Front matter (continued 4)

Tes. vii. 63-66; cf. P. F. 260-280.

P. F. 260.'But, as she saw not Venus, it was told her (Nor knew she by whom)—"In secreter Part of the temple stays she delighting. If thou wantest her, through that door quietly Enter." Wherefore she, without further demur, Meek of manner as she was, Approached thither to enter within, And do the embassy to her committed. Ma non vedendo Vener, le fu detto, Nè conobbe da cui: 'In più sagreta Parte del tempio stassi ella a diletto: Se tu la vuoi, per quella porta, cheta Te n'entra': ond' essa, sanza altro rispetto, In abito qual era mansueta, Là si appressò per entrar dentro ad essa, E l'ambasciata fare a lei commessa.

P. F. 261.'But there she, at her first coming, Found Riches guarding the portal— Who seemed to her much to be reverenced: And, being by her allowed to enter there, The place was dark to her at first going. But afterwards, by staying, a little light She gained there; and saw her lying naked On a great bed very fair to see. Ma essa lì nel primo suo venire Trovò Richezza la porta guardare; La qual le parve assai da riverire; E lasciata da lei quiv'entro entrare, Oscuro le fu il loco al primo gire; Ma poca luce poscia nello stare Lì prese, e vide lei nuda giacere Sopra un gran letto assai bella a vedere.

P. F. 267.'But she had hair of gold, and shining Round her head without any tress. Her face was such that most people Have in comparison no beauty at all. The arms, breast, and outstanding apples, Were all seen; and every other part with a Texture so thin was covered That it shewed forth almost as [if] naked. Ma avie d'oro i crini e rilucenti Intorno al capo sanza treccia alcuna: Il suo viso era tal che le più genti Hanno a rispetto bellezza nissuna: Le braccia, il petto e le poma eminenti Si vedien tutte, e ogni altra parte d'una Testa tanto sottil si ricopria, Che quasimente nuda comparia.

P. F. 274.'The neck was fragrant with full a thousand odours. At one of her sides Bacchus was seated, At the other Ceres with her savours. And she in her hands held the apple, Delighting herself, which, to her sisters Preferred, she won in the Idean vale. And, having seen all this, she [the prayer] made her request, Which was conceded without denial.' Olíva il collo ben di mille odori: Dall' un de' lati Bacco le sedea, Dall' altro Ceres cogli suoi savori: Ed essa il pomo per le man tenea, Sè dilettando, il quale alle sorori Prelata vinse nella valle Idea: E tutto ciò veduto posse il prego, Il qual fu conceduto senza niego.

At l. 298 we are introduced to a queen, who in l. 303 is said to be the noble goddess Nature. The general idea is taken from Aleyn's Pleynt of Kynde (l. 316), i. e. from the Planctus Naturae of Alanus de Insulis; see note to l. 298 of the poem. I here quote the most essential passage from the Anglo-Latin Satirical Poets, ed. T. Wright, ii. 437. It describes the garment worn by the goddess Nature, on which various birds were represented. The phrase animalium concilium may have suggested the name given by Chaucer to our poem. But see the remark on p. 75, l. 21.

'Haec autem [vestis] nimis subtilizata, subterfugiens oculorum indaginem, ad tantam materiae tenuitatem advenerat, ut ejus aerisque eandem crederes esse naturam, in qua, prout oculis pictura imaginabatur, animalium celebratur concilium. Illic aquila, primo juvenem, secundo senem, induens, tertio iterum reciprocata priorem, in Adonidem revertebatur a Nestore. Illic ancipiter (sic), civitatis praefectus aeriae, violenta tyrannide a subditis redditus exposcebat. Illic milvus, venatoris induens personam, venatione furtiva larvam gerebat ancipitris. Illic falco in ardeam bellum excitabat civile, non tamen aequali lance divisum. Non enim illud pugnae debet appellatione censeri, ubi tu pulsas, ego vapulo tantum. Illic struthio, vita seculari postposita, vitam solitariam agens, quasi heremita factus, desertarum solitudines incolebat. Illic olor, sui funeris praeco, mellitae citherizationis organo vitae prophetabat apocopam. Illic in pavone tantum pulcritudinis compluit Natura thesaurum, ut eam postea crederes mendicasse. Illic phoenix, in se mortuus, redivivus in alio, quodam Naturae miraculo, se sua morte a mortuis suscitabat. Illic avis concordiae (ciconia) prolem decimando Naturae persolvebat tributum. Illic passeres in atomum pygmeae humilitatis relegati degebant, grus ex opposito in giganteae quantitatis evadebat excessum.

'Illic phasianus, natalis insulae perpessus angustias, principum futurus deliciae, nostros evolabat in orbes. Illic gallus, tanquam vulgaris astrologus, suae vocis horologio horarum loquebatur discrimina. Illic gallus silvestris, privatioris galli deridens desidiam, peregre proficiscens, nemorales peragrabat provincias. Illic bubo, propheta miseriae, psalmodias funereae lamentationis praecinebat. Illic noctua tantae deformitatis sterquilinio sordescebat, ut in ejus formatione Naturam crederes fuisse somnolentam. Illic cornix, ventura prognosticans, nugatorio concitabatur garritu. Illic pica, dubio picturata colore, curam logices perennebat insomnem. Illic monedula, latrocinio laudabili reculas thesaurizans, innatae avaritiae argumenta monstrabat. Illic columba, dulci malo inebriata Diones, laborabat Cypridis in palaestra. Illic corvus, zelotypiae abhorrens dedecus, suos foetus non sua esse pignora fatebatur, usque dum comperto nigri argumento coloris, hoc quasi secum disputans comprobat. Illic perdix nunc aeriae potestatis insultus, nunc venatorum sophismata, nunc canum latratus propheticos abhorrebat. Illic anas cum ansere, sub eodem jure vivendi, hiemabat in patria fluviali. Illic turtur, suo viduata consorte, amorem epilogare dedignans, in altero bigamiae refutabat solatia. Illic psittacus cum sui gutturis incude vocis monetam fabricabat humanae. Illic coturnicem, figurae draconis ignorantem fallaciam, imaginariae vocis decipiebant sophismata. Illic picus, propriae architectus domunculae, sui rostri dolabro clausulam fabricabat in ilice. Illic curruca, novercam exuens, materno pietatis ubere alienam cuculi prolem adoptabat in filium; quae tamen capitali praemiata stipendio, privignum agnoscens, filium ignorabat. Illic hirundo, a sua peregrinatione reversa, sub trabe nidi lutabat hospitium. Illic philomena, deflorationis querelam reintegrans, harmoniaca tympanizans dulcedine, puritatis dedecus excusabat. Illic alauda, quasi nobilis citharista, non studii artificio, sed Naturae magisterio, musicae praedocta scientiam, citharam praesentabat in ore.... Haec animalia, quamvis illic quasi allegorice viverent, ibi tamen esse videbantur ad litteram.'

As to the date of this poem, Ten Brink (Studien, p. 127) shews that it must have been written later than 1373; and further, that it was probably written earlier than Troilus, which seems to have been finished in 1383. It may therefore have been written in 1382, in which case it may very well refer to the betrothal (in 1381) of King Richard II to Queen Anne of Bohemia. See, on this subject, Dr. Koch's discussion of the question in Essays on Chaucer, p. 407, published by the Chaucer Society. Prof. Ward (who follows Koch) in his Life of Chaucer, p. 86, says:—'Anne of Bohemia, daughter of the great Emperor Charles IV., and sister of King Wenceslas, had been successively betrothed to a Bavarian prince and to a Margrave of Meissen, before—after negotiations which, according to Froissart, lasted a year^[261]—her hand was given to young King Richard II. of England. This sufficiently explains the general scope of the Assembly of Fowls, an allegorical poem written on or about St. Valentine's Day, 1381^[262]—eleven months or nearly a year after which date the marriage took place^[263].'

I here note that Lydgate's Flour of Curtesie is a palpable imitation of the Parliament of Foules; so also is the earlier part of his Complaint of the Black Knight.

On the other hand, it is interesting to find, in the Poésies de Marie de France, ed. Roquefort, Paris, 1820, that Fable 22 (vol. i. p. 130) is entitled:—'Li parlemens des Oiseax por faire Roi.' In this fable, the Birds reject the Cuckoo, and choose the Eagle as king.

§ 23. VI. A Compleint to his Lady.

We may fairly say that this poem is attributed to Chaucer by Shirley, since in MS. Harl. 78 it is copied out by him as if it were a continuation of the Complaint to Pity, and the pages are, throughout, headed with the words—'The Balade of Pytee. By Chauciers.' Stowe implies that he had seen more than one MS. copy of this poem, and says that 'these verses were compiled by Geffray Chauser,' for which he may have found authority in the MSS.^[264] Moreover, the internal evidence settles the matter. It is evident that we have here a succession of metrical experiments, the last of which exhibits a ten-line stanza resembling the nine-line stanza of his Anelida; in fact, we here have that Complaint in a crude form, which was afterwards elaborated; see the references, in the Notes, to the corresponding passages in that poem. But a very great and unique interest is attached to lines 16 to 43. For here we have the sole example, in English literature of that period, of the use of terza rima, obviously copied from Dante; and Chaucer was the only writer who then had a real acquaintance with that author. I know of no other example of the use of this metre before the time of Lord Surrey and Sir Thomas Wiat, when Englishmen once more sought acquaintance with Italian poetry. Consequently, we have here the pleasure of seeing how Chaucer handled Dante's metre; and the two fragments here preserved shew that he might have handled it quite successfully if he had persevered in doing so.

It is to be regretted that Shirley's spelling is so indifferent; he was rather an amateur than a professional scribe. Some of his peculiarities may be noticed, as they occur not only here, but also in the two last pieces, nos. XXII. and XXIII. He constantly adds a final e in the wrong place, producing such forms fallethe, howe, frome, and the like, and drops it where it is necessary, as in hert (for herte). He is fond of eo for ee or long e, as in beo, neodethe. He writes ellas for allas; also e in place of the prefix y-, as in eknytte for y-knit. This last peculiarity is extremely uncommon. I have removed the odd effect which these vagaries produce, and I adopt the ordinary spelling of MSS. that resemble in type the Ellesmere MS. of the Canterbury Tales.

This piece exhibits three distinct metres, viz. the 7-line stanza, terza rima, and the 10-line stanza. Of the last, which is extremely rare, we have here the earliest example. Lines 56 and 59 are lost, and some others are imperfect.

§ 24. VII. Anelida and Arcite.

The genuineness of this poem is obvious enough, and is vouched for both by Lydgate and Shirley, as shewn above. It is further discussed in the Notes. I may add that Lydgate incidentally refers to it in his Complaint of the Black Knight, l. 379:—'Of Thebes eke the false Arcite.' Much later allusions are the following:—

The first three stanzas are from Boccaccio's Teseide, as shewn in the Notes; so also are stanzas 8, 9, and 10. Stanzas 4-7 are partly from Statius. The origin of ll. 71-210 is at present unknown. It is difficult to date this poem, but it must be placed after 1373, because of its quotations from the Teseide, or rather from Chaucer's own Palamon and Arcite. The mention of 'the quene of Ermony' in l. 72 suggests that Chaucer's thoughts may have been turned towards Armenia by the curious fact that, in 1384, the King of Armenia came to England about Christmas time, stayed two months, and was hospitably entertained by King Richard at Eltham; see Fabyan's Chronicles, ed. Ellis, p. 532. At an earlier time, viz. in 1362, Walsingham says that some knights of Armenia appeared at a tournament in Smithfield. In the Transactions of the Cambridge Philological Society, May 13, 1886, there is a short paper by Prof. Cowell, from which we learn that Mr. Bradshaw believed the name of Anelida to be identical 'with Anáhita (Ἀναΐτις), the ancient goddess of Persia and Armenia.... He supposed that Chaucer got the name Anelida from a misreading of the name Anaetidem or Anaetida in some Latin MS., the t being mistaken for l.' We must remember that Creseide represents a Greek accusative form Χρυσηΐδα, of which the gen. Χρυσηΐδος occurs in Homer, Il. i. 111; and perhaps the form Dalida (for Dalilah) in the Septuagint is also due to association with Greek accusatives in -ιδα. The genitive Anaetidos occurs in Pliny, xxxiii. 4; in Holland's translation of Pliny, ii. 470, she appears as 'the goddesse Diana syrnamed Anaitis.' It may be as well to explain to those who are unaccustomed to MSS. of the fourteenth century, that it was then usual to write e in place of ae or æ, so that the name would usually be written, in the accusative case, Anetida. This suggests that Anelida should be spelt with but one n; and such is the practice of all the better MSS.

It remains to be added that one source of the part of the poem called the Complaint (ll. 211-350) is the piece printed in this volume as no. VI. That piece is, in fact, a kind of exercise in metrical experiments, and exhibits specimens of a 10-line stanza, resembling the nine-line stanza of this Complaint. Chaucer seems to have elaborated this into a longer Complaint, with additional varieties in the metre; and then to have written the preceding story by way of introduction. One line (vi. 50) is repeated without alteration (vii. 237); another (vi. 35) is only altered in the first and last words (vii. 222). Other resemblances are pointed out in the Notes.

It is also worth while to notice how the character of the speaking falcon in the second part of the Squire's Tale is precisely that of Anelida. The parallel lines are pointed out in the Notes. The principal MSS. may be thus grouped: Aa.—F. B. Ab.—Tn. D. Lt. B.—Harl. Cx. Here A and B are two groups, of which the former is subdivided into Aa and Ab. See Koch, in Anglia, iv. b. 102.

§ 25. VIII. Chaucer's Wordes unto Adam.

This is evidently a genuine poem, written by the author of the translation of Boethius and of the story of Troilus.

§ 26. IX. The Former Age.

First printed in 1866, in Morris's Chaucer, from a transcript made by Mr. Bradshaw, who pointed out its genuineness. It is ascribed to Chaucer in both MSS., and belongs, in fact, to his translation of Boethius, though probably written at a later date. In MS. I. the poem is headed:—'Chawcer vp-on this fyfte metur of the second book.' In MS. Hh., the colophon is: 'Finit Etas prima: Chaucers.' Dr. Koch thinks that the five poems here numbered IX. X. XIII-XV. 'form a cyclus, as it were, being free transcriptions of different passages in Boethius' Consolatio Philosophiae.' There is, in fact, a probability that these were all written at about the same period, and that rather a late one, some years after the prose translation of Boethius had been completed; and a probable date for this completion is somewhere about 1380.

Both MS. copies are from the same source, as both of them omit the same line, viz. l. 56; which I have had to supply by conjecture. Neither of the MSS. are well spelt, nor are they very satisfactory. The mistake in riming l. 47 with l. 43 instead of l. 45 may very well have been due to an oversight on the part of the poet himself. But the poem is a beautiful one, and admirably expressed; and its inclusion among the Minor Poems is a considerable gain.

Dr. Furnivall has printed the Latin text of Boethius, lib. ii. met. 5, from MS. I., as well as Chaucer's prose version of the same, for the sake of comparison with the text of the poem. The likeness hardly extends beyond the first four stanzas. I here transcribe that part of the prose version which is parallel to the poem, omitting a few sentences which do not appear there at all; for the complete text, see vol. ii.

'Blisful was the first age of men. They helden hem apayed with the metes that the trewe feldes broughten furthe. They ne distroyede nor deceivede not hem-self with outrage. They weren wont lightly to slaken hir hunger at even with acornes of okes. [Stanza 2.] They ne coude nat medly^[265] the yifte of Bachus to the clere hony; that is to seyn, they coude make no piment nor clarree. [Stanza 3.] ... they coude nat deyen whyte fleeses^[266] of Serien contree with the blode of a maner shelfisshe that men finden in Tyrie, with whiche blode men deyen purpur. [Stanza 6.] They slepen hoolsum slepes upon the gras, and dronken of the renninge wateres [cf. l. 8]; and layen under the shadwes of the heye pyn-trees. [Stanza 3, continued.] Ne no gest ne no straungere ne carf yit the heye see with ores or with shippes; ne they ne hadde seyn yit none newe strondes, to leden marchaundyse in-to dyverse contrees. Tho weren the cruel clariouns ful hust^[267] and ful stille.... [Stanza 4.] For wherto or whiche woodnesse of enemys wolde first moeven armes, whan they seyen cruel woundes, ne none medes^[268] be of blood y-shad^[269]?... Allas! what was he that first dalf^[270] up the gobetes^[271] or the weightes of gold covered under erthe, and the precious stones that wolden han ben hid? He dalf up precious perils; ... for the preciousnesse of swiche thinge, hath many man ben in peril.'

The metre is the same as that of the ABC.

§ 27. X. Fortune.

Attributed to Chaucer by Shirley in MSS. A. and T.; also marked as Chaucer's in MSS. F. and I. In MS. I., this poem and the preceding are actually introduced into Chaucer's translation of Boethius, between the fifth metre and the sixth prose of the second book, as has been already said. The metre is the same as that of the ABC and The Former Age, but the same rimes run through three stanzas. The Envoy forms a 7-line stanza, but has only two rimes; the formula is ababbab. For further remarks, see the Notes.

§ 28. XI. Merciles Beaute.

The unique copy of this poem is in MS. P^[272]. It is the last poem in the MS., and is in excellent company, as it immediately follows several other of Chaucer's genuine poems^[273]. This is probably why Bp. Percy attributed it to Chaucer, who himself tells us that he wrote 'balades, roundels, virelayes.' It is significant that Mätzner, in his Altenglische Sprachproben, i. 347, chose this poem alone as a specimen of the Minor Poems. It is, in fact, most happily expressed, and the internal evidence places its authenticity beyond question. The three roundels express three 'movements,' in the poet's usual manner; and his mastery of metre is shewn in the use of the same rime in -en-e in the first and third roundels, requiring no less than ten different words for the purpose; whilst in the second roundel the corresponding lines end in -eyn-e, producing much the same effect, if (as is probable) the old sounds of e and ey were not very different. We at once recognise the Chaucerian phrases I do no fors (see Cant. Ta. D 1234, 1512), and I counte him not a bene (see Troil. v. 363).

Very characteristic is the use of the dissyllabic word sen-e (l. 10), which is an adjective, and means 'manifest,' from the A. S. geséne, (gesýne), and not the past participle, which is y-seen. Chaucer rimes it with clen-e (Prol. to C. T. 134), and with gren-e (Kn. Tale, A 2298). The phrase though he sterve for the peyne (l. 23) reminds us of for to dyen in the peyne (Kn. Ta. A 1133).

But the most curious thing about this poem is the incidental testimony of Lydgate, in his Ballade in Commendacion of our Ladie; see poem no. 26 above, discussed at p. 38. I here quote st. 22 in full, from ed. 1561, fol. 330:

I ought to add that this poem is the only one which I have admitted into the set of Minor Poems (nos. I-XX) with incomplete external evidence. If it is not Chaucer's, it is by some one who contrived to surpass him in his own style. And this is sufficient excuse for its appearance here.

Moreover, Lydgate's testimony is external evidence, in a high degree. Even the allusion in l. 27 to the Roman de la Rose points in the same direction; and so does Chaucer's statement that he wrote roundels. Excepting that in the Parl. of Foules, ll. 680-692, and the three here given, no roundels of his have ever been found^[274].

§ 29. XII. To Rosemounde.

This poem was discovered by me in the Bodleian Library on the 2nd of April, 1891. It is written on a fly-leaf at the end of MS. Rawlinson Poet. 163, which also contains a copy of Chaucer's Troilus. At the end of the 'Troilus' is the colophon: 'Here endith the book of Troylus and of Cresseyde.' This colophon is preceded by 'Tregentyll,' and followed by 'Chaucer.' On the next leaf (no. 114) is the Balade, without any title, at the foot of which is 'Tregentil'——'Chaucer,' the two names being written at a considerable distance apart. I believe 'Tregentil' to represent the name of the scribe^[275]. In any case, 'Chaucer' represents the name of the author. It is a happy specimen of his humour.

§ 30. XIII. Truth.

This famous poem is attributed to Chaucer in MS. F., also (thrice) by Shirley, who in one of the copies in MS. T. (in which it occurs twice) calls it a 'Balade that Chaucier made on his deeth-bedde'; which is probably a mere bad guess^[276]. The MSS. may be divided into two groups; the four best are in the first group, viz. At., E., Gg., Ct., and the rest (mostly) in the second group. Those of the first group have the readings Tempest (8), Know thy contree (19), and Hold the hye wey (20); whilst the rest have, in the same places, Peyne (8), Look up on hy (19), and Weyve thy lust (20). It is remarkable that the Envoy occurs in MS. At. only. It may have been suppressed owing to a misunderstanding of the word vache (cow), the true sense of which is a little obscure. The reference is to Boethius, bk. v. met. 5, where it is explained that quadrupeds look down upon the earth, whilst man alone looks up towards heaven; cf. lok up in l. 19 of the poem. The sense is therefore, that we should cease to look down, and learn to look up like true men; 'only the linage of man,' says Chaucer, in his translation of Boethius, 'heveth heyeste his heye heved^[277] ... this figure amonesteth^[278] thee, that axest the hevene with thy righte visage, and hast areysed thy fore-heved to beren up a-heigh thy corage, so that thy thoght ne be nat y-hevied^[279] ne put lowe under fote.'

§ 31. XIV. Gentilesse.

It is curious that this Balade not only occurs as an independent poem, as in MSS. T., Harl., Ct., and others, but is also quoted bodily in a poem by Henry Scogan in MS. A. It is attributed to Chaucer by Shirley in MSS. T. and Harl.; and still more satisfactory is the account given of it by Scogan. The title of Scogan's poem is:—'A moral balade made by Henry Scogan squyer. Here folowethe nexst a moral balade to my lorde the Prince, to my lord of Clarence, to my lord of Bedford, and to my lorde of Gloucestre; by Henry Scogan, at a souper of feorthe merchande (sic) in the vyntre in London, at the hous of Lowys Iohan.' It is printed in all the old editions of Chaucer; see poem no. 33, p. 32. Scogan tells us that he was 'fader,' i. e. tutor, to the four sons of Henry IV. above-mentioned^[280]. His ballad is in twenty-one 8-line stanzas, and he inserts Chaucer's Gentilesse, distinguished by being in 7-line stanzas, between the 13th and 14th stanzas of his own work. He refers to Chaucer in the 9th stanza thus (in MS. A.):—

This is a reference to ll. 16, 17 of Chaucer's poem. Again, in his 13th stanza, he says:—

He here refers to lines 15-17, and lines 1-4 of Chaucer's poem; and then proceeds to quote it in full. Having done so, he adds:—

Scogan's advice is all good; and, though he accuses himself of having misspent his youth, this may very well mean no more than such an expression means in the mouth of a good man. He is doubtless the very person to whom Chaucer's 'Lenvoy a Scogan' was addressed, and Chaucer (l. 21) there gives him an excellent character for wisdom of speech. Accordingly, he is not to be confused with the Thomas Scogan or Scogin to whom is attributed an idle book called 'Scoggins Iests,' which were said to have been 'gathered' by Andrew Boord or Borde, author of the Introduction of Knowledge^[281]. When Shakespeare, in 2 Hen. IV. iii. 2. 33, says that Sir John Falstaff broke Scogan's head, he was no doubt thinking of the supposed author of the jest-book, and may have been led, by observation of the name in a black-letter edition of Chaucer, to suppose that he lived in the time of Henry IV. This was quite enough for his purpose, though it is probable that the jester lived in the time of Edward IV.; see Tyrwhitt's note on the Envoy to Scogan. On the other hand, we find Ben Jonson taking his ideas about Scogan solely from Henry Scogan's poem and Chaucer's Envoy, without any reference to the jester. See his Masque of the Fortunate Isles, in which Scogan is first described and afterwards introduced. The description tells us nothing more than we know already.

As for Lewis John (p. 82), Tyrwhitt says he was a Welshman, 'who was naturalised by Act of Parliament, 2 Hen. V., and who was concerned with Thomas Chaucer in the execution of the office of chief butler; Rot. Parl. 2 Hen. V. n. 18.'

Caxton's printed edition of this poem seems to follow a better source than any of the MSS.

§ 32. XV. Lak of Stedfastnesse.

Attributed to Chaucer by Shirley in MSS. Harl. and T., and sent to King Richard at Windsor, according to the same authority. The general idea of it is from Boethius; see the Notes. Shirley refers it to the last years of Richard II., say 1397-9. We find something very like it in Piers Plowman, C. iv. 203-210, where Richard is told that bribery and wicked connivance at extortion have almost brought it about—

In any case, the date can hardly vary between wider limits than between 1393 and 1399. Richard held a tournament at Windsor in 1399^[282], which was but thinly attended; 'the greater part of the knights and squires of England were disgusted with the king.'

Of this poem, MS. Ct. seems to give the best text.

§ 33. XVI. Lenvoy a Scogan.

This piece is attributed to Chaucer in all three MSS., viz. F., P., and Gg.; and is obviously genuine. The probable date of it is towards the end of 1393; see the Notes.

For some account of Scogan, see above (p. 83).

§ 34. XVII. Lenvoy a Bukton.

This piece is certainly genuine. In MS. F., the title is—'Lenvoy de Chaucer a Bukton.' In Julian Notary's edition it is—'Here foloweth the counceyll of Chaucer touching Maryag, &c. whiche was sente te (sic) Bucketon, &c.' In all the other early printed editions it is inserted without any title immediately after the Book of the Duchess.

The poem is one of Chaucer's latest productions, and may safely be dated about the end of the year 1396. This appears from the reference, in l. 23, to the great misfortune it would be to any Englishmen 'to be take in Fryse,' i. e. to be taken prisoner in Friesland. There is but one occasion on which this reference could have had any point, viz. during or just after the expedition of William of Hainault to Friesland, as narrated by Froissart in his Chronicles, bk. iv. capp. 78, 79. He tells that William of Hainault applied to Richard II. for assistance, who sent him 'some men-at-arms and two hundred archers, under the command of three English lords^[283].' The expedition set out in August, 1396, and stayed in Friesland about five weeks, till the beginning of October, when 'the weather began to be very cold and to rain almost daily.' The great danger of being taken prisoner in Friesland was because the Frieslanders fought so desperately that they were seldom taken prisoners themselves. Then 'the Frieslanders offered their prisoners in exchange, man for man; but, when their enemies had none to give in return, they put them to death.' Besides this, the prisoners had to endure all the miseries of a bad and cold season, in an inclement climate. Hence the propriety of Chaucer's allusion fully appears. From l. 8, we learn that Chaucer was now a widower; for the word eft means 'again.' His wife is presumed to have died in the latter part of 1387. We should also observe the allusion to the Wife of Bath's Tale in l. 29.

§ 35. XVIII. The Compleynt of Venus.

This poem is usually printed as if it formed part of the Complaint of Mars; but it is really distinct. It is attributed to Chaucer by Shirley both in MS. T. and in MS. A. It is not original, but translated from the French, as appears from l. 82. Shirley tells us that the author of the French poem was Sir Otes de Graunson, a worthy knight of Savoy. He is mentioned as receiving from King Richard the grant of an annuity of 126l. 13s. 4d. on 17 Nov. 1393; see Furnivall's Trial Forewords, p. 123. The association of this poem with the Complaint of Mars renders it probable that the Venus of this poem is the same as the Venus of the other, i. e. the Princess Isabel of Spain, and Duchess of York. This fits well with the word Princess at the beginning of the Envoy; and as she died in 1394, whilst Chaucer, on the other hand, complains of his advancing years, we must date the poem about 1393, i. e. just about the time when Graunson received his annuity. Chaucer, if born about 1340, was not really more than 53, but we must remember that, in those days, men often aged quickly. John of Gaunt, who is represented by Shakespeare as a very old man, only lived to the age of 59; and the Black Prince died quite worn out, at the age of 46. Compare the notes to ll. 73, 76, 79, and 82.

Much new light has lately been thrown upon this poem by Dr. A. Piaget, who contributed an article to Romania, tome xix., on 'Oton de Granson et ses Poésies,' in 1890. The author succeeded in discovering a large number of Granson's poems, including, to our great gain, the three Balades of which Chaucer's 'Compleynt of Venus' is a translation. I am thus enabled to give the original French beneath the English version, for the sake of comparison.

He has also given us an interesting account of Granson himself, for which I must refer my readers to his article. It appears that Froissart mentions Granson at least four times (twice in bk. i. c. 303, A.D. 1372, once in c. 305, and once in c. 331, A.D. 1379), as fighting on the side of the English; see Johnes' translation. He was in Savoy from 1389 to 1391; but, in the latter year, was accused of being concerned in the death of Amadeus VII., count of Savoy, in consequence of which he returned to England, and in 1393 his estates in Savoy were confiscated. It was on this occasion that Richard II. assigned to him the pension above mentioned. With the hope of clearing himself from the serious charge laid against him, Granson fought a judicial duel, at Bourg-en-Bresse, on Aug. 7, 1397, in which, however, he was slain.

Now that we have the original before us, we can see clearly, as Dr. Piaget says, that Chaucer has certainly not translated the original Balades 'word for word' throughout. He does so sometimes, as in ll. 27, 28, 30, 31, in which the closeness of the translation is marvellous; but, usually, he paraphrases the original to a considerable extent. In the first Balade, he has even altered the general motive; in the original, Granson sings the praises of his lady; in Chaucer, it is a lady who praises the worthiness of her lover.

It also becomes probable that the title 'The Compleynt of Venus,' which seems to have been suggested by Shirley, is by no means a fitting one. It is not suitable for Venus, unless the 'Venus' be a mortal; neither is it a continuous 'Compleynt,' being simply a linking together of three separate and distinct Balades.

It is clear to me that, when Chaucer added his Envoy, he made the difficulties of following the original 'word by word' and of preserving the original metre his excuse; and that what really troubled him was the difficulty of adapting the French, especially Balade I., so as to be acceptable to the 'Princess' who enjoined him to translate these Balades. In particular, he evidently aimed at giving them a sort of connection, so that one should follow the other naturally; which accounts for the changes in the first of them. It is significant, perhaps, that the allusion to 'youth' (F. jeunesce) in l. 70 is entirely dropped.

On the whole, I think we may still accept the theory that this poem was written at the request (practically, the command) of Isabel, duchess of York, the probable 'Venus' of the 'Compleynt of Mars.' Chaucer seems to have thrown the three Balades together, linking them so as to express a lady's constancy in love, and choosing such language as he deemed would be most acceptable to the princess. He then ingeniously, and not without some humour, protests that any apparent alterations are due to his own dulness and the difficulties of translating 'word for word,' and of preserving the rimes.

In l. 31, the F. text shews us that we must read Pleyne, not Pleye (as in the MSS.). This was pointed out by Mr. Paget Toynbee.

§ 36. XIX. The Compleint to his Purse.

Attributed to Chaucer by Shirley, in MS. Harl. 7333; by Caxton; by the scribes of MSS. F., P., and Ff.; and by early editors. I do not know on what grounds Speght removed Chaucer's name, and substituted that of T. Occleve; there seems to be no authority for this change. I think it highly probable that the poem itself is older than the Envoy; see note to l. 17. In any case, the Envoy is almost certainly Chaucer's latest extant composition.

§ 37. XX. Proverbs.

Attributed to Chaucer in MSS. F. and Ha.; see further in the Notes. From the nature of the case, we cannot assign any probable date to this composition. Yet it was, perhaps, written after, rather than before, the Tale of Melibeus.

§ 38. XXI. Against Women Unconstaunt.

For the genuineness of this Balade, we have chiefly the internal evidence to trust to; but this seems to me to be sufficiently strong. The Balade is perfect in construction, having but three rimes (-esse, -ace, -ene), and a refrain. The 'mood' of it strongly resembles that of Lak of Stedfastnesse; the lines run with perfect smoothness, and the rimes are all Chaucerian. It is difficult to suppose that Lydgate, or even Hoccleve, who was a better metrician, could have produced so good an imitation of Chaucer's style. But we are not without strong external evidence; for the general idea of the poem, and what is more important, the whole of the refrain, are taken from Chaucer's favourite author Machault (ed. Tarbé, p. 56); whose refrain is—'En lieu de bleu, Damë, vous vestez vert.' Again, the poem is only found in company with other poems by Chaucer. Such collocation frequently means nothing, but those who actually consult^[284] MSS. Ct. and Ha. will see how close is its association with the Chaucerian poems in those MSS. I have said that it occurs in MSS. F., Ct., and Ha. Now in MS. Ct. we find, on the back of fol. 188 and on fol. 189, just four poems in the same hand. These are (1) Gentilesse; (2) Lak of Stedfastnesse; (3) Truth; and (4) Against Women Unconstaunt. As three of these are admittedly genuine, there is evidence that the fourth is the same. We may also notice that, in this MS., the poems on Lak of Stedfastnesse and Against Women Unconstaunt are not far apart. On searching MS. Ha. (Harl. 7578), I again found three of these poems in company, viz. (1) Gentilesse; (2) Lak of Stedfastnesse; and (3) Against Women Unconstaunt; the last being, in my view, precisely in its right place. (This copy of the poem was unknown to me in 1887.)

§ 39. XXII. An Amorous Complaint.

Whilst searching through the various MSS. containing Minor Poems by Chaucer in the British Museum, my attention was arrested by this piece, which, as far as I know, has never before been printed. It is in Shirley's handwriting, but he does not claim it for Chaucer. However, the internal evidence seems to me irresistible; the melody is Chaucer's, and his peculiar touches appear in it over and over again. There is, moreover, in the last stanza, a direct reference to the Parliament of Foules^[285].

I cannot explain the oracular notice of time in the heading; even if we alter May to day, it contradicts l. 85, which mentions 'seint Valentines day.' The heading is—'And next folowyng begynnith an amerowse compleynte made at wyndesore in the laste May tofore Nouembre' (sic). The date is inexplicable^[286]; but the mention of locality is interesting. Chaucer became a 'valet of the king's chamber' in 1367, and must frequently have been at Windsor, where the institution of the Order of the Garter was annually celebrated on St. George's Day (April 23). Some of the parallelisms in expression between the present poem and other passages in Chaucer's Works are pointed out in the Notes.

This Complaint should be compared with the complaint uttered by Dorigen in the Cant. Tales, F. 1311-1325, which is little else than the same thing in a compressed form. There is also much resemblance to the 'complaints' in Troilus; see the references in the Notes.

Since first printing the text in 1888, I found that it is precisely the same poem as one extant in MSS. F. and B., with the title 'Complaynt Damours.' I had noticed the latter some time previously, and had made a note that it ought to be closely examined; but unfortunately I forgot to do so, or I should have seen at once that it had strong claims to being considered genuine. These claims are considerably strengthened by the fact of the appearance of the poem in these two Chaucerian MSS., the former of which contains no less than sixteen, and the latter seven of the Minor Poems, besides the Legend and the Hous of Fame.

In reprinting the text in the present volume, I take occasion to give all the more important results of a collation of the text with these MSS. In most places, their readings are inferior to those in the text; but in other places they suggest corrections.

In MS. F. the fourth stanza is mutilated; the latter half of lines 24-28 is missing.

In B., below the word Explicit, another and later hand has scrawled 'be me Humfrey Flemyng.' 'Be me' merely means—'this signature is mine.' It is a mere scribble, and does not necessarily relate to the poem at all.

The readings of F. and B. do not help us much; for the text in Harl., on the whole, is better.

It is not at all improbable that a better copy of this poem may yet be found.

§ 40. XXIII. Balade of Compleynt.

This poem, which has not been printed before, as far as I am aware, occurs in Shirley's MS. Addit. 16165, at fol. 256, back. It is merely headed 'Balade of compleynte,' without any note of its being Chaucer's. But I had not read more than four lines of it before I at once recognised the well-known melodious flow which Chaucer's imitators (except sometimes Hoccleve) so seldom succeed in reproducing. And when I had only finished reading the first stanza, I decided at once to copy it out, not doubting that it would fulfil all the usual tests of metre, rime, and language; which it certainly does. It is far more correct in wording than the preceding poem, and does not require that we should either omit or supply a single word. But in l. 20 the last word should surely be dere rather than here; and the last word in l. 11 is indistinct. I read it as reewe afterwards altered to newe; and newe makes very good sense. I may notice that Shirley's n's are very peculiar: the first upstroke is very long, commencing below the line; and this peculiarity renders the reading tolerably certain. Some lines resemble lines in no. VI., as is pointed out in the Notes. Altogether, it is a beautiful poem, and its recovery is a clear gain.

§ 41. Concluding Remarks.

I regret that this Introduction has run to so great a length; but it was incumbent on me to shew reasons for the rejection or acceptance of the very large number of pieces which have hitherto been included in editions of Chaucer's Works. I have now only to add that I have, of course, been greatly indebted to the works of others; so much so indeed that I can hardly particularise them. I must, however, mention very gratefully the names of Dr. Furnivall, Professor Ten Brink, Dr. Koch, Dr. Willert, Max Lange, Rambeau, and various contributors to the publications of the Chaucer Society; and though I have consulted for myself such books as Le Roman de la Rose, the Teseide, the Thebaid of Statius, the poems of Machault, and a great many more, and have inserted in the Notes a large number of references which I discovered, or re-discovered, for myself, I beg leave distinctly to disclaim any merit, not doubting that most of what I have said may very likely have been said by others, and said better. Want of leisure renders it impossible for me to give to others their due meed of recognition in many instances; for I have often found it less troublesome to consult original authorities for myself than to hunt up what others have said relative to the passage under consideration.

I have relegated Poems no. XXI., XXII., and XXIII. to an Appendix, because they are not expressly attributed to Chaucer in the MSS. Such evidence has its value, but it is possible to make too much of it; and I agree with Dr. Koch, that, despite the MSS., the genuineness of no XX. is doubtful; for the rime of compas with embrace is suspicious. It is constantly the case that poems, well known to be Chaucer's, are not marked as his in the MS. copies; and we must really depend upon a prolonged and intelligent study of the internal evidence. This is why I admit poems nos. XXI-XXIII into the collection; and I hope it will be conceded that I am free from recklessness in this matter. Certainly my methods differ from those of John Stowe, and I believe them to be more worthy of respect.

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE.

FRAGMENT A. Many men seyn that in sweveninges Ther nis but fables and lesinges; But men may somme swevenes seen, Which hardely ne false been, 5But afterward ben apparaunte. This may I drawe to waraunte An authour, that hight Macrobes, That halt not dremes false ne lees, But undoth us the avisioun 10That whylom mette king Cipioun. And who-so sayth, or weneth it be A Iape, or elles [a] nycetee To wene that dremes after falle, Let who-so liste a fool me calle. LE ROMAN DE LA ROSE. Maintes gens dient que en songes N'a se fables non et mençonges; Mais l'en puet tiex songes songier Qui ne sunt mie mençongier; Ains sunt après bien apparant. Si en puis bien trere à garant Ung acteur qui ot non Macrobes, Qui ne tint pas songes à lobes; Ainçois escrist la vision 10Qui avint au roi Cipion. Quiconques cuide ne qui die Que soit folor ou musardie De croire que songes aviengne, Qui ce voldra, pour fol m'en tiengne;

15For this trowe I, and say for me, That dremes signifiaunce be Of good and harme to many wightes, That dremen in her slepe a-nightes Ful many thinges covertly, 20That fallen after al openly. The Dream.Within my twenty yere of age, Whan that Love taketh his corage Of yonge folk, I wente sone To bedde, as I was wont to done, 25And fast I sleep; and in sleping, Me mette swiche a swevening, That lykede me wonders wel; But in that sweven is never a del That it nis afterward befalle, 30Right as this dreem wol telle us alle. Now this dreem wol I ryme aright, To make your hertes gaye and light; For Love it prayeth, and also Commaundeth me that it be so 35And if ther any aske me, Whether that it be he or she, How [that] this book [the] which is here Shal hote, that I rede you here; Car endroit moi ai-je fiance Que songe soit senefiance Des biens as gens et des anuiz, Car li plusors songent de nuitz Maintes choses couvertement 20Que l'en voit puis apertement. Où vintiesme an de mon aage, Où point qu'Amors prend le paage Des jones gens, couchiez estoie Une nuit, si cum je souloie, Et me dormoie moult forment, Si vi ung songe en mon dormant, Qui moult fut biax, et moult me plot, Mès onques riens où songe n'ot Qui avenu trestout ne soit, 30Si cum li songes recontoit. Or veil cel songe rimaier, Por vos cuers plus fere esgaier, Qu'Amors le me prie et commande; Et se nus ne nule demande Comment ge voil que cilz Rommanz Soit apelez, que ge commanz:

It is the Romance of the Rose, 40In which al the art of love I close. The mater fair is of to make; God graunte in gree that she it take For whom that it begonnen is! And that is she that hath, y-wis, 45So mochel prys; and ther-to she So worthy is biloved be, That she wel oughte of prys and right, Be cleped Rose of every wight. That it was May me thoughte tho, 50It is fyve yere or more ago; That it was May, thus dremed me, In tyme of love and Iolitee, That al thing ginneth waxen gay, For ther is neither busk nor hay 55In May, that it nil shrouded been, And it with newe leves wreen. These wodes eek recoveren grene, That drye in winter been to sene; And the erthe wexeth proud withalle, 60For swote dewes that on it falle, And [al] the pore estat forget In which that winter hadde it set, Ce est li Rommanz de la Rose, Où l'art d'Amors est tote enclose. La matire en est bone et noeve: 40Or doint Diez qu'en gré le reçoeve Cele por qui ge l'ai empris. C'est cele qui tant a de pris, Et tant est digne d'estre amée, Qu'el doit estre Rose clamée. Avis m'iere qu'il estoit mains, Il a jà bien cincq ans, au mains, En Mai estoie, ce songoie, El tems amoreus plain de joie, El tens où tote riens s'esgaie, 50Que l'en ne voit boisson ne haie Qui en Mai parer ne se voille, Et covrir de novele foille; Li bois recovrent lor verdure, Qui sunt sec tant cum yver dure, La terre méisme s'orgoille Por la rousée qui la moille, Et oblie la poverté Où ele a tot l'yver esté.

And than bicometh the ground so proud That it wol have a newe shroud, 65And maketh so queynt his robe and fayr That it hath hewes an hundred payr Of gras and floures, inde and pers, And many hewes ful dyvers: That is the robe I mene, y-wis, 70Through which the ground to preisen is. The briddes, that han left hir song, Whyl they han suffred cold so strong In wedres grille, and derk to sighte, Ben in May, for the sonne brighte, 75So glade, that they shewe in singing, That in hir herte is swich lyking, That they mote singen and be light. Than doth the nightingale hir might To make noyse, and singen blythe. 80Than is blisful, many a sythe, The chelaundre and the papingay. Than yonge folk entenden ay For to ben gay and amorous, The tyme is than so savorous. 85Hard is his herte that loveth nought In May, whan al this mirth is wrought; Lors devient la terre si gobe, 60Qu'ele volt avoir novele robe; Si scet si cointe robe faire, Que de colors i a cent paire, D'erbes, de flors indes et perses, Et de maintes colors diverses. C'est la robe que ge devise, Por quoi la terre miex se prise. Li oisel, qui se sunt téu Tant cum il ont le froit éu, Et le tens divers et frarin, 70Sunt en Mai, por le tens serin, Si lié qu'il monstrent en chantant Qu'en lor cuer a de joie tant, Qu'il lor estuet chanter par force. Li rossignos lores s'efforce De chanter et de faire noise; Lors s'esvertue, et lors s'envoise Li papegaus et la kalandre: Lors estuet jones gens entendre A estre gais et amoreus 80Por le tens bel et doucereus. Moult a dur cuer qui en Mai n'aime,

Whan he may on these braunches here The smale briddes singen clere Hir blisful swete song pitous; 90And in this sesoun delytous, Whan love affrayeth alle thing, Me thoughte a-night, in my sleping, Right in my bed, ful redily, That it was by the morowe erly, 95And up I roos, and gan me clothe; Anoon I wissh myn hondes bothe; A sylvre nedle forth I drogh Out of an aguiler queynt y-nogh, And gan this nedle threde anon; 100For out of toun me list to gon The sowne of briddes for to here, That on thise busshes singen clere. And in the swete sesoun that leef is, With a threde basting my slevis, 105Aloon I wente in my playing, The smale foules song harkning; That peyned hem ful many a payre To singe on bowes blosmed fayre. Iolif and gay, ful of gladnesse, Quant il ot chanter sus la raime As oisiaus les dous chans piteus. En iceli tens déliteus, Que tote riens d'amer s'effroie, Sonjai une nuit que j'estoie, Ce m'iert avis en mon dormant, Qu'il estoit matin durement; De mon lit tantost me levai, 90Chauçai moi et mes mains lavai. Lors trais une aguille d'argent D'un aguiller mignot et gent, Si pris l'aguille à enfiler. Hors de vile oi talent d'aler, Por oïr des oisiaus les sons Qui chantoient par ces boissons. En icele saison novele, Cousant mes manches à videle, M'en alai tot seus esbatant, 100Et les oiselés escoutant, Qui de chanter moult s'engoissoient Par ces vergiers qui florissoient. Jolis, gais et plains de léesce,

110Toward a river I gan me dresse, That I herde renne faste by; For fairer playing non saugh I Than playen me by that riveer, For from an hille that stood ther neer, 115Cam doun the streem ful stif and bold. Cleer was the water, and as cold As any welle is, sooth to seyne; And somdel lasse it was than Seine, But it was straighter wel away. 120And never saugh I, er that day, The water that so wel lyked me; And wonder glad was I to see That lusty place, and that riveer; And with that water that ran so cleer 125My face I wissh. Tho saugh I wel The botme paved everydel With gravel, ful of stones shene. The medewe softe, swote, and grene, Beet right on the water-syde. 130Ful cleer was than the morow-tyde, And ful attempre, out of drede. Tho gan I walke through the mede, Dounward ay in my pleying, Vers une riviere m'adresce. Que j'oi près d'ilecques bruire; Car ne me soi aillors déduire Plus bel que sus cele riviere. D'ung tertre qui près d'iluec iere Descendoit l'iaue grant et roide, 110Clere, bruiant, et aussi froide Comme puiz, ou comme fontaine, Et estoit poi mendre de Saine, Mès qu'ele iere plus espanduë. Onques mès n'avoie véuë Cele iaue qui si bien coroit: Moult m'abelissoit et séoit A regarder le leu plaisant. De l'iaue clere et reluisant Mon vis rafreschi et lavé. 120Si vi tot covert et pavé Le fons de l'iaue de gravele; La praérie grant et bele Très au pié de l'iaue batoit. Clere et serie et bele estoit La matinée et atrempeé; Lors m'en alai parmi la prée Contre val l'iaue esbanoiant,

The river-syde costeying. 135And whan I had a whyle goon, The Garden.I saugh a Gardin right anoon, Ful long and brood, and everydel Enclos it was, and walled wel, With hye walles enbatailled, 140Portrayed without, and wel entailled With many riche portraitures; And bothe images and peyntures Gan I biholde bisily. And I wol telle you, redily, 145Of thilke images the semblaunce, As fer as I have remembraunce. Hate.A-midde saugh I Hate stonde, That for hir wrathe, ire, and onde, Semed to been a moveresse, 150An angry wight, a chideresse; And ful of gyle, and fel corage, By semblaunt was that ilke image. And she was no-thing wel arrayed, But lyk a wood womman afrayed; 155Y-frounced foule was hir visage, And grenning for dispitous rage; Hir nose snorted up for tene. Tot le rivage costoiant. Quant j'oi ung poi avant alé, 130Si vi ung vergier grant et lé, Tot clos d'ung haut mur bataillié, Portrait defors et entaillié A maintes riches escritures. Les ymages et les paintures Ai moult volentiers remiré: Si vous conteré et diré De ces ymages la semblance, Si cum moi vient à remembrance. Haïne.Ens où milieu je vi Haïne 140Qui de corrous et d'ataïne Sembloit bien estre moverresse, Et correceuse et tencerresse, Et plaine de grant cuvertage Estoit par semblant cele ymage. Si n'estoit pas bien atornée, Ains sembloit estre forcenée, Rechignie avoit et froncié Le vis, et le nés secorcié.

Ful hidous was she for to sene, Ful foul and rusty was she, this. 160Hir heed y-writhen was, y-wis, Ful grimly with a greet towayle. Felonye.An image of another entayle, A lift half, was hir faste by; Hir name above hir heed saugh I, 165And she was called Felonye. Vilanye.Another image, that Vilanye Y-cleped was, saugh I and fond Upon the walle on hir right hond. Vilanye was lyk somdel 170That other image; and, trusteth wel, She semed a wikked creature. By countenaunce, in portrayture, She semed be ful despitous, And eek ful proud and outrageous. 175Wel coude he peynte, I undertake, That swiche image coude make. Ful foul and cherlish semed she, And eek vilaynous for to be, And litel coude of norture, 180To worshipe any creature. Par grant hideur fu soutilliée, 150Et si estoit entortillée Hideusement d'une toaille. Felonnie.Une autre ymage d'autel taille A senestre vi delez lui; Son non desus sa teste lui; Apellée estoit Felonnie. Vilennie.Une ymage qui Vilonie Avoit non, revi devers destre, Qui estoit auques d'autel estre Cum ces deus et d'autel féture; 160Bien sembloit male créature, Et despiteuse et orguilleuse, Et mesdisant et ramponeuse. Moult sot bien paindre et bien portraire Cil qui tiex ymages sot faire: Car bien sembloit chose vilaine, De dolor et de despit plaine; Et fame qui petit séust D'honorer ceus qu'ele déust.

Coveityse.And next was peynted Coveityse, That eggeth folk, in many gyse, To take and yeve right nought ageyn, And grete tresours up to leyn. 185And that is she that for usure Leneth to many a creature The lasse for the more winning, So coveitous is her brenning. And that is she, for penyes fele, 190That techeth for to robbe and stele These theves, and these smale harlotes; And that is routhe, for by hir throtes Ful many oon hangeth at the laste. She maketh folk compasse and caste 195To taken other folkes thing, Through robberie, or miscounting. And that is she that maketh trechoures; And she [that] maketh false pledoures, That with hir termes and hir domes 200Doon maydens, children, and eek gromes Hir heritage to forgo. Ful croked were hir hondes two; For Coveityse is ever wood Couvoitise.Après fu painte Coveitise: 170C'est cele qui les gens atise De prendre et de noient donner, Et les grans avoirs aüner. C'est cele qui fait à usure Prester mains por la grant ardure D'avoir conquerre et assembler. C'est cele qui semont d'embler Les larrons et les ribaudiaus; Si est grans pechiés et grans diaus Qu'en la fin en estuet mains pendre. 180C'est cele qui fait l'autrui prendre, Rober, tolir et bareter, Et bescochier et mesconter; C'est cele qui les trichéors Fait tous et les faus pledéors, Qui maintes fois par lor faveles Ont as valés et as puceles Lor droites herites toluës. Recorbillies et croçües Avoit les mains icele ymage; 190Ce fu drois: car toz jors esrage Coveitise de l'autrui prendre.

To grypen other folkes good. 205Coveityse, for hir winning, Ful leef hath other mennes thing. Avarice.Another image set saugh I Next Coveityse faste by, And she was cleped Avarice. 210Ful foul in peynting was that vice; Ful sad and caytif was she eek, And al-so grene as any leek. So yvel hewed was hir colour, Hir semed have lived in langour. 215She was lyk thing for hungre deed, That ladde hir lyf only by breed Kneden with eisel strong and egre; And therto she was lene and megre. And she was clad ful povrely, 220Al in an old torn courtepy, As she were al with dogges torn; And bothe bihinde and eek biforn Clouted was she beggarly. A mantel heng hir faste by, 225Upon a perche, weyke and smalle; A burnet cote heng therwithalle, Furred with no menivere, Coveitise ne set entendre A riens qu'à l'autrui acrochier; Coveitise à l'autrui trop chier. Avarice.Une autre ymage y ot assise Coste à coste de Coveitise, Avarice estoit apelée: Lede estoit et sale et foulée Cele ymage, et megre et chetive, 200Et aussi vert cum une cive. Tant par estoit descolorée Qu'el sembloit estre enlangorée; Chose sembloit morte de fain, Qui ne vesquit fors que de pain Petri à lessu fort et aigre; Et avec ce qu'ele iere maigre, Iert-ele povrement vestuë, Cote avoit viés et desrumpuë, Comme s'el fust as chiens remese; 210Povre iert moult la cote et esrese, Et plaine de viés palestiaus. Delez li pendoit ung mantiaus A une perche moult greslete, Et une cote de brunete; Où mantiau n'ot pas penne vaire,

But with a furre rough of here, Of lambe-skinnes hevy and blake; 230It was ful old, I undertake. For Avarice to clothe hir wel Ne hasteth hir, never a del; For certeynly it were hir loth To weren ofte that ilke cloth; 235And if it were forwered, she Wolde have ful greet necessitee Of clothing, er she boughte hir newe, Al were it bad of wolle and hewe. This Avarice held in hir hande 240A purs, that heng [doun] by a bande; And that she hidde and bond so stronge, Men must abyde wonder longe Out of that purs er ther come ought, For that ne cometh not in hir thought; 245It was not, certein, hir entente That fro that purs a peny wente. Envye.And by that image, nygh y-nough, Was peynt Envye, that never lough, Nor never wel in herte ferde 250But-if she outher saugh or herde Mes moult viés et de povre afaire, D'agniaus noirs velus et pesans. Bien avoit la robe vingt ans; Mès Avarice du vestir 220Se sot moult à tart aatir: Car sachiés que moult li pesast Se cele robe point usast; Car s'el fust usée et mauvese, Avarice éust grant mesese De noeve robe et grant disete, Avant qu'ele éust autre fete. Avarice en sa main tenoit Une borse qu'el reponnoit, Et la nooit si durement, 230Que demorast moult longuement Ainçois qu'el en péust riens traire, Mès el n'avoit de ce que faire. El n'aloit pas à ce béant Que de la borse ostat néant. Envie.Après refu portrete Envie, Qui ne rist oncques en sa vie, N'oncques de riens ne s'esjoï, S'ele ne vit, ou s'el n'oï

Som greet mischaunce, or greet disese. No-thing may so moch hir plese As mischef and misaventure; Or whan she seeth discomfiture 255Upon any worthy man falle, Than lyketh hir [ful] wel withalle. She is ful glad in hir corage, If she see any greet linage Be brought to nought in shamful wyse. 260And if a man in honour ryse, Or by his witte, or by prowesse, Of that hath she gret hevinesse; For, trusteth wel, she goth nigh wood Whan any chaunce happeth good. 265Envye is of swich crueltee, That feith ne trouthe holdeth she To freend ne felawe, bad or good. Ne she hath kin noon of hir blood, That she nis ful hir enemy; 270She nolde, I dar seyn hardely, Hir owne fader ferde wel. And sore abyeth she everydel Hir malice, and hir maltalent: Aucun grant domage retrere. 240Nule riens ne li puet tant plere Cum mefet et mesaventure; Quant el voit grant desconfiture Sor aucun prodomme chéoir, Ice li plest moult à véoir. Ele est trop lie en son corage Quant el voit aucun grant lignage Dechéoir et aler à honte; Et quant aucuns à honor monte Par son sens ou par sa proéce, 250C'est la chose qui plus la bléce. Car sachiés que moult la convient Estre irée quant biens avient. Envie est de tel cruauté, Qu'ele ne porte léauté A compaignon, ne à compaigne; N'ele n'a parent, tant li tiengne, A cui el ne soit anemie: Car certes el ne vorroit mie Que biens venist, neis à son pere. 260Mès bien sachiés qu'ele compere Sa malice trop ledement:

For she is in so greet turment 275And hath such [wo], whan folk doth good, That nigh she melteth for pure wood; Hir herte kerveth and to-breketh That god the peple wel awreketh. Envye, y-wis, shal never lette 280Som blame upon the folk to sette. I trowe that if Envye, y-wis, Knewe the beste man that is On this syde or biyond the see, Yit somwhat lakken him wolde she. 285And if he were so hende and wys, That she ne mighte al abate his prys, Yit wolde she blame his worthinesse, Or by hir wordes make it lesse. I saugh Envye, in that peynting, 290Hadde a wonderful loking; For she ne loked but awry, Or overthwart, al baggingly. And she hadde [eek] a foul usage; She mighte loke in no visage 295Of man or womman forth-right pleyn, But shette oon yë for disdeyn; Car ele est en si grant torment, Et a tel duel quant gens bien font, Par ung petit qu'ele ne font. Ses felons cuers l'art et detrenche, Qui de li Diex et la gent venche. Envie ne fine nule hore D'aucun blasme as gens metre sore; Je cuit que s'ele cognoissoit 270Tot le plus prodome qui soit Ne deçà mer, ne delà mer, Si le vorroit-ele blasmer; Et s'il iere si bien apris Qu'el ne péust de tot son pris Rien abatre ne deprisier, Si vorroit-ele apetisier Sa proéce au mains, et s'onor Par parole faire menor. Lors vi qu'Envie en la painture 280Avoit trop lede esgardéure; Ele ne regardast noient Fors de travers en borgnoiant; Ele avoit ung mauvès usage, Qu'ele ne pooit où visage Regarder reins de plain en plaing, Ains clooit ung oel par desdaing,

So for envye brenned she Whan she mighte any man [y]-see, That fair, or worthy were, or wys, 300Or elles stood in folkes prys. Sorowe.Sorowe was peynted next Envye Upon that walle of masonrye. But wel was seen in hir colour That she hadde lived in langour; 305Hir semed have the Iaunyce. Nought half so pale was Avaryce, Nor no-thing lyk, [as] of lenesse; For sorowe, thought, and greet distresse, That she hadde suffred day and night 310Made hir ful yelwe, and no-thing bright, Ful fade, pale, and megre also. Was never wight yit half so wo As that hir semed for to be, Nor so fulfilled of ire as she. 315I trowe that no wight mighte hir plese, Nor do that thing that mighte hir ese; Nor she ne wolde hir sorowe slake, Nor comfort noon unto hir take; Qu'ele fondoit d'ire et ardoit, Quant aucuns qu'ele regardoit, Estoit ou preus, ou biaus, ou gens, 290Ou amés, ou loés de gens. Tristesse.Delez Envie auques près iere Tristece painte en la maisiere; Mès bien paroit à sa color Qu'ele avoit au cuer grant dolor, Et sembloit avoir la jaunice. Si n'i feïst riens Avarice Ne de paleur, ne de mégrece, Car li soucis et la destrece, Et la pesance et les ennuis 300Qu'el soffroit de jors et de nuis, L'avoient moult fete jaunir, Et megre et pale devenir. Oncques mès nus en tel martire Ne fu, ne n'ot ausinc grant ire Cum il sembloit que ele éust: Je cuit que nus ne li séust Faire riens qui li péust plaire: N'el ne se vosist pas retraire, Ne réconforter à nul fuer 310Du duel qu'ele avoit à son cuer.

So depe was hir wo bigonnen, 320And eek hir herte in angre ronnen, A sorowful thing wel semed she. Nor she hadde no-thing slowe be For to forcracchen al hir face, And for to rende in many place 325Hir clothes, and for to tere hir swire, As she that was fulfilled of ire; And al to-torn lay eek hir here Aboute hir shuldres, here and there, As she that hadde it al to-rent 330For angre and for maltalent. And eek I telle you certeynly How that she weep ful tenderly. In world nis wight so hard of herte That hadde seen hir sorowes smerte, 335That nolde have had of hir pitee, So wo-bigoon a thing was she. She al to-dasshte hir-self for wo, And smoot togider her handes two. To sorwe was she ful ententyf, 340That woful recchelees caityf; Hir roughte litel of pleying, Or of clipping or [of] kissing; For who-so sorweful is in herte Trop avoit son cuer correcié, Et son duel parfont commencié. Moult sembloit bien qu'el fust dolente, Qu'ele n'avoit mie esté lente D'esgratiner tote sa chiere; N'ele n'avoit pas sa robe chiere, Ains l'ot en mains leus descirée Cum cele qui moult iert irée. Si cheveul tuit destrecié furent, 320Et espandu par son col jurent, Que les avoit trestous desrous De maltalent et de corrous. Et sachiés bien veritelment Qu'ele ploroit profondément: Nus, tant fust durs, ne la véist, A cui grant pitié n'en préist, Qu'el se desrompoit et batoit, Et ses poins ensemble hurtoit. Moult iert à duel fere ententive 330La dolereuse, la chetive; Il ne li tenoit d'envoisier, Ne d'acoler, ne de baisier: Car cil qui a le cuer dolent,

Him liste not to pleye ne sterte, 345Nor for to daunsen, ne to singe, Ne may his herte in temper bringe To make Ioye on even or morowe; For Ioye is contraire unto sorowe. Elde.Elde was peynted after this, 350That shorter was a foot, ywis, Than she was wont in her yonghede. Unnethe hir-self she mighte fede; So feble and eek so old was she That faded was al hir beautee. 355Ful salowe was waxen hir colour, Hir heed for-hoor was, whyt as flour. Y-wis, gret qualm ne were it noon, Ne sinne, although hir lyf were gon. Al woxen was hir body unwelde, 360And drye, and dwyned al for elde. A foul forwelked thing was she That whylom round and softe had be. Hir eres shoken fast withalle, As from her heed they wolde falle. 365Hir face frounced and forpyned, And bothe hir hondes lorn, fordwyned. Sachiés de voir, il n'a talent De dancier, ne de karoler, Ne nus ne se porroit moller Qui duel éust, à joie faire, Car duel et joie sont contraire. Vieillesse.Après fu Viellece portraite, 340Qui estoit bien ung pié retraite De tele cum el soloit estre; A paine se pooit-el pestre, Tant estoit vielle et radotée. Bien estoit si biauté gastée, Et moult ert lede devenuë. Toute sa teste estoit chenuë, Et blanche cum s'el fust florie. Ce ne fut mie grant morie S'ele morust, ne grans pechiés, 350Car tous ses cors estoit sechiés De viellece et anoiantis: Moult estoit jà ses vis fletris, Qui jadis fut soef et plains; Mès or est tous de fronces plains, Les oreilles avoit mossues, Et trestotes les dents perdues, Si qu'ele n'en avoit neis une. Tant par estoit de grant viellune,

So old she was that she ne wente A foot, but it were by potente. Time.The Tyme, that passeth night and day, 370And restelees travayleth ay, And steleth from us so prively, That to us seemeth sikerly That it in oon point dwelleth ever, And certes, it ne resteth never, 375But goth so faste, and passeth ay, That ther nis man that thinke may What tyme that now present is: Asketh at these clerkes this; For [er] men thinke it redily, 380Three tymes been y-passed by. The tyme, that may not soiourne, But goth, and never may retourne, As water that doun renneth ay, But never drope retourne may; 385Ther may no-thing as tyme endure, Metal, nor erthely creature; For alle thing it fret and shal: The tyme eek, that chaungeth al, And al doth waxe and fostred be, 390And alle thing distroyeth he: Qu'el n'alast mie la montance 360De quatre toises sans potance. Li tens qui s'en va nuit et jor, Sans repos prendre et sans sejor, Et qui de nous se part et emble Si celéement, qu'il nous semble Qu'il s'arreste adés en ung point, Et il ne s'i arreste point, Ains ne fine de trepasser, Que nus ne puet néis penser Quex tens ce est qui est présens; 370Sel' demandés as clers lisans, Ainçois que l'en l'éust pensé, Seroit-il jà trois tens passé. Li tens qui ne puet sejourner, Ains vait tous jors sans retorner, Cum l'iaue qui s'avale toute, N'il n'en retorne arriere goute: Li tens vers qui noient ne dure, Ne fer ne chose tant soit dure, Car il gaste tout et menjue; 380Li tens qui tote chose mue, Qui tout fait croistre et tout norist, Et qui tout use et tout porrist;

The tyme, that eldeth our auncessours And eldeth kinges and emperours, And that us alle shal overcomen Er that deeth us shal have nomen: 395The tyme, that hath al in welde To elden folk, had maad hir elde So inly, that, to my witing, She mighte helpe hir-self no-thing, But turned ageyn unto childhede; 400She had no-thing hir-self to lede, Ne wit ne pith in[with] hir holde More than a child of two yeer olde. But natheles, I trowe that she Was fair sumtyme, and fresh to see, 405Whan she was in hir rightful age: But she was past al that passage And was a doted thing bicomen. A furred cope on had she nomen; Wel had she clad hir-self and warm, 410For cold mighte elles doon hir harm. These olde folk have alwey colde, Hir kinde is swiche, whan they ben olde. Pope-holy.Another thing was doon ther write, That semede lyk an ipocrite, Li tens qui enviellist nos peres, Et viellist roys et emperieres, Et qui tous nous enviellira, Ou mort nous desavancera; Li tens qui toute a la baillie Des gens viellir, l'avoit viellie Si durement, qu'au mien cuidier 390El ne se pooit mès aidier, Ains retornoit jà en enfance, Car certes el n'avoit poissance, Ce cuit-je, ne force, ne sens Ne plus c'un enfés de deus ans. Ne porquant, au mien escient, Ele avoit esté sage et gent, Quant ele iert en son droit aage; Mais ge cuit qu'el n'iere mès sage, Ains iert trestote rassotée. 400Si ot d'une chape forrée Moult bien, si cum je me recors, Abrié et vestu son corps: Bien fu vestue et chaudement, Car el éust froit autrement. Les vielles gens ont tost froidure; Bien savés que c'est lor nature. Papelardie.Une ymage ot emprès escrite, Qui sembloit bien estre ypocrite;

415And it was cleped Pope-holy. That ilke is she that prively Ne spareth never a wikked dede, Whan men of hir taken non hede; And maketh hir outward precious, 420With pale visage and pitous, And semeth a simple creature; But ther nis no misaventure That she ne thenketh in hir corage. Ful lyk to hir was that image, 425That maked was lyk hir semblaunce. She was ful simple of countenaunce, And she was clothed and eek shod, As she were, for the love of god, Yolden to religioun, 430Swich semed hir devocioun. A sauter held she faste in honde, And bisily she gan to fonde To make many a feynt prayere To god, and to his seyntes dere. 435Ne she was gay, fresh, ne Iolyf, But semed be ful ententyf To gode werkes, and to faire, And therto she had on an haire. Ne certes, she was fat no-thing, Papelardie ert apelée. 410C'est cele qui en recelée, Quant nus ne s'en puet prendre garde, De nul mal faire ne se tarde. El fait dehors le marmiteus, Si a le vis simple et piteus, Et semble sainte créature; Mais sous ciel n'a male aventure Qu'ele ne pense en son corage. Moult la ressembloit bien l'ymage Qui faite fu à sa semblance, 420Qu'el fu de simple contenance; Et si fu chaucie et vestue Tout ainsinc cum fame rendue. En sa main ung sautier tenoit, Et sachiés que moult se penoit De faire à Dieu prieres faintes, Et d'appeler et sains et saintes. El ne fu gaie, ne jolive, Ains fu par semblant ententive Du tout à bonnes ovres faire; 430Et si avoit vestu la haire. Et sachiés que n'iere pas grasse,

440But semed wery for fasting; Of colour pale and deed was she. From hir the gate [shal] werned be Of paradys, that blisful place; For swich folk maketh lene hir face, 445As Crist seith in his evangyle, To gete hem prys in toun a whyle; And for a litel glorie veine They lesen god and eek his reine. Povert.And alderlast of everichoon, 450Was peynted Povert al aloon, That not a peny hadde in wolde, Al-though [that] she hir clothes solde, And though she shulde anhonged be; For naked as a worm was she. 455And if the weder stormy were, For colde she shulde have deyed there. She nadde on but a streit old sak, And many a clout on it ther stak; This was hir cote and hir mantel, 460No more was there, never a del, To clothe her with; I undertake, Gret leyser hadde she to quake. De jeuner sembloit estre lasse, S'avoit la color pale et morte. A li et as siens ert la porte Dévéée de Paradis; Car icel gent si font lor vis Amegrir, ce dit l'Evangile, Por avoir loz parmi la ville, Et por un poi de gloire vaine 440Qui lor toldra Dieu et son raine. Povreté.Portraite fu au darrenier Povreté, qui ung seul denier N'éust pas, s'el se déust pendre, Tant séust bien sa robe vendre; Qu'ele iere nuë comme vers: Se li tens fust ung poi divers, Je cuit qu'ele acorast de froit, Qu'el n'avoit c'ung vié sac estroit Tout plain de mavès palestiaus; 450Ce iert sa robe et ses mantiaus. El n'avoit plus que afubler, Grant loisir avoit de trembler.

And she was put, that I of talke, Fer fro these other, up in an halke; 465There lurked and there coured she, For povre thing, wher-so it be, Is shamfast, and despysed ay. Acursed may wel be that day, That povre man conceyved is; 470For god wot, al to selde, y-wis, Is any povre man wel fed, Or wel arayed or y-cled, Or wel biloved, in swich wyse In honour that he may aryse. 475Alle these thinges, wel avysed, As I have you er this devysed, With gold and asure over alle Depeynted were upon the walle. Squar was the wal, and high somdel; 480Enclosed, and y-barred wel, In stede of hegge, was that gardin; Com never shepherde therin. Into that gardyn, wel [y-]wrought, Who-so that me coude have brought, 485By laddre, or elles by degree, It wolde wel have lyked me. Des autres fu un poi loignet; Cum chien honteus en ung coignet Se cropoit et s'atapissoit, Car povre chose, où qu'ele soit, Est adès boutée et despite. L'eure soit ore la maudite, Que povres homs fu concéus! 460Qu'il ne sera jà bien péus, Ne bien vestus, ne bien chauciés, Néis amés, ne essauciés. Ces ymages bien avisé, Qui, si comme j'ai devisé, Furent à or et à asur De toutes pars paintes où mur. Haut fu li mur et tous quarrés, Si en fu bien clos et barrés, En leu de haies, uns vergiers, 470Où onc n'avoit entré bergiers. Cis vergiers en trop bel leu sist: Qui dedens mener me vousist Ou par échiele ou par degré, Je l'en séusse moult bon gré;

For swich solace, swich Ioye, and play, I trowe that never man ne say, As in that place delitous. 490The gardin was not daungerous To herberwe briddes many oon. So riche a yerd was never noon Of briddes songe, and braunches grene. Therin were briddes mo, I wene, 495Than been in alle the rewme of Fraunce. Ful blisful was the accordaunce Of swete and pitous songe they made, For al this world it oughte glade. And I my-self so mery ferde, 500Whan I hir blisful songes herde, That for an hundred pound nolde I,— If that the passage openly Hadde been unto me free— That I nolde entren for to see 505Thassemblee, god [it kepe and were!]— Of briddes, whiche therinne were, That songen, through hir mery throtes, Daunces of love, and mery notes. Whan I thus herde foules singe, 510I fel faste in a weymentinge, Car tel joie ne tel déduit Ne vit nus hons, si cum ge cuit, Cum il avoit en ce vergier: Car li leus d'oisiaus herbergier N'estoit ne dangereux ne chiches. 480Onc mès ne fu nus leus si riches D'arbres, ne d'oisillons chantans: Qu'il i avoit d'oisiaus trois tans Qu'en tout le remanant de France. Moult estoit bele l'acordance De lor piteus chant à oïr: Tous li mons s'en dust esjoïr. Je endroit moi m'en esjoï Si durement, quant les oï, Que n'en préisse pas cent livres, 490Se li passages fust delivres, Que ge n'entrasse ens et véisse L'assemblée (que Diex garisse!) Des oisiaus qui léens estoient, Qui envoisiement chantoient Les dances d'amors et les notes Plesans, cortoises et mignotes. Quant j'oï les oisiaus chanter, Forment me pris à dementer

By which art, or by what engyn I mighte come in that gardyn; But way I couthe finde noon Into that gardin for to goon. 515Ne nought wiste I if that ther were Eyther hole or place [o]-where, By which I mighte have entree; Ne ther was noon to teche me; For I was al aloon, y-wis, 520Ful wo and anguissous of this. Til atte laste bithoughte I me, That by no weye ne mighte it be; That ther nas laddre or wey to passe, Or hole, into so fair a place. 525Tho gan I go a ful gret pas Envyroning even in compas The closing of the square wal, Til that I fond a wiket smal So shet, that I ne mighte in goon, 530And other entree was ther noon. The Door.Upon this dore I gan to smyte, That was [so] fetys and so lyte; For other wey coude I not seke. Ful long I shoof, and knokked eke, Par quel art ne par quel engin 500Je porroie entrer où jardin; Mès ge ne poi onques trouver Leu par où g'i péusse entrer. Et sachiés que ge ne savoie S'il i avoït partuis ne voie, Ne leu par où l'en i entrast, Ne hons nés qui le me monstrast N'iert illec, que g'iere tot seus, Moult destroit et moult angoisseus; Tant qu'au darrenier me sovint 510C'oncques à nul jor ce n'avint Qu'en si biau vergier n'éust huis, Ou eschiele ou aucun partuis. Lors m'en alai grant aléure Açaignant la compasséure Et la cloison du mur quarré, Tant que ung guichet bien barré Trovai petitet et estroit; Par autre leu l'en n'i entroit. A l'uis commençai à ferir, 520Autre entrée n'i soi querir. Assez i feri et boutai, Et par maintes fois escoutai

535And stood ful long and of[t] herkning If that I herde a wight coming; Til that the dore of thilke entree Ydelnesse.A mayden curteys opened me. Hir heer was as yelowe of hewe 540As any basin scoured newe. Hir flesh [as] tendre as is a chike, With bente browes, smothe and slike; And by mesure large were The opening of hir yën clere. 545Hir nose of good proporcioun, Hir yën greye as a faucoun, With swete breeth and wel savoured. Hir face whyt and wel coloured, With litel mouth, and round to see; 550A clove chin eek hadde she. Hir nekke was of good fasoun In lengthe and gretnesse, by resoun, Withoute bleyne, scabbe, or royne. Fro Ierusalem unto Burgoyne 555Ther nis a fairer nekke, y-wis, To fele how smothe and softe it is. Hir throte, al-so whyt of hewe As snow on braunche snowed newe. Se j'orroie venir nulle arme. Le guichet, qui estoit de charme, M'ovrit une noble pucele Qui moult estoit et gente et bele. Cheveus ot blons cum uns bacins, La char plus tendre qu'uns pocins, Front reluisant, sorcis votis. 530Son entr'oil ne fu pas petis, Ains iert assez grans par mesure; Le nés ot bien fait à droiture, Les yex ot plus vairs c'uns faucons, Por faire envie à ces bricons. Douce alene ot et savorée, La face blanche et colorée, La bouche petite et grocete, S'ot où menton une fossete. Le col fu de bonne moison, 540Gros assez et lons par raison, Si n'i ot bube ne malen. N'avoit jusqu'en Jherusalen Fame qui plus biau col portast, Polis iert et soef au tast. La gorgete ot autresi blanche Cum est la noif desus la branche

Of body ful wel wrought was she 560Men neded not, in no cuntree, A fairer body for to seke. And of fyn orfrays had she eke A chapelet: so semly oon Ne wered never mayde upon;.... 565And faire above that chapelet A rose gerland had she set. She hadde [in honde] a gay mirour, And with a riche gold tressour Hir heed was tressed queyntely; 570Hir sleves sewed fetisly. And for to kepe hir hondes faire Of gloves whyte she hadde a paire. And she hadde on a cote of grene Of cloth of Gaunt; withouten wene, 575Wel semed by hir apparayle She was not wont to greet travayle. For whan she kempt was fetisly, And wel arayed and richely, Thanne had she doon al hir Iournee; 580For mery and wel bigoon was she. Quant il a freschement negié. Le cors ot bien fait et dougié, L'en ne séust en nule terre 550Nul plus bel cors de fame querre. D'orfrois ot un chapel mignot; Onques nule pucele n'ot Plus cointe ne plus desguisié, Ne l'aroie adroit devisié En trestous les jors de ma vie. Robe avoit moult bien entaillie; Ung chapel de roses tout frais Ot dessus le chapel d'orfrais: En sa main tint ung miroër, 560Si ot d'ung riche treçoër Son chief trecié moult richement, Bien et bel et estroitement Ot ambdeus cousues ses manches; Et por garder que ses mains blanches Ne halaissent, ot uns blans gans. Cote ot d'ung riche vert de gans, Cousue à lignel tout entour. Il paroit bien à son atour Qu'ele iere poi embesoignie. 570Quant ele s'iere bien pignie, Et bien parée et atornée, Ele avoit faite sa jornée.

She ladde a lusty lyf in May, She hadde no thought, by night ne day, Of no-thing, but it were oonly To graythe hit wel and uncouthly. 585Whan that this dore hadde opened me This mayden, semely for to see, I thanked hir as I best mighte, And axede hir how that she highte, And what she was, I axede eke. 590And she to me was nought unmeke, Ne of hir answer daungerous, But faire answerde, and seide thus:— Lo, sir, my name is Ydelnesse; So clepe men me, more and lesse. 595Ful mighty and ful riche am I, And that of oon thing, namely; For I entende to no-thing But to my Ioye, and my pleying, And for to kembe and tresse me. 600Aqueynted am I, and privee With Mirthe, lord of this gardyn, That fro the lande of Alexandryn Made the trees be hider fet, That in this gardin been y-set. Moult avoit bon tems et bon May, Qu'el n'avoït soussi ne esmay De nule riens, fors solement De soi atorner noblement. Quant ainsinc m'ot l'uis deffermé La pucele au cors acesmé, Je l'en merciai doucement, 580Et si li demandai comment Ele avoit non, et qui ele iere. Ele ne fu pas envers moi fiere, Ne de respondre desdaigneuse: Je me fais apeler Oiseuse,' Dist-ele, 'à tous mes congnoissans; Si sui riche fame et poissans. S'ai d'une chose moult bon tens, Car à nule riens je ne pens Qu'à moi joer et solacier, 590Et mon chief pignier et trecier: Quant sui pignée et atornée, Adonc est fete ma jornée. Privée sui moult et acointe De Déduit le mignot, le cointe; C'est cil cui est cest biax jardins, Qui de la terre as Sarradins Fist çà ces arbres aporter, Qu'il fist par ce vergier planter.

605And whan the trees were woxen on highte, This wal, that slant here in thy sighte, Dide Mirthe enclosen al aboute; And these images, al withoute, He dide hem bothe entaile and peynte, 610That neither ben Iolyf ne queynte, But they ben ful of sorowe and wo, As thou hast seen a whyle ago. 'And ofte tyme, him to solace, Sir Mirthe cometh into this place, 615And eek with him cometh his meynee, That liven in lust and Iolitee. And now is Mirthe therin, to here The briddes, how they singen clere, The mavis and the nightingale, 620And other Ioly briddes smale. And thus he walketh to solace Him and his folk; for swetter place To pleyen in he may not finde, Although he soughte oon in-til Inde. 625The alther-fairest folk to see That in this world may founde be Hath Mirthe with him in his route, That folowen him alwayes aboute.' Quant li arbres furent créu, 600Le mur que vous avez véu, Fist lors Deduit tout entor faire, Et si fist au dehors portraire Les ymages qui i sunt paintes, Que ne sunt mignotes ne cointes; Ains sunt dolereuses et tristes, Si cum vous orendroit véistes. Maintes fois por esbanoier Se vient en cest leu umbroier Déduit et les gens qui le sivent, 610Qui en joie et en solas vivent. Encores est léens, sans doute, Déduit orendroit qui escoute A chanter gais rossignolés, Mauvis et autres oiselés. Il s'esbat iluec et solace O ses gens, car plus bele place Ne plus biau leu por soi joer Ne porroit-il mie trover; Les plus beles gens, ce sachiés, 620Que vous jamès nul leu truissiés, Si sunt li compaignon Déduit Qu'il maine avec li et conduit.'

When Ydelnesse had told al this, 630And I hadde herkned wel, y-wis, Than seide I to dame Ydelnesse, Now al-so wisly god me blesse, Sith Mirthe, that is so fair and free, Is in this yerde with his meynee, 635Fro thilke assemblee, if I may, Shal no man werne me to-day, That I this night ne mote it see. For, wel wene I, ther with him be A fair and Ioly companye 640Fulfilled of alle curtesye.' And forth, withoute wordes mo, In at the wiket wente I tho, That Ydelnesse hadde opened me, Into that gardin fair to see. 645And whan I was [ther]in, y-wis, The Garden.Myn herte was ful glad of this. For wel wende I ful sikerly Have been in paradys erth[e]ly; So fair it was, that, trusteth wel, 650It semed a place espirituel. For certes, as at my devys, Ther is no place in paradys So good in for to dwelle or be As in that Gardin, thoughte me; Quant Oiseuse m'ot ce conté, Et j'oi moult bien tout escouté, Je li dis lores: 'Dame Oiseuse, Jà de ce ne soyés douteuse, Puis que Déduit li biaus, li gens Est orendroit avec ses gens En cest vergier, ceste assemblée 630Ne m'iert pas, se je puis, emblée, Que ne la voie encore ennuit; Véoir la m'estuet, car ge cuit Que bele est cele compaignie, Et cortoise et bien enseignie.' Lors m'en entrai, ne dis puis mot, Par l'uis que Oiseuse overt m'ot, Où vergier; et quant je fui ens Je fui liés et baus et joiens. Et sachiés que je cuidai estre 640Por voir en Paradis terrestre, Tant estoit li leu delitables, Qu'il sembloit estre esperitables: Car si cum il m'iert lors avis, Ne féist en nul Paradis Si bon estre, cum il faisoit Où vergier qui tant me plaisoit.

655For there was many a brid singing, Throughout the yerde al thringing. In many places were nightingales, Alpes, finches, and wodewales, That in her swete song delyten 660In thilke place as they habyten. Ther mighte men see many flokkes Of turtles and [of] laverokkes. Chalaundres fele saw I there, That wery, nigh forsongen were. 665And thrustles, terins, and mavys, That songen for to winne hem prys, And eek to sormounte in hir song These other briddes hem among. By note made fair servyse 670These briddes, that I you devyse; They songe hir song as faire and wel As angels doon espirituel. And, trusteth wel, whan I hem herde, Full lustily and wel I ferde; 675For never yit swich melodye Was herd of man that mighte dye. D'oisiaus chantans avoit assés Par tout le vergier amassés; En ung leu avoit rossigniaus, 650En l'autre gais et estorniaus; Si r'avoit aillors grans escoles De roietiaus et torteroles, De chardonnereaus, d'arondeles, D'aloes et de lardereles; Calendres i ot amassées En ung autre leu, qui lassées De chanter furent à envis: Melles y avoit et mauvis Qui baoient à sormonter 660Ces autres oisiaus par chanter. Il r'avoit aillors papegaus, Et mains oisiaus qui par ces gaus Et par ces bois où il habitent, En lor biau chanter se délitent. Trop parfesoient bel servise Cil oisel que je vous devise; Il chantoient ung chant itel Cum s'il fussent esperitel. De voir sachiés, quant les oï, 670Moult durement m'en esjoï: Que mès si douce mélodie Ne fu d'omme mortel oïe.

Swich swete song was hem among, That me thoughte it no briddes song, But it was wonder lyk to be 680Song of mermaydens of the see; That, for her singing is so clere, Though we mermaydens clepe hem here In English, as in our usaunce, Men clepen hem sereyns in Fraunce. 685Ententif weren for to singe These briddes, that nought unkunninge Were of hir craft, and apprentys, But of [hir] song sotyl and wys. And certes, whan I herde hir song, 690And saw the grene place among, In herte I wex so wonder gay, That I was never erst, er that day, So Iolyf, nor so wel bigo, Ne mery in herte, as I was tho. 695And than wiste I, and saw ful wel, That Ydelnesse me served wel, That me putte in swich Iolitee. Hir freend wel oughte I for to be, Sith she the dore of that gardyn 700Hadde opened, and me leten in. Tant estoit cil chans dous et biaus, Qu'il ne sombloit pas chans d'oisiaus, Ains le péust l'en aesmer A chant de seraines de mer, Qui par lor vois, qu'eles ont saines Et series, ont non seraines. A chanter furent ententis 680Li oisillon qui aprenti Ne furent pas ne non sachant; Et sachiés quant j'oï lor chant, Et je vi le leu verdaier, Je me pris moult à esgaier; Que n'avoie encor esté onques Si jolif cum je fui adonques; Por la grant délitableté Fui plains de grant jolieté. Et lores soi-je bien et vi 690Que Oiseuse m'ot bien servi, Qui m'avoit en tel déduit mis: Bien déusse estre ses amis, Quant ele m'avoit deffermé Le guichet du vergier ramé.

From hennesforth how that I wroughte, I shal you tellen, as me thoughte. First, whereof Mirthe served there, And eek what folk ther with him were, 705Withoute fable I wol descryve. And of that gardin eek as blyve I wol you tellen after this. The faire fasoun al, y-wis, That wel [y-]wrought was for the nones, 710I may not telle you al at ones: But as I may and can, I shal By ordre tellen you it al. Ful fair servyse and eek ful swete These briddes maden as they sete. 715Layes of love, ful wel sowning They songen in hir Iargoning; Summe highe and summe eek lowe songe Upon the braunches grene y-spronge. The sweetnesse of hir melodye 720Made al myn herte in reverdye. And whan that I hadde herd, I trowe, These briddes singing on a rowe, Than mighte I not withholde me That I ne wente in for to see Dès ore si cum je sauré, Vous conterai comment j'ovré. Primes de quoi Déduit servoit, Et quel compaignie il avoit Sans longue fable vous veil dire, 700Et du vergier tretout à tire La façon vous redirai puis. Tout ensemble dire ne puis, Mès tout vous conteré par ordre, Que l'en n'i sache que remordre. Grant servise et dous et plaisant Aloient cil oisel faisant; Lais d'amors et sonnés cortois Chantoit chascun en son patois, Li uns en haut, li autre en bas; 710De lor chant n'estoit mie gas. La douçor et la mélodie Me mist où cuer grant reverdie; Mès quant j'oi escouté ung poi Les oisiaus, tenir ne me poi Que dant Déduit véoir n'alasse; Car à savoir moult desirasse

725Sir Mirthe; for my desiring Was him to seen, over alle thing, His countenaunce and his manere: That sighte was to me ful dere. Tho wente I forth on my right hond 730Doun by a litel path I fond Of mentes ful, and fenel grene; And faste by, withoute wene, Sir Mirthe.Sir Mirthe I fond; and right anoon Unto sir Mirthe gan I goon, 735Ther-as he was, him to solace. And with him, in that lusty place, So fair folk and so fresh hadde he, That whan I saw, I wondred me Fro whennes swich folk mighte come, 740So faire they weren, alle and some; For they were lyk, as to my sighte, To angels, that ben fethered brighte. This folk, of which I telle you so, Upon a carole wenten tho. 745A lady caroled hem, that highte Gladnesse.Gladnes, [the] blisful and the lighte; Wel coude she singe and lustily, Non half so wel and semely, And make in song swich refreininge, 750It sat hir wonder wel to singe. Son contenement et son estre. Lors m'en alai tout droit à destre, Par une petitete sente 720Plaine de fenoil et de mente; Mès auques près trové Déduit, Car maintenant en ung réduit M'en entré où Déduit estoit. Déduit ilueques s'esbatoit; S'avoit si bele gent o soi, Que quant je les vi, je ne soi Dont si tres beles gens pooient Estre venu; car il sembloient Tout por voir anges empennés, 730Si beles gens ne vit homs nés. Ceste gent dont je vous parole, S'estoient pris à la carole, Et une dame lor chantoit, Qui Léesce apelée estoit: Bien sot chanter et plesamment, Ne nule plus avenaument, Ne plus bel ses refrains ne fist, A chanter merveilles li sist;