh he swelt, he might vnneth endure
He passeth but a sterre in daies two,
But neuertheles, for al his hevy armure,
He foloweth her that is his liues cure,
For whose departing he tooke greater yre,
Than for his brenning in the fire.

After he walketh softly a paas,
Complayning that it pitie was to here,
He saide, "O lady bright Uenus alas,
That euer so wide a compas is my sphere,
Alas, whan shall I mete you herte dere,
This twelve dayes of April I endure,
Through ielous Phebus this misauenture."

Now God helpe sely Uenus alone,
But as God wold it happed for to be,
That while the weping Uenus made her mone
Ciclinius riding in his chyuanche,
Fro Uenus Ualanus might this palais see,
And Uenus he salueth, and maketh chere,
And her receiueth as his frende full dere.

Mars dwelleth forth in his aduersite,
Complayning ever in her departing,

And what his complaint was remembreth me,
And therefore in this lusty morowning,
As I best can, I wol it saine and sing,
And after that I woll my leaue take,
And God yeue euery wight ioy of his make.

THE COMPLAINT OF MARS.

THE order of complaint requireth skilfully,
That if a wight shal plain pitously,

There mote be cause wherfore that men plain,
Or men may deme he plaineth folily,
And causeles, alas that am not I,
Wherfore the ground and cause of al my pain,
So as my troubled witte may it attain,
I wol reherse, not for to haue redresse,
But to declare my ground of heuinesse.

The first time alas that I was wrought,
And for certain effects hider brought,
By him that lorded each intelligence,
I yaue my trew seruice aud my thought,
For euermo, how dere I haue it bought,
To her that is of so great excellence,
That what wight that sheweth first her offence,
Whan she is wroth and taketh of him no cure,
He may not long in ioy of love endure.

This is no fained mater that I tell,
My lady is the very sours and well
Of beaute, luste, fredome, and gentilnesse,
Of rich array, how dere men it sell,
Of all disport in which men frendly dwell,
Of loue and play, and of benigne humblesse,
Of sowne of instruments of al sweetnesse,
And thereto so well fortuned and thewed,
That through the world her goodnes is shewed.

What wonder is than though that I be set
My seruice on soch one that may me knet
To wele or wo, sith it lithe in her might,
Therfore myne herte for euer I to her hette,
Ne trewly for my death shall I not lette,
To ben her trewest seruaunt and her knight,
I flatter nat, that may wete euery wight,
For this day in her seruice shall I dye,
But grace be, I see her neuer with eye.

To whom shall I plaine of my distresse,
Who may me help, who may my herte redresse?
Shall I complaine vnto my lady free,
Nay certes, for she hath soch heauinesse,
For feare and eke for wo, that as I gesse,

In littel time it would her bane bee,
But were she safe, it were no force of mee,
Alas that euer louers mote endure,
For loue so many perilous auenture.

For though so be that louers be as trewe,
As any metal that is forged newe,
In many a case hem tideth oft sorowe,
Somtime hir ladies woll nat on hem rewe.
Somtime if that ielousie it knewe,
They might lightly lay hir heed to borow,
Somtime enuious folke with tongs horow,
Deprauen hem alas, whom may they please,
But he befalse, no louer hath his ease.

But what auaileth soch a long sermonun,
Of auentures of loue vp and doun,

I wol retourne and speaken of my paine,
The point is this of my distruction,
My right lady, my saluacioun,

Is in affray, and not to whom to plaine,
O herte sweete, O lady soueraine,
For your disease I ought wel swoun and swelt,
Though I none other harme ne drede felt.