Chapter 29

P. i. 123The vice cleped AvantanceWith Pride hath take his aqueintance,2400So that his oghne pris he lasseth,When he such mesure overpassethThat he his oghne Herald is.That ferst was wel is thanne mis,Hic loquitur de quarta specie Superbie, que Iactancia dicitur, ex cuius natura causatur, vt homo de seipso testimonium perhibens suarum virtutum merita de laude in culpam transfert, et suam famam cum ipse extollere vellet, illam proprio ore subvertit. Set et Venus in amoris causa de isto vicio maculatos a sua Curia super omnes alios abhorrens expellit, et eorum multiloquium verecunda451detestatur. Vnde Confessor Amanti opponens materiam plenius declarat.That was thankworth is thanne blame,And thus the worschipe of his nameThurgh pride of his avantarieHe torneth into vilenie.I rede how that this proude viceHath thilke wynd in his office,4502410Which thurgh the blastes that he blowethThe mannes fame he overthrowethOf vertu, which scholde elles springeInto the worldes knowlechinge;Bot he fordoth it alto sore.And riht of such a maner loreTher ben lovers: forthi if thowArt on of hem, tell and sei how.Whan thou hast taken eny thingOf loves yifte, or Nouche or ring,2420Or tok upon thee for the cold452Som goodly word that thee was told,Or frendly chiere or tokne or lettre,453Wherof thin herte was the bettre,Or that sche sende the grietinge,Hast thou for Pride of thi likingeMad thin avant wher as the liste?Amans.I wolde, fader, that ye wiste,P. i. 124Mi conscience lith noght hiere:Yit hadde I nevere such matiere,2430Wherof min herte myhte amende,Noght of so mochel that sche sendeBe mowthe and seide, ‘Griet him wel:’And thus for that ther is no dielWherof to make myn avant,It is to reson acordantThat I mai nevere, bot I lye,Of love make avanterie.I wot noght what I scholde have do,If that I hadde encheson so,2440As ye have seid hier manyon;Bot I fond cause nevere non:Bot daunger, which welnyh me slowh,Therof I cowthe telle ynowh,And of non other Avantance:Thus nedeth me no repentance.Now axeth furthere of my lif,For hierof am I noght gultif.Confessor.Mi Sone, I am wel paid withal;For wite it wel in special2450That love of his verrai justiceAbove alle othre ayein this viceAt alle times most debateth,With al his herte and most it hateth.And ek in alle maner wiseAvantarie is to despise,As be ensample thou myht wite,454Which I finde in the bokes write.[Tale of Albinus and Rosemund.]P. i. 125Of hem that we Lombars now calleAlbinus was the ferste of alle4552460Which bar corone of Lombardie,Hic ponit Confessor exemplum contra istos, qui vel de sua in armis probitate, vel de suo in amoris causa desiderio completo se iactant. Et narrat qualiter Albinus primus Rex Longobardorum, cum ipse quendam alium Regem nomine Gurmundum in bello morientem triumphasset, testam456capitis defuncti auferens ciphum ex ea gemmis et auro circumligatum in sue victorie memoriam fabricari constituit: insuper et ipsius Gurmundi filiam Rosemundam rapiens, maritali thoro in coniugem sibi copulauit. Vnde ipso Albino postea coram sui Regni nobilibus in suo regali conuiuio sedente, dicti Gurmundi ciphum infuso vino ad se inter epulas afferri iussit; quem sumptum vxori sue Regine porrexit dicens, ‘Bibe cum patre tuo.’ Quod et ipsa huiusmodi operis ignara fecit. Quo facto Rex statim458super hiis que per prius gesta fuerant cunctis audientibus per singula se iactauit. Regina vero cum talia audisset, celato animo factum abhorrens in mortem domini sui Regis circumspecta industria conspirauit; ipsumque auxiliantibus Glodesida et Helmege breui subsecuto tempore interfecit; cuius mortem Dux Rauennensis tam in corpus dicte Regine quam suorum fautorum postea vindicauit. Set et huius tocius infortunii sola superbie iactancia fomitem ministrabat.And was of gret chivalerieIn werre ayein diverse kinges.So fell amonges othre thinges,That he that time a werre haddeWith Gurmond, which the Geptes ladde,And was a myhti kyng also:Bot natheles it fell him so,Albinus slowh him in the feld,Ther halp him nowther swerd ne scheld,2470That he ne smot his hed of thanne,Wherof he tok awey the Panne,Of which he seide he wolde makeA Cuppe for Gurmoundes sake,To kepe and drawe into memoireOf his bataille the victoire.And thus whan he the feld hath wonne,The lond anon was overronneAnd sesed in his oghne hond,Wher he Gurmondes dowhter fond,2480Which Maide Rosemounde hihte,And was in every mannes sihteA fair, a freissh, a lusti on.His herte fell to hire anon,And such a love on hire he caste,That he hire weddeth ate laste;And after that long time in resteWith hire he duelte, and to the beste457P. i. 126Thei love ech other wonder wel.Bot sche which kepth the blinde whel,2490Venus, whan thei be most above,In al the hoteste of here love,Hire whiel sche torneth, and thei felleIn the manere as I schal telle.This king, which stod in al his weltheOf pes, of worschipe and of helthe,And felte him on no side grieved,459As he that hath his world achieved,Tho thoghte he wolde a feste make;And that was for his wyves sake,2500That sche the lordes ate feste,460That were obeissant to his heste,Mai knowe: and so forth theruponHe let ordeine, and sende anonBe lettres and be messagiers,And warnede alle hise officiersThat every thing be wel arraied:The grete Stiedes were assaiedFor joustinge and for tornement,And many a perled garnement2510Embroudred was ayein the dai.461The lordes in here beste arraiBe comen ate time set,On jousteth wel, an other bet,And otherwhile thei torneie,And thus thei casten care aweieAnd token lustes upon honde.And after, thou schalt understonde,P. i. 127To mete into the kinges halleThei come, as thei be beden alle:2520And whan thei were set and served,Thanne after, as it was deserved,To hem that worthi knyhtes were,So as thei seten hiere and there,The pris was yove and spoken outeAmong the heraldz al aboute.And thus benethe and ek aboveAl was of armes and of love,Wherof abouten ate bordesMen hadde manye sondri wordes,2530That of the merthe which thei madeThe king himself began to gladeWithinne his herte and tok a pride,And sih the Cuppe stonde aside,Which mad was of Gurmoundes hed,As ye have herd, whan he was ded,And was with gold and riche StonesBeset and bounde for the nones,And stod upon a fot on heihteOf burned gold, and with gret sleihte2540Of werkmanschipe it was begraveOf such werk as it scholde have,And was policed ek so cleneThat no signe of the Skulle is sene,462Bot as it were a Gripes Ey.The king bad bere his Cuppe awey,Which stod tofore him on the bord,And fette thilke. Upon his wordP. i. 128This Skulle is fet and wyn therinne,Wherof he bad his wif beginne:2550‘Drink with thi fader, Dame,’ he seide.And sche to his biddinge obeide,And tok the Skulle, and what hire listeSche drank, as sche which nothing wisteWhat Cuppe it was: and thanne al outeThe kyng in audience abouteHath told it was hire fader Skulle,So that the lordes knowe schulleOf his bataille a soth witnesse,And made avant thurgh what prouesse2560He hath his wyves love wonne,Which of the Skulle hath so begonne.Tho was ther mochel Pride alofte,Thei speken alle, and sche was softe,Thenkende on thilke unkynde Pride,Of that hire lord so nyh hire sideAvanteth him that he hath slainAnd piked out hire fader brain,And of the Skulle had mad a Cuppe.463Sche soffreth al til thei were uppe,2570And tho sche hath seknesse feigned,And goth to chambre and hath compleignedUnto a Maide which sche triste,So that non other wyht it wiste.This Mayde Glodeside is hote,To whom this lady hath behoteOf ladischipe al that sche can,To vengen hire upon this man,P. i. 129Which dede hire drinke in such a plitAmong hem alle for despit2580Of hire and of hire fader bothe;Wherof hire thoghtes ben so wrothe,Sche seith, that sche schal noght be glad,Til that sche se him so bestadThat he nomore make avant.And thus thei felle in covenant,That thei acorden ate laste,With suche wiles as thei casteThat thei wol gete of here acordSom orped knyht to sle this lord:2590And with this sleihte thei beginne,How thei Helmege myhten winne,Which was the kinges Boteler,A proud a lusti Bacheler,And Glodeside he loveth hote.And sche, to make him more assote,Hire love granteth, and be nyhteThei schape how thei togedre myhteAbedde meete: and don it wasThis same nyht; and in this cas2600The qwene hirself the nyht secoundeWente in hire stede, and there hath foundeA chambre derk withoute liht,And goth to bedde to this knyht.And he, to kepe his observance,To love doth his obeissance,And weneth it be Glodeside;And sche thanne after lay aside,P. i. 130And axeth him what he hath do,And who sche was sche tolde him tho,2610And seide: ‘Helmege, I am thi qwene,464Now schal thi love wel be seneOf that thou hast thi wille wroght:Or it schal sore ben aboght,Or thou schalt worche as I thee seie.And if thou wolt be such a weieDo my plesance and holde it stille,For evere I schal ben at thi wille,Bothe I and al myn heritage.’Anon the wylde loves rage,2620In which noman him can governe,Hath mad him that he can noght werne,465Bot fell al hol to hire assent:And thus the whiel is al miswent,The which fortune hath upon honde;For how that evere it after stonde,Thei schope among hem such a wyle,The king was ded withinne a whyle.So slihly cam it noght abouteThat thei ne bendescoevered oute,2630So that it thoghte hem for the besteTo fle, for there was no reste:And thus the tresor of the kingThei trusse and mochel other thing,And with a certein felaschipeThei fledde and wente awey be schipe,And hielde here rihte cours fro thenne,Til that thei come to Ravenne,P. i. 131Wher thei the Dukes helpe soghte.And he, so as thei him besoghte,2640A place granteth forto duelle;Bot after, whan he herde telleOf the manere how thei have do,This Duk let schape for hem so,That of a puison which thei drunkeThei hadden that thei have beswunke.And al this made avant of Pride:Good is therfore a man to hideHis oghne pris, for if he speke,He mai lihtliche his thonk tobreke.2650In armes lith non avantanceTo him which thenkth his name avanceAnd be renomed of his dede:And also who that thenkth to spedeOf love, he mai him noght avaunte;For what man thilke vice haunte,His pourpos schal fulofte faile.In armes he that wol travaile466[Avantance.]Or elles loves grace atteigne,His lose tunge he mot restreigne,2660Which berth of his honour the keie.Confessor.Forthi, my Sone, in alle weieTak riht good hiede of this matiere.Amans.I thonke you, my fader diere,This scole is of a gentil lore;And if ther be oght elles moreOf Pride, which I schal eschuie,Now axeth forth, and I wol suieP. i. 132What thing that ye me wole enforme.467Confessor.Mi Sone, yit in other forme2670Ther is a vice of Prides lore,Which lich an hauk whan he wol sore,Fleith upon heihte in his delicesAfter the likynge of his vices,And wol no mannes resoun knowe,Till he doun falle and overthrowe.This vice veine gloire is hote,Wherof, my Sone, I thee behoteTo trete and speke in such a wise,That thou thee myht the betre avise.2680[v.Vain-Glory.]x.Gloria perpetuos pregnat mundana dolores,Qui tamen est vanus gaudia vana cupit.Eius amiciciam, quem gloria tollit inanis,Non sine blandiciis planus habebit homo:Verbis compositis qui scit strigilare fauellum,Scandere sellata iura valebit eques.Sic in amore magis qui blanda subornat in oreVerba, per hoc brauium quod nequit alter habet.Et tamen ornatos cantus variosque paratusLetaque corda suis legibus optat amor.(10)Hic loquitur de quinta specie superbie, que Inanis gloria vocatur, et eiusdem vicii naturam primo describens super eodem in amoris causa Confessor Amanti consequenter opponit.The proude vice of veine gloireRemembreth noght of purgatoire,Hise worldes joyes ben so grete,Him thenkth of hevene no beyete;This lives Pompe is al his pes:Yit schal he deie natheles,And therof thenkth he bot a lite,468For al his lust is to deliteIn newe thinges, proude and veine,Als ferforth as he mai atteigne.2690P. i. 133I trowe, if that he myhte makeHis body newe, he wolde takeA newe forme and leve his olde:For what thing that he mai beholde,The which to comun us is strange,Anon his olde guise changeHe wole and falle therupon,Lich unto the Camelion,Which upon every sondri heweThat he beholt he moste newe2700His colour, and thus unavisedFulofte time he stant desguised.Mor jolif than the brid in MaiiHe makth him evere freissh and gay,Salomon. Amictus eius469annunciat de eo.And doth al his array desguise,So that of him the newe guiseOf lusti folk alle othre take;And ek he can carolles make,Rondeal, balade and virelai.And withal this, if that he may2710Of love gete him avantage,Anon he wext of his corageSo overglad, that of his ende470Him thenkth ther is no deth comende:For he hath thanne at alle tideOf love such a maner pride,Him thenkth his joie is endeles.Confessor.Now schrif thee, Sone, in godes pes,And of thi love tell me pleinIf that thi gloire hath be so vein.2720P. i. 134Amans.Mi fader, as touchinge of al[The Lover’s Confession.]I may noght wel ne noght ne schalOf veine gloire excuse me,That I ne have for love beThe betre adresced and arraied;And also I have ofte assaiedRondeal, balade and virelaiFor hire on whom myn herte laiTo make, and also forto peinteCaroles with my wordes qweinte,2730To sette my pourpos alofte;And thus I sang hem forth fulofteIn halle and ek in chambre aboute,And made merie among the route,Bot yit ne ferde I noght the bet.Thus was my gloire in vein besetOf al the joie that I made;For whanne I wolde with hire glade,And of hire love songes make,Sche saide it was noght for hir sake,2740And liste noght my songes hiereNe witen what the wordes were.So forto speke of myn arrai,Yit couthe I nevere be so gayNe so wel make a songe of love,Wherof I myhte ben aboveAnd have encheson to be glad;Bot rathere I am ofte adradFor sorwe that sche seith me nay.And natheles I wol noght say,2750P. i. 135That I nam glad on other side;471For fame, that can nothing hide,Alday wol bringe unto myn EreOf that men speken hier and there,How that my ladi berth the pris,How sche is fair, how sche is wis,How sche is wommanlich of chiere;Of al this thing whanne I mai hiere,What wonder is thogh I be fain?And ek whanne I may hiere sain2760Tidinges of my ladi hele,Althogh I may noght with hir dele,Yit am I wonder glad of that;For whanne I wot hire good astat,As for that time I dar wel swere,Non other sorwe mai me dere,Thus am I gladed in this wise.Bot, fader, of youre lores wise,Of whiche ye be fully tawht,Now tell me if yow thenketh awht4722770That I therof am forto wyte.Confessor.Of that ther is I thee acquite,Mi sone, he seide, and for thi goodeI wolde that thou understode:For I thenke upon this matiereTo telle a tale, as thou schalt hiere,How that ayein this proude viceThe hihe god of his justiceIs wroth and gret vengance doth.Now herkne a tale that is soth:2780P. i. 136Thogh it be noght of loves kinde,A gret ensample thou schalt findeThis veine gloire forto fle,Which is so full of vanite.[Nebuchadnezzar’s Punishment.]xi.Humani generis cum sit sibi gloria maior,Sepe subesse solet proximus ille dolor:Mens elata graues descensus sepe subibit,Mens humilis stabile molleque firmat iter.Motibus innumeris volutat fortuna per orbem;473Cum magis alta petis, inferiora time.Ther was a king that mochel myhte,Which Nabugodonosor hihte,Hic ponit Confessor exemplum contra vicium inanis glorie, narrans qualiter Nabugodonosor Rex Caldeorum, cum ipse in omni sue maiestatis gloria celsior extitisset, deus eius superbiam castigare volens ipsum extra formam hominis in bestiam fenum comedentem transmutauit.475Et sic per septennium penitens, cum ipse potenciorem se agnouit, misertus deus ipsum in sui regni solium restituta sanitate emendatum graciosius collocauit.Of whom that I spak hier tofore.Yit in the bible his name is bore,For al the world in Orient474Was hol at his comandement:2790As thanne of kinges to his licheWas non so myhty ne so riche;To his Empire and to his lawes,As who seith, alle in thilke dawesWere obeissant and tribut bere,As thogh he godd of Erthe were.With strengthe he putte kinges under,And wroghte of Pride many a wonder;He was so full of veine gloire,That he ne hadde no memoire2800That ther was eny good bot he,476For pride of his prosperite;Til that the hihe king of kinges,Which seth and knoweth alle thinges,Whos yhe mai nothing asterte,—The privetes of mannes herteP. i. 137Thei speke and sounen in his EreAs thogh thei lowde wyndes were,—He tok vengance upon this pride.Bot for he wolde awhile abide2810To loke if he him wolde amende,To him a foretokne he sende,477And that was in his slep be nyhte.This proude kyng a wonder syhteHadde in his swevene, ther he lay:Him thoghte, upon a merie dayAs he behield the world aboute,A tree fulgrowe he syh theroute,Which stod the world amiddes evene,Whos heihte straghte up to the hevene;2820The leves weren faire and large,Of fruit itbar so ripe a charge,That alle men it myhte fede:He sih also the bowes spriedeAbove al Erthe, in whiche wereThe kinde of alle briddes there;And eke him thoghte he syh alsoThe kinde of alle bestes goUnder this tre aboute roundAnd fedden hem upon the ground.2830As he this wonder stod and syh,Him thoghte he herde a vois on hihCriende, and seide aboven alle:‘Hew doun this tree and lett it falle,The leves let defoule in haste478And do the fruit destruie and waste,479P. i. 138And let of schreden every braunche,Bot ate Rote let it staunche.Whan al his Pride is cast to grounde,480The rote schal be faste bounde,2840And schal no mannes herte bere,Bot every lust he schal forbereOf man, and lich an Oxe his meteOf gras he schal pourchace and ete,Til that the water of the heveneHave waisshen him be times sevene,So that he be thurghknowe ariht481What is the heveneliche myht,And be mad humble to the willeOf him which al mai save and spille.’2850This king out of his swefne abreide,And he upon the morwe it seideUnto the clerkes whiche he hadde:Bot non of hem the sothe aradde,Was non his swevene cowthe undo.And it stod thilke time so,This king hadde in subjecciounJudee, and of affecciounAbove alle othre on DanielHe loveth, for he cowthe wel2860Divine that non other cowthe:To him were alle thinges cowthe,As he it hadde of goddes grace.482He was before the kinges faceAsent, and bode that he scholdeUpon the point the king of toldeP. i. 139The fortune of his swevene expounde,As it scholde afterward be founde.Whan Daniel this swevene herde,483He stod long time er he ansuerde,2870And made a wonder hevy chiere.The king tok hiede of his manere,And bad him telle that he wiste,As he to whom he mochel triste,484And seide he wolde noght be wroth.Bot Daniel was wonder loth,And seide: ‘Upon thi fomen alle,Sire king, thi swevene mote falle;And natheles touchende of thisI wol the tellen how it is,2880And what desese is to thee schape:God wot if thou it schalt ascape.The hihe tree, which thou hast seinWith lef and fruit so wel besein,The which stod in the world amiddes,485So that the bestes and the briddesGoverned were of him al one,Sire king, betokneth thi persone,Which stant above all erthli thinges.Thus regnen under the the kinges,2890And al the poeple unto thee louteth,486And al the world thi pouer doubteth,So that with vein honour deceivedThou hast the reverence weyvedFro him which is thi king above,That thou for drede ne for loveP. i. 140Wolt nothing knowen of thi godd;Which now for thee hath mad a rodd,487Thi veine gloire and thi folieWith grete peines to chastie.2900And of the vois thou herdest speke,Which bad the bowes forto brekeAnd hewe and felle doun the tree,488That word belongeth unto thee;Thi regne schal ben overthrowe,489And thou despuiled for a throwe:Bot that the Rote scholde stonde,Be that thou schalt wel understonde,Ther schal abyden of thi regneA time ayein whan thou schalt regne.2910And ek of that thou herdest seie,To take a mannes herte aweieAnd sette there a bestial,So that he lich an Oxe schalPasture, and that he be bereinedBe times sefne and sore peined,Til that he knowe his goddes mihtes,Than scholde he stonde ayein uprihtes,—Al this betokneth thin astat,Which now with god is in debat:2920Thi mannes forme schal be lassed,Til sevene yer ben overpassed,And in the liknesse of a besteOf gras schal be thi real feste,The weder schal upon thee reine.And understond that al this peine,P. i. 141Which thou schalt soffre thilke tide,Is schape al only for thi prideOf veine gloire, and of the sinneWhich thou hast longe stonden inne.2930So upon this condiciounThi swevene hath exposicioun.Bot er this thing befalle in dede,Amende thee, this wolde I rede:Yif and departe thin almesse,Do mercy forth with rihtwisnesse,Besech and prei the hihe grace,For so thou myht thi pes pourchaceWith godd, and stonde in good acord.’Bot Pride is loth to leve his lord,2940And wol noght soffre humiliteWith him to stonde in no degree;And whan a schip hath lost his stiere,Is non so wys that mai him stiereAyein the wawes in a rage.This proude king in his corageHumilite hath so forlore,That for no swevene he sih tofore,Ne yit for al that DanielHim hath conseiled everydel,2950He let it passe out of his mynde,Thurgh veine gloire, and as the blinde,He seth no weie, er him be wo.490And fell withinne a time so,As he in Babiloine wente,The vanite of Pride him hente;P. i. 142His herte aros of veine gloire,So that he drowh into memoireHis lordschipe and his regalieWith wordes of Surquiderie.2960And whan that he him most avaunteth,That lord which veine gloire daunteth,Al sodeinliche, as who seith treis,Wher that he stod in his Paleis,He tok him fro the mennes sihte:Was non of hem so war that mihteSette yhe wher that he becom.And thus was he from his kingdomInto the wilde Forest drawe,Wher that the myhti goddes lawe2970Thurgh his pouer dede him transformeFro man into a bestes forme;And lich an Oxe under the fotHe graseth, as he nedes mot,To geten him his lives fode.Tho thoghte him colde grases goode,That whilom eet the hote spices,Thus was he torned fro delices:The wyn which he was wont to drinkeHe tok thanne of the welles brinke2980Or of the pet or of the slowh,It thoghte him thanne good ynowh:In stede of chambres wel arraiedHe was thanne of a buissh wel paied,The harde ground he lay upon,For othre pilwes hath he non;P. i. 143The stormes and the Reines falle,The wyndes blowe upon him alle,491He was tormented day and nyht,Such was the hihe goddes myght,4922990Til sevene yer an ende toke.Upon himself tho gan he loke;In stede of mete gras and stres,In stede of handes longe cles,In stede of man a bestes lykeHe syh; and thanne he gan to sykeFor cloth of gold and for perrie,493Which him was wont to magnefie.Whan he behield his Cote of heres,He wepte and with fulwoful teres4943000Up to the hevene he caste his chiereWepende, and thoghte in this manere;Thogh he no wordes myhte winne,Thus seide his herte and spak withinne:‘O mihti godd, that al hast wroghtAnd al myht bringe ayein to noght,Now knowe I wel, bot al of thee,This world hath no prosperite:In thin aspect ben alle liche,The povere man and ek the riche,4953010Withoute thee ther mai no wight,496And thou above alle othre miht.O mihti lord, toward my viceThi merci medle with justice;And I woll make a covenant,That of my lif the remenantP. i. 144I schal it be thi grace amende,And in thi lawe so despendeThat veine gloire I schal eschuie,And bowe unto thin heste and suie3020Humilite, and that I vowe.’And so thenkende he gan doun bowe,And thogh him lacke vois and speche,497He gan up with his feet areche,And wailende in his bestly steveneHe made his pleignte onto the hevene.He kneleth in his wise and braieth,498To seche merci and assaiethHis god, which made him nothing strange,Whan that he sih his pride change.3030Anon as he was humble and tame,He fond toward his god the same,And in a twinklinge of a lokHis mannes forme ayein he tok,And was reformed to the regneIn which that he was wont to regne;So that the Pride of veine gloireEvere afterward out of memoireHe let it passe. And thus is schewedWhat is to ben of Pride unthewed3040Ayein the hihe goddes lawe,To whom noman mai be felawe.Confessor.Forthi, my Sone, tak good hiedeSo forto lede thi manhiede,That thou ne be noght lich a beste.Bot if thi lif schal ben honeste,P. i. 145Thou most humblesce take on honde,For thanne myht thou siker stonde:And forto speke it otherwise,A proud man can no love assise;3050For thogh a womman wolde him plese,His Pride can noght ben at ese.[Humility.]Ther mai noman to mochel blameA vice which is forto blame;Forthi men scholde nothing hideThat mihte falle in blame of Pride,Which is the werste vice of alle:Wherof, so as it was befalle,The tale I thenke of a CroniqueTo telle, if that it mai thee like,3060So that thou myht humblesce suieAnd ek the vice of Pride eschuie,Wherof the gloire is fals and vein;Which god himself hath in desdeign,That thogh it mounte for a throwe,It schal doun falle and overthrowe.

P. i. 123

The vice cleped Avantance

With Pride hath take his aqueintance,2400

So that his oghne pris he lasseth,

When he such mesure overpasseth

That he his oghne Herald is.

That ferst was wel is thanne mis,

Hic loquitur de quarta specie Superbie, que Iactancia dicitur, ex cuius natura causatur, vt homo de seipso testimonium perhibens suarum virtutum merita de laude in culpam transfert, et suam famam cum ipse extollere vellet, illam proprio ore subvertit. Set et Venus in amoris causa de isto vicio maculatos a sua Curia super omnes alios abhorrens expellit, et eorum multiloquium verecunda451detestatur. Vnde Confessor Amanti opponens materiam plenius declarat.

That was thankworth is thanne blame,

And thus the worschipe of his name

Thurgh pride of his avantarie

He torneth into vilenie.

I rede how that this proude vice

Hath thilke wynd in his office,4502410

Which thurgh the blastes that he bloweth

The mannes fame he overthroweth

Of vertu, which scholde elles springe

Into the worldes knowlechinge;

Bot he fordoth it alto sore.

And riht of such a maner lore

Ther ben lovers: forthi if thow

Art on of hem, tell and sei how.

Whan thou hast taken eny thing

Of loves yifte, or Nouche or ring,2420

Or tok upon thee for the cold452

Som goodly word that thee was told,

Or frendly chiere or tokne or lettre,453

Wherof thin herte was the bettre,

Or that sche sende the grietinge,

Hast thou for Pride of thi likinge

Mad thin avant wher as the liste?

Amans.

I wolde, fader, that ye wiste,

P. i. 124

Mi conscience lith noght hiere:

Yit hadde I nevere such matiere,2430

Wherof min herte myhte amende,

Noght of so mochel that sche sende

Be mowthe and seide, ‘Griet him wel:’

And thus for that ther is no diel

Wherof to make myn avant,

It is to reson acordant

That I mai nevere, bot I lye,

Of love make avanterie.

I wot noght what I scholde have do,

If that I hadde encheson so,2440

As ye have seid hier manyon;

Bot I fond cause nevere non:

Bot daunger, which welnyh me slowh,

Therof I cowthe telle ynowh,

And of non other Avantance:

Thus nedeth me no repentance.

Now axeth furthere of my lif,

For hierof am I noght gultif.

Confessor.

Mi Sone, I am wel paid withal;

For wite it wel in special2450

That love of his verrai justice

Above alle othre ayein this vice

At alle times most debateth,

With al his herte and most it hateth.

And ek in alle maner wise

Avantarie is to despise,

As be ensample thou myht wite,454

Which I finde in the bokes write.

[Tale of Albinus and Rosemund.]P. i. 125Of hem that we Lombars now calleAlbinus was the ferste of alle4552460Which bar corone of Lombardie,Hic ponit Confessor exemplum contra istos, qui vel de sua in armis probitate, vel de suo in amoris causa desiderio completo se iactant. Et narrat qualiter Albinus primus Rex Longobardorum, cum ipse quendam alium Regem nomine Gurmundum in bello morientem triumphasset, testam456capitis defuncti auferens ciphum ex ea gemmis et auro circumligatum in sue victorie memoriam fabricari constituit: insuper et ipsius Gurmundi filiam Rosemundam rapiens, maritali thoro in coniugem sibi copulauit. Vnde ipso Albino postea coram sui Regni nobilibus in suo regali conuiuio sedente, dicti Gurmundi ciphum infuso vino ad se inter epulas afferri iussit; quem sumptum vxori sue Regine porrexit dicens, ‘Bibe cum patre tuo.’ Quod et ipsa huiusmodi operis ignara fecit. Quo facto Rex statim458super hiis que per prius gesta fuerant cunctis audientibus per singula se iactauit. Regina vero cum talia audisset, celato animo factum abhorrens in mortem domini sui Regis circumspecta industria conspirauit; ipsumque auxiliantibus Glodesida et Helmege breui subsecuto tempore interfecit; cuius mortem Dux Rauennensis tam in corpus dicte Regine quam suorum fautorum postea vindicauit. Set et huius tocius infortunii sola superbie iactancia fomitem ministrabat.And was of gret chivalerieIn werre ayein diverse kinges.So fell amonges othre thinges,That he that time a werre haddeWith Gurmond, which the Geptes ladde,And was a myhti kyng also:Bot natheles it fell him so,Albinus slowh him in the feld,Ther halp him nowther swerd ne scheld,2470That he ne smot his hed of thanne,Wherof he tok awey the Panne,Of which he seide he wolde makeA Cuppe for Gurmoundes sake,To kepe and drawe into memoireOf his bataille the victoire.And thus whan he the feld hath wonne,The lond anon was overronneAnd sesed in his oghne hond,Wher he Gurmondes dowhter fond,2480Which Maide Rosemounde hihte,And was in every mannes sihteA fair, a freissh, a lusti on.His herte fell to hire anon,And such a love on hire he caste,That he hire weddeth ate laste;And after that long time in resteWith hire he duelte, and to the beste457P. i. 126Thei love ech other wonder wel.Bot sche which kepth the blinde whel,2490Venus, whan thei be most above,In al the hoteste of here love,Hire whiel sche torneth, and thei felleIn the manere as I schal telle.This king, which stod in al his weltheOf pes, of worschipe and of helthe,And felte him on no side grieved,459As he that hath his world achieved,Tho thoghte he wolde a feste make;And that was for his wyves sake,2500That sche the lordes ate feste,460That were obeissant to his heste,Mai knowe: and so forth theruponHe let ordeine, and sende anonBe lettres and be messagiers,And warnede alle hise officiersThat every thing be wel arraied:The grete Stiedes were assaiedFor joustinge and for tornement,And many a perled garnement2510Embroudred was ayein the dai.461The lordes in here beste arraiBe comen ate time set,On jousteth wel, an other bet,And otherwhile thei torneie,And thus thei casten care aweieAnd token lustes upon honde.And after, thou schalt understonde,P. i. 127To mete into the kinges halleThei come, as thei be beden alle:2520And whan thei were set and served,Thanne after, as it was deserved,To hem that worthi knyhtes were,So as thei seten hiere and there,The pris was yove and spoken outeAmong the heraldz al aboute.And thus benethe and ek aboveAl was of armes and of love,Wherof abouten ate bordesMen hadde manye sondri wordes,2530That of the merthe which thei madeThe king himself began to gladeWithinne his herte and tok a pride,And sih the Cuppe stonde aside,Which mad was of Gurmoundes hed,As ye have herd, whan he was ded,And was with gold and riche StonesBeset and bounde for the nones,And stod upon a fot on heihteOf burned gold, and with gret sleihte2540Of werkmanschipe it was begraveOf such werk as it scholde have,And was policed ek so cleneThat no signe of the Skulle is sene,462Bot as it were a Gripes Ey.The king bad bere his Cuppe awey,Which stod tofore him on the bord,And fette thilke. Upon his wordP. i. 128This Skulle is fet and wyn therinne,Wherof he bad his wif beginne:2550‘Drink with thi fader, Dame,’ he seide.And sche to his biddinge obeide,And tok the Skulle, and what hire listeSche drank, as sche which nothing wisteWhat Cuppe it was: and thanne al outeThe kyng in audience abouteHath told it was hire fader Skulle,So that the lordes knowe schulleOf his bataille a soth witnesse,And made avant thurgh what prouesse2560He hath his wyves love wonne,Which of the Skulle hath so begonne.Tho was ther mochel Pride alofte,Thei speken alle, and sche was softe,Thenkende on thilke unkynde Pride,Of that hire lord so nyh hire sideAvanteth him that he hath slainAnd piked out hire fader brain,And of the Skulle had mad a Cuppe.463Sche soffreth al til thei were uppe,2570And tho sche hath seknesse feigned,And goth to chambre and hath compleignedUnto a Maide which sche triste,So that non other wyht it wiste.This Mayde Glodeside is hote,To whom this lady hath behoteOf ladischipe al that sche can,To vengen hire upon this man,P. i. 129Which dede hire drinke in such a plitAmong hem alle for despit2580Of hire and of hire fader bothe;Wherof hire thoghtes ben so wrothe,Sche seith, that sche schal noght be glad,Til that sche se him so bestadThat he nomore make avant.And thus thei felle in covenant,That thei acorden ate laste,With suche wiles as thei casteThat thei wol gete of here acordSom orped knyht to sle this lord:2590And with this sleihte thei beginne,How thei Helmege myhten winne,Which was the kinges Boteler,A proud a lusti Bacheler,And Glodeside he loveth hote.And sche, to make him more assote,Hire love granteth, and be nyhteThei schape how thei togedre myhteAbedde meete: and don it wasThis same nyht; and in this cas2600The qwene hirself the nyht secoundeWente in hire stede, and there hath foundeA chambre derk withoute liht,And goth to bedde to this knyht.And he, to kepe his observance,To love doth his obeissance,And weneth it be Glodeside;And sche thanne after lay aside,P. i. 130And axeth him what he hath do,And who sche was sche tolde him tho,2610And seide: ‘Helmege, I am thi qwene,464Now schal thi love wel be seneOf that thou hast thi wille wroght:Or it schal sore ben aboght,Or thou schalt worche as I thee seie.And if thou wolt be such a weieDo my plesance and holde it stille,For evere I schal ben at thi wille,Bothe I and al myn heritage.’Anon the wylde loves rage,2620In which noman him can governe,Hath mad him that he can noght werne,465Bot fell al hol to hire assent:And thus the whiel is al miswent,The which fortune hath upon honde;For how that evere it after stonde,Thei schope among hem such a wyle,The king was ded withinne a whyle.So slihly cam it noght abouteThat thei ne bendescoevered oute,2630So that it thoghte hem for the besteTo fle, for there was no reste:And thus the tresor of the kingThei trusse and mochel other thing,And with a certein felaschipeThei fledde and wente awey be schipe,And hielde here rihte cours fro thenne,Til that thei come to Ravenne,P. i. 131Wher thei the Dukes helpe soghte.And he, so as thei him besoghte,2640A place granteth forto duelle;Bot after, whan he herde telleOf the manere how thei have do,This Duk let schape for hem so,That of a puison which thei drunkeThei hadden that thei have beswunke.And al this made avant of Pride:Good is therfore a man to hideHis oghne pris, for if he speke,He mai lihtliche his thonk tobreke.2650In armes lith non avantanceTo him which thenkth his name avanceAnd be renomed of his dede:And also who that thenkth to spedeOf love, he mai him noght avaunte;For what man thilke vice haunte,His pourpos schal fulofte faile.In armes he that wol travaile466[Avantance.]Or elles loves grace atteigne,His lose tunge he mot restreigne,2660Which berth of his honour the keie.Confessor.Forthi, my Sone, in alle weieTak riht good hiede of this matiere.Amans.I thonke you, my fader diere,This scole is of a gentil lore;And if ther be oght elles moreOf Pride, which I schal eschuie,Now axeth forth, and I wol suieP. i. 132What thing that ye me wole enforme.467Confessor.Mi Sone, yit in other forme2670Ther is a vice of Prides lore,Which lich an hauk whan he wol sore,Fleith upon heihte in his delicesAfter the likynge of his vices,And wol no mannes resoun knowe,Till he doun falle and overthrowe.This vice veine gloire is hote,Wherof, my Sone, I thee behoteTo trete and speke in such a wise,That thou thee myht the betre avise.2680

[Tale of Albinus and Rosemund.]

P. i. 125

Of hem that we Lombars now calle

Albinus was the ferste of alle4552460

Which bar corone of Lombardie,

Hic ponit Confessor exemplum contra istos, qui vel de sua in armis probitate, vel de suo in amoris causa desiderio completo se iactant. Et narrat qualiter Albinus primus Rex Longobardorum, cum ipse quendam alium Regem nomine Gurmundum in bello morientem triumphasset, testam456capitis defuncti auferens ciphum ex ea gemmis et auro circumligatum in sue victorie memoriam fabricari constituit: insuper et ipsius Gurmundi filiam Rosemundam rapiens, maritali thoro in coniugem sibi copulauit. Vnde ipso Albino postea coram sui Regni nobilibus in suo regali conuiuio sedente, dicti Gurmundi ciphum infuso vino ad se inter epulas afferri iussit; quem sumptum vxori sue Regine porrexit dicens, ‘Bibe cum patre tuo.’ Quod et ipsa huiusmodi operis ignara fecit. Quo facto Rex statim458super hiis que per prius gesta fuerant cunctis audientibus per singula se iactauit. Regina vero cum talia audisset, celato animo factum abhorrens in mortem domini sui Regis circumspecta industria conspirauit; ipsumque auxiliantibus Glodesida et Helmege breui subsecuto tempore interfecit; cuius mortem Dux Rauennensis tam in corpus dicte Regine quam suorum fautorum postea vindicauit. Set et huius tocius infortunii sola superbie iactancia fomitem ministrabat.

And was of gret chivalerie

In werre ayein diverse kinges.

So fell amonges othre thinges,

That he that time a werre hadde

With Gurmond, which the Geptes ladde,

And was a myhti kyng also:

Bot natheles it fell him so,

Albinus slowh him in the feld,

Ther halp him nowther swerd ne scheld,2470

That he ne smot his hed of thanne,

Wherof he tok awey the Panne,

Of which he seide he wolde make

A Cuppe for Gurmoundes sake,

To kepe and drawe into memoire

Of his bataille the victoire.

And thus whan he the feld hath wonne,

The lond anon was overronne

And sesed in his oghne hond,

Wher he Gurmondes dowhter fond,2480

Which Maide Rosemounde hihte,

And was in every mannes sihte

A fair, a freissh, a lusti on.

His herte fell to hire anon,

And such a love on hire he caste,

That he hire weddeth ate laste;

And after that long time in reste

With hire he duelte, and to the beste457

P. i. 126

Thei love ech other wonder wel.

Bot sche which kepth the blinde whel,2490

Venus, whan thei be most above,

In al the hoteste of here love,

Hire whiel sche torneth, and thei felle

In the manere as I schal telle.

This king, which stod in al his welthe

Of pes, of worschipe and of helthe,

And felte him on no side grieved,459

As he that hath his world achieved,

Tho thoghte he wolde a feste make;

And that was for his wyves sake,2500

That sche the lordes ate feste,460

That were obeissant to his heste,

Mai knowe: and so forth therupon

He let ordeine, and sende anon

Be lettres and be messagiers,

And warnede alle hise officiers

That every thing be wel arraied:

The grete Stiedes were assaied

For joustinge and for tornement,

And many a perled garnement2510

Embroudred was ayein the dai.461

The lordes in here beste arrai

Be comen ate time set,

On jousteth wel, an other bet,

And otherwhile thei torneie,

And thus thei casten care aweie

And token lustes upon honde.

And after, thou schalt understonde,

P. i. 127

To mete into the kinges halle

Thei come, as thei be beden alle:2520

And whan thei were set and served,

Thanne after, as it was deserved,

To hem that worthi knyhtes were,

So as thei seten hiere and there,

The pris was yove and spoken oute

Among the heraldz al aboute.

And thus benethe and ek above

Al was of armes and of love,

Wherof abouten ate bordes

Men hadde manye sondri wordes,2530

That of the merthe which thei made

The king himself began to glade

Withinne his herte and tok a pride,

And sih the Cuppe stonde aside,

Which mad was of Gurmoundes hed,

As ye have herd, whan he was ded,

And was with gold and riche Stones

Beset and bounde for the nones,

And stod upon a fot on heihte

Of burned gold, and with gret sleihte2540

Of werkmanschipe it was begrave

Of such werk as it scholde have,

And was policed ek so clene

That no signe of the Skulle is sene,462

Bot as it were a Gripes Ey.

The king bad bere his Cuppe awey,

Which stod tofore him on the bord,

And fette thilke. Upon his word

P. i. 128

This Skulle is fet and wyn therinne,

Wherof he bad his wif beginne:2550

‘Drink with thi fader, Dame,’ he seide.

And sche to his biddinge obeide,

And tok the Skulle, and what hire liste

Sche drank, as sche which nothing wiste

What Cuppe it was: and thanne al oute

The kyng in audience aboute

Hath told it was hire fader Skulle,

So that the lordes knowe schulle

Of his bataille a soth witnesse,

And made avant thurgh what prouesse2560

He hath his wyves love wonne,

Which of the Skulle hath so begonne.

Tho was ther mochel Pride alofte,

Thei speken alle, and sche was softe,

Thenkende on thilke unkynde Pride,

Of that hire lord so nyh hire side

Avanteth him that he hath slain

And piked out hire fader brain,

And of the Skulle had mad a Cuppe.463

Sche soffreth al til thei were uppe,2570

And tho sche hath seknesse feigned,

And goth to chambre and hath compleigned

Unto a Maide which sche triste,

So that non other wyht it wiste.

This Mayde Glodeside is hote,

To whom this lady hath behote

Of ladischipe al that sche can,

To vengen hire upon this man,

P. i. 129

Which dede hire drinke in such a plit

Among hem alle for despit2580

Of hire and of hire fader bothe;

Wherof hire thoghtes ben so wrothe,

Sche seith, that sche schal noght be glad,

Til that sche se him so bestad

That he nomore make avant.

And thus thei felle in covenant,

That thei acorden ate laste,

With suche wiles as thei caste

That thei wol gete of here acord

Som orped knyht to sle this lord:2590

And with this sleihte thei beginne,

How thei Helmege myhten winne,

Which was the kinges Boteler,

A proud a lusti Bacheler,

And Glodeside he loveth hote.

And sche, to make him more assote,

Hire love granteth, and be nyhte

Thei schape how thei togedre myhte

Abedde meete: and don it was

This same nyht; and in this cas2600

The qwene hirself the nyht secounde

Wente in hire stede, and there hath founde

A chambre derk withoute liht,

And goth to bedde to this knyht.

And he, to kepe his observance,

To love doth his obeissance,

And weneth it be Glodeside;

And sche thanne after lay aside,

P. i. 130

And axeth him what he hath do,

And who sche was sche tolde him tho,2610

And seide: ‘Helmege, I am thi qwene,464

Now schal thi love wel be sene

Of that thou hast thi wille wroght:

Or it schal sore ben aboght,

Or thou schalt worche as I thee seie.

And if thou wolt be such a weie

Do my plesance and holde it stille,

For evere I schal ben at thi wille,

Bothe I and al myn heritage.’

Anon the wylde loves rage,2620

In which noman him can governe,

Hath mad him that he can noght werne,465

Bot fell al hol to hire assent:

And thus the whiel is al miswent,

The which fortune hath upon honde;

For how that evere it after stonde,

Thei schope among hem such a wyle,

The king was ded withinne a whyle.

So slihly cam it noght aboute

That thei ne bendescoevered oute,2630

So that it thoghte hem for the beste

To fle, for there was no reste:

And thus the tresor of the king

Thei trusse and mochel other thing,

And with a certein felaschipe

Thei fledde and wente awey be schipe,

And hielde here rihte cours fro thenne,

Til that thei come to Ravenne,

P. i. 131

Wher thei the Dukes helpe soghte.

And he, so as thei him besoghte,2640

A place granteth forto duelle;

Bot after, whan he herde telle

Of the manere how thei have do,

This Duk let schape for hem so,

That of a puison which thei drunke

Thei hadden that thei have beswunke.

And al this made avant of Pride:

Good is therfore a man to hide

His oghne pris, for if he speke,

He mai lihtliche his thonk tobreke.2650

In armes lith non avantance

To him which thenkth his name avance

And be renomed of his dede:

And also who that thenkth to spede

Of love, he mai him noght avaunte;

For what man thilke vice haunte,

His pourpos schal fulofte faile.

In armes he that wol travaile466

[Avantance.]

Or elles loves grace atteigne,

His lose tunge he mot restreigne,2660

Which berth of his honour the keie.

Confessor.

Forthi, my Sone, in alle weie

Tak riht good hiede of this matiere.

Amans.

I thonke you, my fader diere,

This scole is of a gentil lore;

And if ther be oght elles more

Of Pride, which I schal eschuie,

Now axeth forth, and I wol suie

P. i. 132

What thing that ye me wole enforme.467

Confessor.

Mi Sone, yit in other forme2670

Ther is a vice of Prides lore,

Which lich an hauk whan he wol sore,

Fleith upon heihte in his delices

After the likynge of his vices,

And wol no mannes resoun knowe,

Till he doun falle and overthrowe.

This vice veine gloire is hote,

Wherof, my Sone, I thee behote

To trete and speke in such a wise,

That thou thee myht the betre avise.2680

[v.Vain-Glory.]x.Gloria perpetuos pregnat mundana dolores,Qui tamen est vanus gaudia vana cupit.Eius amiciciam, quem gloria tollit inanis,Non sine blandiciis planus habebit homo:Verbis compositis qui scit strigilare fauellum,Scandere sellata iura valebit eques.Sic in amore magis qui blanda subornat in oreVerba, per hoc brauium quod nequit alter habet.Et tamen ornatos cantus variosque paratusLetaque corda suis legibus optat amor.(10)

[v.Vain-Glory.]

x.Gloria perpetuos pregnat mundana dolores,

Qui tamen est vanus gaudia vana cupit.

Eius amiciciam, quem gloria tollit inanis,

Non sine blandiciis planus habebit homo:

Verbis compositis qui scit strigilare fauellum,

Scandere sellata iura valebit eques.

Sic in amore magis qui blanda subornat in ore

Verba, per hoc brauium quod nequit alter habet.

Et tamen ornatos cantus variosque paratus

Letaque corda suis legibus optat amor.(10)

Hic loquitur de quinta specie superbie, que Inanis gloria vocatur, et eiusdem vicii naturam primo describens super eodem in amoris causa Confessor Amanti consequenter opponit.The proude vice of veine gloireRemembreth noght of purgatoire,Hise worldes joyes ben so grete,Him thenkth of hevene no beyete;This lives Pompe is al his pes:Yit schal he deie natheles,And therof thenkth he bot a lite,468For al his lust is to deliteIn newe thinges, proude and veine,Als ferforth as he mai atteigne.2690P. i. 133I trowe, if that he myhte makeHis body newe, he wolde takeA newe forme and leve his olde:For what thing that he mai beholde,The which to comun us is strange,Anon his olde guise changeHe wole and falle therupon,Lich unto the Camelion,Which upon every sondri heweThat he beholt he moste newe2700His colour, and thus unavisedFulofte time he stant desguised.Mor jolif than the brid in MaiiHe makth him evere freissh and gay,Salomon. Amictus eius469annunciat de eo.And doth al his array desguise,So that of him the newe guiseOf lusti folk alle othre take;And ek he can carolles make,Rondeal, balade and virelai.And withal this, if that he may2710Of love gete him avantage,Anon he wext of his corageSo overglad, that of his ende470Him thenkth ther is no deth comende:For he hath thanne at alle tideOf love such a maner pride,Him thenkth his joie is endeles.Confessor.Now schrif thee, Sone, in godes pes,And of thi love tell me pleinIf that thi gloire hath be so vein.2720P. i. 134Amans.Mi fader, as touchinge of al[The Lover’s Confession.]I may noght wel ne noght ne schalOf veine gloire excuse me,That I ne have for love beThe betre adresced and arraied;And also I have ofte assaiedRondeal, balade and virelaiFor hire on whom myn herte laiTo make, and also forto peinteCaroles with my wordes qweinte,2730To sette my pourpos alofte;And thus I sang hem forth fulofteIn halle and ek in chambre aboute,And made merie among the route,Bot yit ne ferde I noght the bet.Thus was my gloire in vein besetOf al the joie that I made;For whanne I wolde with hire glade,And of hire love songes make,Sche saide it was noght for hir sake,2740And liste noght my songes hiereNe witen what the wordes were.So forto speke of myn arrai,Yit couthe I nevere be so gayNe so wel make a songe of love,Wherof I myhte ben aboveAnd have encheson to be glad;Bot rathere I am ofte adradFor sorwe that sche seith me nay.And natheles I wol noght say,2750P. i. 135That I nam glad on other side;471For fame, that can nothing hide,Alday wol bringe unto myn EreOf that men speken hier and there,How that my ladi berth the pris,How sche is fair, how sche is wis,How sche is wommanlich of chiere;Of al this thing whanne I mai hiere,What wonder is thogh I be fain?And ek whanne I may hiere sain2760Tidinges of my ladi hele,Althogh I may noght with hir dele,Yit am I wonder glad of that;For whanne I wot hire good astat,As for that time I dar wel swere,Non other sorwe mai me dere,Thus am I gladed in this wise.Bot, fader, of youre lores wise,Of whiche ye be fully tawht,Now tell me if yow thenketh awht4722770That I therof am forto wyte.Confessor.Of that ther is I thee acquite,Mi sone, he seide, and for thi goodeI wolde that thou understode:For I thenke upon this matiereTo telle a tale, as thou schalt hiere,How that ayein this proude viceThe hihe god of his justiceIs wroth and gret vengance doth.Now herkne a tale that is soth:2780P. i. 136Thogh it be noght of loves kinde,A gret ensample thou schalt findeThis veine gloire forto fle,Which is so full of vanite.

Hic loquitur de quinta specie superbie, que Inanis gloria vocatur, et eiusdem vicii naturam primo describens super eodem in amoris causa Confessor Amanti consequenter opponit.

The proude vice of veine gloire

Remembreth noght of purgatoire,

Hise worldes joyes ben so grete,

Him thenkth of hevene no beyete;

This lives Pompe is al his pes:

Yit schal he deie natheles,

And therof thenkth he bot a lite,468

For al his lust is to delite

In newe thinges, proude and veine,

Als ferforth as he mai atteigne.2690

P. i. 133

I trowe, if that he myhte make

His body newe, he wolde take

A newe forme and leve his olde:

For what thing that he mai beholde,

The which to comun us is strange,

Anon his olde guise change

He wole and falle therupon,

Lich unto the Camelion,

Which upon every sondri hewe

That he beholt he moste newe2700

His colour, and thus unavised

Fulofte time he stant desguised.

Mor jolif than the brid in Maii

He makth him evere freissh and gay,

Salomon. Amictus eius469annunciat de eo.

And doth al his array desguise,

So that of him the newe guise

Of lusti folk alle othre take;

And ek he can carolles make,

Rondeal, balade and virelai.

And withal this, if that he may2710

Of love gete him avantage,

Anon he wext of his corage

So overglad, that of his ende470

Him thenkth ther is no deth comende:

For he hath thanne at alle tide

Of love such a maner pride,

Him thenkth his joie is endeles.

Confessor.

Now schrif thee, Sone, in godes pes,

And of thi love tell me plein

If that thi gloire hath be so vein.2720

P. i. 134

Amans.

Mi fader, as touchinge of al

[The Lover’s Confession.]

I may noght wel ne noght ne schal

Of veine gloire excuse me,

That I ne have for love be

The betre adresced and arraied;

And also I have ofte assaied

Rondeal, balade and virelai

For hire on whom myn herte lai

To make, and also forto peinte

Caroles with my wordes qweinte,2730

To sette my pourpos alofte;

And thus I sang hem forth fulofte

In halle and ek in chambre aboute,

And made merie among the route,

Bot yit ne ferde I noght the bet.

Thus was my gloire in vein beset

Of al the joie that I made;

For whanne I wolde with hire glade,

And of hire love songes make,

Sche saide it was noght for hir sake,2740

And liste noght my songes hiere

Ne witen what the wordes were.

So forto speke of myn arrai,

Yit couthe I nevere be so gay

Ne so wel make a songe of love,

Wherof I myhte ben above

And have encheson to be glad;

Bot rathere I am ofte adrad

For sorwe that sche seith me nay.

And natheles I wol noght say,2750

P. i. 135

That I nam glad on other side;471

For fame, that can nothing hide,

Alday wol bringe unto myn Ere

Of that men speken hier and there,

How that my ladi berth the pris,

How sche is fair, how sche is wis,

How sche is wommanlich of chiere;

Of al this thing whanne I mai hiere,

What wonder is thogh I be fain?

And ek whanne I may hiere sain2760

Tidinges of my ladi hele,

Althogh I may noght with hir dele,

Yit am I wonder glad of that;

For whanne I wot hire good astat,

As for that time I dar wel swere,

Non other sorwe mai me dere,

Thus am I gladed in this wise.

Bot, fader, of youre lores wise,

Of whiche ye be fully tawht,

Now tell me if yow thenketh awht4722770

That I therof am forto wyte.

Confessor.

Of that ther is I thee acquite,

Mi sone, he seide, and for thi goode

I wolde that thou understode:

For I thenke upon this matiere

To telle a tale, as thou schalt hiere,

How that ayein this proude vice

The hihe god of his justice

Is wroth and gret vengance doth.

Now herkne a tale that is soth:2780

P. i. 136

Thogh it be noght of loves kinde,

A gret ensample thou schalt finde

This veine gloire forto fle,

Which is so full of vanite.

[Nebuchadnezzar’s Punishment.]xi.Humani generis cum sit sibi gloria maior,Sepe subesse solet proximus ille dolor:Mens elata graues descensus sepe subibit,Mens humilis stabile molleque firmat iter.Motibus innumeris volutat fortuna per orbem;473Cum magis alta petis, inferiora time.

[Nebuchadnezzar’s Punishment.]

xi.Humani generis cum sit sibi gloria maior,

Sepe subesse solet proximus ille dolor:

Mens elata graues descensus sepe subibit,

Mens humilis stabile molleque firmat iter.

Motibus innumeris volutat fortuna per orbem;473

Cum magis alta petis, inferiora time.

Ther was a king that mochel myhte,Which Nabugodonosor hihte,Hic ponit Confessor exemplum contra vicium inanis glorie, narrans qualiter Nabugodonosor Rex Caldeorum, cum ipse in omni sue maiestatis gloria celsior extitisset, deus eius superbiam castigare volens ipsum extra formam hominis in bestiam fenum comedentem transmutauit.475Et sic per septennium penitens, cum ipse potenciorem se agnouit, misertus deus ipsum in sui regni solium restituta sanitate emendatum graciosius collocauit.Of whom that I spak hier tofore.Yit in the bible his name is bore,For al the world in Orient474Was hol at his comandement:2790As thanne of kinges to his licheWas non so myhty ne so riche;To his Empire and to his lawes,As who seith, alle in thilke dawesWere obeissant and tribut bere,As thogh he godd of Erthe were.With strengthe he putte kinges under,And wroghte of Pride many a wonder;He was so full of veine gloire,That he ne hadde no memoire2800That ther was eny good bot he,476For pride of his prosperite;Til that the hihe king of kinges,Which seth and knoweth alle thinges,Whos yhe mai nothing asterte,—The privetes of mannes herteP. i. 137Thei speke and sounen in his EreAs thogh thei lowde wyndes were,—He tok vengance upon this pride.Bot for he wolde awhile abide2810To loke if he him wolde amende,To him a foretokne he sende,477And that was in his slep be nyhte.This proude kyng a wonder syhteHadde in his swevene, ther he lay:Him thoghte, upon a merie dayAs he behield the world aboute,A tree fulgrowe he syh theroute,Which stod the world amiddes evene,Whos heihte straghte up to the hevene;2820The leves weren faire and large,Of fruit itbar so ripe a charge,That alle men it myhte fede:He sih also the bowes spriedeAbove al Erthe, in whiche wereThe kinde of alle briddes there;And eke him thoghte he syh alsoThe kinde of alle bestes goUnder this tre aboute roundAnd fedden hem upon the ground.2830As he this wonder stod and syh,Him thoghte he herde a vois on hihCriende, and seide aboven alle:‘Hew doun this tree and lett it falle,The leves let defoule in haste478And do the fruit destruie and waste,479P. i. 138And let of schreden every braunche,Bot ate Rote let it staunche.Whan al his Pride is cast to grounde,480The rote schal be faste bounde,2840And schal no mannes herte bere,Bot every lust he schal forbereOf man, and lich an Oxe his meteOf gras he schal pourchace and ete,Til that the water of the heveneHave waisshen him be times sevene,So that he be thurghknowe ariht481What is the heveneliche myht,And be mad humble to the willeOf him which al mai save and spille.’2850This king out of his swefne abreide,And he upon the morwe it seideUnto the clerkes whiche he hadde:Bot non of hem the sothe aradde,Was non his swevene cowthe undo.And it stod thilke time so,This king hadde in subjecciounJudee, and of affecciounAbove alle othre on DanielHe loveth, for he cowthe wel2860Divine that non other cowthe:To him were alle thinges cowthe,As he it hadde of goddes grace.482He was before the kinges faceAsent, and bode that he scholdeUpon the point the king of toldeP. i. 139The fortune of his swevene expounde,As it scholde afterward be founde.Whan Daniel this swevene herde,483He stod long time er he ansuerde,2870And made a wonder hevy chiere.The king tok hiede of his manere,And bad him telle that he wiste,As he to whom he mochel triste,484And seide he wolde noght be wroth.Bot Daniel was wonder loth,And seide: ‘Upon thi fomen alle,Sire king, thi swevene mote falle;And natheles touchende of thisI wol the tellen how it is,2880And what desese is to thee schape:God wot if thou it schalt ascape.The hihe tree, which thou hast seinWith lef and fruit so wel besein,The which stod in the world amiddes,485So that the bestes and the briddesGoverned were of him al one,Sire king, betokneth thi persone,Which stant above all erthli thinges.Thus regnen under the the kinges,2890And al the poeple unto thee louteth,486And al the world thi pouer doubteth,So that with vein honour deceivedThou hast the reverence weyvedFro him which is thi king above,That thou for drede ne for loveP. i. 140Wolt nothing knowen of thi godd;Which now for thee hath mad a rodd,487Thi veine gloire and thi folieWith grete peines to chastie.2900And of the vois thou herdest speke,Which bad the bowes forto brekeAnd hewe and felle doun the tree,488That word belongeth unto thee;Thi regne schal ben overthrowe,489And thou despuiled for a throwe:Bot that the Rote scholde stonde,Be that thou schalt wel understonde,Ther schal abyden of thi regneA time ayein whan thou schalt regne.2910And ek of that thou herdest seie,To take a mannes herte aweieAnd sette there a bestial,So that he lich an Oxe schalPasture, and that he be bereinedBe times sefne and sore peined,Til that he knowe his goddes mihtes,Than scholde he stonde ayein uprihtes,—Al this betokneth thin astat,Which now with god is in debat:2920Thi mannes forme schal be lassed,Til sevene yer ben overpassed,And in the liknesse of a besteOf gras schal be thi real feste,The weder schal upon thee reine.And understond that al this peine,P. i. 141Which thou schalt soffre thilke tide,Is schape al only for thi prideOf veine gloire, and of the sinneWhich thou hast longe stonden inne.2930So upon this condiciounThi swevene hath exposicioun.Bot er this thing befalle in dede,Amende thee, this wolde I rede:Yif and departe thin almesse,Do mercy forth with rihtwisnesse,Besech and prei the hihe grace,For so thou myht thi pes pourchaceWith godd, and stonde in good acord.’Bot Pride is loth to leve his lord,2940And wol noght soffre humiliteWith him to stonde in no degree;And whan a schip hath lost his stiere,Is non so wys that mai him stiereAyein the wawes in a rage.This proude king in his corageHumilite hath so forlore,That for no swevene he sih tofore,Ne yit for al that DanielHim hath conseiled everydel,2950He let it passe out of his mynde,Thurgh veine gloire, and as the blinde,He seth no weie, er him be wo.490And fell withinne a time so,As he in Babiloine wente,The vanite of Pride him hente;P. i. 142His herte aros of veine gloire,So that he drowh into memoireHis lordschipe and his regalieWith wordes of Surquiderie.2960And whan that he him most avaunteth,That lord which veine gloire daunteth,Al sodeinliche, as who seith treis,Wher that he stod in his Paleis,He tok him fro the mennes sihte:Was non of hem so war that mihteSette yhe wher that he becom.And thus was he from his kingdomInto the wilde Forest drawe,Wher that the myhti goddes lawe2970Thurgh his pouer dede him transformeFro man into a bestes forme;And lich an Oxe under the fotHe graseth, as he nedes mot,To geten him his lives fode.Tho thoghte him colde grases goode,That whilom eet the hote spices,Thus was he torned fro delices:The wyn which he was wont to drinkeHe tok thanne of the welles brinke2980Or of the pet or of the slowh,It thoghte him thanne good ynowh:In stede of chambres wel arraiedHe was thanne of a buissh wel paied,The harde ground he lay upon,For othre pilwes hath he non;P. i. 143The stormes and the Reines falle,The wyndes blowe upon him alle,491He was tormented day and nyht,Such was the hihe goddes myght,4922990Til sevene yer an ende toke.Upon himself tho gan he loke;In stede of mete gras and stres,In stede of handes longe cles,In stede of man a bestes lykeHe syh; and thanne he gan to sykeFor cloth of gold and for perrie,493Which him was wont to magnefie.Whan he behield his Cote of heres,He wepte and with fulwoful teres4943000Up to the hevene he caste his chiereWepende, and thoghte in this manere;Thogh he no wordes myhte winne,Thus seide his herte and spak withinne:‘O mihti godd, that al hast wroghtAnd al myht bringe ayein to noght,Now knowe I wel, bot al of thee,This world hath no prosperite:In thin aspect ben alle liche,The povere man and ek the riche,4953010Withoute thee ther mai no wight,496And thou above alle othre miht.O mihti lord, toward my viceThi merci medle with justice;And I woll make a covenant,That of my lif the remenantP. i. 144I schal it be thi grace amende,And in thi lawe so despendeThat veine gloire I schal eschuie,And bowe unto thin heste and suie3020Humilite, and that I vowe.’And so thenkende he gan doun bowe,And thogh him lacke vois and speche,497He gan up with his feet areche,And wailende in his bestly steveneHe made his pleignte onto the hevene.He kneleth in his wise and braieth,498To seche merci and assaiethHis god, which made him nothing strange,Whan that he sih his pride change.3030Anon as he was humble and tame,He fond toward his god the same,And in a twinklinge of a lokHis mannes forme ayein he tok,And was reformed to the regneIn which that he was wont to regne;So that the Pride of veine gloireEvere afterward out of memoireHe let it passe. And thus is schewedWhat is to ben of Pride unthewed3040Ayein the hihe goddes lawe,To whom noman mai be felawe.Confessor.Forthi, my Sone, tak good hiedeSo forto lede thi manhiede,That thou ne be noght lich a beste.Bot if thi lif schal ben honeste,P. i. 145Thou most humblesce take on honde,For thanne myht thou siker stonde:And forto speke it otherwise,A proud man can no love assise;3050For thogh a womman wolde him plese,His Pride can noght ben at ese.[Humility.]Ther mai noman to mochel blameA vice which is forto blame;Forthi men scholde nothing hideThat mihte falle in blame of Pride,Which is the werste vice of alle:Wherof, so as it was befalle,The tale I thenke of a CroniqueTo telle, if that it mai thee like,3060So that thou myht humblesce suieAnd ek the vice of Pride eschuie,Wherof the gloire is fals and vein;Which god himself hath in desdeign,That thogh it mounte for a throwe,It schal doun falle and overthrowe.

Ther was a king that mochel myhte,

Which Nabugodonosor hihte,

Hic ponit Confessor exemplum contra vicium inanis glorie, narrans qualiter Nabugodonosor Rex Caldeorum, cum ipse in omni sue maiestatis gloria celsior extitisset, deus eius superbiam castigare volens ipsum extra formam hominis in bestiam fenum comedentem transmutauit.475Et sic per septennium penitens, cum ipse potenciorem se agnouit, misertus deus ipsum in sui regni solium restituta sanitate emendatum graciosius collocauit.

Of whom that I spak hier tofore.

Yit in the bible his name is bore,

For al the world in Orient474

Was hol at his comandement:2790

As thanne of kinges to his liche

Was non so myhty ne so riche;

To his Empire and to his lawes,

As who seith, alle in thilke dawes

Were obeissant and tribut bere,

As thogh he godd of Erthe were.

With strengthe he putte kinges under,

And wroghte of Pride many a wonder;

He was so full of veine gloire,

That he ne hadde no memoire2800

That ther was eny good bot he,476

For pride of his prosperite;

Til that the hihe king of kinges,

Which seth and knoweth alle thinges,

Whos yhe mai nothing asterte,—

The privetes of mannes herte

P. i. 137

Thei speke and sounen in his Ere

As thogh thei lowde wyndes were,—

He tok vengance upon this pride.

Bot for he wolde awhile abide2810

To loke if he him wolde amende,

To him a foretokne he sende,477

And that was in his slep be nyhte.

This proude kyng a wonder syhte

Hadde in his swevene, ther he lay:

Him thoghte, upon a merie day

As he behield the world aboute,

A tree fulgrowe he syh theroute,

Which stod the world amiddes evene,

Whos heihte straghte up to the hevene;2820

The leves weren faire and large,

Of fruit itbar so ripe a charge,

That alle men it myhte fede:

He sih also the bowes spriede

Above al Erthe, in whiche were

The kinde of alle briddes there;

And eke him thoghte he syh also

The kinde of alle bestes go

Under this tre aboute round

And fedden hem upon the ground.2830

As he this wonder stod and syh,

Him thoghte he herde a vois on hih

Criende, and seide aboven alle:

‘Hew doun this tree and lett it falle,

The leves let defoule in haste478

And do the fruit destruie and waste,479

P. i. 138

And let of schreden every braunche,

Bot ate Rote let it staunche.

Whan al his Pride is cast to grounde,480

The rote schal be faste bounde,2840

And schal no mannes herte bere,

Bot every lust he schal forbere

Of man, and lich an Oxe his mete

Of gras he schal pourchace and ete,

Til that the water of the hevene

Have waisshen him be times sevene,

So that he be thurghknowe ariht481

What is the heveneliche myht,

And be mad humble to the wille

Of him which al mai save and spille.’2850

This king out of his swefne abreide,

And he upon the morwe it seide

Unto the clerkes whiche he hadde:

Bot non of hem the sothe aradde,

Was non his swevene cowthe undo.

And it stod thilke time so,

This king hadde in subjeccioun

Judee, and of affeccioun

Above alle othre on Daniel

He loveth, for he cowthe wel2860

Divine that non other cowthe:

To him were alle thinges cowthe,

As he it hadde of goddes grace.482

He was before the kinges face

Asent, and bode that he scholde

Upon the point the king of tolde

P. i. 139

The fortune of his swevene expounde,

As it scholde afterward be founde.

Whan Daniel this swevene herde,483

He stod long time er he ansuerde,2870

And made a wonder hevy chiere.

The king tok hiede of his manere,

And bad him telle that he wiste,

As he to whom he mochel triste,484

And seide he wolde noght be wroth.

Bot Daniel was wonder loth,

And seide: ‘Upon thi fomen alle,

Sire king, thi swevene mote falle;

And natheles touchende of this

I wol the tellen how it is,2880

And what desese is to thee schape:

God wot if thou it schalt ascape.

The hihe tree, which thou hast sein

With lef and fruit so wel besein,

The which stod in the world amiddes,485

So that the bestes and the briddes

Governed were of him al one,

Sire king, betokneth thi persone,

Which stant above all erthli thinges.

Thus regnen under the the kinges,2890

And al the poeple unto thee louteth,486

And al the world thi pouer doubteth,

So that with vein honour deceived

Thou hast the reverence weyved

Fro him which is thi king above,

That thou for drede ne for love

P. i. 140

Wolt nothing knowen of thi godd;

Which now for thee hath mad a rodd,487

Thi veine gloire and thi folie

With grete peines to chastie.2900

And of the vois thou herdest speke,

Which bad the bowes forto breke

And hewe and felle doun the tree,488

That word belongeth unto thee;

Thi regne schal ben overthrowe,489

And thou despuiled for a throwe:

Bot that the Rote scholde stonde,

Be that thou schalt wel understonde,

Ther schal abyden of thi regne

A time ayein whan thou schalt regne.2910

And ek of that thou herdest seie,

To take a mannes herte aweie

And sette there a bestial,

So that he lich an Oxe schal

Pasture, and that he be bereined

Be times sefne and sore peined,

Til that he knowe his goddes mihtes,

Than scholde he stonde ayein uprihtes,—

Al this betokneth thin astat,

Which now with god is in debat:2920

Thi mannes forme schal be lassed,

Til sevene yer ben overpassed,

And in the liknesse of a beste

Of gras schal be thi real feste,

The weder schal upon thee reine.

And understond that al this peine,

P. i. 141

Which thou schalt soffre thilke tide,

Is schape al only for thi pride

Of veine gloire, and of the sinne

Which thou hast longe stonden inne.2930

So upon this condicioun

Thi swevene hath exposicioun.

Bot er this thing befalle in dede,

Amende thee, this wolde I rede:

Yif and departe thin almesse,

Do mercy forth with rihtwisnesse,

Besech and prei the hihe grace,

For so thou myht thi pes pourchace

With godd, and stonde in good acord.’

Bot Pride is loth to leve his lord,2940

And wol noght soffre humilite

With him to stonde in no degree;

And whan a schip hath lost his stiere,

Is non so wys that mai him stiere

Ayein the wawes in a rage.

This proude king in his corage

Humilite hath so forlore,

That for no swevene he sih tofore,

Ne yit for al that Daniel

Him hath conseiled everydel,2950

He let it passe out of his mynde,

Thurgh veine gloire, and as the blinde,

He seth no weie, er him be wo.490

And fell withinne a time so,

As he in Babiloine wente,

The vanite of Pride him hente;

P. i. 142

His herte aros of veine gloire,

So that he drowh into memoire

His lordschipe and his regalie

With wordes of Surquiderie.2960

And whan that he him most avaunteth,

That lord which veine gloire daunteth,

Al sodeinliche, as who seith treis,

Wher that he stod in his Paleis,

He tok him fro the mennes sihte:

Was non of hem so war that mihte

Sette yhe wher that he becom.

And thus was he from his kingdom

Into the wilde Forest drawe,

Wher that the myhti goddes lawe2970

Thurgh his pouer dede him transforme

Fro man into a bestes forme;

And lich an Oxe under the fot

He graseth, as he nedes mot,

To geten him his lives fode.

Tho thoghte him colde grases goode,

That whilom eet the hote spices,

Thus was he torned fro delices:

The wyn which he was wont to drinke

He tok thanne of the welles brinke2980

Or of the pet or of the slowh,

It thoghte him thanne good ynowh:

In stede of chambres wel arraied

He was thanne of a buissh wel paied,

The harde ground he lay upon,

For othre pilwes hath he non;

P. i. 143

The stormes and the Reines falle,

The wyndes blowe upon him alle,491

He was tormented day and nyht,

Such was the hihe goddes myght,4922990

Til sevene yer an ende toke.

Upon himself tho gan he loke;

In stede of mete gras and stres,

In stede of handes longe cles,

In stede of man a bestes lyke

He syh; and thanne he gan to syke

For cloth of gold and for perrie,493

Which him was wont to magnefie.

Whan he behield his Cote of heres,

He wepte and with fulwoful teres4943000

Up to the hevene he caste his chiere

Wepende, and thoghte in this manere;

Thogh he no wordes myhte winne,

Thus seide his herte and spak withinne:

‘O mihti godd, that al hast wroght

And al myht bringe ayein to noght,

Now knowe I wel, bot al of thee,

This world hath no prosperite:

In thin aspect ben alle liche,

The povere man and ek the riche,4953010

Withoute thee ther mai no wight,496

And thou above alle othre miht.

O mihti lord, toward my vice

Thi merci medle with justice;

And I woll make a covenant,

That of my lif the remenant

P. i. 144

I schal it be thi grace amende,

And in thi lawe so despende

That veine gloire I schal eschuie,

And bowe unto thin heste and suie3020

Humilite, and that I vowe.’

And so thenkende he gan doun bowe,

And thogh him lacke vois and speche,497

He gan up with his feet areche,

And wailende in his bestly stevene

He made his pleignte onto the hevene.

He kneleth in his wise and braieth,498

To seche merci and assaieth

His god, which made him nothing strange,

Whan that he sih his pride change.3030

Anon as he was humble and tame,

He fond toward his god the same,

And in a twinklinge of a lok

His mannes forme ayein he tok,

And was reformed to the regne

In which that he was wont to regne;

So that the Pride of veine gloire

Evere afterward out of memoire

He let it passe. And thus is schewed

What is to ben of Pride unthewed3040

Ayein the hihe goddes lawe,

To whom noman mai be felawe.

Confessor.

Forthi, my Sone, tak good hiede

So forto lede thi manhiede,

That thou ne be noght lich a beste.

Bot if thi lif schal ben honeste,

P. i. 145

Thou most humblesce take on honde,

For thanne myht thou siker stonde:

And forto speke it otherwise,

A proud man can no love assise;3050

For thogh a womman wolde him plese,

His Pride can noght ben at ese.

[Humility.]

Ther mai noman to mochel blame

A vice which is forto blame;

Forthi men scholde nothing hide

That mihte falle in blame of Pride,

Which is the werste vice of alle:

Wherof, so as it was befalle,

The tale I thenke of a Cronique

To telle, if that it mai thee like,3060

So that thou myht humblesce suie

And ek the vice of Pride eschuie,

Wherof the gloire is fals and vein;

Which god himself hath in desdeign,

That thogh it mounte for a throwe,

It schal doun falle and overthrowe.

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