[iii.Surquidry or Presumption.]viii.Omnia scire putat, set se Presumpcio nescit,Nec sibi consimilem quem putat esse parem.Qui magis astutus reputat se vincere bellum,In laqueos Veneris forcius ipse cadit.Sepe Cupido virum sibi qui presumit amantemFallit, et in vacuas spes redit ipsa vias.Surquiderie is thilke viceOf Pride, which the thridde officeHath in his Court, and wol noght knoweThe trowthe til it overthrowe.Hic loquitur de tercia specie Superbie, que Presumpcio dicitur, cuius naturam primo secundum vicium Confessor simpliciter declarat.Upon his fortune and his graceComth ‘Hadde I wist’ fulofte aplace;For he doth al his thing be gesse,400And voideth alle sikernesse.1890Non other conseil good him siemeth401Bot such as he himselve diemeth;P. i. 106For in such wise as he compasseth,His wit al one alle othre passeth;And is with pride so thurghsoght,402That he alle othre set at noght,And weneth of himselven so,That such as he ther be nomo,So fair, so semly, ne so wis;And thus he wolde bere a pris1900Above alle othre, and noght forthiHe seith noght ones ‘grant mercy’To godd, which alle grace sendeth,So that his wittes he despendethUpon himself, as thogh ther wereNo godd which myhte availe there:403Bot al upon his oghne wittHe stant, til he falle in the pittSo ferr that he mai noght arise.Hic tractat Confessor cum Amante super illa saltem presumpcione, ex cuius superbia quam plures fatui amantes, cum maioris certitudinis in amore spem sibi promittunt inexpediti cicius destituuntur.And riht thus in the same wise1910This vice upon the cause of loveSo proudly set the herte above,And doth him pleinly forto weneThat he to loven eny qweneHath worthinesse and sufficance;And so withoute pourveanceFulofte he heweth up so hihe,That chippes fallen in his yhe;And ek ful ofte he weneth this,Ther as he noght beloved is,1920To be beloved alther best.Now, Sone, tell what so thee lestP. i. 107Of this that I have told thee hier.Amans.Ha, fader, be noght in a wer:I trowe ther be noman lesse,Of eny maner worthinesse,That halt him lasse worth thanne ITo be beloved; and noght forthiI seie in excusinge of me,To alle men that love is fre.1930And certes that mai noman werne;404For love is of himself so derne,It luteth in a mannes herte:Bot that ne schal me noght asterte,405To wene forto be worthiTo loven, bot in hir mercy.Bot, Sire, of that ye wolden mene,That I scholde otherwise weneTo be beloved thanne I was,I am beknowe as in that cas.4061940Confessor.Mi goode Sone, tell me how.Amans.Now lest, and I wol telle yow,Mi goode fader, how it is.Fulofte it hath befalle or thisThurgh hope that was noght certein,Miwenynge hath be set in veinTo triste in thing that halp me noght,Bot onliche of myn oughne thoght.For as it semeth that a belleLik to the wordes that men telle1950Answerth, riht so ne mor ne lesse,To yow, my fader, I confesse,P. i. 108Such will my wit hath overset,That what so hope me behet,Ful many a time I wene it soth,Bot finali no spied it doth.Thus may I tellen, as I can,Wenyng beguileth many a man;407So hath it me, riht wel I wot:For if a man wole in a Bot4081960Which is withoute botme rowe,He moste nedes overthrowe.Riht so wenyng hath ferd be me:For whanne I wende next have be,As I be my wenynge caste,Thanne was I furthest ate laste,409And as a foll my bowe unbende,Whan al was failed that I wende.Forthi, my fader, as of this,That my wenynge hath gon amis1970Touchende to Surquiderie,Yif me my penance er I die.Bot if ye wolde in eny formeOf this matiere a tale enforme,Which were ayein this vice set,I scholde fare wel the bet.[Tale of Capaneus.]Hic ponit Confessor exemplum contra illos, qui de suis viribus presumentes debiliores efficiuntur. Et narrat qualiter ille Capaneus, miles in armis probatissimus, de sua presumens audacia inuocacionem ad superos tempore necessitatis ex vecordia tantum et non aliter primitus prouenisse asseruit. Vnde in obsidione Ciuitatis Thebarum, cum ipse quodam die coram suis hostibus ad debellandum se obtulit, ignis de celo subito superveniens ipsum armatum totaliter in cineres combussit.Mi Sone, in alle maner wiseSurquiderie is to despise,Wherof I finde write thus.The proude knyht Capaneüs1980He was of such Surquiderie,That he thurgh his chivalerieP. i. 109Upon himself so mochel triste,That to the goddes him ne listeIn no querele to beseche,Bot seide it was an ydel speche,Which caused was of pure drede,For lack of herte and for no nede.And upon such presumpciounHe hield this proude opinioun,1990Til ate laste upon a dai,Aboute Thebes wher he lay,Whan it of Siege was belein,This knyht, as the Croniqes sein,In alle mennes sihte there,Whan he was proudest in his gere,And thoghte how nothing myhte him dere,Ful armed with his schield and spereAs he the Cite wolde assaile,Godd tok himselve the bataille2000Ayein his Pride, and fro the skyA firy thonder sodeinlyHe sende, and him to pouldre smot.And thus the Pride which was hot,Whan he most in his strengthe wende,410Was brent and lost withouten ende:So that it proeveth wel therfore,The strengthe of man is sone lore,Bot if that he it wel governe.411And over this a man mai lerne2010That ek fulofte time it grieveth,Whan that a man himself believeth,P. i. 110As thogh it scholde him wel besemeThat he alle othre men can deme,And hath foryete his oghne vice.A tale of hem that ben so nyce,And feigne hemself to be so wise,412I schal thee telle in such a wise,Wherof thou schalt ensample takeThat thou no such thing undertake.2020I finde upon Surquiderie,How that whilom of HungarieBe olde daies was a KingWys and honeste in alle thing:And so befell upon a dai,And that was in the Monthe of Maii,413[The Trump of Death.]As thilke time it was usance,This kyng with noble pourveanceHath for himself his Charr araied,Hic loquitur Confessor contra illos, qui de sua sciencia presumentes aliorum condiciones diiudicantes indiscrete redarguunt. Et narrat exemplum de quodam principe Regis Hungarie germano, qui cum fratrem suum pauperibus in publico vidit humiliatum, ipsum redarguendo in contrarium edocere presumebat: set Rex omni sapiencia prepollens ipsum sic incaute presumentem ad humilitatis memoriam terribili prouidencia micius castigauit.Wher inne he wolde ride amaied2030Out of the Cite forto pleie,With lordes and with gret nobleieOf lusti folk that were yonge:Wher some pleide and some songe,And some gon and some ryde,And some prike here hors asideAnd bridlen hem now in now oute.The kyng his yhe caste aboute,Til he was ate laste warAnd syh comende ayein his char2040Two pilegrins of so gret age,414That lich unto a dreie ymageP. i. 111Thei weren pale and fade hewed,415And as a bussh which is besnewed,Here berdes weren hore and whyte;Ther was of kinde bot a lite,That thei ne semen fulli dede.Thei comen to the kyng and bedeSom of his good par charite;416And he with gret humilite2050Out of his Char to grounde lepte,And hem in bothe hise armes kepteAnd keste hem bothe fot and hondBefore the lordes of his lond,417And yaf hem of his good therto:And whanne he hath this dede do,He goth into his char ayein.Tho was Murmur, tho was desdeign,Tho was compleignte on every side,Thei seiden of here oghne Pride2060Eche until othre: ‘What is this?Oure king hath do this thing amis,So to abesse his realteThat every man it myhte se,And humbled him in such a wiseTo hem that were of non emprise.’Thus was it spoken to and froOf hem that were with him thoAl prively behinde his bak;Bot to himselven noman spak.2070The kinges brother in presenceWas thilke time, and gret offenceP. i. 112He tok therof, and was the sameAbove alle othre which most blameUpon his liege lord hath leid,And hath unto the lordes seid,Anon as he mai time finde,Ther schal nothing be left behinde,418That he wol speke unto the king.Now lest what fell upon this thing.2080The day was merie and fair ynowh,Echon with othre pleide and lowh,And fellen into tales newe,How that the freisshe floures grewe,And how the grene leves spronge,And how that love among the yongeBegan the hertes thanne awake,And every bridd hath chose hire make:419And thus the Maies day to thendeThei lede, and hom ayein thei wende.2090The king was noght so sone come,That whanne he hadde his chambre nome,His brother ne was redi there,And broghte a tale unto his EreOf that he dede such a schameIn hindringe of his oghne name,Whan he himself so wolde drecche,That to so vil a povere wreccheHim deigneth schewe such simplesceAyein thastat of his noblesce:2100And seith he schal it nomor use,And that he mot himself excuseP. i. 113Toward hise lordes everychon.The king stod stille as eny ston,And to his tale an Ere he leide,420And thoghte more than he seide:Bot natheles to that he herdeWel cortaisly the king answerde,And tolde it scholde be amended.And thus whan that her tale is ended,2110Al redy was the bord and cloth,The king unto his Souper gothAmong the lordes to the halle;And whan thei hadden souped alle,Thei token leve and forth thei go.The king bethoghte himselve thoHow he his brother mai chastie,That he thurgh his SurquiderieTok upon honde to despreiseHumilite, which is to preise,2120And therupon yaf such conseilToward his king that was noght heil;421Wherof to be the betre lered,He thenkth to maken him afered.It fell so that in thilke daweTher was ordeined be the laweA trompe with a sterne breth,Which cleped was the Trompe of deth:And in the Court wher the king wasA certein man this Trompe of bras2130Hath in kepinge, and therof serveth,That whan a lord his deth deserveth,P. i. 114He schal this dredful trompe bloweTofore his gate, and make it knoweHow that the jugement is yoveOf deth, which schal noght be foryove.The king, whan it was nyht, anonThis man asente and bad him gonTo trompen at his brother gate;And he, which mot so don algate,2140Goth forth and doth the kynges heste.This lord, which herde of this tempesteThat he tofore his gate blew,Tho wiste he be the lawe and knewThat he was sikerliche ded:And as of help he wot no red,Bot sende for hise frendes alleAnd tolde hem how it is befalle.And thei him axe cause why;Bot he the sothe noght forthi2150Ne wiste, and ther was sorwe tho:For it stod thilke tyme so,This trompe was of such sentence,That therayein no resistenceThei couthe ordeine be no weie,That he ne mot algate deie,Bot if so that he may pourchaceTo gete his liege lordes grace.Here wittes therupon thei caste,422And ben apointed ate laste.2160This lord a worthi ladi haddeUnto his wif, which also draddeP. i. 115Hire lordes deth, and children fiveBetwen hem two thei hadde alyve,That weren yonge and tendre of age,And of stature and of visageRiht faire and lusty on to se.Tho casten thei that he and scheForth with here children on the morwe,As thei that were full of sorwe,2170Al naked bot of smok and scherte,423To tendre with the kynges herte,His grace scholden go to seche424And pardoun of the deth beseche.Thus passen thei that wofull nyht,And erly, whan thei sihe it lyht,Thei gon hem forth in such a wiseAs thou tofore hast herd devise,Al naked bot here schortes one.425Thei wepte and made mochel mone,2180Here Her hangende aboute here Eres;426With sobbinge and with sory teresThis lord goth thanne an humble pas,That whilom proud and noble was;Wherof the Cite sore afflyhte,Of hem that sihen thilke syhte:And natheles al openlyWith such wepinge and with such criForth with hise children and his wifHe goth to preie for his lif.2190Unto the court whan thei be come,427And men therinne have hiede nome,P. i. 116Ther was no wiht, if he hem syhe,Fro water mihte kepe his yheFor sorwe which thei maden tho.The king supposeth of this wo,And feigneth as he noght ne wiste;Bot natheles at his upristeMen tolden him how that it ferde:And whan that he this wonder herde,2200In haste he goth into the halle,And alle at ones doun thei falle,If eny pite may be founde.The king, which seth hem go to grounde,Hath axed hem what is the fere,Why thei be so despuiled there.His brother seide: ‘Ha lord, mercy!I wot non other cause why,428Bot only that this nyht ful lateThe trompe of deth was at my gate2210In tokne that I scholde deie;Thus be we come forto preieThat ye mi worldes deth respite.’‘Ha fol, how thou art forto wyte,’The king unto his brother seith,‘That thou art of so litel feith,That only for a trompes sounHast gon despuiled thurgh the toun,Thou and thi wif in such manereForth with thi children that ben here,2220In sihte of alle men aboute,For that thou seist thou art in douteP. i. 117Of deth, which stant under the laweOf man, and man it mai withdrawe,429So that it mai par chance faile.Now schalt thou noght forthi mervaileThat I doun fro my Charr alihte,Whanne I behield tofore my sihteIn hem that were of so gret ageMin oghne deth thurgh here ymage,2230Which god hath set be lawe of kynde,Wherof I mai no bote finde:For wel I wot, such as thei be,Riht such am I in my degree,430Of fleissh and blod, and so schal deie.And thus, thogh I that lawe obeieOf which the kinges ben put under,It oghte ben wel lasse wonderThan thou, which art withoute nedeFor lawe of londe in such a drede,2240Which for tacompte is bot a jape,As thing which thou miht overscape.Forthi, mi brother, after thisI rede, sithen that so isThat thou canst drede a man so sore,Dred god with al thin herte more:For al schal deie and al schal passe,Alswel a Leoun as an asse,Als wel a beggere as a lord,Towardes deth in on acord2250Thei schullen stonde.’ And in this wise431The king hath with hise wordes wiseP. i. 118His brother tawht and al foryive.Confessor.Forthi, mi Sone, if thou wolt liveIn vertu, thou most vice eschuie,And with low herte humblesce suie,So that thou be noght surquidous.Amans.Mi fader, I am amorous,Wherof I wolde you besecheThat ye me som ensample teche,4322260Which mihte in loves cause stonde.433Confessor.Mi Sone, thou schalt understonde,In love and othre thinges alleIf that Surquiderie falle,It may to him noght wel betide434Which useth thilke vice of Pride,Which torneth wisdom to wenynge435And Sothfastnesse into lesyngeThurgh fol ymaginacion.And for thin enformacion,2270That thou this vice as I the redeEschuie schalt, a tale I rede,Which fell whilom be daies olde,So as the clerk Ovide tolde.[Tale of Narcissus.]Ther was whilom a lordes Sone,Which of his Pride a nyce woneHath cawht, that worthi to his liche,To sechen al the worldes riche,Hic in speciali tractat Confessor cum Amante contra illos, qui de propria formositate presumentes amorem mulieris dedignantur. Et narrat exemplum, qualiter cuiusdam Principis filius nomine Narcizus estiuo tempore, cum ipse venacionis causa quendam ceruum solus cum suis canibus exagitaret, in grauem sitim incurrens necessitate compulsus ad bibendum de quodam fonte pronus436se inclinauit; vbi ipse faciem suam pulcherrimam in aqua percipiens, putabat se per hoc illam Nimpham, quam Poete Ekko vocant, in flumine coram suis oculis pocius conspexisse; de cuius amore confestim laqueatus, vt ipsam ad se de fonte extraheret, pluribus blandiciis adulabatur. Set cum illud perficere nullatenus potuit,440pre nimio languore deficiens contra lapides ibidem adiacentes caput exuerberans cerebrum effudit. Et sic de propria pulcritudine qui fuerat presumptuosus, de propria pulcritudine fatuatus interiit.Ther was no womman forto love.So hihe he sette himselve above2280Of stature and of beaute bothe,That him thoghte alle wommen lothe:P. i. 119So was ther no comparisounAs toward his condicioun.This yonge lord Narcizus hihte:No strengthe of love bowe mihteHis herte, which is unaffiled;Bot ate laste he was beguiled:For of the goddes pourveanceIt fell him on a dai par chance,2290That he in all his proude fareUnto the forest gan to fare,Amonges othre that ther wereTo hunte and to desporte him there.437And whanne he cam into the placeWher that he wolde make his chace,The houndes weren in a throweUncoupled and the hornes blowe:The grete hert anon was founde,438Which swifte feet sette upon grounde,4392300And he with spore in horse sideHim hasteth faste forto ride,Til alle men be left behinde.And as he rod, under a lindeBeside a roche, as I thee telle,He syh wher sprong a lusty welle:The day was wonder hot withalle,And such a thurst was on him falle,That he moste owther deie or drinke;And doun he lihte and be the brinke2310He teide his Hors unto a braunche,And leide him lowe forto stauncheP. i. 120His thurst: and as he caste his lokInto the welle and hiede tok,He sih the like of his visage,And wende ther were an ymageOf such a Nimphe as tho was faie,Wherof that love his herte assaieBegan, as it was after sene,Of his sotie and made him wene2320It were a womman that he syh.The more he cam the welle nyh,The nerr cam sche to him ayein;So wiste he nevere what to sein;For whanne he wepte, he sih hire wepe,And whanne he cride, he tok good kepe,The same word sche cride also:And thus began the newe wo,That whilom was to him so strange;Tho made him love an hard eschange,2330To sette his herte and to beginneThing which he mihte nevere winne.441And evere among he gan to loute,And preith that sche to him come oute;And otherwhile he goth a ferr,442And otherwhile he draweth nerr,And evere he fond hire in o place.He wepth, he crith, he axeth grace,There as he mihte gete non;So that ayein a Roche of Ston,2340As he that knew non other red,He smot himself til he was ded.P. i. 121Wherof the Nimphes of the welles,443And othre that ther weren ellesUnto the wodes belongende,The body, which was ded ligende,For pure pite that thei haveUnder the grene thei begrave.And thanne out of his sepultureTher sprong anon par aventure2350Of floures such a wonder syhte,That men ensample take myhteUpon the dedes whiche he dede,As tho was sene in thilke stede;For in the wynter freysshe and faireThe floures ben, which is contraireTo kynde, and so was the folieWhich fell of his Surquiderie.Confessor.Thus he, which love hadde in desdeign,[Presumption of Lovers.]Worste of all othre was besein,2360And as he sette his pris most hyhe,He was lest worth in loves yheAnd most bejaped in his wit:Wherof the remembrance is yit,So that thoumyht ensample take,And ek alle othre for his sake.Amans.Mi fader, as touchende of me,This vice I thenke forto fle,Which of his wenynge overtroweth;444And nameliche of thing which groweth2370In loves cause or wel or woYit pryded I me nevere so.P. i. 122Bot wolde god that grace sende,That toward me my lady wendeAs I towardes hire wene!Mi love scholde so be sene,Ther scholde go no pride a place.Bot I am ferr fro thilke grace,As forto speke of tyme now;445So mot I soffre, and preie yow4462380That ye wole axe on other sideIf ther be eny point of Pride,Wherof it nedeth to be schrive.Confessor.Mi Sone, godd it thee foryive,If thou have eny thing misdoTouchende of this, bot overmo447Ther is an other yit of Pride,Which nevere cowthe hise wordes hide,That he ne wole himself avaunte;Ther mai nothing his tunge daunte,2390That he ne clappeth as a Belle:Wherof if thou wolt that I telle,It is behovely forto hiere,So that thou myht thi tunge stiere,Toward the world and stonde in grace,Which lacketh ofte in many place448To him that can noght sitte stille,Which elles scholde have al his wille.449[iv.Avantance or Boasting.]ix.Magniloque propriam minuit iactancia lingueFamam, quam stabilem firmat honore cilens.Ipse sui laudem meriti non percipit, vndeSe sua per verba iactat in orbe palam.Estque viri culpa iactancia, que rubefactasIn muliere reas causat habere genas.
[iii.Surquidry or Presumption.]viii.Omnia scire putat, set se Presumpcio nescit,Nec sibi consimilem quem putat esse parem.Qui magis astutus reputat se vincere bellum,In laqueos Veneris forcius ipse cadit.Sepe Cupido virum sibi qui presumit amantemFallit, et in vacuas spes redit ipsa vias.Surquiderie is thilke viceOf Pride, which the thridde officeHath in his Court, and wol noght knoweThe trowthe til it overthrowe.Hic loquitur de tercia specie Superbie, que Presumpcio dicitur, cuius naturam primo secundum vicium Confessor simpliciter declarat.Upon his fortune and his graceComth ‘Hadde I wist’ fulofte aplace;For he doth al his thing be gesse,400And voideth alle sikernesse.1890Non other conseil good him siemeth401Bot such as he himselve diemeth;P. i. 106For in such wise as he compasseth,His wit al one alle othre passeth;And is with pride so thurghsoght,402That he alle othre set at noght,And weneth of himselven so,That such as he ther be nomo,So fair, so semly, ne so wis;And thus he wolde bere a pris1900Above alle othre, and noght forthiHe seith noght ones ‘grant mercy’To godd, which alle grace sendeth,So that his wittes he despendethUpon himself, as thogh ther wereNo godd which myhte availe there:403Bot al upon his oghne wittHe stant, til he falle in the pittSo ferr that he mai noght arise.Hic tractat Confessor cum Amante super illa saltem presumpcione, ex cuius superbia quam plures fatui amantes, cum maioris certitudinis in amore spem sibi promittunt inexpediti cicius destituuntur.And riht thus in the same wise1910This vice upon the cause of loveSo proudly set the herte above,And doth him pleinly forto weneThat he to loven eny qweneHath worthinesse and sufficance;And so withoute pourveanceFulofte he heweth up so hihe,That chippes fallen in his yhe;And ek ful ofte he weneth this,Ther as he noght beloved is,1920To be beloved alther best.Now, Sone, tell what so thee lestP. i. 107Of this that I have told thee hier.Amans.Ha, fader, be noght in a wer:I trowe ther be noman lesse,Of eny maner worthinesse,That halt him lasse worth thanne ITo be beloved; and noght forthiI seie in excusinge of me,To alle men that love is fre.1930And certes that mai noman werne;404For love is of himself so derne,It luteth in a mannes herte:Bot that ne schal me noght asterte,405To wene forto be worthiTo loven, bot in hir mercy.Bot, Sire, of that ye wolden mene,That I scholde otherwise weneTo be beloved thanne I was,I am beknowe as in that cas.4061940Confessor.Mi goode Sone, tell me how.Amans.Now lest, and I wol telle yow,Mi goode fader, how it is.Fulofte it hath befalle or thisThurgh hope that was noght certein,Miwenynge hath be set in veinTo triste in thing that halp me noght,Bot onliche of myn oughne thoght.For as it semeth that a belleLik to the wordes that men telle1950Answerth, riht so ne mor ne lesse,To yow, my fader, I confesse,P. i. 108Such will my wit hath overset,That what so hope me behet,Ful many a time I wene it soth,Bot finali no spied it doth.Thus may I tellen, as I can,Wenyng beguileth many a man;407So hath it me, riht wel I wot:For if a man wole in a Bot4081960Which is withoute botme rowe,He moste nedes overthrowe.Riht so wenyng hath ferd be me:For whanne I wende next have be,As I be my wenynge caste,Thanne was I furthest ate laste,409And as a foll my bowe unbende,Whan al was failed that I wende.Forthi, my fader, as of this,That my wenynge hath gon amis1970Touchende to Surquiderie,Yif me my penance er I die.Bot if ye wolde in eny formeOf this matiere a tale enforme,Which were ayein this vice set,I scholde fare wel the bet.[Tale of Capaneus.]Hic ponit Confessor exemplum contra illos, qui de suis viribus presumentes debiliores efficiuntur. Et narrat qualiter ille Capaneus, miles in armis probatissimus, de sua presumens audacia inuocacionem ad superos tempore necessitatis ex vecordia tantum et non aliter primitus prouenisse asseruit. Vnde in obsidione Ciuitatis Thebarum, cum ipse quodam die coram suis hostibus ad debellandum se obtulit, ignis de celo subito superveniens ipsum armatum totaliter in cineres combussit.Mi Sone, in alle maner wiseSurquiderie is to despise,Wherof I finde write thus.The proude knyht Capaneüs1980He was of such Surquiderie,That he thurgh his chivalerieP. i. 109Upon himself so mochel triste,That to the goddes him ne listeIn no querele to beseche,Bot seide it was an ydel speche,Which caused was of pure drede,For lack of herte and for no nede.And upon such presumpciounHe hield this proude opinioun,1990Til ate laste upon a dai,Aboute Thebes wher he lay,Whan it of Siege was belein,This knyht, as the Croniqes sein,In alle mennes sihte there,Whan he was proudest in his gere,And thoghte how nothing myhte him dere,Ful armed with his schield and spereAs he the Cite wolde assaile,Godd tok himselve the bataille2000Ayein his Pride, and fro the skyA firy thonder sodeinlyHe sende, and him to pouldre smot.And thus the Pride which was hot,Whan he most in his strengthe wende,410Was brent and lost withouten ende:So that it proeveth wel therfore,The strengthe of man is sone lore,Bot if that he it wel governe.411And over this a man mai lerne2010That ek fulofte time it grieveth,Whan that a man himself believeth,P. i. 110As thogh it scholde him wel besemeThat he alle othre men can deme,And hath foryete his oghne vice.A tale of hem that ben so nyce,And feigne hemself to be so wise,412I schal thee telle in such a wise,Wherof thou schalt ensample takeThat thou no such thing undertake.2020I finde upon Surquiderie,How that whilom of HungarieBe olde daies was a KingWys and honeste in alle thing:And so befell upon a dai,And that was in the Monthe of Maii,413[The Trump of Death.]As thilke time it was usance,This kyng with noble pourveanceHath for himself his Charr araied,Hic loquitur Confessor contra illos, qui de sua sciencia presumentes aliorum condiciones diiudicantes indiscrete redarguunt. Et narrat exemplum de quodam principe Regis Hungarie germano, qui cum fratrem suum pauperibus in publico vidit humiliatum, ipsum redarguendo in contrarium edocere presumebat: set Rex omni sapiencia prepollens ipsum sic incaute presumentem ad humilitatis memoriam terribili prouidencia micius castigauit.Wher inne he wolde ride amaied2030Out of the Cite forto pleie,With lordes and with gret nobleieOf lusti folk that were yonge:Wher some pleide and some songe,And some gon and some ryde,And some prike here hors asideAnd bridlen hem now in now oute.The kyng his yhe caste aboute,Til he was ate laste warAnd syh comende ayein his char2040Two pilegrins of so gret age,414That lich unto a dreie ymageP. i. 111Thei weren pale and fade hewed,415And as a bussh which is besnewed,Here berdes weren hore and whyte;Ther was of kinde bot a lite,That thei ne semen fulli dede.Thei comen to the kyng and bedeSom of his good par charite;416And he with gret humilite2050Out of his Char to grounde lepte,And hem in bothe hise armes kepteAnd keste hem bothe fot and hondBefore the lordes of his lond,417And yaf hem of his good therto:And whanne he hath this dede do,He goth into his char ayein.Tho was Murmur, tho was desdeign,Tho was compleignte on every side,Thei seiden of here oghne Pride2060Eche until othre: ‘What is this?Oure king hath do this thing amis,So to abesse his realteThat every man it myhte se,And humbled him in such a wiseTo hem that were of non emprise.’Thus was it spoken to and froOf hem that were with him thoAl prively behinde his bak;Bot to himselven noman spak.2070The kinges brother in presenceWas thilke time, and gret offenceP. i. 112He tok therof, and was the sameAbove alle othre which most blameUpon his liege lord hath leid,And hath unto the lordes seid,Anon as he mai time finde,Ther schal nothing be left behinde,418That he wol speke unto the king.Now lest what fell upon this thing.2080The day was merie and fair ynowh,Echon with othre pleide and lowh,And fellen into tales newe,How that the freisshe floures grewe,And how the grene leves spronge,And how that love among the yongeBegan the hertes thanne awake,And every bridd hath chose hire make:419And thus the Maies day to thendeThei lede, and hom ayein thei wende.2090The king was noght so sone come,That whanne he hadde his chambre nome,His brother ne was redi there,And broghte a tale unto his EreOf that he dede such a schameIn hindringe of his oghne name,Whan he himself so wolde drecche,That to so vil a povere wreccheHim deigneth schewe such simplesceAyein thastat of his noblesce:2100And seith he schal it nomor use,And that he mot himself excuseP. i. 113Toward hise lordes everychon.The king stod stille as eny ston,And to his tale an Ere he leide,420And thoghte more than he seide:Bot natheles to that he herdeWel cortaisly the king answerde,And tolde it scholde be amended.And thus whan that her tale is ended,2110Al redy was the bord and cloth,The king unto his Souper gothAmong the lordes to the halle;And whan thei hadden souped alle,Thei token leve and forth thei go.The king bethoghte himselve thoHow he his brother mai chastie,That he thurgh his SurquiderieTok upon honde to despreiseHumilite, which is to preise,2120And therupon yaf such conseilToward his king that was noght heil;421Wherof to be the betre lered,He thenkth to maken him afered.It fell so that in thilke daweTher was ordeined be the laweA trompe with a sterne breth,Which cleped was the Trompe of deth:And in the Court wher the king wasA certein man this Trompe of bras2130Hath in kepinge, and therof serveth,That whan a lord his deth deserveth,P. i. 114He schal this dredful trompe bloweTofore his gate, and make it knoweHow that the jugement is yoveOf deth, which schal noght be foryove.The king, whan it was nyht, anonThis man asente and bad him gonTo trompen at his brother gate;And he, which mot so don algate,2140Goth forth and doth the kynges heste.This lord, which herde of this tempesteThat he tofore his gate blew,Tho wiste he be the lawe and knewThat he was sikerliche ded:And as of help he wot no red,Bot sende for hise frendes alleAnd tolde hem how it is befalle.And thei him axe cause why;Bot he the sothe noght forthi2150Ne wiste, and ther was sorwe tho:For it stod thilke tyme so,This trompe was of such sentence,That therayein no resistenceThei couthe ordeine be no weie,That he ne mot algate deie,Bot if so that he may pourchaceTo gete his liege lordes grace.Here wittes therupon thei caste,422And ben apointed ate laste.2160This lord a worthi ladi haddeUnto his wif, which also draddeP. i. 115Hire lordes deth, and children fiveBetwen hem two thei hadde alyve,That weren yonge and tendre of age,And of stature and of visageRiht faire and lusty on to se.Tho casten thei that he and scheForth with here children on the morwe,As thei that were full of sorwe,2170Al naked bot of smok and scherte,423To tendre with the kynges herte,His grace scholden go to seche424And pardoun of the deth beseche.Thus passen thei that wofull nyht,And erly, whan thei sihe it lyht,Thei gon hem forth in such a wiseAs thou tofore hast herd devise,Al naked bot here schortes one.425Thei wepte and made mochel mone,2180Here Her hangende aboute here Eres;426With sobbinge and with sory teresThis lord goth thanne an humble pas,That whilom proud and noble was;Wherof the Cite sore afflyhte,Of hem that sihen thilke syhte:And natheles al openlyWith such wepinge and with such criForth with hise children and his wifHe goth to preie for his lif.2190Unto the court whan thei be come,427And men therinne have hiede nome,P. i. 116Ther was no wiht, if he hem syhe,Fro water mihte kepe his yheFor sorwe which thei maden tho.The king supposeth of this wo,And feigneth as he noght ne wiste;Bot natheles at his upristeMen tolden him how that it ferde:And whan that he this wonder herde,2200In haste he goth into the halle,And alle at ones doun thei falle,If eny pite may be founde.The king, which seth hem go to grounde,Hath axed hem what is the fere,Why thei be so despuiled there.His brother seide: ‘Ha lord, mercy!I wot non other cause why,428Bot only that this nyht ful lateThe trompe of deth was at my gate2210In tokne that I scholde deie;Thus be we come forto preieThat ye mi worldes deth respite.’‘Ha fol, how thou art forto wyte,’The king unto his brother seith,‘That thou art of so litel feith,That only for a trompes sounHast gon despuiled thurgh the toun,Thou and thi wif in such manereForth with thi children that ben here,2220In sihte of alle men aboute,For that thou seist thou art in douteP. i. 117Of deth, which stant under the laweOf man, and man it mai withdrawe,429So that it mai par chance faile.Now schalt thou noght forthi mervaileThat I doun fro my Charr alihte,Whanne I behield tofore my sihteIn hem that were of so gret ageMin oghne deth thurgh here ymage,2230Which god hath set be lawe of kynde,Wherof I mai no bote finde:For wel I wot, such as thei be,Riht such am I in my degree,430Of fleissh and blod, and so schal deie.And thus, thogh I that lawe obeieOf which the kinges ben put under,It oghte ben wel lasse wonderThan thou, which art withoute nedeFor lawe of londe in such a drede,2240Which for tacompte is bot a jape,As thing which thou miht overscape.Forthi, mi brother, after thisI rede, sithen that so isThat thou canst drede a man so sore,Dred god with al thin herte more:For al schal deie and al schal passe,Alswel a Leoun as an asse,Als wel a beggere as a lord,Towardes deth in on acord2250Thei schullen stonde.’ And in this wise431The king hath with hise wordes wiseP. i. 118His brother tawht and al foryive.Confessor.Forthi, mi Sone, if thou wolt liveIn vertu, thou most vice eschuie,And with low herte humblesce suie,So that thou be noght surquidous.Amans.Mi fader, I am amorous,Wherof I wolde you besecheThat ye me som ensample teche,4322260Which mihte in loves cause stonde.433Confessor.Mi Sone, thou schalt understonde,In love and othre thinges alleIf that Surquiderie falle,It may to him noght wel betide434Which useth thilke vice of Pride,Which torneth wisdom to wenynge435And Sothfastnesse into lesyngeThurgh fol ymaginacion.And for thin enformacion,2270That thou this vice as I the redeEschuie schalt, a tale I rede,Which fell whilom be daies olde,So as the clerk Ovide tolde.[Tale of Narcissus.]Ther was whilom a lordes Sone,Which of his Pride a nyce woneHath cawht, that worthi to his liche,To sechen al the worldes riche,Hic in speciali tractat Confessor cum Amante contra illos, qui de propria formositate presumentes amorem mulieris dedignantur. Et narrat exemplum, qualiter cuiusdam Principis filius nomine Narcizus estiuo tempore, cum ipse venacionis causa quendam ceruum solus cum suis canibus exagitaret, in grauem sitim incurrens necessitate compulsus ad bibendum de quodam fonte pronus436se inclinauit; vbi ipse faciem suam pulcherrimam in aqua percipiens, putabat se per hoc illam Nimpham, quam Poete Ekko vocant, in flumine coram suis oculis pocius conspexisse; de cuius amore confestim laqueatus, vt ipsam ad se de fonte extraheret, pluribus blandiciis adulabatur. Set cum illud perficere nullatenus potuit,440pre nimio languore deficiens contra lapides ibidem adiacentes caput exuerberans cerebrum effudit. Et sic de propria pulcritudine qui fuerat presumptuosus, de propria pulcritudine fatuatus interiit.Ther was no womman forto love.So hihe he sette himselve above2280Of stature and of beaute bothe,That him thoghte alle wommen lothe:P. i. 119So was ther no comparisounAs toward his condicioun.This yonge lord Narcizus hihte:No strengthe of love bowe mihteHis herte, which is unaffiled;Bot ate laste he was beguiled:For of the goddes pourveanceIt fell him on a dai par chance,2290That he in all his proude fareUnto the forest gan to fare,Amonges othre that ther wereTo hunte and to desporte him there.437And whanne he cam into the placeWher that he wolde make his chace,The houndes weren in a throweUncoupled and the hornes blowe:The grete hert anon was founde,438Which swifte feet sette upon grounde,4392300And he with spore in horse sideHim hasteth faste forto ride,Til alle men be left behinde.And as he rod, under a lindeBeside a roche, as I thee telle,He syh wher sprong a lusty welle:The day was wonder hot withalle,And such a thurst was on him falle,That he moste owther deie or drinke;And doun he lihte and be the brinke2310He teide his Hors unto a braunche,And leide him lowe forto stauncheP. i. 120His thurst: and as he caste his lokInto the welle and hiede tok,He sih the like of his visage,And wende ther were an ymageOf such a Nimphe as tho was faie,Wherof that love his herte assaieBegan, as it was after sene,Of his sotie and made him wene2320It were a womman that he syh.The more he cam the welle nyh,The nerr cam sche to him ayein;So wiste he nevere what to sein;For whanne he wepte, he sih hire wepe,And whanne he cride, he tok good kepe,The same word sche cride also:And thus began the newe wo,That whilom was to him so strange;Tho made him love an hard eschange,2330To sette his herte and to beginneThing which he mihte nevere winne.441And evere among he gan to loute,And preith that sche to him come oute;And otherwhile he goth a ferr,442And otherwhile he draweth nerr,And evere he fond hire in o place.He wepth, he crith, he axeth grace,There as he mihte gete non;So that ayein a Roche of Ston,2340As he that knew non other red,He smot himself til he was ded.P. i. 121Wherof the Nimphes of the welles,443And othre that ther weren ellesUnto the wodes belongende,The body, which was ded ligende,For pure pite that thei haveUnder the grene thei begrave.And thanne out of his sepultureTher sprong anon par aventure2350Of floures such a wonder syhte,That men ensample take myhteUpon the dedes whiche he dede,As tho was sene in thilke stede;For in the wynter freysshe and faireThe floures ben, which is contraireTo kynde, and so was the folieWhich fell of his Surquiderie.Confessor.Thus he, which love hadde in desdeign,[Presumption of Lovers.]Worste of all othre was besein,2360And as he sette his pris most hyhe,He was lest worth in loves yheAnd most bejaped in his wit:Wherof the remembrance is yit,So that thoumyht ensample take,And ek alle othre for his sake.Amans.Mi fader, as touchende of me,This vice I thenke forto fle,Which of his wenynge overtroweth;444And nameliche of thing which groweth2370In loves cause or wel or woYit pryded I me nevere so.P. i. 122Bot wolde god that grace sende,That toward me my lady wendeAs I towardes hire wene!Mi love scholde so be sene,Ther scholde go no pride a place.Bot I am ferr fro thilke grace,As forto speke of tyme now;445So mot I soffre, and preie yow4462380That ye wole axe on other sideIf ther be eny point of Pride,Wherof it nedeth to be schrive.Confessor.Mi Sone, godd it thee foryive,If thou have eny thing misdoTouchende of this, bot overmo447Ther is an other yit of Pride,Which nevere cowthe hise wordes hide,That he ne wole himself avaunte;Ther mai nothing his tunge daunte,2390That he ne clappeth as a Belle:Wherof if thou wolt that I telle,It is behovely forto hiere,So that thou myht thi tunge stiere,Toward the world and stonde in grace,Which lacketh ofte in many place448To him that can noght sitte stille,Which elles scholde have al his wille.449[iv.Avantance or Boasting.]ix.Magniloque propriam minuit iactancia lingueFamam, quam stabilem firmat honore cilens.Ipse sui laudem meriti non percipit, vndeSe sua per verba iactat in orbe palam.Estque viri culpa iactancia, que rubefactasIn muliere reas causat habere genas.
[iii.Surquidry or Presumption.]viii.Omnia scire putat, set se Presumpcio nescit,Nec sibi consimilem quem putat esse parem.Qui magis astutus reputat se vincere bellum,In laqueos Veneris forcius ipse cadit.Sepe Cupido virum sibi qui presumit amantemFallit, et in vacuas spes redit ipsa vias.
[iii.Surquidry or Presumption.]
viii.Omnia scire putat, set se Presumpcio nescit,
Nec sibi consimilem quem putat esse parem.
Qui magis astutus reputat se vincere bellum,
In laqueos Veneris forcius ipse cadit.
Sepe Cupido virum sibi qui presumit amantem
Fallit, et in vacuas spes redit ipsa vias.
Surquiderie is thilke viceOf Pride, which the thridde officeHath in his Court, and wol noght knoweThe trowthe til it overthrowe.Hic loquitur de tercia specie Superbie, que Presumpcio dicitur, cuius naturam primo secundum vicium Confessor simpliciter declarat.Upon his fortune and his graceComth ‘Hadde I wist’ fulofte aplace;For he doth al his thing be gesse,400And voideth alle sikernesse.1890Non other conseil good him siemeth401Bot such as he himselve diemeth;P. i. 106For in such wise as he compasseth,His wit al one alle othre passeth;And is with pride so thurghsoght,402That he alle othre set at noght,And weneth of himselven so,That such as he ther be nomo,So fair, so semly, ne so wis;And thus he wolde bere a pris1900Above alle othre, and noght forthiHe seith noght ones ‘grant mercy’To godd, which alle grace sendeth,So that his wittes he despendethUpon himself, as thogh ther wereNo godd which myhte availe there:403Bot al upon his oghne wittHe stant, til he falle in the pittSo ferr that he mai noght arise.Hic tractat Confessor cum Amante super illa saltem presumpcione, ex cuius superbia quam plures fatui amantes, cum maioris certitudinis in amore spem sibi promittunt inexpediti cicius destituuntur.And riht thus in the same wise1910This vice upon the cause of loveSo proudly set the herte above,And doth him pleinly forto weneThat he to loven eny qweneHath worthinesse and sufficance;And so withoute pourveanceFulofte he heweth up so hihe,That chippes fallen in his yhe;And ek ful ofte he weneth this,Ther as he noght beloved is,1920To be beloved alther best.Now, Sone, tell what so thee lestP. i. 107Of this that I have told thee hier.Amans.Ha, fader, be noght in a wer:I trowe ther be noman lesse,Of eny maner worthinesse,That halt him lasse worth thanne ITo be beloved; and noght forthiI seie in excusinge of me,To alle men that love is fre.1930And certes that mai noman werne;404For love is of himself so derne,It luteth in a mannes herte:Bot that ne schal me noght asterte,405To wene forto be worthiTo loven, bot in hir mercy.Bot, Sire, of that ye wolden mene,That I scholde otherwise weneTo be beloved thanne I was,I am beknowe as in that cas.4061940Confessor.Mi goode Sone, tell me how.Amans.Now lest, and I wol telle yow,Mi goode fader, how it is.Fulofte it hath befalle or thisThurgh hope that was noght certein,Miwenynge hath be set in veinTo triste in thing that halp me noght,Bot onliche of myn oughne thoght.For as it semeth that a belleLik to the wordes that men telle1950Answerth, riht so ne mor ne lesse,To yow, my fader, I confesse,P. i. 108Such will my wit hath overset,That what so hope me behet,Ful many a time I wene it soth,Bot finali no spied it doth.Thus may I tellen, as I can,Wenyng beguileth many a man;407So hath it me, riht wel I wot:For if a man wole in a Bot4081960Which is withoute botme rowe,He moste nedes overthrowe.Riht so wenyng hath ferd be me:For whanne I wende next have be,As I be my wenynge caste,Thanne was I furthest ate laste,409And as a foll my bowe unbende,Whan al was failed that I wende.Forthi, my fader, as of this,That my wenynge hath gon amis1970Touchende to Surquiderie,Yif me my penance er I die.Bot if ye wolde in eny formeOf this matiere a tale enforme,Which were ayein this vice set,I scholde fare wel the bet.
Surquiderie is thilke vice
Of Pride, which the thridde office
Hath in his Court, and wol noght knowe
The trowthe til it overthrowe.
Hic loquitur de tercia specie Superbie, que Presumpcio dicitur, cuius naturam primo secundum vicium Confessor simpliciter declarat.
Upon his fortune and his grace
Comth ‘Hadde I wist’ fulofte aplace;
For he doth al his thing be gesse,400
And voideth alle sikernesse.1890
Non other conseil good him siemeth401
Bot such as he himselve diemeth;
P. i. 106
For in such wise as he compasseth,
His wit al one alle othre passeth;
And is with pride so thurghsoght,402
That he alle othre set at noght,
And weneth of himselven so,
That such as he ther be nomo,
So fair, so semly, ne so wis;
And thus he wolde bere a pris1900
Above alle othre, and noght forthi
He seith noght ones ‘grant mercy’
To godd, which alle grace sendeth,
So that his wittes he despendeth
Upon himself, as thogh ther were
No godd which myhte availe there:403
Bot al upon his oghne witt
He stant, til he falle in the pitt
So ferr that he mai noght arise.
Hic tractat Confessor cum Amante super illa saltem presumpcione, ex cuius superbia quam plures fatui amantes, cum maioris certitudinis in amore spem sibi promittunt inexpediti cicius destituuntur.
And riht thus in the same wise1910
This vice upon the cause of love
So proudly set the herte above,
And doth him pleinly forto wene
That he to loven eny qwene
Hath worthinesse and sufficance;
And so withoute pourveance
Fulofte he heweth up so hihe,
That chippes fallen in his yhe;
And ek ful ofte he weneth this,
Ther as he noght beloved is,1920
To be beloved alther best.
Now, Sone, tell what so thee lest
P. i. 107
Of this that I have told thee hier.
Amans.
Ha, fader, be noght in a wer:
I trowe ther be noman lesse,
Of eny maner worthinesse,
That halt him lasse worth thanne I
To be beloved; and noght forthi
I seie in excusinge of me,
To alle men that love is fre.1930
And certes that mai noman werne;404
For love is of himself so derne,
It luteth in a mannes herte:
Bot that ne schal me noght asterte,405
To wene forto be worthi
To loven, bot in hir mercy.
Bot, Sire, of that ye wolden mene,
That I scholde otherwise wene
To be beloved thanne I was,
I am beknowe as in that cas.4061940
Confessor.
Mi goode Sone, tell me how.
Amans.
Now lest, and I wol telle yow,
Mi goode fader, how it is.
Fulofte it hath befalle or this
Thurgh hope that was noght certein,
Miwenynge hath be set in vein
To triste in thing that halp me noght,
Bot onliche of myn oughne thoght.
For as it semeth that a belle
Lik to the wordes that men telle1950
Answerth, riht so ne mor ne lesse,
To yow, my fader, I confesse,
P. i. 108
Such will my wit hath overset,
That what so hope me behet,
Ful many a time I wene it soth,
Bot finali no spied it doth.
Thus may I tellen, as I can,
Wenyng beguileth many a man;407
So hath it me, riht wel I wot:
For if a man wole in a Bot4081960
Which is withoute botme rowe,
He moste nedes overthrowe.
Riht so wenyng hath ferd be me:
For whanne I wende next have be,
As I be my wenynge caste,
Thanne was I furthest ate laste,409
And as a foll my bowe unbende,
Whan al was failed that I wende.
Forthi, my fader, as of this,
That my wenynge hath gon amis1970
Touchende to Surquiderie,
Yif me my penance er I die.
Bot if ye wolde in eny forme
Of this matiere a tale enforme,
Which were ayein this vice set,
I scholde fare wel the bet.
[Tale of Capaneus.]Hic ponit Confessor exemplum contra illos, qui de suis viribus presumentes debiliores efficiuntur. Et narrat qualiter ille Capaneus, miles in armis probatissimus, de sua presumens audacia inuocacionem ad superos tempore necessitatis ex vecordia tantum et non aliter primitus prouenisse asseruit. Vnde in obsidione Ciuitatis Thebarum, cum ipse quodam die coram suis hostibus ad debellandum se obtulit, ignis de celo subito superveniens ipsum armatum totaliter in cineres combussit.Mi Sone, in alle maner wiseSurquiderie is to despise,Wherof I finde write thus.The proude knyht Capaneüs1980He was of such Surquiderie,That he thurgh his chivalerieP. i. 109Upon himself so mochel triste,That to the goddes him ne listeIn no querele to beseche,Bot seide it was an ydel speche,Which caused was of pure drede,For lack of herte and for no nede.And upon such presumpciounHe hield this proude opinioun,1990Til ate laste upon a dai,Aboute Thebes wher he lay,Whan it of Siege was belein,This knyht, as the Croniqes sein,In alle mennes sihte there,Whan he was proudest in his gere,And thoghte how nothing myhte him dere,Ful armed with his schield and spereAs he the Cite wolde assaile,Godd tok himselve the bataille2000Ayein his Pride, and fro the skyA firy thonder sodeinlyHe sende, and him to pouldre smot.And thus the Pride which was hot,Whan he most in his strengthe wende,410Was brent and lost withouten ende:So that it proeveth wel therfore,The strengthe of man is sone lore,Bot if that he it wel governe.411And over this a man mai lerne2010That ek fulofte time it grieveth,Whan that a man himself believeth,P. i. 110As thogh it scholde him wel besemeThat he alle othre men can deme,And hath foryete his oghne vice.A tale of hem that ben so nyce,And feigne hemself to be so wise,412I schal thee telle in such a wise,Wherof thou schalt ensample takeThat thou no such thing undertake.2020
[Tale of Capaneus.]
Hic ponit Confessor exemplum contra illos, qui de suis viribus presumentes debiliores efficiuntur. Et narrat qualiter ille Capaneus, miles in armis probatissimus, de sua presumens audacia inuocacionem ad superos tempore necessitatis ex vecordia tantum et non aliter primitus prouenisse asseruit. Vnde in obsidione Ciuitatis Thebarum, cum ipse quodam die coram suis hostibus ad debellandum se obtulit, ignis de celo subito superveniens ipsum armatum totaliter in cineres combussit.
Mi Sone, in alle maner wise
Surquiderie is to despise,
Wherof I finde write thus.
The proude knyht Capaneüs1980
He was of such Surquiderie,
That he thurgh his chivalerie
P. i. 109
Upon himself so mochel triste,
That to the goddes him ne liste
In no querele to beseche,
Bot seide it was an ydel speche,
Which caused was of pure drede,
For lack of herte and for no nede.
And upon such presumpcioun
He hield this proude opinioun,1990
Til ate laste upon a dai,
Aboute Thebes wher he lay,
Whan it of Siege was belein,
This knyht, as the Croniqes sein,
In alle mennes sihte there,
Whan he was proudest in his gere,
And thoghte how nothing myhte him dere,
Ful armed with his schield and spere
As he the Cite wolde assaile,
Godd tok himselve the bataille2000
Ayein his Pride, and fro the sky
A firy thonder sodeinly
He sende, and him to pouldre smot.
And thus the Pride which was hot,
Whan he most in his strengthe wende,410
Was brent and lost withouten ende:
So that it proeveth wel therfore,
The strengthe of man is sone lore,
Bot if that he it wel governe.411
And over this a man mai lerne2010
That ek fulofte time it grieveth,
Whan that a man himself believeth,
P. i. 110
As thogh it scholde him wel beseme
That he alle othre men can deme,
And hath foryete his oghne vice.
A tale of hem that ben so nyce,
And feigne hemself to be so wise,412
I schal thee telle in such a wise,
Wherof thou schalt ensample take
That thou no such thing undertake.2020
I finde upon Surquiderie,How that whilom of HungarieBe olde daies was a KingWys and honeste in alle thing:And so befell upon a dai,And that was in the Monthe of Maii,413[The Trump of Death.]As thilke time it was usance,This kyng with noble pourveanceHath for himself his Charr araied,Hic loquitur Confessor contra illos, qui de sua sciencia presumentes aliorum condiciones diiudicantes indiscrete redarguunt. Et narrat exemplum de quodam principe Regis Hungarie germano, qui cum fratrem suum pauperibus in publico vidit humiliatum, ipsum redarguendo in contrarium edocere presumebat: set Rex omni sapiencia prepollens ipsum sic incaute presumentem ad humilitatis memoriam terribili prouidencia micius castigauit.Wher inne he wolde ride amaied2030Out of the Cite forto pleie,With lordes and with gret nobleieOf lusti folk that were yonge:Wher some pleide and some songe,And some gon and some ryde,And some prike here hors asideAnd bridlen hem now in now oute.The kyng his yhe caste aboute,Til he was ate laste warAnd syh comende ayein his char2040Two pilegrins of so gret age,414That lich unto a dreie ymageP. i. 111Thei weren pale and fade hewed,415And as a bussh which is besnewed,Here berdes weren hore and whyte;Ther was of kinde bot a lite,That thei ne semen fulli dede.Thei comen to the kyng and bedeSom of his good par charite;416And he with gret humilite2050Out of his Char to grounde lepte,And hem in bothe hise armes kepteAnd keste hem bothe fot and hondBefore the lordes of his lond,417And yaf hem of his good therto:And whanne he hath this dede do,He goth into his char ayein.Tho was Murmur, tho was desdeign,Tho was compleignte on every side,Thei seiden of here oghne Pride2060Eche until othre: ‘What is this?Oure king hath do this thing amis,So to abesse his realteThat every man it myhte se,And humbled him in such a wiseTo hem that were of non emprise.’Thus was it spoken to and froOf hem that were with him thoAl prively behinde his bak;Bot to himselven noman spak.2070The kinges brother in presenceWas thilke time, and gret offenceP. i. 112He tok therof, and was the sameAbove alle othre which most blameUpon his liege lord hath leid,And hath unto the lordes seid,Anon as he mai time finde,Ther schal nothing be left behinde,418That he wol speke unto the king.Now lest what fell upon this thing.2080The day was merie and fair ynowh,Echon with othre pleide and lowh,And fellen into tales newe,How that the freisshe floures grewe,And how the grene leves spronge,And how that love among the yongeBegan the hertes thanne awake,And every bridd hath chose hire make:419And thus the Maies day to thendeThei lede, and hom ayein thei wende.2090The king was noght so sone come,That whanne he hadde his chambre nome,His brother ne was redi there,And broghte a tale unto his EreOf that he dede such a schameIn hindringe of his oghne name,Whan he himself so wolde drecche,That to so vil a povere wreccheHim deigneth schewe such simplesceAyein thastat of his noblesce:2100And seith he schal it nomor use,And that he mot himself excuseP. i. 113Toward hise lordes everychon.The king stod stille as eny ston,And to his tale an Ere he leide,420And thoghte more than he seide:Bot natheles to that he herdeWel cortaisly the king answerde,And tolde it scholde be amended.And thus whan that her tale is ended,2110Al redy was the bord and cloth,The king unto his Souper gothAmong the lordes to the halle;And whan thei hadden souped alle,Thei token leve and forth thei go.The king bethoghte himselve thoHow he his brother mai chastie,That he thurgh his SurquiderieTok upon honde to despreiseHumilite, which is to preise,2120And therupon yaf such conseilToward his king that was noght heil;421Wherof to be the betre lered,He thenkth to maken him afered.It fell so that in thilke daweTher was ordeined be the laweA trompe with a sterne breth,Which cleped was the Trompe of deth:And in the Court wher the king wasA certein man this Trompe of bras2130Hath in kepinge, and therof serveth,That whan a lord his deth deserveth,P. i. 114He schal this dredful trompe bloweTofore his gate, and make it knoweHow that the jugement is yoveOf deth, which schal noght be foryove.The king, whan it was nyht, anonThis man asente and bad him gonTo trompen at his brother gate;And he, which mot so don algate,2140Goth forth and doth the kynges heste.This lord, which herde of this tempesteThat he tofore his gate blew,Tho wiste he be the lawe and knewThat he was sikerliche ded:And as of help he wot no red,Bot sende for hise frendes alleAnd tolde hem how it is befalle.And thei him axe cause why;Bot he the sothe noght forthi2150Ne wiste, and ther was sorwe tho:For it stod thilke tyme so,This trompe was of such sentence,That therayein no resistenceThei couthe ordeine be no weie,That he ne mot algate deie,Bot if so that he may pourchaceTo gete his liege lordes grace.Here wittes therupon thei caste,422And ben apointed ate laste.2160This lord a worthi ladi haddeUnto his wif, which also draddeP. i. 115Hire lordes deth, and children fiveBetwen hem two thei hadde alyve,That weren yonge and tendre of age,And of stature and of visageRiht faire and lusty on to se.Tho casten thei that he and scheForth with here children on the morwe,As thei that were full of sorwe,2170Al naked bot of smok and scherte,423To tendre with the kynges herte,His grace scholden go to seche424And pardoun of the deth beseche.Thus passen thei that wofull nyht,And erly, whan thei sihe it lyht,Thei gon hem forth in such a wiseAs thou tofore hast herd devise,Al naked bot here schortes one.425Thei wepte and made mochel mone,2180Here Her hangende aboute here Eres;426With sobbinge and with sory teresThis lord goth thanne an humble pas,That whilom proud and noble was;Wherof the Cite sore afflyhte,Of hem that sihen thilke syhte:And natheles al openlyWith such wepinge and with such criForth with hise children and his wifHe goth to preie for his lif.2190Unto the court whan thei be come,427And men therinne have hiede nome,P. i. 116Ther was no wiht, if he hem syhe,Fro water mihte kepe his yheFor sorwe which thei maden tho.The king supposeth of this wo,And feigneth as he noght ne wiste;Bot natheles at his upristeMen tolden him how that it ferde:And whan that he this wonder herde,2200In haste he goth into the halle,And alle at ones doun thei falle,If eny pite may be founde.The king, which seth hem go to grounde,Hath axed hem what is the fere,Why thei be so despuiled there.His brother seide: ‘Ha lord, mercy!I wot non other cause why,428Bot only that this nyht ful lateThe trompe of deth was at my gate2210In tokne that I scholde deie;Thus be we come forto preieThat ye mi worldes deth respite.’‘Ha fol, how thou art forto wyte,’The king unto his brother seith,‘That thou art of so litel feith,That only for a trompes sounHast gon despuiled thurgh the toun,Thou and thi wif in such manereForth with thi children that ben here,2220In sihte of alle men aboute,For that thou seist thou art in douteP. i. 117Of deth, which stant under the laweOf man, and man it mai withdrawe,429So that it mai par chance faile.Now schalt thou noght forthi mervaileThat I doun fro my Charr alihte,Whanne I behield tofore my sihteIn hem that were of so gret ageMin oghne deth thurgh here ymage,2230Which god hath set be lawe of kynde,Wherof I mai no bote finde:For wel I wot, such as thei be,Riht such am I in my degree,430Of fleissh and blod, and so schal deie.And thus, thogh I that lawe obeieOf which the kinges ben put under,It oghte ben wel lasse wonderThan thou, which art withoute nedeFor lawe of londe in such a drede,2240Which for tacompte is bot a jape,As thing which thou miht overscape.Forthi, mi brother, after thisI rede, sithen that so isThat thou canst drede a man so sore,Dred god with al thin herte more:For al schal deie and al schal passe,Alswel a Leoun as an asse,Als wel a beggere as a lord,Towardes deth in on acord2250Thei schullen stonde.’ And in this wise431The king hath with hise wordes wiseP. i. 118His brother tawht and al foryive.Confessor.Forthi, mi Sone, if thou wolt liveIn vertu, thou most vice eschuie,And with low herte humblesce suie,So that thou be noght surquidous.Amans.Mi fader, I am amorous,Wherof I wolde you besecheThat ye me som ensample teche,4322260Which mihte in loves cause stonde.433Confessor.Mi Sone, thou schalt understonde,In love and othre thinges alleIf that Surquiderie falle,It may to him noght wel betide434Which useth thilke vice of Pride,Which torneth wisdom to wenynge435And Sothfastnesse into lesyngeThurgh fol ymaginacion.And for thin enformacion,2270That thou this vice as I the redeEschuie schalt, a tale I rede,Which fell whilom be daies olde,So as the clerk Ovide tolde.
I finde upon Surquiderie,
How that whilom of Hungarie
Be olde daies was a King
Wys and honeste in alle thing:
And so befell upon a dai,
And that was in the Monthe of Maii,413
[The Trump of Death.]
As thilke time it was usance,
This kyng with noble pourveance
Hath for himself his Charr araied,
Hic loquitur Confessor contra illos, qui de sua sciencia presumentes aliorum condiciones diiudicantes indiscrete redarguunt. Et narrat exemplum de quodam principe Regis Hungarie germano, qui cum fratrem suum pauperibus in publico vidit humiliatum, ipsum redarguendo in contrarium edocere presumebat: set Rex omni sapiencia prepollens ipsum sic incaute presumentem ad humilitatis memoriam terribili prouidencia micius castigauit.
Wher inne he wolde ride amaied2030
Out of the Cite forto pleie,
With lordes and with gret nobleie
Of lusti folk that were yonge:
Wher some pleide and some songe,
And some gon and some ryde,
And some prike here hors aside
And bridlen hem now in now oute.
The kyng his yhe caste aboute,
Til he was ate laste war
And syh comende ayein his char2040
Two pilegrins of so gret age,414
That lich unto a dreie ymage
P. i. 111
Thei weren pale and fade hewed,415
And as a bussh which is besnewed,
Here berdes weren hore and whyte;
Ther was of kinde bot a lite,
That thei ne semen fulli dede.
Thei comen to the kyng and bede
Som of his good par charite;416
And he with gret humilite2050
Out of his Char to grounde lepte,
And hem in bothe hise armes kepte
And keste hem bothe fot and hond
Before the lordes of his lond,417
And yaf hem of his good therto:
And whanne he hath this dede do,
He goth into his char ayein.
Tho was Murmur, tho was desdeign,
Tho was compleignte on every side,
Thei seiden of here oghne Pride2060
Eche until othre: ‘What is this?
Oure king hath do this thing amis,
So to abesse his realte
That every man it myhte se,
And humbled him in such a wise
To hem that were of non emprise.’
Thus was it spoken to and fro
Of hem that were with him tho
Al prively behinde his bak;
Bot to himselven noman spak.2070
The kinges brother in presence
Was thilke time, and gret offence
P. i. 112
He tok therof, and was the same
Above alle othre which most blame
Upon his liege lord hath leid,
And hath unto the lordes seid,
Anon as he mai time finde,
Ther schal nothing be left behinde,418
That he wol speke unto the king.
Now lest what fell upon this thing.2080
The day was merie and fair ynowh,
Echon with othre pleide and lowh,
And fellen into tales newe,
How that the freisshe floures grewe,
And how the grene leves spronge,
And how that love among the yonge
Began the hertes thanne awake,
And every bridd hath chose hire make:419
And thus the Maies day to thende
Thei lede, and hom ayein thei wende.2090
The king was noght so sone come,
That whanne he hadde his chambre nome,
His brother ne was redi there,
And broghte a tale unto his Ere
Of that he dede such a schame
In hindringe of his oghne name,
Whan he himself so wolde drecche,
That to so vil a povere wrecche
Him deigneth schewe such simplesce
Ayein thastat of his noblesce:2100
And seith he schal it nomor use,
And that he mot himself excuse
P. i. 113
Toward hise lordes everychon.
The king stod stille as eny ston,
And to his tale an Ere he leide,420
And thoghte more than he seide:
Bot natheles to that he herde
Wel cortaisly the king answerde,
And tolde it scholde be amended.
And thus whan that her tale is ended,2110
Al redy was the bord and cloth,
The king unto his Souper goth
Among the lordes to the halle;
And whan thei hadden souped alle,
Thei token leve and forth thei go.
The king bethoghte himselve tho
How he his brother mai chastie,
That he thurgh his Surquiderie
Tok upon honde to despreise
Humilite, which is to preise,2120
And therupon yaf such conseil
Toward his king that was noght heil;421
Wherof to be the betre lered,
He thenkth to maken him afered.
It fell so that in thilke dawe
Ther was ordeined be the lawe
A trompe with a sterne breth,
Which cleped was the Trompe of deth:
And in the Court wher the king was
A certein man this Trompe of bras2130
Hath in kepinge, and therof serveth,
That whan a lord his deth deserveth,
P. i. 114
He schal this dredful trompe blowe
Tofore his gate, and make it knowe
How that the jugement is yove
Of deth, which schal noght be foryove.
The king, whan it was nyht, anon
This man asente and bad him gon
To trompen at his brother gate;
And he, which mot so don algate,2140
Goth forth and doth the kynges heste.
This lord, which herde of this tempeste
That he tofore his gate blew,
Tho wiste he be the lawe and knew
That he was sikerliche ded:
And as of help he wot no red,
Bot sende for hise frendes alle
And tolde hem how it is befalle.
And thei him axe cause why;
Bot he the sothe noght forthi2150
Ne wiste, and ther was sorwe tho:
For it stod thilke tyme so,
This trompe was of such sentence,
That therayein no resistence
Thei couthe ordeine be no weie,
That he ne mot algate deie,
Bot if so that he may pourchace
To gete his liege lordes grace.
Here wittes therupon thei caste,422
And ben apointed ate laste.2160
This lord a worthi ladi hadde
Unto his wif, which also dradde
P. i. 115
Hire lordes deth, and children five
Betwen hem two thei hadde alyve,
That weren yonge and tendre of age,
And of stature and of visage
Riht faire and lusty on to se.
Tho casten thei that he and sche
Forth with here children on the morwe,
As thei that were full of sorwe,2170
Al naked bot of smok and scherte,423
To tendre with the kynges herte,
His grace scholden go to seche424
And pardoun of the deth beseche.
Thus passen thei that wofull nyht,
And erly, whan thei sihe it lyht,
Thei gon hem forth in such a wise
As thou tofore hast herd devise,
Al naked bot here schortes one.425
Thei wepte and made mochel mone,2180
Here Her hangende aboute here Eres;426
With sobbinge and with sory teres
This lord goth thanne an humble pas,
That whilom proud and noble was;
Wherof the Cite sore afflyhte,
Of hem that sihen thilke syhte:
And natheles al openly
With such wepinge and with such cri
Forth with hise children and his wif
He goth to preie for his lif.2190
Unto the court whan thei be come,427
And men therinne have hiede nome,
P. i. 116
Ther was no wiht, if he hem syhe,
Fro water mihte kepe his yhe
For sorwe which thei maden tho.
The king supposeth of this wo,
And feigneth as he noght ne wiste;
Bot natheles at his upriste
Men tolden him how that it ferde:
And whan that he this wonder herde,2200
In haste he goth into the halle,
And alle at ones doun thei falle,
If eny pite may be founde.
The king, which seth hem go to grounde,
Hath axed hem what is the fere,
Why thei be so despuiled there.
His brother seide: ‘Ha lord, mercy!
I wot non other cause why,428
Bot only that this nyht ful late
The trompe of deth was at my gate2210
In tokne that I scholde deie;
Thus be we come forto preie
That ye mi worldes deth respite.’
‘Ha fol, how thou art forto wyte,’
The king unto his brother seith,
‘That thou art of so litel feith,
That only for a trompes soun
Hast gon despuiled thurgh the toun,
Thou and thi wif in such manere
Forth with thi children that ben here,2220
In sihte of alle men aboute,
For that thou seist thou art in doute
P. i. 117
Of deth, which stant under the lawe
Of man, and man it mai withdrawe,429
So that it mai par chance faile.
Now schalt thou noght forthi mervaile
That I doun fro my Charr alihte,
Whanne I behield tofore my sihte
In hem that were of so gret age
Min oghne deth thurgh here ymage,2230
Which god hath set be lawe of kynde,
Wherof I mai no bote finde:
For wel I wot, such as thei be,
Riht such am I in my degree,430
Of fleissh and blod, and so schal deie.
And thus, thogh I that lawe obeie
Of which the kinges ben put under,
It oghte ben wel lasse wonder
Than thou, which art withoute nede
For lawe of londe in such a drede,2240
Which for tacompte is bot a jape,
As thing which thou miht overscape.
Forthi, mi brother, after this
I rede, sithen that so is
That thou canst drede a man so sore,
Dred god with al thin herte more:
For al schal deie and al schal passe,
Alswel a Leoun as an asse,
Als wel a beggere as a lord,
Towardes deth in on acord2250
Thei schullen stonde.’ And in this wise431
The king hath with hise wordes wise
P. i. 118
His brother tawht and al foryive.
Confessor.
Forthi, mi Sone, if thou wolt live
In vertu, thou most vice eschuie,
And with low herte humblesce suie,
So that thou be noght surquidous.
Amans.
Mi fader, I am amorous,
Wherof I wolde you beseche
That ye me som ensample teche,4322260
Which mihte in loves cause stonde.433
Confessor.
Mi Sone, thou schalt understonde,
In love and othre thinges alle
If that Surquiderie falle,
It may to him noght wel betide434
Which useth thilke vice of Pride,
Which torneth wisdom to wenynge435
And Sothfastnesse into lesynge
Thurgh fol ymaginacion.
And for thin enformacion,2270
That thou this vice as I the rede
Eschuie schalt, a tale I rede,
Which fell whilom be daies olde,
So as the clerk Ovide tolde.
[Tale of Narcissus.]Ther was whilom a lordes Sone,Which of his Pride a nyce woneHath cawht, that worthi to his liche,To sechen al the worldes riche,Hic in speciali tractat Confessor cum Amante contra illos, qui de propria formositate presumentes amorem mulieris dedignantur. Et narrat exemplum, qualiter cuiusdam Principis filius nomine Narcizus estiuo tempore, cum ipse venacionis causa quendam ceruum solus cum suis canibus exagitaret, in grauem sitim incurrens necessitate compulsus ad bibendum de quodam fonte pronus436se inclinauit; vbi ipse faciem suam pulcherrimam in aqua percipiens, putabat se per hoc illam Nimpham, quam Poete Ekko vocant, in flumine coram suis oculis pocius conspexisse; de cuius amore confestim laqueatus, vt ipsam ad se de fonte extraheret, pluribus blandiciis adulabatur. Set cum illud perficere nullatenus potuit,440pre nimio languore deficiens contra lapides ibidem adiacentes caput exuerberans cerebrum effudit. Et sic de propria pulcritudine qui fuerat presumptuosus, de propria pulcritudine fatuatus interiit.Ther was no womman forto love.So hihe he sette himselve above2280Of stature and of beaute bothe,That him thoghte alle wommen lothe:P. i. 119So was ther no comparisounAs toward his condicioun.This yonge lord Narcizus hihte:No strengthe of love bowe mihteHis herte, which is unaffiled;Bot ate laste he was beguiled:For of the goddes pourveanceIt fell him on a dai par chance,2290That he in all his proude fareUnto the forest gan to fare,Amonges othre that ther wereTo hunte and to desporte him there.437And whanne he cam into the placeWher that he wolde make his chace,The houndes weren in a throweUncoupled and the hornes blowe:The grete hert anon was founde,438Which swifte feet sette upon grounde,4392300And he with spore in horse sideHim hasteth faste forto ride,Til alle men be left behinde.And as he rod, under a lindeBeside a roche, as I thee telle,He syh wher sprong a lusty welle:The day was wonder hot withalle,And such a thurst was on him falle,That he moste owther deie or drinke;And doun he lihte and be the brinke2310He teide his Hors unto a braunche,And leide him lowe forto stauncheP. i. 120His thurst: and as he caste his lokInto the welle and hiede tok,He sih the like of his visage,And wende ther were an ymageOf such a Nimphe as tho was faie,Wherof that love his herte assaieBegan, as it was after sene,Of his sotie and made him wene2320It were a womman that he syh.The more he cam the welle nyh,The nerr cam sche to him ayein;So wiste he nevere what to sein;For whanne he wepte, he sih hire wepe,And whanne he cride, he tok good kepe,The same word sche cride also:And thus began the newe wo,That whilom was to him so strange;Tho made him love an hard eschange,2330To sette his herte and to beginneThing which he mihte nevere winne.441And evere among he gan to loute,And preith that sche to him come oute;And otherwhile he goth a ferr,442And otherwhile he draweth nerr,And evere he fond hire in o place.He wepth, he crith, he axeth grace,There as he mihte gete non;So that ayein a Roche of Ston,2340As he that knew non other red,He smot himself til he was ded.P. i. 121Wherof the Nimphes of the welles,443And othre that ther weren ellesUnto the wodes belongende,The body, which was ded ligende,For pure pite that thei haveUnder the grene thei begrave.And thanne out of his sepultureTher sprong anon par aventure2350Of floures such a wonder syhte,That men ensample take myhteUpon the dedes whiche he dede,As tho was sene in thilke stede;For in the wynter freysshe and faireThe floures ben, which is contraireTo kynde, and so was the folieWhich fell of his Surquiderie.Confessor.Thus he, which love hadde in desdeign,[Presumption of Lovers.]Worste of all othre was besein,2360And as he sette his pris most hyhe,He was lest worth in loves yheAnd most bejaped in his wit:Wherof the remembrance is yit,So that thoumyht ensample take,And ek alle othre for his sake.Amans.Mi fader, as touchende of me,This vice I thenke forto fle,Which of his wenynge overtroweth;444And nameliche of thing which groweth2370In loves cause or wel or woYit pryded I me nevere so.P. i. 122Bot wolde god that grace sende,That toward me my lady wendeAs I towardes hire wene!Mi love scholde so be sene,Ther scholde go no pride a place.Bot I am ferr fro thilke grace,As forto speke of tyme now;445So mot I soffre, and preie yow4462380That ye wole axe on other sideIf ther be eny point of Pride,Wherof it nedeth to be schrive.Confessor.Mi Sone, godd it thee foryive,If thou have eny thing misdoTouchende of this, bot overmo447Ther is an other yit of Pride,Which nevere cowthe hise wordes hide,That he ne wole himself avaunte;Ther mai nothing his tunge daunte,2390That he ne clappeth as a Belle:Wherof if thou wolt that I telle,It is behovely forto hiere,So that thou myht thi tunge stiere,Toward the world and stonde in grace,Which lacketh ofte in many place448To him that can noght sitte stille,Which elles scholde have al his wille.449
[Tale of Narcissus.]
Ther was whilom a lordes Sone,
Which of his Pride a nyce wone
Hath cawht, that worthi to his liche,
To sechen al the worldes riche,
Hic in speciali tractat Confessor cum Amante contra illos, qui de propria formositate presumentes amorem mulieris dedignantur. Et narrat exemplum, qualiter cuiusdam Principis filius nomine Narcizus estiuo tempore, cum ipse venacionis causa quendam ceruum solus cum suis canibus exagitaret, in grauem sitim incurrens necessitate compulsus ad bibendum de quodam fonte pronus436se inclinauit; vbi ipse faciem suam pulcherrimam in aqua percipiens, putabat se per hoc illam Nimpham, quam Poete Ekko vocant, in flumine coram suis oculis pocius conspexisse; de cuius amore confestim laqueatus, vt ipsam ad se de fonte extraheret, pluribus blandiciis adulabatur. Set cum illud perficere nullatenus potuit,440pre nimio languore deficiens contra lapides ibidem adiacentes caput exuerberans cerebrum effudit. Et sic de propria pulcritudine qui fuerat presumptuosus, de propria pulcritudine fatuatus interiit.
Ther was no womman forto love.
So hihe he sette himselve above2280
Of stature and of beaute bothe,
That him thoghte alle wommen lothe:
P. i. 119
So was ther no comparisoun
As toward his condicioun.
This yonge lord Narcizus hihte:
No strengthe of love bowe mihte
His herte, which is unaffiled;
Bot ate laste he was beguiled:
For of the goddes pourveance
It fell him on a dai par chance,2290
That he in all his proude fare
Unto the forest gan to fare,
Amonges othre that ther were
To hunte and to desporte him there.437
And whanne he cam into the place
Wher that he wolde make his chace,
The houndes weren in a throwe
Uncoupled and the hornes blowe:
The grete hert anon was founde,438
Which swifte feet sette upon grounde,4392300
And he with spore in horse side
Him hasteth faste forto ride,
Til alle men be left behinde.
And as he rod, under a linde
Beside a roche, as I thee telle,
He syh wher sprong a lusty welle:
The day was wonder hot withalle,
And such a thurst was on him falle,
That he moste owther deie or drinke;
And doun he lihte and be the brinke2310
He teide his Hors unto a braunche,
And leide him lowe forto staunche
P. i. 120
His thurst: and as he caste his lok
Into the welle and hiede tok,
He sih the like of his visage,
And wende ther were an ymage
Of such a Nimphe as tho was faie,
Wherof that love his herte assaie
Began, as it was after sene,
Of his sotie and made him wene2320
It were a womman that he syh.
The more he cam the welle nyh,
The nerr cam sche to him ayein;
So wiste he nevere what to sein;
For whanne he wepte, he sih hire wepe,
And whanne he cride, he tok good kepe,
The same word sche cride also:
And thus began the newe wo,
That whilom was to him so strange;
Tho made him love an hard eschange,2330
To sette his herte and to beginne
Thing which he mihte nevere winne.441
And evere among he gan to loute,
And preith that sche to him come oute;
And otherwhile he goth a ferr,442
And otherwhile he draweth nerr,
And evere he fond hire in o place.
He wepth, he crith, he axeth grace,
There as he mihte gete non;
So that ayein a Roche of Ston,2340
As he that knew non other red,
He smot himself til he was ded.
P. i. 121
Wherof the Nimphes of the welles,443
And othre that ther weren elles
Unto the wodes belongende,
The body, which was ded ligende,
For pure pite that thei have
Under the grene thei begrave.
And thanne out of his sepulture
Ther sprong anon par aventure2350
Of floures such a wonder syhte,
That men ensample take myhte
Upon the dedes whiche he dede,
As tho was sene in thilke stede;
For in the wynter freysshe and faire
The floures ben, which is contraire
To kynde, and so was the folie
Which fell of his Surquiderie.
Confessor.
Thus he, which love hadde in desdeign,
[Presumption of Lovers.]
Worste of all othre was besein,2360
And as he sette his pris most hyhe,
He was lest worth in loves yhe
And most bejaped in his wit:
Wherof the remembrance is yit,
So that thoumyht ensample take,
And ek alle othre for his sake.
Amans.
Mi fader, as touchende of me,
This vice I thenke forto fle,
Which of his wenynge overtroweth;444
And nameliche of thing which groweth2370
In loves cause or wel or wo
Yit pryded I me nevere so.
P. i. 122
Bot wolde god that grace sende,
That toward me my lady wende
As I towardes hire wene!
Mi love scholde so be sene,
Ther scholde go no pride a place.
Bot I am ferr fro thilke grace,
As forto speke of tyme now;445
So mot I soffre, and preie yow4462380
That ye wole axe on other side
If ther be eny point of Pride,
Wherof it nedeth to be schrive.
Confessor.
Mi Sone, godd it thee foryive,
If thou have eny thing misdo
Touchende of this, bot overmo447
Ther is an other yit of Pride,
Which nevere cowthe hise wordes hide,
That he ne wole himself avaunte;
Ther mai nothing his tunge daunte,2390
That he ne clappeth as a Belle:
Wherof if thou wolt that I telle,
It is behovely forto hiere,
So that thou myht thi tunge stiere,
Toward the world and stonde in grace,
Which lacketh ofte in many place448
To him that can noght sitte stille,
Which elles scholde have al his wille.449
[iv.Avantance or Boasting.]ix.Magniloque propriam minuit iactancia lingueFamam, quam stabilem firmat honore cilens.Ipse sui laudem meriti non percipit, vndeSe sua per verba iactat in orbe palam.Estque viri culpa iactancia, que rubefactasIn muliere reas causat habere genas.
[iv.Avantance or Boasting.]
ix.Magniloque propriam minuit iactancia lingue
Famam, quam stabilem firmat honore cilens.
Ipse sui laudem meriti non percipit, vnde
Se sua per verba iactat in orbe palam.
Estque viri culpa iactancia, que rubefactas
In muliere reas causat habere genas.