7fend] fendisMS.66þe] þoMS.67pesible] posibleMS.69world] lifMS.98on] &MS.100for(1st)] froMS.105of(1st)] &MS.108plesynge] preisyngeMS. altered later.126as(2nd)] andMS.128oure] oþerMS.154bataile] baitaleMS.198chargid] chargenMS.202not so]repeated MS.228of] &MS.275þan] ofMS.
7fend] fendisMS.
66þe] þoMS.
67pesible] posibleMS.
69world] lifMS.
98on] &MS.
100for(1st)] froMS.
105of(1st)] &MS.
108plesynge] preisyngeMS. altered later.
126as(2nd)] andMS.
128oure] oþerMS.
154bataile] baitaleMS.
198chargid] chargenMS.
202not so]repeated MS.
228of] &MS.
275þan] ofMS.
John Gower, a Londoner himself, came of a good Kentish family. Chaucer must have known him well, for he chose him as his attorney when leaving for the Continent in 1378, and, with the dedication ofTroilus and Criseyde, labelled him for ever as 'moral Gower'. Gower's marriage with Agnes Groundolf, probably a second marriage, is recorded in 1398. Blindness came on him a few years later. His will, dated August 15, 1408, was proved on October 24, 1408, so that his death must fall between those two points. By his own wish he was buried in St. Saviour's, Southwark, the church of the canons of St. Mary Overy, to whom he was a liberal benefactor.
On his tomb in St. Saviour's Church, Gower is shown with his head resting on three great volumes, representing his principal works—theSpeculum Meditantis, theVox Clamantis, and theConfessio Amantis.
TheSpeculum Meditantis, orMirour de l'Omme, is a handbook of sins and sinners, written in French.
TheVox Clamantis, written in Latin, covers similar ground. Opening with a vision of the Peasants' Revolt of 1381, the poet passes in review the faults of the different grades of society—clergy, nobles, labourers, traders, lawyers—and ends with an admonition to the young King Richard II.
In his English work, theConfessio Amantis, he expressly abandons the task of setting the world to rights, and promises to change his style henceforth. Now he will sing of Love. The machinery of the poem is suggested by the great source of mediaeval conventions, theRoman de la Rose. On a May morning the poet, a victim of love, wanders afield and meets theQueen of Love (cp. the beginning of Chaucer'sLegend of Good Women). She bids him confess to her priest Genius. Genius hears the confession, sustaining with some incongruity the triple rôle of high priest of Love, Christian moralist, and entertainer—for it is he who tells the stories which, woven about the frame work of the Seven Deadly Sins, make the real matter of the poem.
The first form of theConfessiowas completed in 1390. It contains a Prologue in which the suggestion for the poem is ascribed to Richard II, and an Epilogue in his praise. In this version the Queen of Love at parting gives Gower a message for Chaucer:
And gret wel Chaucer whan ye mete,As mi disciple and mi poete:For in the floures of his youtheIn sondri wise, as he wel couthe,Of ditees and of songes glade,The whiche he for mi sake made,The lond fulfild is overal.Wherof to him in specialAbove alle othre I am most holde.Forthi now, in hise daies olde,Thow schalt him telle this message,That he upon his latere age,To sette an ende of alle his werk,As he which is myn owne clerk,Do make his testament of love,As thou hast do thi schrifte above,So that mi Court it mai recorde.
And gret wel Chaucer whan ye mete,
As mi disciple and mi poete:
For in the floures of his youthe
In sondri wise, as he wel couthe,
Of ditees and of songes glade,
The whiche he for mi sake made,
The lond fulfild is overal.
Wherof to him in special
Above alle othre I am most holde.
Forthi now, in hise daies olde,
Thow schalt him telle this message,
That he upon his latere age,
To sette an ende of alle his werk,
As he which is myn owne clerk,
Do make his testament of love,
As thou hast do thi schrifte above,
So that mi Court it mai recorde.
In the final form, completed in 1392-3, Richard's name disappears from the Prologue; the dedication to his popular rival, Henry of Lancaster, is made prominent; the eulogy in the Epilogue is dropped; and with it the compliment to Chaucer. Whether this last omission is due to chance, or to some change in the relations between the two poets, is not clear.
In his own day Gower was ranked with Chaucer. His reputation was still high among the Elizabethans; and he has the distinction of appearing as Chorus in a Shakespearian play—Pericles—of which his story ofApollonius of Tyre, in Bk. viii of theConfessio, was the immediate source.
A selection gives a very favourable impression of his work. He has a perfect command of the octosyllabic couplet; an easystyle, well suited to narrative; and a classic simplicity of expression for which the work of his predecessors in Middle English leaves us unprepared. Throughout the whole of theConfessio Amantis, more than 30,000 lines, the level of workmanship is remarkable, and almost every page shows some graceful and poetical verses.
Yet the poem as a whole suffers from the fault that Gower tried to avoid:
It dulleth ofte a mannes witTo him that schal it aldai rede.
It dulleth ofte a mannes wit
To him that schal it aldai rede.
One defect, obvious to a modern reader, would hardly be noticed by his contemporaries: he often incorporates in his poetry matter proper only to an encyclopaedia, such as the discourse on the religions of the world in Bk. v, or that on Philosophy in Bk. vii. Another is more radical: for all his wide reading, his leading ideas lack originality. It is hardly a travesty to say that the teaching of his works amounts to this: 'In the moral world, avoid the Seven Deadly Sins in the five sub-classifications of each; in the political world keep your degree without presuming'. Such a negative and conventional message cannot sustain the fabric of three long poems. Their polished and facile moralizing becomes almost exasperating if it be remembered that the poet wrote when a whole system of society was falling, and falling noisily, about him. Modern taste rejects Gower the moralist and political writer, and his claim to present as apart from historical value rests on the delightful single stories which served as embroidery to his serious themes.
The extracts are taken from the admirable edition by G. C. Macaulay: 'The Works of John Gower', 4 vols., Oxford 1899-1902.
This finde I write in Poesie:Ceïx the king of TrocinieHadde Alceone to his wif,Which as hire oghne hertes lifHim loveth; and he hadde also5A brother, which was cleped thoDedalion, and he per casFro kinde of man forschape wasInto a goshauk of liknesse;Wherof the king gret hevynesse10Hath take, and thoghte in his corageTo gon upon a pelrinageInto a strange regioun,Wher he hath his devociounTo don his sacrifice and preie,15If that he mihte in eny weieToward the goddes finde graceHis brother hele to pourchace,So that he mihte be reformedOf that he hadde be transformed.20To this pourpos and to this endeThis king is redy for to wende,As he which wolde go be schipe;And for to don him felaschipeHis wif unto the see him broghte,25With al hire herte and him besoghteThat he the time hire wolde seinWhan that he thoghte come aȝein:'Withinne,' he seith, 'tuo monthe day.'And thus in al the haste he may30He tok his leve, and forth he seileth,Wepende and sche hirself beweileth,And torneth hom, ther sche cam fro.Bot whan the monthes were ago,The whiche he sette of his comynge,35And that sche herde no tydinge,Ther was no care for to seche:Wherof the goddes to besecheTho sche began in many wise,And to Iuno hire sacrifise40Above alle othre most sche dede,And for hir lord sche hath so bedeTo wite and knowe hou that he ferde,That Iuno the goddesse hire herde,Anon and upon this matiere45Sche bad Yris hir messagereTo Slepes hous that
This finde I write in Poesie:
Ceïx the king of Trocinie
Hadde Alceone to his wif,
Which as hire oghne hertes lif
Him loveth; and he hadde also5
A brother, which was cleped tho
Dedalion, and he per cas
Fro kinde of man forschape was
Into a goshauk of liknesse;
Wherof the king gret hevynesse10
Hath take, and thoghte in his corage
To gon upon a pelrinage
Into a strange regioun,
Wher he hath his devocioun
To don his sacrifice and preie,15
If that he mihte in eny weie
Toward the goddes finde grace
His brother hele to pourchace,
So that he mihte be reformed
Of that he hadde be transformed.20
To this pourpos and to this ende
This king is redy for to wende,
As he which wolde go be schipe;
And for to don him felaschipe
His wif unto the see him broghte,25
With al hire herte and him besoghte
That he the time hire wolde sein
Whan that he thoghte come aȝein:
'Withinne,' he seith, 'tuo monthe day.'
And thus in al the haste he may30
He tok his leve, and forth he seileth,
Wepende and sche hirself beweileth,
And torneth hom, ther sche cam fro.
Bot whan the monthes were ago,
The whiche he sette of his comynge,35
And that sche herde no tydinge,
Ther was no care for to seche:
Wherof the goddes to beseche
Tho sche began in many wise,
And to Iuno hire sacrifise40
Above alle othre most sche dede,
And for hir lord sche hath so bede
To wite and knowe hou that he ferde,
That Iuno the goddesse hire herde,
Anon and upon this matiere45
Sche bad Yris hir messagere
To Slepes hous that
And bidde him that he make an ende,
Be swevene and schewen al the cas
Unto this ladi, hou it was.50
This Yris, fro the hihe stage
Which undertake hath the message,
Hire reyny cope dede upon,
The which was wonderli begon
With colours of diverse hewe,55
An hundred mo than men it knewe;
The hevene lich unto a bowe
Sche bende, and so she cam doun lowe,
The god of Slep wher that sche fond;
And that was in a strange lond,60
Which marcheth upon Chymerie:
For ther, as seith the Poesie,
The God of Slep hath mad his hous,
Which of entaille is merveilous.
Under an hell ther is a cave,65
Which of the sonne mai noght have,
So that noman mai knowe ariht
The point betwen the dai and nyht:
Ther is no fyr, ther is no sparke,
Ther is no dore, which mai charke,70
Wherof an yhe scholde unschette,
So that inward ther is no lette.
And for to speke of that withoute,
Ther stant no gret tree nyh aboute
Wher on ther myhte crowe or pie75
Alihte, for to clepe or crie;
Ther is no cok to crowe day,
Ne beste non which noise may;
The hell bot al aboute round
Ther is growende upon the ground80
Popi, which berth the sed of slep,
With othre herbes suche an hep.
A stille water for the nones
Rennende upon the smale stones,
Which hihte of Lethes the rivere,85
Under that hell in such manere
Ther is, which ȝifth gret appetit
To slepe. And thus full of delit
Slep hath his hous; and of his couche
Withinne his chambre if I schal touche,90
Of hebenus that slepi tree
The bordes al aboute be,
And for he scholde slepe softe,
Upon a fethrebed alofte
He lith with many a pilwe of doun.95
The chambre is strowed up and doun
With swevenes many thousendfold.
Thus cam Yris into this hold,
And to the bedd, which is al blak,
Sche goth, and ther with Slep sche spak,100
And in the wise as sche was bede
The message of Iuno sche dede.
Ful ofte hir wordes sche reherceth,
Er sche his slepi eres perceth;
With mochel wo bot ate laste105
His slombrende yhen he upcaste
And seide hir that it schal be do.
Wherof among a thousend tho
Withinne his hous that slepi were,
In special he ches out there110
Thre, whiche scholden do this dede:
The ferste of hem, so as I rede,
Was Morpheüs, the whos nature
Is for to take the figure
Of what persone that him liketh,115
Wherof that he ful ofte entriketh
The lif which slepe schal be nyhte;
And Ithecus that other hihte,
Which hath the vois of every soun,
The chiere and the condicioun120
Of every lif, what so it is:
The thridde suiende after this
Is Panthasas, which may transforme
Of every thing the rihte forme,
And change it in an other kinde.125
Upon hem thre, so as I finde,
Of swevenes stant al thapparence,
Which other while is evidence,
And other while bot a iape.
Bot natheles it is so schape,130
That Morpheüs be nyht al one
Appiereth until Alceone
In liknesse of hir housebonde
Al naked ded upon the stronde,
And hou he dreynte in special135
These othre tuo it schewen al:
The tempeste of the blake cloude,
The wode see, the wyndes loude,
Al this sche mette, and sih him dyen;
Wherof that sche began to crien,140
Slepende abedde ther sche lay,
And with that noise of hire affray
Hir wommen sterten up aboute,
Whiche of here ladi were in doute,
And axen hire hou that sche ferde;145
And sche, riht as sche syh and herde,
Hir swevene hath told hem everydel:
And thei it halsen alle wel
And sein it is a tokne of goode.
Bot til sche wiste hou that it stode,150
Sche hath no confort in hire herte,
Upon the morwe and up sche sterte,
And to the see, wher that sche mette
The bodi lay, withoute lette
Sche drowh, and whan that sche cam nyh,155
Stark ded, hise armes sprad, sche syh
Hire lord flietende upon the wawe.
Wherof hire wittes ben withdrawe,
And sche, which tok of deth no kepe,
Anon forth lepte into the depe160
And wolde have cawht him in hire arm.
This infortune of double harm
The goddes fro the hevene above
Behielde, and for the trowthe of love,
Which in this worthi ladi stod,165
Thei have upon the salte flod
Hire dreinte lord and hire also
Fro deth to lyve torned so
That thei ben schapen into briddes
Swimmende upon the wawe amiddes.170
And whan sche sih hire lord livende
In liknesse of a bridd swimmende,
And sche was of the same sort,
So as sche mihte do desport,
Upon the ioie which sche hadde175
Hire wynges bothe abrod sche spradde,
And him, so as sche mai suffise,
Beclipte and keste in such a wise,
As sche was whilom wont to do:
Hire wynges for hire armes tuo180
Sche tok, and for hire lippes softe
Hire harde bile, and so ful ofte
Sche fondeth in hire briddes forme,
If that sche mihte hirself conforme
To do the plesance of a wif,185
As sche dede in that other lif:
For thogh sche hadde hir pouer lore,
Hir will stod as it was tofore,
And serveth him so as sche mai.
Wherof into this ilke day190
Togedre upon the see thei wone,
Wher many a dowhter and a sone
Thei bringen forth of briddes kinde;
And for men scholden take in mynde
This Alceoun the trewe queene,195
Hire briddes ȝit, as it is seene,
Of Alceoun the name bere.
To speke of an unkinde man,I finde hou whilom Adrian,Of Rome which a gret lord was,Upon a day as he per casTo wode in his huntinge wente,5It hapneth at a soudein wente,After his chace as he poursuieth,Thurgh happ, the which noman eschuieth,He fell unwar into a pet,Wher that it mihte noght be let.10The pet was dep and he fell lowe,That of his men non myhte knoweWher he becam, for non was nyhWhich of his fall the meschief syh.And thus al one ther he lay15Clepende and criende al the dayFor socour and deliverance,Til aȝein eve it fell per chance,A while er it began to nyhte,A povere man, which Bardus hihte,20Cam forth walkende with his asse,And hadde gadred him a tasseOf grene stickes and of dreieTo selle, who that wolde hem beie,As he which hadde no liflode,25Bot whanne he myhte such a lodeTo toune with his asse carie.And as it fell him for to tarieThat ilke time nyh the pet,And hath the trusse faste knet,30He herde a vois, which cride dimme,And he his ere to the brimmeHath leid, and herde it was a man,Which seide, 'Ha, help hier Adrian,And I wol ȝiven half mi good.'35The povere man this understod,As he that wolde gladly winne,And to this lord which was withinneHe spak and seide, 'If I thee save,What sikernesse schal I have40Of covenant, that afterwardThou wolt me ȝive such rewardAs thou behihtest nou tofore?'That other hath his othes sworeBe hevene and be the goddes alle,45If that it myhte so befalleThat he out of the pet him broghte,Of all the goodes whiche he oghteHe schal have evene halvendel.This Bardus seide he wolde wel;50And with this word his asse anonHe let untrusse, and theruponDoun goth the corde into the pet,To which he hath at þe ende knetA staf, wherby, he seide, he wolde55That Adrian him scholde holde.Bot it was tho per chance falle,Into that pet was also falleAn ape, which at thilke throwe,Whan that the corde cam doun lowe,60Al sodeinli therto he skipteAnd it in bothe hise armes clipte.And Bardus with his asse anonHim hath updrawe, and he is gon.But whan he sih it was an ape,65He wende al hadde ben a iapeOf faierie, and sore him dradde:And Adrian eftsone graddeFor help, and cride and preide faste,And he eftsone his corde caste;70Bot whan it cam unto the grounde,A gret serpent it hath bewounde,The which Bardus anon up drouh.And thanne him thoghte wel ynouhIt was fantosme, bot yit he herde75The vois, and he therto ansuerde,'What wiht art thou in Goddes name?''I am,' quod Adrian, 'the same,Whos good thou schalt have evene half.'Quod Bardus, 'Thanne a Goddes half80The thridde time assaie I schal':And caste his corde forth withalInto the pet, and whan it camTo him, this lord of Rome it nam,And therupon him hath adresced,85And with his hand ful ofte blessed,And thanne he bad to Bardus hale.And he, which understod his tale,Betwen him and his asse, al softe,Hath drawe and set him up alofte90Withouten harm, al esely.He seith noght ones 'grant merci,'Bot strauhte him forth to the cité,And let this povere Bardus be.And natheles this simple man95His covenant, so as he can,Hath axed; and that other seide,If so be that he him umbreideOf oght that hath be speke or do,It schal ben venged on him so,100That him were betre to be ded.And he can tho non other red,But on his asse aȝein he casteHis trusse, and hieth homward faste:And whan that he cam hom to bedde,105He tolde his wif hou that he spedde.Bot finaly to speke oght moreUnto this lord he dradde him sore.So that a word ne dorste he sein.And thus upon the morwe aȝein,110In the manere as I recorde,Forth with his asse and with his cordeTo gadre wode, as he dede er,He goth; and whan that he cam nerUnto the place where he wolde,115He hath his ape anon beholde,Which hadde gadred al abouteOf stickes hiere and there a route,And leide hem redy to his hond,Wherof he made his trosse and bond.120Fro dai to dai and in this wiseThis ape profreth his servise,So that he hadde of wode ynouh.Upon a time and as he drouhToward the wode, he sih besyde125The grete gastli serpent glyde,Til that sche cam in his presence,And in hir kinde a reverenceSche hath him do, and forth withalA ston mor briht than a cristall130Out of hir mouth tofore his weieSche let doun falle, and wente aweieFor that he schal noght ben adrad.Tho was this povere Bardus glad,Thonkende God and to the ston135He goth and takth it up anon,And hath gret wonder in his witHou that the beste him hath aquit,Wher that the mannes sone hath failed,For whom he hadde most travailed.140Bot al he putte in Goddes hond,And torneth hom, and what he fondUnto his wif he hath it schewed;And thei, that weren bothe lewed,Acorden that he scholde it selle.145And he no lengere wolde duelle,Bot forth anon upon the taleThe ston he profreth to the sale;And riht as he himself it sette,The iueler anon forth fette150The gold and made his paiement;Therof was no delaiement.Thus whan this ston was boght and sold,Homward with ioie manyfoldThis Bardus goth; and whan he cam155Hom to his hous and that he namHis gold out of his purs, withinneHe fond his ston also therinne,Wherof for ioie his herte pleide,Unto his wif and thus he seide,160'Lo, hier my gold, lo, hier mi ston!'His wif hath wonder therupon,And axeth him hou that mai be.'Nou, be mi trouthe! I not,' quod he,'Bot I dar swere upon a bok165That to my marchant I it tok,And he it hadde whan I wente:So knowe I noght to what ententeIt is nou hier, bot it be grace.Forthi tomorwe in other place170I wole it fonde for to selle,And if it wol noght with him duelle,Bot crepe into mi purs aȝein,Than dar I saufly swere and seinIt is the vertu of the ston.'175The morwe cam, and he is gonTo seche aboute in other stedeHis ston to selle, and he so dede,And lefte it with his chapman there.Bot whan that he cam elleswhere180In presence of his wif at hom,Out of his purs and that he nomHis gold, he fond his ston withal.And thus it fell him overal,Where he it solde in sondri place,185Such was the fortune and the grace.Bot so wel may nothing ben hidd,That it nys ate laste kidd:This fame goth aboute RomeSo ferforth that the wordes come190To themperour Iustinian;And he let sende for the man,And axede him hou that it was.And Bardus tolde him al the cas,Hou that the worm and ek the beste,195Althogh thei maden no beheste,His travail hadden wel aquit;Bot he which hadde a mannes wit,And made his covenant be mouthe,And swor therto al that he couthe,200To parte and ȝiven half his good,Hath nou forȝete hou that it stod,As he which wol no trouthe holde.This Emperour al that he toldeHath herd, and thilke unkindenesse205He seide he wolde himself redresse.And thus in court of iuggementThis Adrian was thanne assent,And the querele in audienceDeclared was in the presence210Of themperour and many mo;Wherof was mochel speche thoAnd gret wondringe among the press.Bot ate laste nathelesFor the partie which hath pleigned215The lawe hath diemed and ordeignedBe hem that were avised wel,That he schal have the halvendelThurghout of Adrianes good.And thus of thilke unkinde blod220Stant the memoire into this day,Wherof that every wys man mayEnsamplen him, and take in myndeWhat schame it is to ben unkinde;Aȝein the which reson debateth,225And every creature it hateth.
To speke of an unkinde man,
I finde hou whilom Adrian,
Of Rome which a gret lord was,
Upon a day as he per cas
To wode in his huntinge wente,5
It hapneth at a soudein wente,
After his chace as he poursuieth,
Thurgh happ, the which noman eschuieth,
He fell unwar into a pet,
Wher that it mihte noght be let.10
The pet was dep and he fell lowe,
That of his men non myhte knowe
Wher he becam, for non was nyh
Which of his fall the meschief syh.
And thus al one ther he lay15
Clepende and criende al the day
For socour and deliverance,
Til aȝein eve it fell per chance,
A while er it began to nyhte,
A povere man, which Bardus hihte,20
Cam forth walkende with his asse,
And hadde gadred him a tasse
Of grene stickes and of dreie
To selle, who that wolde hem beie,
As he which hadde no liflode,25
Bot whanne he myhte such a lode
To toune with his asse carie.
And as it fell him for to tarie
That ilke time nyh the pet,
And hath the trusse faste knet,30
He herde a vois, which cride dimme,
And he his ere to the brimme
Hath leid, and herde it was a man,
Which seide, 'Ha, help hier Adrian,
And I wol ȝiven half mi good.'35
The povere man this understod,
As he that wolde gladly winne,
And to this lord which was withinne
He spak and seide, 'If I thee save,
What sikernesse schal I have40
Of covenant, that afterward
Thou wolt me ȝive such reward
As thou behihtest nou tofore?'
That other hath his othes swore
Be hevene and be the goddes alle,45
If that it myhte so befalle
That he out of the pet him broghte,
Of all the goodes whiche he oghte
He schal have evene halvendel.
This Bardus seide he wolde wel;50
And with this word his asse anon
He let untrusse, and therupon
Doun goth the corde into the pet,
To which he hath at þe ende knet
A staf, wherby, he seide, he wolde55
That Adrian him scholde holde.
Bot it was tho per chance falle,
Into that pet was also falle
An ape, which at thilke throwe,
Whan that the corde cam doun lowe,60
Al sodeinli therto he skipte
And it in bothe hise armes clipte.
And Bardus with his asse anon
Him hath updrawe, and he is gon.
But whan he sih it was an ape,65
He wende al hadde ben a iape
Of faierie, and sore him dradde:
And Adrian eftsone gradde
For help, and cride and preide faste,
And he eftsone his corde caste;70
Bot whan it cam unto the grounde,
A gret serpent it hath bewounde,
The which Bardus anon up drouh.
And thanne him thoghte wel ynouh
It was fantosme, bot yit he herde75
The vois, and he therto ansuerde,
'What wiht art thou in Goddes name?'
'I am,' quod Adrian, 'the same,
Whos good thou schalt have evene half.'
Quod Bardus, 'Thanne a Goddes half80
The thridde time assaie I schal':
And caste his corde forth withal
Into the pet, and whan it cam
To him, this lord of Rome it nam,
And therupon him hath adresced,85
And with his hand ful ofte blessed,
And thanne he bad to Bardus hale.
And he, which understod his tale,
Betwen him and his asse, al softe,
Hath drawe and set him up alofte90
Withouten harm, al esely.
He seith noght ones 'grant merci,'
Bot strauhte him forth to the cité,
And let this povere Bardus be.
And natheles this simple man95
His covenant, so as he can,
Hath axed; and that other seide,
If so be that he him umbreide
Of oght that hath be speke or do,
It schal ben venged on him so,100
That him were betre to be ded.
And he can tho non other red,
But on his asse aȝein he caste
His trusse, and hieth homward faste:
And whan that he cam hom to bedde,105
He tolde his wif hou that he spedde.
Bot finaly to speke oght more
Unto this lord he dradde him sore.
So that a word ne dorste he sein.
And thus upon the morwe aȝein,110
In the manere as I recorde,
Forth with his asse and with his corde
To gadre wode, as he dede er,
He goth; and whan that he cam ner
Unto the place where he wolde,115
He hath his ape anon beholde,
Which hadde gadred al aboute
Of stickes hiere and there a route,
And leide hem redy to his hond,
Wherof he made his trosse and bond.120
Fro dai to dai and in this wise
This ape profreth his servise,
So that he hadde of wode ynouh.
Upon a time and as he drouh
Toward the wode, he sih besyde125
The grete gastli serpent glyde,
Til that sche cam in his presence,
And in hir kinde a reverence
Sche hath him do, and forth withal
A ston mor briht than a cristall130
Out of hir mouth tofore his weie
Sche let doun falle, and wente aweie
For that he schal noght ben adrad.
Tho was this povere Bardus glad,
Thonkende God and to the ston135
He goth and takth it up anon,
And hath gret wonder in his wit
Hou that the beste him hath aquit,
Wher that the mannes sone hath failed,
For whom he hadde most travailed.140
Bot al he putte in Goddes hond,
And torneth hom, and what he fond
Unto his wif he hath it schewed;
And thei, that weren bothe lewed,
Acorden that he scholde it selle.145
And he no lengere wolde duelle,
Bot forth anon upon the tale
The ston he profreth to the sale;
And riht as he himself it sette,
The iueler anon forth fette150
The gold and made his paiement;
Therof was no delaiement.
Thus whan this ston was boght and sold,
Homward with ioie manyfold
This Bardus goth; and whan he cam155
Hom to his hous and that he nam
His gold out of his purs, withinne
He fond his ston also therinne,
Wherof for ioie his herte pleide,
Unto his wif and thus he seide,160
'Lo, hier my gold, lo, hier mi ston!'
His wif hath wonder therupon,
And axeth him hou that mai be.
'Nou, be mi trouthe! I not,' quod he,
'Bot I dar swere upon a bok165
That to my marchant I it tok,
And he it hadde whan I wente:
So knowe I noght to what entente
It is nou hier, bot it be grace.
Forthi tomorwe in other place170
I wole it fonde for to selle,
And if it wol noght with him duelle,
Bot crepe into mi purs aȝein,
Than dar I saufly swere and sein
It is the vertu of the ston.'175
The morwe cam, and he is gon
To seche aboute in other stede
His ston to selle, and he so dede,
And lefte it with his chapman there.
Bot whan that he cam elleswhere180
In presence of his wif at hom,
Out of his purs and that he nom
His gold, he fond his ston withal.
And thus it fell him overal,
Where he it solde in sondri place,185
Such was the fortune and the grace.
Bot so wel may nothing ben hidd,
That it nys ate laste kidd:
This fame goth aboute Rome
So ferforth that the wordes come190
To themperour Iustinian;
And he let sende for the man,
And axede him hou that it was.
And Bardus tolde him al the cas,
Hou that the worm and ek the beste,195
Althogh thei maden no beheste,
His travail hadden wel aquit;
Bot he which hadde a mannes wit,
And made his covenant be mouthe,
And swor therto al that he couthe,200
To parte and ȝiven half his good,
Hath nou forȝete hou that it stod,
As he which wol no trouthe holde.
This Emperour al that he tolde
Hath herd, and thilke unkindenesse205
He seide he wolde himself redresse.
And thus in court of iuggement
This Adrian was thanne assent,
And the querele in audience
Declared was in the presence210
Of themperour and many mo;
Wherof was mochel speche tho
And gret wondringe among the press.
Bot ate laste natheles
For the partie which hath pleigned215
The lawe hath diemed and ordeigned
Be hem that were avised wel,
That he schal have the halvendel
Thurghout of Adrianes good.
And thus of thilke unkinde blod220
Stant the memoire into this day,
Wherof that every wys man may
Ensamplen him, and take in mynde
What schame it is to ben unkinde;
Aȝein the which reson debateth,225
And every creature it hateth.
Ranulph Higden (d. 1364) was a monk of St. Werburgh's at Chester, and has been doubtfully identified with the 'Randal Higden' who is said to have travelled to Rome to get the Pope's consent to the acting of the Chester miracle plays in English.
HisPolychronicon, so called because it is the chronicle of many ages, is a compilation covering the period from the Creation to 1352. In the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries it was the favourite universal history; and the First Book, which deals with general geography, has still a special interest for the light it throws on the state of knowledge in Chaucer's day.
Two English prose translations are known: Trevisa's, completed in 1387, and modernized and printed by Caxton in 1482; and an anonymous rendering made in the second quarter of the fifteenth century. Both are printed, with Higden's Latin, in the edition by Babington and Lumby, Rolls Series, 9 vols., 1865-86.
John of Trevisa was a Cornishman. He was a fellow of Exeter College, Oxford, from 1362 to 1365; and was one of those expelled from Queen's College for 'unworthiness' in 1379. He became vicar of Berkeley, and at the request of Sir Thomas Berkeley undertook the translation of thePolychronicon. In 1398 he brought to an end another long work, the translation ofBartholomaeus de Proprietatibus Rerum, the great encyclopaedia of natural science at this time. He died at Berkeley in 1402.
Trevisa was a diligent but not an accurate or gracefultranslator. He rarely adds anything from his own knowledge, though we have an example in the account of the reform of teaching at Oxford while he was there. The interest of his work depends chiefly on the curiosity of some passages in his originals.
In Brytayn buþ hoot welles wel arayed and yhyȝt to þe vse of mankunde. Mayster of þulke welles ys þe gret spyryt of Minerua. Yn hys hous fuyr duyreþ alwey, þat neuer chaungeþ into askes, bote þar þe fuyr slakeþ, hyt changeþ ynto stony clottes.{05}
Yn Brytayn buþ meny wondres. Noþeles foure buþ most wonderfol. Þe
furste ys at Pectoun. Þar bloweþ so strong a wynd out of þe chenes of
þe eorþe þat hyt casteþ vp aȝe cloþes þat me casteþ yn. Þe secunde
ys at Stonhenge bysydes Salesbury. Þar gret stones and wondur huge buþ{10}arered
an hyȝ, as hyt were ȝates, so þat þar semeþ ȝates
yset apon oþer ȝates. Noþeles hyt ys noȝt clerlych yknowe noþer
parceyuet houȝ and wharfore a buþ so arered and so wonderlych
yhonged. Þe þridde ys at Cherdhol. Þer ys gret holwenes vndur eorþe.
Ofte meny men habbeþ{15}ybe þerynne, and ywalked aboute wiþynne, and
yseye ryuers and streemes, bote nowhar conneþ hy fynde non ende. Þe
feurþe ys þat reyn ys yseye arered vp of þe hulles, and anon yspronge
aboute yn þe feeldes. Also þer ys a gret pond þat conteyneþ þre score
ylondes couenable for men to dwelle{20}ynne.
Þat pound ys byclypped
aboute wiþ six score rooches. Apon euerych rooch ys an egle hys nest;
and þre score ryuers eorneþ into þat pound, and non of ham alle eorneþ
into þe se, bot on. Þar ys a pound yclosed aboute wiþ a wal of tyyl and
of ston. Yn þat pound men wascheþ and baþeþ{25}welofte, and euerych
man feeleþ þe water hoot oþer cold ryȝt as a wol hymsylf. Þar buþ
also salt welles fer fram þe se, and buþ salt al þe woke long forto
Saturday noon, and fersch fram Saturday noon forto Moneday. Þe water of
þis welles, whanne hyt ys ysode, turneþ into smal salt, fayr and{30}whyyt. Also þar ys a pond þe water þerof haþ wondur worchyng, for þey al
an ost stood by þe pond, and turnede þe face þyderward, þe water wolde
drawe
Yn þe contray aboute Wynchestre ys a den. Out of þat den alwey bloweþ a strong wynd, so þat no man may endure for to stonde tofor þat den. Þar ys also a pond þat turneþ tre into yre and hyt be þerynne al a ȝer, and so tren buþ yschape into whestones. Also þer ys yn þe cop of an hul{45}a buryel. Euerych man þat comeþ and meteþ þat buriel a schal fynde hyt euene ryȝt of hys oune meete; and ȝef a pylgrym oþer eny wery man kneoleþ þerto, anon a schal be al fersch, and of werynes schal he feele non nuy.
Fast by pe Ministre of Wynburney, þat ys noȝt fer fram{50}Bathe, ys a wode þat bereþ moche fruyt. Ȝef pe tren of þat wode falle into a water oþer grounde <þat> þar ys nyȝ, and lygge þar al a ȝer, þe tren teorneþ ynto stoones.
Vndur þe cité of Chestre eorneþ þe ryuer Dee, þat now todeleþ Engelond and Wales. Þat ryuer euerych monthe{55}chaungeþ hys fordes, as men of þe contray telleþ, and leueþ ofte þe chanel. Bote wheþer þe water drawe more toward Engelond oþer toward Wales, to what syde þat hyt be, þat ȝer men of þat syde schal habbe þe wors ende and be ouerset, and þe men of þe oþer syde schal habbe þe betre ende andbe{60}at here aboue.
Whanne þe water chaungeþ so hys cours, hyt bodeþ such happes. Þis ryuer Dee eorneþ and comeþ out of a lake þat hatte Pimbilmere. Yn þe ryuer ys gret plenté of samon. Noþeles in þe lake ys neuer samon yfounde.
As hyt ys yknowe houȝ meny maner people buþ in þis ylond, þer buþ also of so meny people longages and tonges. Noþeles Walschmen and Scottes, þat buþ noȝt ymelled wiþ oþer nacions, holdeþ wel nyȝ here furste longage and speche, bote ȝef Scottes, þat were som tyme confederat and wonede{05}wiþ þe Pictes, drawe somwhat after here speche. Bote þe Flemmynges þat woneþ in þe west syde of Wales habbeþ yleft here strange speche, and spekeþ Saxonlych ynow. Also Englysch men, þeyȝ hy hadde fram þe bygynnyng þre maner speche, Souþeron, Norþeron, and Myddel speche in þe{10}myddel of þe lond, as hy come of þre maner people of Germania, noþeles by commyxstion and mellyng, furst wiþ Danes and afterward wiþ Normans, in menye þe contray longage ys apeyred, and som vseþ strange wlaffyng, chyteryng, harryng, and garryng grisbittyng. Þis apeyryng of þe{15}burþtonge ys bycause of twey þinges. On ys for chyldern in scole, aȝenes þe vsage and manere of al oþer nacions, buþ compelled for to leue here oune longage, and for to construe here lessons and here þinges a Freynsch, and habbeþ suþthe þe Normans come furst into Engelond. Also gentil men{20}children buþ ytauȝt for to speke Freynsch fram tyme þat a buþ yrokked in here cradel, and conneþ speke and playe wiþ a child hys brouch; and oplondysch men wol lyknehamsylf to gentil men, and fondeþ wiþ gret bysynes for to speke Freynsch, for to be more ytold of.{25}
[Þys manere was moche y-vsed tofore þe furste moreyn, and ys seþthe somdel ychaunged. For Iohan Cornwal, a mayster of gramere, chayngede þe lore in gramerscole and construccion of Freynsch into Englysch; and Richard Pencrych lurnede þat manere techyng of hym, and oþer men of Pencrych, so þat{30}now, þe ȝer of oure Lord a þousond þre hondred foure score and fyue, of þe secunde kyng Richard after þe Conquest nyne, in al þe gramerscoles of Engelond childern leueþ Frensch, and construeþ and lurneþ an Englysch, and habbeþ þerby avauntage in on syde, and desavauntage yn anoþer.{35}Here avauntage ys þat a lurneþ here gramer yn lasse tyme þan childern wer ywoned to do. Disavauntage ys þat now childern of gramerscole conneþ no more Frensch þan can here lift heele, and þat ys harm for ham and a scholle passe þe se and trauayle in strange londes, and in meny caas also.{40}Also gentil men habbeþ now moche yleft for to teche here childern Frensch.] Hyt semeþ a gret wondur houȝ Englysch, þat ys þe burþ tonge of Englysch men, and here oune longage and tonge, ys so dyuers of soon in þis ylond; and þe longage of Normandy ys comlyng of anoþer lond, and haþ on maner{45}soon among al men þat spekeþ hyt aryȝt in Engelond. [Noþeles þer ys as meny dyuers maner Frensch yn þe rem of Fraunce as ys dyuers manere Englysch in þe rem of Engelond.]
Also of þe forseyde Saxon tonge, þat ys deled a þre, and ys abyde scarslych wiþ feaw vplondysch men, and ys gret{50}wondur, for men of þe est wiþ men of þe west, as hyt were vnder þe same party of heuene, acordeþ more in sounyng of speche þan men of þe norþ wiþ men of þe souþ. Þerfore hyt ys þat Mercii, þat buþ men of myddel Engelond, as hyt were parteners of þe endes, vndurstondeþ betre þe syde{55}longages, Norþeron and Souþeron, þan Norþeron and Souþeron vndurstondeþ eyþer oþer.
Al þe longage of þe Norþhumbres, and specialych at Ȝork, ys so scharp, slyttyng, and frotyng, and vnschape, þat we Souþeron men may þat longage vnneþe vndurstonde. Y trowe{60}þat þat ys bycause þat a buþ nyȝ to strange men and aliens, þat spekeþ strangelych, and also bycause þat þe kynges of Engelond woneþ alwey fer fram þat contray; for a buþ more yturnd to þe souþ contray, and ȝef a goþ to þe norþ contray, a goþ wiþ gret help and strengthe.{65}
Þe cause why a buþ more in þe souþ contray þan in þe norþ may be betre cornlond, more people, more noble cytés, and more profytable hauenes.
In the thirteenth century political poems were written chiefly in Latin or French. In the fourteenth century a steadily growing tendency to use English witnesses the increased interest of the people in politics and social questions. The fullest collections are those edited by T. Wright,Political Songs of England(John to Edward II), Camden Society, 1839; andPolitical Poems and Songs(Edward III to Richard III), Rolls Series, 2 vols., 1859-61.
The selections A and B are from the poems of Laurence Minot, of which the best edition is the third by J. Hall, Oxford 1914. Minot was a better patriot than a poet, and his boisterous contempt for the Scots and French reflects the spirit of England in the early days of Edward III's greatness.
The empty phrases in which the anonymous piece C abounds do not disguise a note of despair. The long war with France was becoming more and more hopeless. The plague that added to its miseries had carried off Henry, first Duke of Lancaster, in 1361. The Black Prince, to whom the nation looked for guidance, had died in 1376. The inglorious old age of Edward III ended in the following year. But there remained the hope, soon to be falsified, that the boy king Richard II would steer the ship of state to safety.
D is the earliest text of the letter which John Ball addressed to the Essex members of the Great Society of Peasants on the eve of the revolt of 1381. It shows how deep an impression the characters and allegorical form ofPiers Plowmanhad made on the oppressed serfs and labourers, and it gives some idea of the vague and incoherent thinking that brought ruin on their enterprise. Ball, who had defied established authority all hislife, was freed from prison by the rebels, became a ringleader, and preached to their assembly on Blackheath a famous sermon with the text: