University of Virginia Library

Howe the god Marcurye brought with hym the thre ladys, Iuno, Venus, and Pallas, to-for Paris lyenge in the wod aslepe; and of the thre gyfftis that they promysed hym for þe apple.

First, ȝif þat ȝe remembryn in ȝour mynde,
Þis oþer day, whan I was last in Ynde,
By ȝour avis & commaundement,
For a mater whiche in ȝour entent
Was specialy had in cher[i]te,
As it is kouþe atwixe ȝou and me,
Of whiche I toke [vp-]on me þe charge
In þe boundis of þat lond ful large,
Þe same tyme ȝour desyre to spede—
Whan þat Tytan, with his bemys rede,
From Gemmyny drof his chare of gold
Toward þe Crabbe for to take his holde,
Whiche named is þe paleys of Dyane,
Þe bente mone þat wexe can & wane;
Whanne halwed is þe sonnys stacioun,
Niȝe þe myddes of þe moneþ of Ivn—
At whiche sesoun, erly on a morwe,
Whan þat Phebus, to voide nyȝtes sorwe,
Doth Pirrous hys wayn ageyn vp drawe,
And Aurora estward doth a-dawe,
And with þe water of hir teris rounde
Þe siluer dewe causeth to abounde
Vp-on herbis and on floures soote,
For kyndely norissyng boþe of crop & rote,
Vp I roos [out] of my bedde anoon,
Ful desyrous on huntyng for to goon,
Priked in hert with lusty fresche plesance
To do to Loue some due observaunce,
And Lucyna þat day to magnifie,
Which callid is lady of venarye,
And duely oure rytis to obserue,
Cithera and hir[e] for to serue,
I and my feris, oure hertis to releue,
Cast vs fully til it drowe to eve,
In þe forest to pley vs and disport,
And pleasauntly vs to recomfort,
As it longeþ to loue of lustines.
For þilke day to Venus þe goddes
I-sacrid was, by ful gret excellence,
With gret honour & due reuerence
Doon vn-to hir, boþe of on and alle;
And on a Fryday þis auenture is falle,
Whan we gan hast vs to þe wodis grene
In hope þat day som gam[e] for to sene,
With gret labour rydyng to and fro,
Til we hadde ful many buk & do
By strengþe slaw, as we myȝt hem fynde,
Þe hert I-chasid with houndis & þe hynde
Þoruȝ þe downys & þe dalys lowe,
Til briȝt[e] Phebus of his daies bowe
Amyd þe arke was of meridyen,
Whan his bemys ful hote wern & schene,
And we most besy wern vp-on þe chas,
Þan me byfil a wonder diuers cas.
For of fortune it happed sodeynly,
Whil I was seuery[d] fro my company,
Sool be my silf among þe holtis hore,
To fynde game desyrous, euermore,
Or I was war, þoruȝ þikke & [þoruȝ] þinne,
A ful gret hert I sawe a-fore me renne,
Dovn by þe launde and þe walys grene,
Þat I in soth myȝt[e] nat sustene,
He was so swyft, for to niȝe hym ner,
Al-be þat I priked my courser
Niȝe to þe deþ, þoruȝ many sondri schaw,
Out of my siȝt so fer he gan with-drawe,
For al þat euer [þat] I sewen myȝt,
Þat I anoon lost of hym þe siȝte
In a wode þat Ida bare þe name.
And I so feynt gan wexen of þat game,
And myn hors on whiche I dide ryde,
Fomyng ful whit [vp-]on euery syde,
And his flankis al with blood disteyned,
In my pursute so sore he was constreyned
With my sporis, scharp and dyed rede,
After þe hert so priked I my stede,
Now vp, now doun, with a ful besy þouȝt;
But my labour availed me riȝt nouȝt,
Til at þe last, among þe bowes glade,
Of auenture I cauȝt a plesaunt slade,
Ful smoþe & pleyn, & lusty for to sene,
And soft as velwet was þe ȝonge grene—
Wher fro myn hors I [a]liȝt as faste,
And on a bowe I his reyne cast,
So feynt & maat of werynes I was,
Þat I me laide doun vp-on þe gras,
Vp-on a brink, schortly for to telle,
Be-syde a riuer and a cristal welle.
And þe water, as I reherse can,
Like quik-siluer in his stremys ran,
Of whiche þe grauel & þe briȝt[e] stoon
As any gold ageyn þe sonne schon.
Wher riȝt anon, for verray werynes,
A sodeyn slep gan me so oppresse,
Þat fro tyme þat I first was born,
I neuer was a-slepe[d] so to-forn;
And as I ley I hadde a wonder sweuene:
For me-þouȝt hiȝe doun fro heuene,
Þe wynged god, wonderful of cher,
Mercuryus, to me dide appere,
Of whom I was somdel first a-ferde;
For he was girt with his crokyd swerde,
And with hym brouȝt, also in his honde,
His slepy ȝerde, plyaunt as a wonde,
With a serpent goyng enviroun.
And at his fete, also lowe a-doun,
Me sempte also þat þer stood a cok,
Singyng his houris trewe as any clok.
And to þe mouthe of þis god Mercurie,
Wer pipes sette, þat songe wonder merye;
Of whiche þe soote sugred armonye
Made in myn eris swiche a melodye,
Þat me sempte þo in myn avis,
I was ravisched in-to paradys.
And þus þis god, diuers of liknes,
More wonderful þan I can expresse,
Schewed hym silf in his apparence,
Liche as he is discriued in Fulgence,
In þe book of his methologies,
Wher be rehersed many poysyes
And many liknes, liche as ȝe may se.
And for to take þe moralite:—
His longe ȝerde, riȝt as is a lyne,
Whiche on no syde wrongly may decline,
Signefieth þe prudent gouernaunce
Of discret folke, þat þoruȝ her puruiaunce
Cast a perel or þat it be-falle;
And his pipes, loude as any schalle,
Þat þoruȝ musik ben entvned trewe,
Betokeneþ eke, with many lusty hewe,
Þe sugred dites, by gret excellence,
Of rethorik and of eloquence,
Of whiche þis god is souereyn & patroun;
And of þis cok þe soote lusty sovn,
Þat iustly kepeþ þe houris of þe niȝt,
Is outerly þavise inward siȝt
Of swiche as voide by waker dilligence
Oute of her court, slouþe & necligence;
And his swerd, whiche crokeþ so ageyn,
Þat is nat forged nor [y-]made in weyn,
Is to reuoke to þe riȝt[e] weye
Swiche as wrongly fro trouþe do forveye;
And þe serpent, whiche þat I of tolde,
Whiche wrinkled is, as ȝe may beholde,
Vp-on þe ȝerde and aboute goth,
Signefieth þat falshede wood & wroth
Lith in a-weyt by many sleiȝty weye,
With his gynnes trouþe to werreye.
And þis god, of elloquence kyng,
Brouȝt with hym, eke in his commyng,
Cithera, whom louer[e]s serue,
Iuno, and Pallas, þat callid is Minerue.
And þis Venus, her legis to delite,
Aboute hir hed hadde dowes white,
With loke benigne and eyen deboneyre,
Ay flikeryng with snowy wyngys fayre,
For to declare, sothly in sentence,
By þe dowes verray Innocence
Of hem in loue þat but trouþe mene,
And þat her grounde schulde honest be & clene,
I-tokenyd is, clerly be witnes,
With-out soillyng or any vnclennes;
And þe fresshnesse of þe roses rede,
Þat in somer so lustyly do sprede,
And in wynter of her colour fade,
Signyfieth þe hertly þouȝtis glade
Of ȝonge folkis þat ben amerous,
Feruent in hope, & inly desyrous,
Whan loue gynneþ in her hertis flour,
Til longe proces makeþ hem to lour
With þe wynter of vnweldy age,
Þat lust is pallid & dullid with þe rage
Of febilnes whan somer is a-goon,
As folkys knowe, I trowe mo þan on;
And þerfor Venus fleteth in a se,
To schewe þe trowble and aduersite
Þat is in Loue, and his stormy lawe,
Whiche is beset with many sturdy wawe,
Now calm, now rowe, who-so takeþ hede,
And hope assailled ay with sodeyn drede.
And next Venus, Pallas I be-helde,
With hir spere and hir cristal schelde,
And a raynbowe rounde aboute hir hed,
Þat of colour was grene, blew, and red;
And a-forn hir, as I can discryue,
Sche growyng had a grene fresche olyue;
And þer-vppon, with his browes fowle,
In þe brawnchis I sawe sitte an owle.
And first þe scheld of Pallas, þe goddes,
Signified, as I can expresse,
In vertu force, by manly hiȝe diffence
Ageyns vices to maken resistence;
And hir spere, scharp & kene grounde,
By iust rygour was forged to confounde
Hem þat be false, and to putte a-bake;
And for þat mercy schal medle with þe wrak,
Þe schaft, in soth, schaue was ful pleyn,
List merciles þat riȝt ne wrouȝt in veyn;
And after werre to make a ful reles,
Þer was þe olyve þat betokneth pes;
Þe owle also, so odyous at al,
Þat songis singeth at festis funeral,
Declareth pleynly, þe fyn of euery glorie
Is only deth, who hath it in memorie;
And þe raynbow grene, red, and pers,
Signifieth þe changis ful diuers
Þat ofte falle in werre and bataille,
Now to wynne and sodeynly to faille,
Now stable as blew, chaunging now as grene,
For Pallas play is alwey meynt with tene.
And alderlast, as I haue in mynde,
With hir nymphes, Iuno cam be-hynde,
Whiche of custom, as Fulgens[e] tellis,
Abide in flodis and in depe wellis.
And þis Iuno, as poetis seyn,
A mayden is, and of frute bareyn;
And þe pecok to þis fresche quene
I-sacrid is, with his feþeris schene,
Splayed a-brod as a large sail,
With Argus eyen enprented in his tail.
Þe water rennyng in riuer and in flood,
Is þe labour þat men haue for good,
Þe gret[e] trouble and þe besynes
Þat day & nyȝt þei suffre for ryches;
Þat who þat euer in þis flodis rowe,
Lat hym be war, for ay after þe flowe,
Of nature, riȝt as it is dewe,
Folwyng þe mone þe[r] mote an ebbe sewe;
Þe most[e] drede is ay vppon þe fulle,
List Fortune þe fresche feþeris pulle
Of riche folke þat schyne in gold so schene,
Sith sche of chaunge lady is and quene.
And Argus eyen, þat ar sette be-hynde,
In nygard hertis be oft[e] sythes blynde,
Whiche nat aduerte of goodis to þe ende,
Þat liche an ebbe sodeynly wil wende,
Whyche þei no þing consydren in her siȝt;
For as þe faire lusty fetheris briȝt
Of a pecok vnwarly falle a-wey,
Riȝt so riches, schortly at a day,
Wiln her maister sodeynly forsake,
Seyn a-dieu, and her leue take.
And as Iuno bareyn is of frute,
Riȝt so nakid, bare, and destitute
Ar þes gredy hertis couetous,
Whiche to gadre ben so desyrous,
Þat in no þing can haue sufficiaunce,
Þe fret of drede hem putte in swiche meschaunce,
Ymagenyng þat þe world wil faille;
And in her fere ageyn þe wynd þei saille,
Til [al] attonys þei mote go þer-fro.
And þus of good ay þe fyn is wo,
Namly of hem þat so pynche & spare:
For þis no drede, as clerkis can declare,
Þe frute of good is to spende large;
And who is manful, set but litel charge
To parte frely his tresour in comovne,
Whan he discretly seth tyme oportune.
He hath no Ioye to put his good in mwe;
For an hert þat fredam list to sewe,
Of gentilnes takeþ noon hed þer-to.
And in þis wyse, Pallas and Iuno,
With fresche Venus, ben a-doun descended,
Liche as I haue schortly comprehended,
Vnder þe guying of Mercurivs,
Whiche vn-to me gan his tale þus: