The Pilgrimage of the Life of Man Englisht by John Lydgate, A.D. 1426, from the French of Guillaume De Deguileville, A.D. 1330, 1355. The Text Edited by F. J. Furnivall ... With Introduction, Notes, Glossary and Indexes by Katharine B. Locock |
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Arystotyles dyde hys massage in thys manere: |
 | The Pilgrimage of the Life of Man |  |
Arystotyles dyde hys massage in thys manere:
‘Ma dame,’ quod he, ‘in-to thys place,
Vnder súpport off your grace,
Nature hath me hyder sent,
To declare yow (off entent)
Your dyffautës, by & by;
And to shewe the causë why
Off my komyng, ys thys, that ye
Han to-brook (as semeth me)
Off nature the ordynaunce,
And don to hyrë gret grevaunce,
Wych pleseth me neueradel,
Al be yt so, I love yow wel.
Vnder súpport off your grace,
Nature hath me hyder sent,
To declare yow (off entent)
Your dyffautës, by & by;
And to shewe the causë why
Off my komyng, ys thys, that ye
Han to-brook (as semeth me)
Off nature the ordynaunce,
And don to hyrë gret grevaunce,
Wych pleseth me neueradel,
Al be yt so, I love yow wel.
‘Ye knowe (off your dyscrecyoun,
Off trouthe ek, yt ys no Resoun,
Who so cleerly looke & wel,)
That an hous or a vessél
Sholde be lasse, & her ygynne,
‘Than that thyng wych ys with-Inne.
And yiff I made to your entent,
By ápparence off Argument,
As thus, that I woldë preve,
(ffor to makë folk be-leve,)
That a paleys huge & large,
Or A menstre off gret charge,
That yt wer but A Turneys smal.
Clerkys wolde (in especyal)
Seyn yt wer but mekerye,
Or A maner sophystrye,
Shewyd, as yt wer for game;
And ye your sylff ha do the same.
(Yiff ye lyst to be avysed,)
In thys bred wych ys desguysed;
ffor the foode & the pasture,
That ys withinne (as ye assure,)
Gyveth ful repast spyrytual
To al the world in general,
So ffer the vertu doth extende;
And yet, that thyng to comprehende,
Al the erthë, in no wyse,
Nor the hevene, mowh nat suffyse,
That thyng ye (in especyal)
Han closyd in a cloystre smal,
Who kan mesure yt, or compasse,
And shet yt in a lytel space?
And swych .xiiij.e (on see or land)
I myghte wel holden in myn hand!
I trowe your sylff kan nat sey nay;
And for no fauour I ne may
Suffre no lenger (in certeyn,)
But that I mustë yow with-seyn,
And declare, wher as ye ffaylle,
(And yt ys no grete merveylle,
Who-so lyst goode heed to take)
Thogh naturë dyde awake,
‘And ther-vpon gaff yow an hete,
Yow to with-stonde & conterplete,
Touchyng hyr ryht in specyal.
Off trouthe ek, yt ys no Resoun,
Who so cleerly looke & wel,)
That an hous or a vessél
Sholde be lasse, & her ygynne,
146
And yiff I made to your entent,
By ápparence off Argument,
As thus, that I woldë preve,
(ffor to makë folk be-leve,)
That a paleys huge & large,
Or A menstre off gret charge,
That yt wer but A Turneys smal.
Clerkys wolde (in especyal)
Seyn yt wer but mekerye,
Or A maner sophystrye,
Shewyd, as yt wer for game;
And ye your sylff ha do the same.
(Yiff ye lyst to be avysed,)
In thys bred wych ys desguysed;
ffor the foode & the pasture,
That ys withinne (as ye assure,)
Gyveth ful repast spyrytual
To al the world in general,
So ffer the vertu doth extende;
And yet, that thyng to comprehende,
Al the erthë, in no wyse,
Nor the hevene, mowh nat suffyse,
That thyng ye (in especyal)
Han closyd in a cloystre smal,
Who kan mesure yt, or compasse,
And shet yt in a lytel space?
And swych .xiiij.e (on see or land)
I myghte wel holden in myn hand!
I trowe your sylff kan nat sey nay;
And for no fauour I ne may
Suffre no lenger (in certeyn,)
But that I mustë yow with-seyn,
And declare, wher as ye ffaylle,
(And yt ys no grete merveylle,
Who-so lyst goode heed to take)
Thogh naturë dyde awake,
147
Yow to with-stonde & conterplete,
Touchyng hyr ryht in specyal.
‘And thys greueth me most at al,
That my Maxime ápryved,
Ye in dede han yt reprevyd;
And (to speke in wordys pleyn,)
Neuere in my lyff herde I seyn—
In-no scolys, her nor there,—
But that “on al” (what euere yt were,)
Mot be gretter than hys party.
But ye han makyd wrongfully,
(I wot nat by what maner scole,)
The part Egal to the hoole,
With-outen any difference!
Wych I holde a gret offence
Ageyn nature, in verray soth.
And no wonder thogh she be wroth,
And laboure for Amendëment.
And for thys skyle she hath me sent
To your presence, only to here
What ye wyl seyn in thys matere.’
That my Maxime ápryved,
Ye in dede han yt reprevyd;
And (to speke in wordys pleyn,)
Neuere in my lyff herde I seyn—
In-no scolys, her nor there,—
But that “on al” (what euere yt were,)
Mot be gretter than hys party.
But ye han makyd wrongfully,
(I wot nat by what maner scole,)
The part Egal to the hoole,
With-outen any difference!
Wych I holde a gret offence
Ageyn nature, in verray soth.
And no wonder thogh she be wroth,
And laboure for Amendëment.
And for thys skyle she hath me sent
To your presence, only to here
What ye wyl seyn in thys matere.’
| The Pilgrimage of the Life of Man | |