(OUTLINE HISTORY, §§ 10-12)
THE MORNING SONG OF BIRDS
(From The Boke of the Duchesse)
ME thoughtë thus, that it was May,
And in the dawenynge, ther I laye
Me mette1 thus in my bed al naked,
And loked forth, for I was wakëd
With smalë foulës, a grete hepe,
That had afrayed me oute of my slepe,
Thorugh noyse and swetenesse of her songe.
And as me mette, they sate amonge
Upon my chaumbre roofe wythoute,
Upon the tylës al aboute;
And songe everyche in hys wyse
The mostë solempnë servise
By noote, that ever man, I trowe,
Had herde. For somme of hem songe lowe,
Somme highe, and al of oon acorde.
To tellë shortly at oo2 word,
Was never herde so swete a stevene,3
But hyt had be a thynge of hevene,
So mery a soune, so swete entewnës,1
That, certës, for the toune of Tewnes,
I nolde, but I had herde hem synge,5
For al my chaumbre gan to rynge,
Thorugh syngynge of her armonye;
For instrument nor melodye
Was no where herde yet halfe so swete,
Nor of acorde halfe so mete.
I would not have gone without hearing them sing for the town of
For ther was noon of hem that feyned
To synge, for eche of hem hym peyned
To fynde oute of mery crafty notys;
They ne spared not her throtys.
(From The Parlement of Foules: Proem)
THE lyfe so short, the craft so long to lerne,
Thassay1 so hard, so sharpe the conquering,
The dreadful joy, alway that flit3 so yerne;4
Al this mene I by Love, that my feeling
Astonieth with his wonderful werkyng
So sore ywis, that whan I on him thinke,
Naught wete I wel whether I flete or sinke.
For al be that I knowe not Love in dede,
Ne wot how that he quiteth folk hir hire,
Yet happeth me ful oft in bokës rede
Of his myràcles, and of his cruel ire;
There rede I well, he wol be lorde and sire;
I dare not saye his strokës be so sore;
But God save suche a lorde ! I can no more.
Of usage, what for lust and what for lore,"
On bookës rede I oft, as I you tolde.
But wherfore that speke I al this? Naught yore
Agon, it happëd me for to beholde
Upon a boke was ywriten with letters olde;
And thereupon, a certain thing to lerne,
The longë day ful fast I radde9 and yerne.10
For out of the old fieldës, as men saith,
Cometh al this newe corne fro yere to yere ;
And out of oldë bokës, in good faith,
Cometh al this newe science that men lere.11
But now to purpose, as of this matere:—
To redë forth it gan me so delite,
That all that day me thought it but a lite.12
THE GARDEN OF LOVE
(From The Parlement of Foules.)
A GARDEIN Saw I ful of blosomed bowis,
Upon a river, in a grenë mede,
There as that swetenesse evermore inough is, With floures whitë, blewë, yelowe, and rede, And colde wellë streamës, nothing dede,1 That swommen fulle of smalë fishes light, With finnës rede, and scalës silver bright.
On every bough the birdës heard I singe,
With voice of angel in hir2 armonie.
That busied hem hir birdës forth to bring;
The prety conies to hir playe gan hie;
And further al about I gan espie,
The dredeful3 roe, the buck, the hart, and hind,
Squirrels, and bestës smale, of gentle kind.
Of instruments of stringës in accorde
Heard I so playe a ravishing swetenesse,
That God, that maker is of alle and Lorde,
Ne heardë never better, as I gesse:
Therewith a wind, unneth it might be lesse,'
Made in the leavës grene a noisë soft,
Accordant to the foulës song on loft.5
The aire of that place so attempre was,
That never was ther grevance of hot ne cold:
There was eke every holsome spice and gras,
Ne no man may there waxë sicke ne old:
Yet was there more joy a thousand fold
Than I can tell, or ever could or might;
There is ever clere day, and never night.
Under a tree, beside a welle, I sey
Cupide our lorde his arrowes forge and file;
And at his feete his bowe already lay;
And wel his doughter1 tempred, al the while,
The heddes in the welle; and with her wile
She couched2 hem after, as they should serve
Some for to slee, and some to wound and kerve.3
Tho was I ware of Pleasaunce anon right,
And of Array, Lust,5 Beauty, and Curtesie,
And of the Craft, that can and hath the might
To don by force a wight to don folie:
Disfigurëd was she, I will not lie:
And by him selfe, under an oke I gesse,
Sawe I Delite, that stood with Gentlenesse.
Than saw I Beauty, withouten any attire,
And Youthë, full of game and jolitee,
Foole-hardinessë, Flatterie, and Desire,
Messagerië, Mede, and other three;
Hir names shall not here be told for me:
And upon pillers grete, of jasper longe,
I sawe a temple of brasse yfounded strong.
About the temple daunceden alway
Women inow, of whichë some there were
Faire of hemselfe, and some of hem were gay;
In kirtils all disheveled went they there;
That was their office ever, fro yere to yere :
And on the temple saw I, white and faire,
Of dovës sitting many a thousand paire.
Before the temple doore, ful soberly,
Dame Peace sat, a curtaine in her honde;
And her beside, wonder discretely,
Dame Paciencë sitting there I fonde,
With face pale, upon an hille of sonde;
And alther next, withinne and eke withoute,
Behest and Arte, and of her folke a route.
1 His daughter, Pleasure. There is no classical authority for this
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