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The Complete Works of John Gower

Edited from the manuscripts with introductions, notes and glossaries by G. C. Macaulay
  

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To alle men, as who seith, knowe
It is, and in the world thurgh blowe,
Hou that of Troie Lamedon

Hic in amoris causa super istius vicii articulo ponit exemplum. Et narrat, pro eo quod Paris Priami Regis filius Helenam Menelat vxorem in quadam Grecie insula a templo Veneris Sacrilegus abduxit, illa Troie famosissima obsidio per vniuersi orbis climata divulgata precipue causabatur. Ita quod huiusmodi Sacrilegium non solum ad ipsius regis Priami omniumque suorum interitum, set eciam ad perpetuam vrbis desolacionem vindicte fomitem ministrabat.


To Hercules and to Jasoun,
Whan toward Colchos out of Grece
Be See sailende upon a piece
Of lond of Troie reste preide,—
Bot he hem wrathfulli congeide:
And for thei founde him so vilein,
Whan thei come into Grece ayein,
With pouer that thei gete myhte
Towardes Troie thei hem dyhte,
And ther thei token such vengance,
Wherof stant yit the remembrance;
For thei destruide king and al,
And leften bot the brente wal.
The Grecs of Troiens many slowe
And prisoners thei toke ynowe,
Among the whiche ther was on,
The kinges doughter Lamedon,
Esiona, that faire thing,
Which unto Thelamon the king
Be Hercules and be thassent
Of al the hole parlement

150

Was at his wille yove and granted.
And thus hath Grece Troie danted,
And hom thei torne in such manere:
Bot after this nou schalt thou hiere
The cause why this tale I telle,
Upon the chances that befelle.
King Lamedon, which deide thus,
He hadde a Sone, on Priamus,
Which was noght thilke time at hom:
Bot whan he herde of this, he com,
And fond hou the Cite was falle,
Which he began anon to walle
And made ther a cite newe,
That thei whiche othre londes knewe
Tho seiden, that of lym and Ston
In al the world so fair was non.
And on that o side of the toun
The king let maken Ylioun,
That hihe Tour, that stronge place,
Which was adrad of no manace
Of quarel nor of non engin;
And thogh men wolde make a Myn,
No mannes craft it mihte aproche,
For it was sett upon a roche.
The walles of the toun aboute,
Hem stod of al the world no doute,
And after the proporcion
Sex gates weren of the toun
Of such a forme, of such entaile,
That hem to se was gret mervaile:
The diches weren brode and depe,
A fewe men it mihte kepe
From al the world, as semeth tho,
Bot if the goddes weren fo.
Gret presse unto that cite drouh,
So that ther was of poeple ynouh,
Of Burgeis that therinne duellen;
Ther mai no mannes tunge tellen

151

Hou that cite was riche of good.
Whan al was mad and al wel stod,
King Priamus tho him bethoghte
What thei of Grece whilom wroghte,
And what was of her swerd devoured,
And hou his Soster deshonoured
With Thelamon awey was lad:
And so thenkende he wax unglad,
And sette anon a parlement,
To which the lordes were assent.
In many a wise ther was spoke,
Hou that thei mihten ben awroke,
Bot ate laste natheles
Thei seiden alle, ‘Acord and pes.’
To setten either part in reste
It thoghte hem thanne for the beste
With resonable amendement;
And thus was Anthenor forth sent
To axe Esionam ayein
And witen what thei wolden sein.
So passeth he the See be barge
To Grece forto seie his charge,
The which he seide redely
Unto the lordes by and by:
Bot where he spak in Grece aboute,
He herde noght bot wordes stoute,
And nameliche of Thelamon;
The maiden wolde he noght forgon,
He seide, for no maner thing,
And bad him gon hom to his king,
For there gat he non amende
For oght he couthe do or sende.
This Anthenor ayein goth hom
Unto his king, and whan he com,
He tolde in Grece of that he herde,
And hou that Thelamon ansuerde,

152

And hou thei were at here above,
That thei wol nouther pes ne love,
Bot every man schal don his beste.
Bot for men sein that nyht hath reste,
The king bethoghte him al that nyht,
And erli, whan the dai was lyht,
He tok conseil of this matiere;
And thei acorde in this manere,
That he withouten eny lette
A certein time scholde sette
Of Parlement to ben avised:
And in the wise it was devised,
Of parlement he sette a day,
And that was in the Monthe of Maii.
This Priamus hadde in his yhte
A wif, and Hecuba sche hyhte,
Be whom that time ek hadde he
Of Sones fyve, and douhtres thre
Besiden hem, and thritty mo,
And weren knyhtes alle tho,
Bot noght upon his wif begete,
Bot elles where he myhte hem gete
Of wommen whiche he hadde knowe;
Such was the world at thilke throwe:
So that he was of children riche,
As therof was noman his liche.
Of Parlement the dai was come,
Ther ben the lordes alle and some;
Tho was pronounced and pourposed,
And al the cause hem was desclosed,
Hou Anthenor in Grece ferde.
Thei seten alle stille and herde,
And tho spak every man aboute:
Ther was alegged many a doute,
And many a proud word spoke also;
Bot for the moste part as tho

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Thei wisten noght what was the beste,
Or forto werre or forto reste.
Bot he that was withoute fere,
Hector, among the lordes there
His tale tolde in such a wise,
And seide, ‘Lordes, ye ben wise,
Ye knowen this als wel as I,
Above all othre most worthi
Stant nou in Grece the manhode
Of worthinesse and of knihthode;
For who so wole it wel agrope,
To hem belongeth al Europe,
Which is the thridde parti evene
Of al the world under the hevene;
And we be bot of folk a fewe.
So were it reson forto schewe
The peril, er we falle thrinne:
Betre is to leve, than beginne
Thing which as mai noght ben achieved;
He is noght wys that fint him grieved,
And doth so that his grief be more;
For who that loketh al tofore
And wol noght se what is behinde,
He mai fulofte hise harmes finde:
Wicke is to stryve and have the worse.
We have encheson forto corse,
This wot I wel, and forto hate
The Greks; bot er that we debate
With hem that ben of such a myht,
It is ful good that every wiht
Be of himself riht wel bethoght.
Bot as for me this seie I noght;
For while that mi lif wol stonde,
If that ye taken werre on honde,
Falle it to beste or to the werste,
I schal miselven be the ferste
To grieven hem, what evere I may.

154

I wol noght ones seie nay
To thing which that youre conseil demeth,
For unto me wel more it quemeth
The werre certes than the pes;
Bot this I seie natheles,
As me belongeth forto seie.
Nou schape ye the beste weie.’
Whan Hector hath seid his avis,
Next after him tho spak Paris,
Which was his brother, and alleide
What him best thoghte, and thus he seide:
‘Strong thing it is to soffre wrong,
And suffre schame is more strong,
Bot we have suffred bothe tuo;
And for al that yit have we do
What so we mihte to reforme
The pes, whan we in such a forme
Sente Anthenor, as ye wel knowe.
And thei here grete wordes blowe
Upon her wrongful dedes eke;
And who that wole himself noght meke
To pes, and list no reson take,
Men sein reson him wol forsake:
For in the multitude of men
Is noght the strengthe, for with ten
It hath be sen in trew querele
Ayein an hundred false dele,
And had the betre of goddes grace.
This hath befalle in many place;
And if it like unto you alle,
I wole assaie, hou so it falle,
Oure enemis if I mai grieve;
For I have cawht a gret believe
Upon a point I wol declare.
This ender day, as I gan fare
To hunte unto the grete hert,
Which was tofore myn houndes stert,

155

And every man went on his syde
Him to poursuie, and I to ryde
Began the chace, and soth to seie,
Withinne a while out of mi weie
I rod, and nyste where I was.
And slep me cauhte, and on the gras
Beside a welle I lay me doun
To slepe, and in a visioun
To me the god Mercurie cam;
Goddesses thre with him he nam,
Minerve, Venus and Juno,
And in his hond an Appel tho
He hield of gold with lettres write:
And this he dede me to wite,
Hou that thei putt hem upon me,
That to the faireste of hem thre
Of gold that Appel scholde I yive.
With ech of hem tho was I schrive,
And echon faire me behihte;
Bot Venus seide, if that sche mihte
That Appel of mi yifte gete,
Sche wolde it neveremor foryete,
And seide hou that in Grece lond
Sche wolde bringe unto myn hond
Of al this Erthe the faireste;
So that me thoghte it for the beste,
To hire and yaf that Appel tho.
Thus hope I wel, if that I go,
That sche for me wol so ordeine,
That thei matiere forto pleigne
Schul have, er that I come ayein.
Nou have ye herd that I wol sein:
Sey ye what stant in youre avis.’
And every man tho seide his,
And sundri causes thei recorde,
Bot ate laste thei acorde
That Paris schal to Grece wende,

156

And thus the parlement tok ende.
Cassandra, whan sche herde of this,
The which to Paris Soster is,
Anon sche gan to wepe and weile,
And seide, ‘Allas, what mai ous eile?
Fortune with hire blinde whiel
Ne wol noght lete ous stonde wel:
For this I dar wel undertake,
That if Paris his weie take
As it is seid that he schal do,
We ben for evere thanne undo.’
This, which Cassandre thanne hihte,
In al the world as it berth sihte,
In bokes as men finde write,
Is that Sibille of whom ye wite,
That alle men yit clepen sage.
Whan that sche wiste of this viage,
Hou Paris schal to Grece fare,
No womman mihte worse fare
Ne sorwe more than sche dede;
And riht so in the same stede
Ferde Helenus, which was hir brother,
Of prophecie and such an other:
And al was holde bot a jape,
So that the pourpos which was schape,
Or were hem lief or were hem loth,
Was holde, and into Grece goth
This Paris with his retenance.
And as it fell upon his chance,
Of Grece he londeth in an yle,
And him was told the same whyle
Of folk which he began to freyne,
Tho was in thyle queene Heleyne,
And ek of contres there aboute
Of ladis many a lusti route,
With mochel worthi poeple also.
And why thei comen theder tho,
The cause stod in such a wise,—

157

For worschipe and for sacrifise
That thei to Venus wolden make,
As thei tofore hadde undertake,
Some of good will, some of beheste,
For thanne was hire hihe feste
Withinne a temple which was there.
Whan Paris wiste what thei were,
Anon he schop his ordinance
To gon and don his obeissance
To Venus on hire holi day,
And dede upon his beste aray,
With gret richesse he him behongeth,
As it to such a lord belongeth,
He was noght armed natheles,
Bot as it were in lond of pes,
And thus he goth forth out of Schipe
And takth with him his felaschipe:
In such manere as I you seie
Unto the temple he hield his weie.
Tydinge, which goth overal
To grete and smale, forth withal
Com to the queenes Ere and tolde
Hou Paris com, and that he wolde
Do sacrifise to Venus:
And whan sche herde telle thus,
She thoghte, hou that it evere be.
That sche wole him abyde and se.
Forth comth Paris with glad visage
Into the temple on pelrinage,
Wher unto Venus the goddesse
He yifth and offreth gret richesse,
And preith hir that he preie wolde.
And thanne aside he gan beholde,
And sih wher that this ladi stod;
And he forth in his freisshe mod
Goth ther sche was and made hir chiere,
As he wel couthe in his manere,
That of his wordes such plesance
Sche tok, that al hire aqueintance,

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Als ferforth as the herte lay,
He stal er that he wente away.
So goth he forth and tok his leve,
And thoghte, anon as it was eve,
He wolde don his Sacrilegge,
That many a man it scholde abegge.
Whan he to Schipe ayein was come,
To him he hath his conseil nome,
And al devised the matiere
In such a wise as thou schalt hiere.
Withinne nyht al prively
His men he warneth by and by,
That thei be redy armed sone
For certein thing which was to done:
And thei anon ben redi alle,
And ech on other gan to calle,
And went hem out upon the stronde
And tok a pourpos ther alonde
Of what thing that thei wolden do,
Toward the temple and forth thei go.
So fell it, of devocion
Heleine in contemplacion
With many an other worthi wiht
Was in the temple and wok al nyht,
To bidde and preie unto thymage
Of Venus, as was thanne usage;
So that Paris riht as him liste
Into the temple, er thei it wiste,
Com with his men al sodeinly,
And alle at ones sette ascry
In hem whiche in the temple were,
For tho was mochel poeple there;
Bot of defense was no bote,
So soffren thei that soffre mote.
Paris unto the queene wente,
And hire in bothe hise armes hente
With him and with his felaschipe,
And forth thei bere hire unto Schipe.

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Up goth the Seil and forth thei wente,
And such a wynd fortune hem sente,
Til thei the havene of Troie cauhte;
Where out of Schipe anon thei strauhte
And gon hem forth toward the toun,
The which cam with processioun
Ayein Paris to sen his preie.
And every man began to seie
To Paris and his felaschipe
Al that thei couthen of worschipe;
Was non so litel man in Troie,
That he ne made merthe and joie
Of that Paris hath wonne Heleine.
Bot al that merthe is sorwe and peine
To Helenus and to Cassaundre;
For thei it token schame and sklaundre
And lost of al the comun grace,
That Paris out of holi place
Be Stelthe hath take a mannes wif,
Wherof that he schal lese his lif
And many a worthi man therto,
And al the Cite be fordo,
Which nevere schal be mad ayein.
And so it fell, riht as thei sein,
The Sacrilege which he wroghte
Was cause why the Gregois soughte
Unto the toun and it beleie,
And wolden nevere parte aweie,
Til what be sleihte and what be strengthe
Thei hadde it wonne in brede and lengthe,
And brent and slayn that was withinne.
Now se, mi Sone, which a sinne
Is Sacrilege in holy stede:
Be war therfore and bidd thi bede,
And do nothing in holy cherche,
Bot that thou miht be reson werche.
And ek tak hiede of Achilles,
Whan he unto his love ches
Polixena, that was also

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In holi temple of Appollo,
Which was the cause why he dyde
And al his lust was leyd asyde.
And Troilus upon Criseide
Also his ferste love leide
In holi place, and hou it ferde,
As who seith, al the world it herde;
Forsake he was for Diomede,
Such was of love his laste mede.
Confessor.
Forthi, mi Sone, I wolde rede,
Be this ensample as thou myht rede,
Sech elles, wher thou wolt, thi grace,
And war the wel in holi place
What thou to love do or speke,
In aunter if it so be wreke
As thou hast herd me told before.
And tak good hiede also therfore
Upon what forme, of Avarice
Mor than of eny other vice,
I have divided in parties
The branches, whiche of compainies
Thurghout the world in general
Ben nou the leders overal,
Of Covoitise and of Perjure,
Of fals brocage and of Usure,
Of Skarsnesse and Unkindeschipe,
Which nevere drouh to felaschipe,
Of Robberie and privi Stelthe,
Which don is for the worldes welthe,
Of Ravine and of Sacrilegge,
Which makth the conscience agregge;
Althogh it mai richesse atteigne,
It floureth, bot it schal noght greine
Unto the fruit of rihtwisnesse.
Bot who that wolde do largesse
Upon the reule as it is yive,
So myhte a man in trouthe live

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Toward his god, and ek also
Toward the world, for bothe tuo
Largesse awaiteth as belongeth,
To neither part that he ne wrongeth;
He kepth himself, he kepth his frendes,
So stant he sauf to bothe hise endes,
That he excedeth no mesure,
So wel he can himself mesure:
Wherof, mi Sone, thou schalt wite,
So as the Philosophre hath write.