Lydgate's Fall of Princes :: :: University of Virginia Library

He that whilom dede his dilligence
The book of Bochas in Frensh to translate
Out of Latyn, he callid was Laurence;
The tyme trewli remembrid and the date,
The yere whan kyng Iohn thoruh his mortal fate
Was prisoner brouht to this regioun,
Whan he first gan on this translacioun.

In his prologe affermyng off resoun,
Artificeres hauyng exercise
May chaunge and turne bi good discrecioun
Shappis, formys, and newli hem deuyse,
Make and vnmake in many sondry wyse,
As potteres, which to that craft entende,
Breke and renewe ther vesselis to a-mende.

Thus men off crafft may off due riht,
That been inuentiff & han experience,
Fantasien in ther inward siht
Deuises newe thoruh ther excellence;
Expert maistres han therto licence
Fro good to bettir for to chaunge a thyng,
And semblabli these clerkis in writyng,

Thyng that was maad of auctours hem beforn,
Thei may off newe fynde and fantasie,

Out of old chaff trie out ful cleene corn,
Make it more fressh and lusti to the eie,
Ther subtil witt and ther labour applie,
With ther colours agreable off hewe,
Make olde thynges for to seeme newe.

Afforn prouydid that no presumpcioun
In ther chaungyng haue noon auctorite,
And that meeknesse haue dominacioun,
Fals Envie that she not present be;
But that ther ground with parfit charite
Conueied be to ther auauntage,
Trewli rootid a-myd of ther corage.

Thus Laurence fro hym envie excludid,
Thouh toforn hym translatid was this book,
Withynne hymsilff he fulli hath concludid,
Vpon that labour whan he caste his look,
He wolde amende it; but first he forsook
Presumpcioun, and took to hym meeknesse,
In his prologe as he doth expresse.

In which processe, lik as I am lerid,
He in his tyme off cunnyng dede excelle
In ther language, therfore he was requerid
Off estatis, which gan hym eek compelle,
A-mong hem holde off rethorik the welle,
To vndirfonge this labour they hym preie,
And ther request he lowli dede obeie.

Ful weel he felte the labour was notable,
The fall of nobles, with eueri circumstaunce,
From ther lordshippes, dreedful and vnstable,
How that thei fill to putte in remembraunce,
Therin to shewe Fortunys variaunce,
That othre myhte as in a merour see
In worldly worshepe may be no surete.

Bi exaumple, as there is no rose
Spryngyng in gardeyns, but ther be sum thorn,
Nor fairer blosme than Nature list dispose,
Than may ther beute, as men ha[ue] seyn toforn,
With bittir wyndes be fro ther braunchis born,

Nor noon so hih in his estat contune
Fre fro thawaityng & daunger of Fortune.

Wherfore Bochas for a memoriall,
Consid[e]ryng the grete dignitees
Off worldli pryncis in ther power roiall,
Grete emperours, estatis and degrees,
How Fortune hath cast hem from ther sees;
Namly such as koude hemsilff nat knowe,
Ful sodenly to make hem lyn ful lowe.

This said auctour, auise and riht sad,
Hath gadred out, with rethoriques sueete,
In dyuers bookes which that he hath rad,
Off philisophres and many an old poete,
Besied hym bothe in cold and hete
Out to compile and writen as he fond
The fall of nobles in many dyuers lond.

Vpon whos book in his translacioun
This seid Laurence rehersith in certeyn,
And holdith this in his opynyoun,
Such language as open is and pleyn
Is more acceptid, as it is offte seyn,
Than straunge termys which be nat vndirstande,
Namly to folkis that duellyn vp-on lande.

And he seith eek, that his entencioun
Is to a-menden, correcten and declare;
Nat to condempne off no presumpcioun,
But to supporte, pleynli, and to spare
Thyng touchid shortly off the story bare,
Vndir a stile breeff and compendious,
Hem to prolonge whan thei be vertuous:

For a story which is nat pleynli told,
But constreynyd vndir woordes fewe
For lak off trouthe, wher thei be newe or old,
Men bi report kan nat the mater shewe;
These ookis grete be nat doun ihewe
First at a strok[e], but bi long processe,
Nor longe stories a woord may not expresse.

For which, pleynli, this noble translatour
Caste off purpos these stories for to write,
And for to doon his dilligent labour
As thei fill in ordre to endite,
That men afftir myhte hemsilff delite,
Auentures, so as thei fill in deede,
Off sundry pryncis to beholde & reede,

And haue a maner contemplacioun,
That thynges all, wher Fortune may atteyne,
Be transitory of condicioun;
For she off kynde is hasti & sodeyne,
Contrarious hir cours for to restreyne,
Off wilfulnesse she is so variable,
Whan men most truste, than is she most chaungable.

And for hir chaung and for hir doubilnesse,
This Bochas biddith that men sholde enclyne
Sette ther hertis, void off vnstabilnesse,
Vpon thynges which that been deuyne,
Where-as ioie perpetueli doth shyne
Withoute eclipsyng in that heuenli see,
Void off all cloudis off mutabilite.

Among, this Bochas writith off suetnesse
And off materes that lusti been and glade,
And sumwhile he writt off wrechidnesse,
And how Fortune kan floure & afftir fade—
Ioie vndir cloude, prosperite in the shade,
Entirchaungyng off euery maner thyng,
Which that men feele, heer in this world lyvyng.

And in his processe, who-so list beholde,
Off alle estatis, off hih and louh degre,
And off pryncis bothe yong and olde,
Fro the begynnyng, which in this world ha be,
Lyuyng in ioie or in aduersite,
Fro the firste he descendith doun
Off ther fortune be pleyn descripcioun.

Off the most noble he ne spareth noon,
But settith hem in ordre ceriously,
Gynnyth at Adam & endith at kyng Iohn,

Ther auentures rehersyng by and by,
Off this kyng Iohn concludyng fynaly,
How that he was, for al his gret puissance,
Off prynce Edward take prisoner in France.

This seid[e] Bochas, auctour off this book,
Which off stories hadde gret intelligence,
Summe he leffte [and] summe also he took,—
Such as he leffte was off no necligence,
Supposyng and demyng off credence,
Alle the stories which that comoun be,
Other knew hem also weel as he.

And lest that folk wolde haue had disdeyn,
Thynges comoun to put in memorie,
Therfore Bochas thouhte it was but veyn,
To his name noon encres off glorie,
To remembre no cronycle nor historie,
But tho that wern for ther merit notable,
Auctorised, famous and comendable.

In his labour hauyng a delit,
That the mater gretli myhte auaile,
Do plesance to the comon profit,
Off noble stories to make rehersaile,
Shewyng a merour how al the world shal faile,
And how Fortune, for al ther hih renoun,
Hath vpon pryncis iurediccioun.

The which[e] thyng, in ful sobre wise,
He considred in his inward entent,
In his resoun gan to aduertise,
Seyng off princis the blynd entendement,
With worldli worshep how that thei be blent,
As thei sholde euer ther estatis keepe,
And as Fortune were I-leid to sleepe.

As thei hadde off Fortune the maistry,
Here enchauntid with ther pociouns
Bi sum craft off newe sorcery,
Or bi power off incantaciouns,
To make stable ther domynaciouns
With iren cheynys for to laste longe,
Lokkid to rokkis off adamantis stronge.

Supposyng[e] in ther surquedie
Ther estatis sholde be durable;
But Fortune kan frowardli denye,
Pleynli preue that thei be chaungable,
And to pryncis, for thei be nat stable,
Fortune ful offte, for al ther gret estat,
Vnwarli chaungith & seith to hem chekmat.

For lordis summe in ther magnificence
Off roial power sette off God riht nouht,
Thei nat considre his long pacience,
Nor aduertise his power in ther thouht,
But in ther hertis, yiff it were weel souht,
How he is meek and pacient to a-bide,
Thei wolde off resoun ther pompe leyn a-side.

But for ther tarieng and ther necligence,
That thei to hym wil nat resorte a-geyn,
Yit off his mercy and benyuolence,
Withoute vengance, rigour or disdeyn,
As a meek fadir, in alle his werkis pleyn,
Assaieth his yerde off castigacioun,
So for to brynge hem to correccioun.

Summe he can ful fadirli chastise,
Where he loueth, be punshyng off siknesse,
And off his mercy in many a-nother wise
Baduersite off sum worldli distresse;
And he nat askith, for his kynd[e]nesse,
Off hih nor low, who-so can aduerte,
Noon othir tresor but a mannys herte.

And as myn auctour list to comprehende,—
This Iohn Bochas, bi gret auctorite,—
It is almesse to correct and a-mende
The vicious folk off euery comounte,
And bi exaumplis which that notable be
Off pryncis olde, that whilom dede fall,
The lowere peeple from ther errour call.

Bi smale whelpis, as summe clerkis write,
Chastised is the myhti fers leoun,
And whan the suerd off vengaunce eek doth bite

Vpon pryncis for ther transgressioun,
The comon peeple in ther opynyoun,
For verray dreed[e] tremble don & quake,
And bi such mene ther vices thei forsake.

And such also as ha be defoulid
In ther vicis bi long contynuaunce,
Or in ther synnys rustid and Imowlid,
Bi good example may come to repentaunce:
Who hym repentith, the Lord will hym auaunce,
And hym accepte, in hih and louh estat,—
The meek preserue, punyshe the obstynat.

This said[e] mater, touchyng such[e] thyngis,
Myn auctour Bochas heerafftir shal declare
Bexaumple off pryncis & off myhti kyngis,
What was ther fyn, & nat the trouthe spare;
And theih my stile nakid be and bare,
In rethorik myn auctour for to sue,
Yit fro the trouthe shal I nat remue,

But on the substance bi good leiser abide,
Afftir myn auctour lik as I may atteyne,
And for my part sette eloquence aside,
And in this book bewepen and compleyne
Thassaut off Fortune, froward and sodeyne,
How she on pryncis hath kid her variaunce
And off her malice the dedli mortal chaunce.

But, o allas! who shal be my muse,
Or onto whom shal I for helpe calle?
Calliope my callyng will refuse,
And on Pernaso here worthi sustren alle;
Thei will ther sugre tempre with no galle,
For ther suetnesse & lusti fressh syngyng
Ful ferr discordith fro materis compleynyng.

My maistir Chaucer, with his fresh comedies,
Is ded, allas, cheeff poete off Breteyne,
That whilom made ful pitous tragedies;
The fall of pryncis he dede also compleyne,
As he that was of makyng souereyne,
Whom al this land sholde off riht preferre,
Sithe off oure language he was the lodesterre.

Senek in Rome, thoruh his hih prudence,
Wrot tragedies of gret moralite;
And Tullius, cheeff welle off eloquence,
Maad in his tyme many fressh dite;
Franceis Petrak, off Florence the cite,
Made a book, as I can reherce,
Off too Fortunys, welful and peruerse.

And ageyn bothe wrot the remedies,
In bookis tweyne made a divisioun,
A-mong rehersyng many fressh stories.
The firste book is thus conueied doun,
A dialoge twen Gladnesse and Resoun;
The seconde can ber me weel witnesse,
Maad atwen Resoun & Worldli Heuynesse.

The mater is wondirful delectable,
Thouh wo with ioie haue an interesse;
And Iohn Bochas wrot maters lamentable,
The fall of pryncis, where he doth expresse
How fro ther ioie thei fill in gret distresse;
And all these writers, thoruh ther famous renoun,
Gret worshipe dede vnto ther nacioun.

And semblabli as I ha[ue] told toforn,
My maistir Chaucer dede his besynesse,
And in his daies hath so weel hym born,
Out off our tunge tauoiden al reudnesse,
And to refourme it with colours of suetnesse;
Wherfore lat us yiue hym laude & glory
And putte his name with poetis in memory.

Off whos labour to make mencioun,
Wherthoruh off riht he sholde comendid be,
In youthe he made a translacioun
Off a book which callid is Trophe
In Lumbard tunge, as men may reede & see,
And in our vulgar, longe or that he deide,
Gaff it the name off Troilus & Cresseide.

Which for to reede louers hem delite,
Thei ha[ue] theryn so gret deuocioun.
And this poete, hymsilff also to quite,

Off Boeces book, The Consolacioun,
Maad in his tyme an hool translacioun.
And to his sone, that callid was Lowis,
He made a tretis, ful noble & off gret pris,

Vpon thastlabre in ful notable fourme,
Sette hem in ordre with ther dyuysiouns,
Mennys wittis tapplien and confourme,
To vndirstonde be ful expert resouns
Be domefieng off sundry mansiouns,
The roote out-souht at the ascendent,
Toforn or he gaff any iugement.

He wrot also ful many day agone,
Dante in Inglissh, hymsilff so doth expresse,
The pitous story off Ceix and Alcione,
And the deth eek of Blaunche the Duchesse,
And notabli dede his bisynesse,
Bi gret auys his wittis to dispose,
To translate the Romaunce off the Rose.

Thus in vertu he sette al his entent,
Idilnesse and vicis for to fle;
Off Foulis also he wrot the Parlement,
Theryn remembryng of roial Eglis thre,
How in ther chois thei felte aduersite,
Tofor Nature profred the bataile,
Ech for his parti, yiff it wolde auaile.

He dede also his dilligence & peyne
In our vulgar to translate and endite
Origen vpon the Maudeleyne,
And off the Leoun a book he dede write;
Off Anneleyda and of fals Arcite
He made a compleynt, doolful & pitous,
And off the broche which that Vulcanus

At Thebes wrouhte, ful dyuers of nature,
Ouide writith, who theroff hadde a siht,
For hih desir he shulde nat endure
But he it hadde, neuer be glad nor liht;
And yiff he hadde it onys in his myht,

Lich as my maistir seith and writ in deede,
It to conserue he sholde ay lyue in dreede.

This poete wrot, at request off the queen,
A legende off parfit hoolynesse,
Off Goode Women to fynde out nynteen
That dede excelle in bounte and fairnesse;
But for his labour and [his] bisynesse
Was inportable his wittis to encoumbre,
In al this world to fynde so gret a noumbre.

He made the book off Cantirburi Talis,
Whan the pilgrymis rood on pilgrymage
Thoruhout Kent bi hillis and bi valis,
And alle the stories told in ther passage,
Enditid hem ful weel in our language:
Summe off knyhthod, summe off gentilesse,
And summe off loue & summe off parfitnesse,

And summe also off gret moralite,
Summe off disport, includynge gret sentence.
In prose he wrot the Tale off Melibe,
And off his wiff, that callid was Prudence,
And off Grisildis parfit pacience,
And how the Monk off stories newe & olde
Pitous tragedies be the weie tolde.

This said poete, my maistir in his daies,
Maad and compiled ful many a fressh dite,
Compleyntis, baladis, roundelis, virelaies
Ful delectable to heryn and to see,
For which men sholde, off riht and equite,
Sithe he off Inglissh in makyng was the beste,
Preie onto God to yiue his soule good reste.

And these poetis I make off mencioun,
Were bi old tyme had in gret deynte,
With kyngis, pryncis in euery regioun,
Gretli preferrid afftir ther degre;
For lordis hadde plesance for to see,
To studie a-mong, and to caste ther lookis
At good[e] leiser vpon wise bookis.

For in the tyme off Cesar Iulius,
Whan the tryumphe he wan in Rome toun,
He entre wolde the scoole off Tullius
And heere his lecture off gret affeccioun;
And natwithstandyng his conquest & renoun,
Vnto bookis he gaff gret attendaunce
And hadde in stories ioie and gret pleasunce.

Eek in this land, I dar afferme a thyng:
There is a prynce ful myhti off puissaunce,
A kyngis sone and vncle to the kyng
Henry the Sexte, which is now in Fraunce,
And is lieftenant, and hath the gouernaunce
Off our Breteyne, thoruh whos discrecioun
He hath conserued in this regioun,

Duryng his tyme, off ful hih prudence,
Pes and quiete and sustened riht,
Yit natwithstandyng his noble prouidence,
He is in deede proued a good[e] knyht,
Eied as Argus with resoun and forsiht;
Off hih lettrure, I dar eek off hym telle,
And treuli deeme that he doth excelle

In vndirstondyng alle othir off his age,
And hath gret ioie with clerkis to comune:
And no man is mor expert off language,
Stable in study alwey he doth contune,
Settyng a-side alle chaungis of Fortune;
And wher he loueth, yiff I shal nat tarie,
Withoute cause ful loth he is to varie.

Duc off Gloucestre men this prynce calle,
And natwithstandyng his staat & dignite,
His corage neuer doth appalle
To studie in bookis off antiquite,
Therin he hath so gret felicite
Vertuously hymsilff to ocupie,
Off vicious slouthe to haue the maistrie.

And with his prudence and with his manheed,
Trouthe to susteene he fauour set a-side,
And hooli chirch[e] meyntenyng in deed,

That in this land no Lollard dar abide—
As verray support, vpholdere and eek guide
Sparith noon, but maketh hymsiluen strong
To punysshe all tho that do the chirch[e] wrong.

Thus is he bothe manli and eek wis,
Chose off God to been his owyn knyht,
And off o thyng he hath a synguler pris,
That heretik dar noon come in his siht,
In Cristis feith he stant so hool vpriht,
Off hooli chirche diffence and champioun,
To chastise alle that do therto tresoun.

And to do plesaunce to our lord Iesu,
He studieth euere to haue intelligence;
Reedyng off bookis bryngith in vertu,
Vices excludyng, slouthe and necligence,
Makith a prynce to haue experience,
To knowe hymsilff, in many sundri wise,
Wher he trespasith his errour to chastise.

And a-mong bookis, pleynli this the cas,
This said[e] prynce considred off resoun,
The noble book off this Iohn Bochas
Was, accordyng in his opynyoun,
Off gret noblesse and reputacioun,
And onto pryncis gretli necessarie
To yiue exaumple how this world doth varie.

And for this cause, as in his entent,
To shewe thuntrust off al worldli thyng,
He gaff to me in comaundement,
As hym sempte it was riht weel sittyng,
That I shulde, afftir my cunnyng,
This book translate, hym to do plesaunce,
To shewe the chaung off worldli variaunce.

And with support off his magnificence,
Vndir the wyngis off his correccioun,
Thouh that I haue lak off eloquence,
I shal procede in this translacioun,
Fro me auoidyng al presumpcioun,
Lowli submyttyng eueri hour & space
Mi reud language to my lordis grace.

And as I haue o thyng weel in mynde,
He bad me I sholde in especiall,
Folwyng myn auctour, writen as I fynde,
And for no fauour be nat parciall—
Thus I meene to speke in generall,
And noon estat syngulerly depraue,
But the sentence off myn auctour saue.

Al this conceyuyd, I gan my stile dresse,
Thouhte I wolde in my mater proceede;
And for the mater abraid on heuynesse,
Off fressh colours I took no maner heede,
But my processe pleynli for to leede,
As me sempte it was to me most meete
To sette apart all rethoriques sueete.

Dites of murnyng and off compleynynge
Nat appertene onto Calliope,
Nor to the Muses, that on Parnaso synge,
Which be remembrid in noumbre thries thre;
And onto materes off aduersite,
With ther sugred aureat licour
Thei be nat willi for to doon fauour;

But off disdeyn me settyng ferr a-bak
To hyndre me off that I wolde endite,
Hauyng no colours but onli whit & blak,
To the tragedies which that I shal write.
And for I can my-silff no bet acquite,
Vndir support off all that shal it reede,
Vpon Bochas riht thus I will proceede.

Explicit prologus.

Incipit Liber Primus.