Chapter 2

Lo thus expondeth Daniel The kynges swevene faire and wel In Babiloyne the Cite, Wher that the wiseste of Caldee Ne cowthen wite what it mente; Bot he tolde al the hol entente, As in partie it is befalle. Of gold the ferste regne of alle 670 Was in that kinges time tho, And laste manye daies so, Therwhiles that the Monarchie Of al the world in that partie To Babiloyne was soubgit; And hield him stille in such a plit, Til that the world began diverse: And that was whan the king of Perse, Which Cirus hyhte, ayein the pes Forth with his Sone Cambises 680 Of Babiloine al that Empire, Ryht as thei wolde hemself desire, Put under in subjeccioun And tok it in possessioun, And slayn was Baltazar the king, Which loste his regne and al his thing. And thus whan thei it hadde wonne, The world of Selver was begonne And that of gold was passed oute: And in this wise it goth aboute 690 In to the Regne of Darius; And thanne it fell to Perse thus, That Alisaundre put hem under, Which wroghte of armes many a wonder, So that the Monarchie lefte With Grecs, and here astat uplefte, And Persiens gon under fote, So soffre thei that nedes mote. And tho the world began of Bras, And that of selver ended was; 700 Bot for the time thus it laste, Til it befell that ate laste This king, whan that his day was come, With strengthe of deth was overcome. And natheles yet er he dyde, He schop his Regnes to divide To knyhtes whiche him hadde served, And after that thei have deserved Yaf the conquestes that he wan; Wherof gret werre tho began 710 Among hem that the Regnes hadde, Thurgh proud Envie which hem ladde, Til it befell ayein hem thus: The noble Cesar Julius, Which tho was king of Rome lond, With gret bataille and with strong hond Al Grece, Perse and ek Caldee Wan and put under, so that he Noght al only of thorient Bot al the Marche of thoccident 720 Governeth under his empire, As he that was hol lord and Sire, And hield thurgh his chivalerie Of al this world the Monarchie, And was the ferste of that honour Which tok the name of Emperour.

Wher Rome thanne wolde assaille, Ther myhte nothing contrevaille, Bot every contre moste obeie: Tho goth the Regne of Bras aweie, 730 And comen is the world of Stiel, And stod above upon the whiel. As Stiel is hardest in his kynde Above alle othre that men finde Of Metals, such was Rome tho The myhtieste, and laste so Long time amonges the Romeins Til thei become so vileins, That the fals Emperour Leo With Constantin his Sone also 740 The patrimoine and the richesse, Which to Silvestre in pure almesse The ferste Constantinus lefte, Fro holy cherche thei berefte. Bot Adrian, which Pope was, And syh the meschief of this cas, Goth in to France forto pleigne, And preith the grete Charlemeine, For Cristes sake and Soule hele That he wol take the querele 750 Of holy cherche in his defence. And Charles for the reverence Of god the cause hath undertake, And with his host the weie take Over the Montz of Lombardie; Of Rome and al the tirandie With blodi swerd he overcom, And the Cite with strengthe nom; In such a wise and there he wroghte, That holy cherche ayein he broghte 760 Into franchise, and doth restore The Popes lost, and yaf him more: And thus whan he his god hath served, He tok, as he wel hath deserved, The Diademe and was coroned. Of Rome and thus was abandoned Thempire, which cam nevere ayein Into the hond of no Romein; Bot a long time it stod so stille Under the Frensche kynges wille, 770 Til that fortune hir whiel so ladde, That afterward Lombardz it hadde, Noght be the swerd, bot be soffrance Of him that tho was kyng of France, Which Karle Calvus cleped was; And he resigneth in this cas Thempire of Rome unto Lowis His Cousin, which a Lombard is. And so hit laste into the yeer Of Albert and of Berenger; 780 Bot thanne upon dissencioun Thei felle, and in divisioun Among hemself that were grete, So that thei loste the beyete Of worschipe and of worldes pes. Bot in proverbe natheles Men sein, ful selden is that welthe Can soffre his oghne astat in helthe; And that was on the Lombardz sene, Such comun strif was hem betwene 790 Thurgh coveitise and thurgh Envie, That every man drowh his partie, Which myhte leden eny route, Withinne Burgh and ek withoute: The comun ryht hath no felawe, So that the governance of lawe Was lost, and for necessite, Of that thei stode in such degre Al only thurgh divisioun, Hem nedeth in conclusioun 800 Of strange londes help beside.

And thus for thei hemself divide And stonden out of reule unevene, Of Alemaine Princes sevene Thei chose in this condicioun, That upon here eleccioun Thempire of Rome scholde stonde. And thus thei lefte it out of honde For lacke of grace, and it forsoke, That Alemans upon hem toke: 810 And to confermen here astat, Of that thei founden in debat Thei token the possessioun After the composicioun Among hemself, and therupon Thei made an Emperour anon, Whos name as the Cronique telleth Was Othes; and so forth it duelleth, Fro thilke day yit unto this Thempire of Rome hath ben and is 820 To thalemans. And in this wise, As ye tofore have herd divise How Daniel the swevene expondeth Of that ymage, on whom he foundeth The world which after scholde falle, Come is the laste tokne of alle; Upon the feet of Erthe and Stiel So stant this world now everydiel Departed; which began riht tho, Whan Rome was divided so: 830 And that is forto rewe sore, For alway siththe more and more The world empeireth every day. Wherof the sothe schewe may, At Rome ferst if we beginne: The wall and al the Cit withinne Stant in ruine and in decas, The feld is wher the Paleis was, The toun is wast; and overthat, If we beholde thilke astat 840 Which whilom was of the Romeins, Of knyhthode and of Citezeins, To peise now with that beforn, The chaf is take for the corn, As forto speke of Romes myht: Unethes stant ther oght upryht Of worschipe or of worldes good, As it before tyme stod. And why the worschipe is aweie, If that a man the sothe seie, 850 The cause hath ben divisioun, Which moder of confusioun Is wher sche cometh overal, Noght only of the temporal Bot of the spirital also. The dede proeveth it is so, And hath do many day er this, Thurgh venym which that medled is In holy cherche of erthly thing: For Crist himself makth knowleching 860 That noman may togedre serve God and the world, bot if he swerve Froward that on and stonde unstable; And Cristes word may noght be fable. The thing so open is at ije, It nedeth noght to specefie Or speke oght more in this matiere; Bot in this wise a man mai lere Hou that the world is gon aboute, The which welnyh is wered oute, 870 After the forme of that figure Which Daniel in his scripture Expondeth, as tofore is told. Of Bras, of Selver and of Gold The world is passed and agon, And now upon his olde ton It stant of brutel Erthe and Stiel, The whiche acorden nevere a diel; So mot it nedes swerve aside As thing the which men sen divide. 880

Thapostel writ unto ous alle And seith that upon ous is falle Thende of the world; so may we knowe, This ymage is nyh overthrowe, Be which this world was signified, That whilom was so magnefied, And now is old and fieble and vil, Full of meschief and of peril, And stant divided ek also Lich to the feet that were so, 890 As I tolde of the Statue above. And this men sen, thurgh lacke of love Where as the lond divided is, It mot algate fare amis: And now to loke on every side, A man may se the world divide, The werres ben so general Among the cristene overal, That every man now secheth wreche, And yet these clerkes alday preche 900 And sein, good dede may non be Which stant noght upon charite: I not hou charite may stonde, Wher dedly werre is take on honde. Bot al this wo is cause of man, The which that wit and reson can, And that in tokne and in witnesse That ilke ymage bar liknesse Of man and of non other beste. For ferst unto the mannes heste 910 Was every creature ordeined, Bot afterward it was restreigned: Whan that he fell, thei fellen eke, Whan he wax sek, thei woxen seke; For as the man hath passioun Of seknesse, in comparisoun So soffren othre creatures. Lo, ferst the hevenly figures, The Sonne and Mone eclipsen bothe, And ben with mannes senne wrothe; 920 The purest Eir for Senne alofte Hath ben and is corrupt fulofte, Right now the hyhe wyndes blowe, And anon after thei ben lowe, Now clowdy and now clier it is: So may it proeven wel be this, A mannes Senne is forto hate, Which makth the welkne to debate. And forto se the proprete Of every thyng in his degree, 930 Benethe forth among ous hiere Al stant aliche in this matiere: The See now ebbeth, now it floweth, The lond now welketh, now it groweth, Now be the Trees with leves grene, Now thei be bare and nothing sene, Now be the lusti somer floures, Now be the stormy wynter shoures, Now be the daies, now the nyhtes, So stant ther nothing al upryhtes, 940 Now it is lyht, now it is derk; And thus stant al the worldes werk After the disposicioun Of man and his condicioun. Forthi Gregoire in his Moral Seith that a man in special The lasse world is properly: And that he proeveth redely; For man of Soule resonable Is to an Angel resemblable, 950 And lich to beste he hath fielinge, And lich to Trees he hath growinge; The Stones ben and so is he: Thus of his propre qualite The man, as telleth the clergie, Is as a world in his partie, And whan this litel world mistorneth, The grete world al overtorneth. The Lond, the See, the firmament, Thei axen alle jugement 960 Ayein the man and make him werre: Therwhile himself stant out of herre, The remenant wol noght acorde: And in this wise, as I recorde, The man is cause of alle wo, Why this world is divided so.

Division, the gospell seith, On hous upon another leith, Til that the Regne al overthrowe: And thus may every man wel knowe, 970 Division aboven alle Is thing which makth the world to falle, And evere hath do sith it began. It may ferst proeve upon a man; The which, for his complexioun Is mad upon divisioun Of cold, of hot, of moist, of drye, He mot be verray kynde dye: For the contraire of his astat Stant evermore in such debat, 980 Til that o part be overcome, Ther may no final pes be nome. Bot other wise, if a man were Mad al togedre of o matiere Withouten interrupcioun, Ther scholde no corrupcioun Engendre upon that unite: Bot for ther is diversite Withinne himself, he may noght laste, That he ne deieth ate laste. 990 Bot in a man yit over this Full gret divisioun ther is, Thurgh which that he is evere in strif, Whil that him lasteth eny lif: The bodi and the Soule also Among hem ben divided so, That what thing that the body hateth The soule loveth and debateth; Bot natheles fulofte is sene Of werre which is hem betwene 1000 The fieble hath wonne the victoire. And who so drawth into memoire What hath befalle of old and newe, He may that werre sore rewe, Which ferst began in Paradis: For ther was proeved what it is, And what desese there it wroghte; For thilke werre tho forth broghte The vice of alle dedly Sinne, Thurgh which division cam inne 1010 Among the men in erthe hiere, And was the cause and the matiere Why god the grete flodes sende, Of al the world and made an ende Bot Noe with his felaschipe, Which only weren saulf be Schipe. And over that thurgh Senne it com That Nembrot such emprise nom, Whan he the Tour Babel on heihte Let make, as he that wolde feihte 1020 Ayein the hihe goddes myht, Wherof divided anon ryht Was the langage in such entente, Ther wiste non what other mente, So that thei myhten noght procede. And thus it stant of every dede, Wher Senne takth the cause on honde, It may upriht noght longe stonde; For Senne of his condicioun Is moder of divisioun 1030 And tokne whan the world schal faile. For so seith Crist withoute faile, That nyh upon the worldes ende Pes and acord awey schol wende And alle charite schal cesse, Among the men and hate encresce; And whan these toknes ben befalle, Al sodeinly the Ston schal falle, As Daniel it hath beknowe, Which al this world schal overthrowe, 1040 And every man schal thanne arise To Joie or elles to Juise, Wher that he schal for evere dwelle, Or straght to hevene or straght to helle. In hevene is pes and al acord, Bot helle is full of such descord That ther may be no loveday: Forthi good is, whil a man may, Echon to sette pes with other And loven as his oghne brother; 1050 So may he winne worldes welthe And afterward his soule helthe.

Bot wolde god that now were on An other such as Arion, Which hadde an harpe of such temprure, And therto of so good mesure He song, that he the bestes wilde Made of his note tame and milde, The Hinde in pes with the Leoun, The Wolf in pes with the Moltoun, 1060 The Hare in pees stod with the Hound; And every man upon this ground Which Arion that time herde, Als wel the lord as the schepherde, He broghte hem alle in good acord; So that the comun with the lord, And lord with the comun also, He sette in love bothe tuo And putte awey malencolie. That was a lusti melodie, 1070 Whan every man with other low; And if ther were such on now, Which cowthe harpe as he tho dede, He myhte availe in many a stede To make pes wher now is hate; For whan men thenken to debate, I not what other thing is good. Bot wher that wisdom waxeth wod, And reson torneth into rage, So that mesure upon oultrage 1080 Hath set his world, it is to drede; For that bringth in the comun drede, Which stant at every mannes Dore: Bot whan the scharpnesse of the spore The horse side smit to sore, It grieveth ofte. And now nomore, As forto speke of this matiere, Which non bot only god may stiere.

Explicit Prologus

Incipit Liber Primus

_Naturatus amor nature legibus orbem Subdit, et vnanimes concitat esse feras: Huius enim mundi Princeps amor esse videtur, Cuius eget diues, pauper et omnis ope. Sunt in agone pares amor et fortuna, que cecas Plebis ad insidias vertit vterque rotas. Est amor egra salus, vexata quies, pius error, Bellica pax, vulnus dulce, suaue malum._

I may noght strecche up to the hevene Min hand, ne setten al in evene This world, which evere is in balance: It stant noght in my sufficance So grete thinges to compasse, Bot I mot lete it overpasse And treten upon othre thinges. Forthi the Stile of my writinges Fro this day forth I thenke change And speke of thing is noght so strange, 10 Which every kinde hath upon honde, And wherupon the world mot stonde, And hath don sithen it began, And schal whil ther is any man; And that is love, of which I mene To trete, as after schal be sene. In which ther can noman him reule, For loves lawe is out of reule, That of tomoche or of tolite Welnyh is every man to wyte, 20 And natheles ther is noman In al this world so wys, that can Of love tempre the mesure, Bot as it falth in aventure: For wit ne strengthe may noght helpe, And he which elles wolde him yelpe Is rathest throwen under fote, Ther can no wiht therof do bote. For yet was nevere such covine, That couthe ordeine a medicine 30 To thing which god in lawe of kinde Hath set, for ther may noman finde The rihte salve of such a Sor. It hath and schal ben everemor That love is maister wher he wile, Ther can no lif make other skile; For wher as evere him lest to sette, Ther is no myht which him may lette. Bot what schal fallen ate laste, The sothe can no wisdom caste, 40 Bot as it falleth upon chance; For if ther evere was balance Which of fortune stant governed, I may wel lieve as I am lerned That love hath that balance on honde, Which wol no reson understonde. For love is blind and may noght se, Forthi may no certeinete Be set upon his jugement, Bot as the whiel aboute went 50 He yifth his graces undeserved, And fro that man which hath him served Fulofte he takth aweye his fees, As he that pleieth ate Dees, And therupon what schal befalle He not, til that the chance falle, Wher he schal lese or he schal winne. And thus fulofte men beginne, That if thei wisten what it mente, Thei wolde change al here entente. 60

And forto proven it is so, I am miselven on of tho, Which to this Scole am underfonge. For it is siththe go noght longe, As forto speke of this matiere, I may you telle, if ye woll hiere, A wonder hap which me befell, That was to me bothe hard and fell, Touchende of love and his fortune, The which me liketh to comune 70 And pleinly forto telle it oute. To hem that ben lovers aboute Fro point to point I wol declare And wryten of my woful care, Mi wofull day, my wofull chance, That men mowe take remembrance Of that thei schall hierafter rede: For in good feith this wolde I rede, That every man ensample take Of wisdom which him is betake, 80 And that he wot of good aprise To teche it forth, for such emprise Is forto preise; and therfore I Woll wryte and schewe al openly How love and I togedre mette, Wherof the world ensample fette Mai after this, whan I am go, Of thilke unsely jolif wo, Whos reule stant out of the weie, Nou glad and nou gladnesse aweie, 90 And yet it may noght be withstonde For oght that men may understonde.

Upon the point that is befalle Of love, in which that I am falle, I thenke telle my matiere: Now herkne, who that wol it hiere, Of my fortune how that it ferde. This enderday, as I forthferde To walke, as I yow telle may,— And that was in the Monthe of Maii, 100 Whan every brid hath chose his make And thenkth his merthes forto make Of love that he hath achieved; Bot so was I nothing relieved, For I was further fro my love Than Erthe is fro the hevene above, As forto speke of eny sped: So wiste I me non other red, Bot as it were a man forfare Unto the wode I gan to fare, 110 Noght forto singe with the briddes, For whanne I was the wode amiddes, I fond a swote grene pleine, And ther I gan my wo compleigne Wisshinge and wepinge al myn one, For other merthes made I none. So hard me was that ilke throwe, That ofte sithes overthrowe To grounde I was withoute breth; And evere I wisshide after deth, 120 Whanne I out of my peine awok, And caste up many a pitous lok Unto the hevene, and seide thus: “O thou Cupide, O thou Venus, Thou god of love and thou goddesse, Wher is pite? wher is meknesse? Now doth me pleinly live or dye, For certes such a maladie As I now have and longe have hadd, It myhte make a wisman madd, 130 If that it scholde longe endure. O Venus, queene of loves cure, Thou lif, thou lust, thou mannes hele, Behold my cause and my querele, And yif me som part of thi grace, So that I may finde in this place If thou be gracious or non.” And with that word I sawh anon The kyng of love and qweene bothe; Bot he that kyng with yhen wrothe 140 His chiere aweiward fro me caste, And forth he passede ate laste. Bot natheles er he forth wente A firy Dart me thoghte he hente And threw it thurgh myn herte rote: In him fond I non other bote, For lenger list him noght to duelle. Bot sche that is the Source and Welle Of wel or wo, that schal betide To hem that loven, at that tide 150 Abod, bot forto tellen hiere Sche cast on me no goodly chiere: Thus natheles to me sche seide, “What art thou, Sone?” and I abreide Riht as a man doth out of slep, And therof tok sche riht good kep And bad me nothing ben adrad: Bot for al that I was noght glad, For I ne sawh no cause why. And eft scheo asketh, what was I: 160 I seide, “A Caitif that lith hiere: What wolde ye, my Ladi diere? Schal I ben hol or elles dye?” Sche seide, “Tell thi maladie: What is thi Sor of which thou pleignest? Ne hyd it noght, for if thou feignest, I can do the no medicine.” “Ma dame, I am a man of thyne, That in thi Court have longe served, And aske that I have deserved, 170 Some wele after my longe wo.” And sche began to loure tho, And seide, “Ther is manye of yow Faitours, and so may be that thow Art riht such on, and be feintise Seist that thou hast me do servise.” And natheles sche wiste wel, Mi world stod on an other whiel Withouten eny faiterie: Bot algate of my maladie 180 Sche bad me telle and seie hir trowthe. “Ma dame, if ye wolde have rowthe,” Quod I, “than wolde I telle yow.” “Sey forth,” quod sche, “and tell me how; Schew me thi seknesse everydiel.” “Ma dame, that can I do wel, Be so my lif therto wol laste.” With that hir lok on me sche caste, And seide: “In aunter if thou live, Mi will is ferst that thou be schrive; 190 And natheles how that it is I wot miself, bot for al this Unto my prest, which comth anon, I woll thou telle it on and on, Bothe all thi thoght and al thi werk. O Genius myn oghne Clerk, Com forth and hier this mannes schrifte,” Quod Venus tho; and I uplifte Min hefd with that, and gan beholde The selve Prest, which as sche wolde 200 Was redy there and sette him doun To hiere my confessioun.

This worthi Prest, this holy man To me spekende thus began, And seide: “Benedicite, Mi Sone, of the felicite Of love and ek of all the wo Thou schalt thee schrive of bothe tuo. What thou er this for loves sake Hast felt, let nothing be forsake, 210 Tell pleinliche as it is befalle.” And with that word I gan doun falle On knees, and with devocioun And with full gret contricioun I seide thanne: “Dominus, Min holi fader Genius, So as thou hast experience Of love, for whos reverence Thou schalt me schriven at this time, I prai the let me noght mistime 220 Mi schrifte, for I am destourbed In al myn herte, and so contourbed, That I ne may my wittes gete, So schal I moche thing foryete: Bot if thou wolt my schrifte oppose Fro point to point, thanne I suppose, Ther schal nothing be left behinde. Bot now my wittes ben so blinde, That I ne can miselven teche.” Tho he began anon to preche, 230 And with his wordes debonaire He seide tome softe and faire: “Thi schrifte to oppose and hiere, My Sone, I am assigned hiere Be Venus the godesse above, Whos Prest I am touchende of love. Bot natheles for certein skile I mot algate and nedes wile Noght only make my spekynges Of love, bot of othre thinges, 240 That touchen to the cause of vice. For that belongeth to thoffice Of Prest, whos ordre that I bere, So that I wol nothing forbere, That I the vices on and on Ne schal thee schewen everychon; Wherof thou myht take evidence To reule with thi conscience. Bot of conclusion final Conclude I wol in special 250 For love, whos servant I am, And why the cause is that I cam. So thenke I to don bothe tuo, Ferst that myn ordre longeth to, The vices forto telle arewe, Bot next above alle othre schewe Of love I wol the propretes, How that thei stonde be degrees After the disposicioun Of Venus, whos condicioun 260 I moste folwe, as I am holde. For I with love am al withholde, So that the lasse I am to wyte, Thogh I ne conne bot a lyte Of othre thinges that ben wise: I am noght tawht in such a wise; For it is noght my comun us To speke of vices and vertus, Bot al of love and of his lore, For Venus bokes of nomore 270 Me techen nowther text ne glose. Bot for als moche as I suppose It sit a prest to be wel thewed, And schame it is if he be lewed, Of my Presthode after the forme I wol thi schrifte so enforme, That ate leste thou schalt hiere The vices, and to thi matiere Of love I schal hem so remene, That thou schalt knowe what thei mene. 280 For what a man schal axe or sein Touchende of schrifte, it mot be plein, It nedeth noght to make it queinte, For trowthe hise wordes wol noght peinte: That I wole axe of the forthi, My Sone, it schal be so pleinly, That thou schalt knowe and understonde The pointz of schrifte how that thei stonde.”