Chapter 24

[Delicacy of Nero.]What man that wolde him wel avise,818Delicacie is to despise,Hic loquitur de delicacia Neronis, qui corporalibus deliciis magis adherens spiritalia gaudia minus819obtinuit.Whan kinde acordeth noght withal;Wherof ensample in specialOf Nero whilom mai be told,Which ayein kinde manyfoldHise lustes tok, til ate lasteThat god him wolde al overcaste;Of whom the Cronique is so plein,Me list nomore of him to sein.1160And natheles for glotonieOf bodili Delicacie,To knowe his stomak hou it ferde,Of that noman tofore herde,Which he withinne himself bethoghte,A wonder soubtil thing he wroghte.Thre men upon elecciounOf age and of complexiounLich to himself be alle weieHe tok towardes him to pleie,1170And ete and drinke als wel as he.Therof was no diversite;For every day whan that thei eete,Tofore his oghne bord thei seete,And of such mete as he was served,Althogh thei hadde it noght deserved,P. iii. 41Thei token service of the same.Bot afterward al thilke gameWas into wofull ernest torned;For whan thei weren thus sojorned,1180Withinne a time at after meteNero, which hadde noght foryeteThe lustes of his frele astat,As he which al was delicat,To knowe thilke experience,The men let come in his presence:820And to that on the same tyde,A courser that he scholde rydeInto the feld, anon he bad;Wherof this man was wonder glad,1190And goth to prike and prance aboute.That other, whil that he was oute,He leide upon his bedd to slepe:The thridde, which he wolde kepeWithinne his chambre, faire and softeHe goth now doun nou up fulofte,Walkende a pass, that he ne slepte,Til he which on the courser lepteWas come fro the field ayein.Nero thanne, as the bokes sein,1200These men doth taken alle threAnd slouh hem, for he wolde seThe whos stomak was best defied:And whanne he hath the sothe tryed,He fond that he which goth the passDefyed best of alle was,P. iii. 42Which afterward he usede ay.And thus what thing unto his payWas most plesant, he lefte non:821With every lust he was begon,1210Wherof the bodi myhte glade,For he non abstinence made;Bot most above alle erthli thingesOf wommen unto the likingesNero sette al his hole herte,For that lust scholde him noght asterte.Whan that the thurst of love him cawhte,Wher that him list he tok a drauhte,He spareth nouther wif ne maide,That such an other, as men saide,1220In al this world was nevere yit.He was so drunke in al his witThurgh sondri lustes whiche he tok,That evere, whil ther is a bok,Of Nero men schul rede and singeUnto the worldes knowlechinge,Mi goode Sone, as thou hast herd.[Love-Delicacy.]For evere yit it hath so ferd,Delicacie in loves casWithoute reson is and was;8221230For wher that love his herte set,Him thenkth it myhte be no bet;And thogh it be noght fulli mete,823The lust of love is evere swete.Confessor.Lo, thus togedre of felaschipeDelicacie and drunkeschipe,P. iii. 43Wherof reson stant out of herre,Have mad full many a wisman erreIn loves cause most of alle:For thanne hou so that evere it falle,1240Wit can no reson understonde,Bot let the governance stondeTo Will, which thanne wext so wylde,That he can noght himselve schyldeFro no peril, bot out of feere824The weie he secheth hiere and there,Him recheth noght upon what syde:For oftetime he goth beside,And doth such thing withoute drede,Wherof him oghte wel to drede.1250Bot whan that love assoteth sore,It passeth alle mennes lore;What lust it is that he ordeigneth,Ther is no mannes miht restreigneth,825And of the godd takth he non hiede:Bot laweles withoute drede,His pourpos for he wolde achieve826Ayeins the pointz of the believe,He tempteth hevene and erthe and helle,Hierafterward as I schal telle.1260[Sorcery and Witchcraft.]iii.Dum stimulatur amor, quicquid iubet orta voluptas,Audet et aggreditur, nulla timenda timens.Omne quod astra queunt herbarum siue potestas,Seu vigor inferni, singula temptat amans.Quod nequit ipse deo mediante parare sinistrum,Demonis hoc magica credulus arte parat.Sic sibi non curat ad opus que recia tendit,Dummodo nudatam prendere possit auem.P. iii. 44Who dar do thing which love ne dar?To love is every lawe unwar,Hic tractat qualiter Ebrietas et Delicacia omnis pudicicie contrarium instigantes inter alia ad carnalis concupiscencie promocionem Sortilegio827mmagicam requirunt.Bot to the lawes of his hesteThe fissch, the foul, the man, the besteOf al the worldes kinde louteth.For love is he which nothing douteth;In mannes herte where he sit,827He compteth noght toward his witThe wo nomore than the wele,No mor the hete than the chele,1270No mor the wete than the dreie,No mor to live than to deie,So that tofore ne behindeHe seth nothing, bot as the blindeWithoute insyhte of his corageHe doth merveilles in his rage.To what thing that he wole him drawe,Ther is no god, ther is no lawe,Of whom that he takth eny hiede;Bot as Baiard the blinde stede,1280Til he falle in the dich amidde,He goth ther noman wole him bidde;He stant so ferforth out of reule,Ther is no wit that mai him reule.And thus to telle of him in soth,Ful many a wonder thing he doth,That were betre to be laft,Among the whiche is wicchecraft,That som men clepen Sorcerie,828Which forto winne his druerie1290P. iii. 45With many a circumstance he useth,Ther is no point which he refuseth.Nota de Auctorum necnon et de829librorum tam naturalis quam execrabilis magice nominibus.The craft which that Saturnus fond,To make prickes in the Sond,830That Geomance cleped is,Fulofte he useth it amis;And of the flod his Ydromance,And of the fyr the Piromance,With questions echon of thoHe tempteth ofte, and ek also1300Aëremance in juggementTo love he bringth of his assent:For these craftes, as I finde,A man mai do be weie of kinde,Be so it be to good entente.Bot he goth al an other wente;For rathere er he scholde faile,With Nigromance he wole assaileTo make his incantaciounWith hot subfumigacioun.1310Thilke art which Spatula is hote,And used is of comun rote831Among Paiens, with that craft ekOf which is Auctor Thosz the Grek,He worcheth on and on be rowe:Razel is noght to him unknowe,Ne Salomones Candarie,832His Ydeac, his Eutonye;The figure and the bok withal833Of Balamuz, and of Ghenbal8341320P. iii. 46The Seal, and therupon thymageOf Thebith, for his avantageHe takth, and somwhat of Gibiere,Which helplich is to this matiere.Babilla with hire Sones sevene,Which hath renonced to the hevene,With Cernes bothe square and rounde,He traceth ofte upon the grounde,Makende his invocacioun;And for full enformacioun1330The Scole which HonoriusWrot, he poursuieth: and lo, thusMagique he useth forto winneHis love, and spareth for no Sinne.And over that of his Sotie,Riht as he secheth SorcerieOf hem that ben Magiciens,Riht so of the NaturiensUpon the Sterres from aboveHis weie he secheth unto love,1340Als fer as he hem understondeth.In many a sondry wise he fondeth:He makth ymage, he makth sculpture,He makth writinge, he makth figure,He makth his calculacions,He makth his demonstracions;His houres of AstronomieHe kepeth as for that partieWhich longeth to thinspeccionOf love and his affeccion;1350P. iii. 47He wolde into the helle secheThe devel himselve to beseche,If that he wiste forto spede,To gete of love his lusti mede:Wher that he hath his herte set,He bede nevere fare betNe wite of other hevene more.Confessor.Mi Sone, if thou of such a loreHast ben er this, I red thee leve.835Amans.Min holi fader, be youre leve1360Of al that ye have spoken hiereWhich toucheth unto this matiere,To telle soth riht as I wene,I wot noght o word what ye mene.I wol noght seie, if that I couthe,That I nolde in mi lusti youtheBenethe in helle and ek aboveTo winne with mi ladi loveDon al that evere that I mihte;For therof have I non insihte1370Wher afterward that I become,To that I wonne and overcomeHire love, which I most coveite.Confessor.Mi Sone, that goth wonder streite:For this I mai wel telle soth,Ther is noman the which so doth,For al the craft that he can caste,That he nabeith it ate laste.For often he that wol beguileIs guiled with the same guile,1380P. iii. 48And thus the guilour is beguiled;As I finde in a bok compiledTo this matiere an old histoire,The which comth nou to mi memoire,And is of gret essamplerieAyein the vice of Sorcerie,Wherof non ende mai be good.Bot hou whilom therof it stod,836A tale which is good to knoweTo thee, mi Sone, I schal beknowe.1390[Tale of Ulysses and Telegonus.]Among hem whiche at Troie were,837Uluxes ate Siege thereNota contra istos ob amoris causam sortilegos; vbi narrat in exemplum quod, cum Vluxes a subuersione Troie repatriare nauigio voluisset, ipsum in Insula Cilly, vbi illa expertissima maga nomine Circes regnauit, contigit applicuisse: quem vt in sui amoris concupiscenciam exardesceret, Circes omnibus suis incantacionibus vincere conabatur. Vluxes tamen magica potencior ipsam in amore subegit, ex qua filium nomine Thelogonum genuit, qui postea patrem suum interfecit: et sic contra fidei naturam genitus contra generacionis naturam patricidium operatus est.Was on be name in special;Of whom yit the memorialAbit, for whyl ther is a mouth,For evere his name schal be couth.He was a worthi knyht and kingAnd clerk knowende of every thing;He was a gret rethorien,He was a gret magicien;1400Of Tullius the rethorique,Of king Zorastes the magique,Of Tholome thastronomie,Of Plato the Philosophie,Of Daniel the slepi dremes,Of Neptune ek the water stremes,Of Salomon and the proverbes,Of Macer al the strengthe of herbes,And the Phisique of Ypocras,And lich unto Pictagoras1410P. iii. 49Of Surgerie he knew the cures.Bot somwhat of his aventures,Which schal to mi matiere acorde,Ter thee, mi Sone, I wol recorde.This king, of which thou hast herd sein,Fro Troie as he goth hom ayeinBe Schipe, he fond the See divers,With many a wyndi storm revers.Bot he thurgh wisdom that he schapeth838Ful many a gret peril ascapeth,1420Of whiche I thenke tellen on,Hou that malgre the nedle and stonWynddrive he was al soudeinlyUpon the strondes of Cilly,Wher that he moste abyde a whyle.Tuo queenes weren in that yleCalipsa named and Circes;And whan they herde hou UluxesIs londed ther upon the ryve,For him thei senden als so blive.1430With him suche as he wolde he namAnd to the court to hem he cam.839Thes queenes were as tuo goddessesOf Art magique Sorceresses,That what lord comth to that rivage,Thei make him love in such a rageAnd upon hem assote so,840That thei wol have, er that he go,Al that he hath of worldes good.Uluxes wel this understod,1440P. iii. 50Thei couthe moche, he couthe more;Thei schape and caste ayein him sore841And wroghte many a soutil wyle,Bot yit thei mihte him noght beguile.842Bot of the men of his navieThei tuo forschope a gret partie,Mai non of hem withstonde here hestes;Som part thei schopen into bestes,Som part thei schopen into foules,To beres, tigres, Apes, oules,1450Or elles be som other weie;Ther myhte hem nothing desobeie,Such craft thei hadde above kinde.Bot that Art couthe thei noght finde,Of which Uluxes was deceived,That he ne hath hem alle weyved,And broght hem into such a rote,That upon him thei bothe assote;And thurgh the science of his artHe tok of hem so wel his part,1460That he begat Circes with childe.He kepte him sobre and made hem wilde,He sette himselve so above,That with here good and with here love,Who that therof be lief or loth,Al quit into his Schip he goth.Circes toswolle bothe sidesHe lefte, and waiteth on the tydes,And straght thurghout the salte fomHe takth his cours and comth him hom,1470P. iii. 51Where as he fond Penolope;A betre wif ther mai non be,And yit ther ben ynowhe of goode.Bot who hir goodschipe understodeFro ferst that sche wifhode tok,Hou many loves sche forsokAnd hou sche bar hire al aboute,Ther whiles that hire lord was oute,He mihte make a gret avant843Amonges al the remenant1480That sche was on of al the beste.844Wel myhte he sette his herte in reste,This king, whan he hir fond in hele;For as he couthe in wisdom dele,So couthe sche in wommanhiede:And whan sche syh withoute dredeHire lord upon his oghne ground,That he was come sauf and sound,In al this world ne mihte be845A gladdere womman than was sche.1490The fame, which mai noght ben hidd,Thurghout the lond is sone kidd,Here king is come hom ayein:Ther mai noman the fulle sein,Hou that thei weren alle glade,So mochel joie of him thei made.The presens every day be newed,He was with yiftes al besnewed;The poeple was of him so glad,That thogh non other man hem bad,1500P. iii. 52Taillage upon hemself thei sette,And as it were of pure detteThei yeve here goodes to the king:This was a glad hom welcomyng.Thus hath Uluxes what he wolde,His wif was such as sche be scholde,His poeple was to him sougit,Him lacketh nothing of delit.Bot fortune is of such a sleyhte,That whan a man is most on heyhte,8461510Sche makth him rathest forto falle:Ther wot noman what schal befalle,Oracius. Omnia847sunt hominum tenui pendencia filo.The happes over mannes hedBen honged with a tendre thred.That proved was on Uluxes;For whan he was most in his pes,848Fortune gan to make him werreAnd sette his welthe al out of herre.849Upon a dai as he was merie,As thogh ther mihte him nothing derie,8501520Whan nyht was come, he goth to bedde,With slep and bothe his yhen fedde.And while he slepte, he mette a swevene:Him thoghte he syh a stature evene,851Which brihtere than the sonne schon;A man it semeth was it non,Bot yit it was as in figureMost lich to mannyssh creature,Bot as of beaute hevenelichIt was most to an Angel lich:1530P. iii. 53And thus betwen angel and manBeholden it this king began,And such a lust tok of the sihte,That fain he wolde, if that he mihte,The forme of that figure embrace;And goth him forth toward the place,852Wher he sih that ymage tho,And takth it in his Armes tuo,And it embraceth him ayeinAnd to the king thus gan it sein:1540‘Uluxes, understand wel this,The tokne of oure aqueintance isHierafterward to mochel tene:The love that is ous betuene,Of that we nou such joie make,That on of ous the deth schal take,Whan time comth of destine;It may non other wise be.’Uluxes tho began to preieThat this figure wolde him seie1550What wyht he is that seith him so.This wyht upon a spere thoA pensel which was wel begon,Embrouded, scheweth him anon:Thre fisshes alle of o colourIn manere as it were a tourUpon the pensel were wroght.Uluxes kneu this tokne noght,And preith to wite in som partieWhat thing it myhte signefie,1560P. iii. 54‘A signe it is,’ the wyht ansuerde,‘Of an Empire:’ and forth he ferdeAl sodeinly, whan he that seide.Uluxes out of slep abreide,And that was riht ayein the day,That lengere slepen he ne may.Bernardus. Plures plura sciunt853et seipsos nesciunt.Men sein, a man hath knowleching854Save of himself of alle thing;His oghne chance noman knoweth,Bot as fortune it on him throweth:1570Was nevere yit so wys a clerk,Which mihte knowe al goddes werk,Ne the secret which god hath setAyein a man mai noght be let.Uluxes, thogh that he be wys,With al his wit in his avis,The mor that he his swevene acompteth,The lasse he wot what it amonteth:For al his calculacion,He seth no demonstracion1580Al pleinly forto knowe an ende;855Bot natheles hou so it wende,He dradde him of his oghne Sone.That makth him wel the more astone,And schop therfore anon withal,So that withinne castel wallThelamachum his Sone he schette,And upon him strong warde he sette.The sothe furthere he ne knew,Til that fortune him overthreu;1590P. iii. 55Bot natheles for sikernesse,Wher that he mihte wite and gesseA place strengest in his lond,Ther let he make of lym and sondA strengthe where he wolde duelle;Was nevere man yit herde telleOf such an other as it was.And forto strengthe him in that cas,856Of al his lond the sekeresteOf servantz and the worthieste,1600To kepen him withinne warde,He sette his bodi forto warde;857And made such an ordinance,For love ne for aqueintance,That were it erly, were it late,Thei scholde lete in ate gateNo maner man, what so betydde,Bot if so were himself it bidde.Bot al that myhte him noght availe,For whom fortune wole assaile,1610Ther mai be non such resistence,Which mihte make a man defence;Al that schal be mot falle algate.This Circes, which I spak of late,On whom Uluxes hath begeteA child, thogh he it have foryete,Whan time com, as it was wone,Sche was delivered of a Sone,Which cleped is Thelogonus.This child, whan he was bore thus,1620P. iii. 56Aboute his moder to ful age,That he can reson and langage,In good astat was drawe forth:And whan he was so mochel worthTo stonden in a mannes stede,Circes his moder hath him bedeThat he schal to his fader go,And tolde him al togedre thoWhat man he was that him begat.And whan Thelogonus of that1630Was war and hath ful knowleching858Hou that his fader was a king,He preith his moder faire this,To go wher that his fader is;And sche him granteth that he schal,And made him redi forth withal.It was that time such usance,That every man the conoiscanceOf his contre bar in his hond,Whan he wente into strange lond;1640And thus was every man therforeWel knowe, wher that he was bore:For espiaile and mistrowingesThey dede thanne suche thinges,That every man mai other knowe.859So it befell that ilke throweThelogonus as in this cas;Of his contre the signe wasThre fisshes, whiche he scholde bereUpon the penon of a spere:1650P. iii. 57And whan that he was thus arraiedAnd hath his harneis al assaied,That he was redy everydel,His moder bad him farewel,And seide him that he scholde switheHis fader griete a thousand sithe.Thelogonus his moder kisteAnd tok his leve, and wher he wisteHis fader was, the weie nam,Til he unto Nachaie cam,1660Which of that lond the chief CiteWas cleped, and ther axeth heWher was the king and hou he ferde.And whan that he the sothe herde,Wher that the king Uluxes was,Al one upon his hors gret pasHe rod him forth, and in his hondHe bar the signal of his londWith fisshes thre, as I have told;860And thus he wente unto that hold,1670Wher that his oghne fader duelleth.The cause why he comth he tellethUnto the kepers of the gate,And wolde have comen in therate,Bot schortli thei him seide nay:And he als faire as evere he mayBesoghte and tolde hem ofte this,Hou that the king his fader is;Bot they with proude wordes greteBegunne to manace and threte,8611680P. iii. 58Bot he go fro the gate faste,Thei wolde him take and sette faste.Fro wordes unto strokes thusThei felle, and so ThelogonusWas sore hurt and welnyh ded;Bot with his scharpe speres hedHe makth defence, hou so it falle,And wan the gate upon hem alle,And hath slain of the beste fyve;And thei ascriden als so blyve1690Thurghout the castell al aboute.862On every syde men come oute,Wherof the kinges herte afflihte,And he with al the haste he mihteA spere cauhte and out he goth,863As he that was nyh wod for wroth.864He sih the gates ful of blod,Thelogonus and wher he stodHe sih also, bot he ne knewWhat man it was, and to him threw8651700His Spere, and he sterte out asyde.Bot destine, which schal betide,Befell that ilke time so,Thelogonus knew nothing thoWhat man it was that to him caste,And while his oghne spere laste,With al the signe theruponHe caste unto the king anon,And smot him with a dedly wounde.Uluxes fell anon to grounde;1710P. iii. 59Tho every man, ‘The king! the king!’Began to crie, and of this thingThelogonus, which sih the cas,On knes he fell and seide, ‘Helas!I have min oghne fader slain:Nou wolde I deie wonder fain,866Nou sle me who that evere wile,For certes it is riht good skile.’867He crith, he wepth, he seith therfore,‘Helas; that evere was I bore,1720That this unhappi destineSo wofulli comth in be me!’This king, which yit hath lif ynouh,His herte ayein to him he drouh,And to that vois an Ere he leideAnd understod al that he seide,And gan to speke, and seide on hih;‘Bring me this man.’ And whan he sihThelogonus, his thoght he setteUpon the swevene which he mette,1730And axeth that he myhte seHis spere, on which the fisshes threHe sih upon a pensel wroght.868Tho wiste he wel it faileth noght,And badd him that he telle scholde869Fro whenne he cam and what he wolde.Thelogonus in sorghe and woSo as he mihte tolde thoUnto Uluxes al the cas,Hou that Circes his moder was,1740P. iii. 60And so forth seide him everydel,Hou that his moder gret him wel,And in what wise sche him sente.Tho wiste Uluxes what it mente,And tok him in hise Armes softe,And al bledende he kest him ofte,870And seide, ‘Sone, whil I live,This infortune I thee foryive.’After his other Sone in hasteHe sende, and he began him haste1750And cam unto his fader tyt.Bot whan he sih him in such plit,He wolde have ronne upon that otherAnon, and slain his oghne brother,Ne hadde be that UluxesBetwen hem made acord and pes,And to his heir ThelamachusHe bad that he ThelogonusWith al his pouer scholde kepe,Til he were of his woundes depe1760Al hol, and thanne he scholde him yiveLond wher upon he mihte live.Thelamachus, whan he this herde,Unto his fader he ansuerdeAnd seide he wolde don his wille.So duelle thei togedre stille,These brethren, and the fader sterveth.Lo, wherof Sorcerie serveth.Thurgh Sorcerie his lust he wan,Thurgh Sorcerie his wo began,1770P. iii. 61Thurgh Sorcerie his love he ches,Thurgh Sorcerie his lif he les;The child was gete in Sorcerie,The which dede al this felonie:Thing which was ayein kynde wroghtUnkindeliche it was aboght;The child his oghne fader slowh,That was unkindeschipe ynowh.Forthi tak hiede hou that it is,So forto winne love amis,1780Which endeth al his joie in wo:For of this Art I finde also,That hath be do for loves sake,Wherof thou miht ensample take,A gret Cronique imperial,Which evere into memorial871Among the men, hou so it wende,872Schal duelle to the worldes ende.

[Delicacy of Nero.]

What man that wolde him wel avise,818

Delicacie is to despise,

Hic loquitur de delicacia Neronis, qui corporalibus deliciis magis adherens spiritalia gaudia minus819obtinuit.

Whan kinde acordeth noght withal;

Wherof ensample in special

Of Nero whilom mai be told,

Which ayein kinde manyfold

Hise lustes tok, til ate laste

That god him wolde al overcaste;

Of whom the Cronique is so plein,

Me list nomore of him to sein.1160

And natheles for glotonie

Of bodili Delicacie,

To knowe his stomak hou it ferde,

Of that noman tofore herde,

Which he withinne himself bethoghte,

A wonder soubtil thing he wroghte.

Thre men upon eleccioun

Of age and of complexioun

Lich to himself be alle weie

He tok towardes him to pleie,1170

And ete and drinke als wel as he.

Therof was no diversite;

For every day whan that thei eete,

Tofore his oghne bord thei seete,

And of such mete as he was served,

Althogh thei hadde it noght deserved,

P. iii. 41

Thei token service of the same.

Bot afterward al thilke game

Was into wofull ernest torned;

For whan thei weren thus sojorned,1180

Withinne a time at after mete

Nero, which hadde noght foryete

The lustes of his frele astat,

As he which al was delicat,

To knowe thilke experience,

The men let come in his presence:820

And to that on the same tyde,

A courser that he scholde ryde

Into the feld, anon he bad;

Wherof this man was wonder glad,1190

And goth to prike and prance aboute.

That other, whil that he was oute,

He leide upon his bedd to slepe:

The thridde, which he wolde kepe

Withinne his chambre, faire and softe

He goth now doun nou up fulofte,

Walkende a pass, that he ne slepte,

Til he which on the courser lepte

Was come fro the field ayein.

Nero thanne, as the bokes sein,1200

These men doth taken alle thre

And slouh hem, for he wolde se

The whos stomak was best defied:

And whanne he hath the sothe tryed,

He fond that he which goth the pass

Defyed best of alle was,

P. iii. 42

Which afterward he usede ay.

And thus what thing unto his pay

Was most plesant, he lefte non:821

With every lust he was begon,1210

Wherof the bodi myhte glade,

For he non abstinence made;

Bot most above alle erthli thinges

Of wommen unto the likinges

Nero sette al his hole herte,

For that lust scholde him noght asterte.

Whan that the thurst of love him cawhte,

Wher that him list he tok a drauhte,

He spareth nouther wif ne maide,

That such an other, as men saide,1220

In al this world was nevere yit.

He was so drunke in al his wit

Thurgh sondri lustes whiche he tok,

That evere, whil ther is a bok,

Of Nero men schul rede and singe

Unto the worldes knowlechinge,

Mi goode Sone, as thou hast herd.

[Love-Delicacy.]

For evere yit it hath so ferd,

Delicacie in loves cas

Withoute reson is and was;8221230

For wher that love his herte set,

Him thenkth it myhte be no bet;

And thogh it be noght fulli mete,823

The lust of love is evere swete.

Confessor.

Lo, thus togedre of felaschipe

Delicacie and drunkeschipe,

P. iii. 43

Wherof reson stant out of herre,

Have mad full many a wisman erre

In loves cause most of alle:

For thanne hou so that evere it falle,1240

Wit can no reson understonde,

Bot let the governance stonde

To Will, which thanne wext so wylde,

That he can noght himselve schylde

Fro no peril, bot out of feere824

The weie he secheth hiere and there,

Him recheth noght upon what syde:

For oftetime he goth beside,

And doth such thing withoute drede,

Wherof him oghte wel to drede.1250

Bot whan that love assoteth sore,

It passeth alle mennes lore;

What lust it is that he ordeigneth,

Ther is no mannes miht restreigneth,825

And of the godd takth he non hiede:

Bot laweles withoute drede,

His pourpos for he wolde achieve826

Ayeins the pointz of the believe,

He tempteth hevene and erthe and helle,

Hierafterward as I schal telle.1260

[Sorcery and Witchcraft.]iii.Dum stimulatur amor, quicquid iubet orta voluptas,Audet et aggreditur, nulla timenda timens.Omne quod astra queunt herbarum siue potestas,Seu vigor inferni, singula temptat amans.Quod nequit ipse deo mediante parare sinistrum,Demonis hoc magica credulus arte parat.Sic sibi non curat ad opus que recia tendit,Dummodo nudatam prendere possit auem.

[Sorcery and Witchcraft.]

iii.Dum stimulatur amor, quicquid iubet orta voluptas,

Audet et aggreditur, nulla timenda timens.

Omne quod astra queunt herbarum siue potestas,

Seu vigor inferni, singula temptat amans.

Quod nequit ipse deo mediante parare sinistrum,

Demonis hoc magica credulus arte parat.

Sic sibi non curat ad opus que recia tendit,

Dummodo nudatam prendere possit auem.

P. iii. 44Who dar do thing which love ne dar?To love is every lawe unwar,Hic tractat qualiter Ebrietas et Delicacia omnis pudicicie contrarium instigantes inter alia ad carnalis concupiscencie promocionem Sortilegio827mmagicam requirunt.Bot to the lawes of his hesteThe fissch, the foul, the man, the besteOf al the worldes kinde louteth.For love is he which nothing douteth;In mannes herte where he sit,827He compteth noght toward his witThe wo nomore than the wele,No mor the hete than the chele,1270No mor the wete than the dreie,No mor to live than to deie,So that tofore ne behindeHe seth nothing, bot as the blindeWithoute insyhte of his corageHe doth merveilles in his rage.To what thing that he wole him drawe,Ther is no god, ther is no lawe,Of whom that he takth eny hiede;Bot as Baiard the blinde stede,1280Til he falle in the dich amidde,He goth ther noman wole him bidde;He stant so ferforth out of reule,Ther is no wit that mai him reule.And thus to telle of him in soth,Ful many a wonder thing he doth,That were betre to be laft,Among the whiche is wicchecraft,That som men clepen Sorcerie,828Which forto winne his druerie1290P. iii. 45With many a circumstance he useth,Ther is no point which he refuseth.Nota de Auctorum necnon et de829librorum tam naturalis quam execrabilis magice nominibus.The craft which that Saturnus fond,To make prickes in the Sond,830That Geomance cleped is,Fulofte he useth it amis;And of the flod his Ydromance,And of the fyr the Piromance,With questions echon of thoHe tempteth ofte, and ek also1300Aëremance in juggementTo love he bringth of his assent:For these craftes, as I finde,A man mai do be weie of kinde,Be so it be to good entente.Bot he goth al an other wente;For rathere er he scholde faile,With Nigromance he wole assaileTo make his incantaciounWith hot subfumigacioun.1310Thilke art which Spatula is hote,And used is of comun rote831Among Paiens, with that craft ekOf which is Auctor Thosz the Grek,He worcheth on and on be rowe:Razel is noght to him unknowe,Ne Salomones Candarie,832His Ydeac, his Eutonye;The figure and the bok withal833Of Balamuz, and of Ghenbal8341320P. iii. 46The Seal, and therupon thymageOf Thebith, for his avantageHe takth, and somwhat of Gibiere,Which helplich is to this matiere.Babilla with hire Sones sevene,Which hath renonced to the hevene,With Cernes bothe square and rounde,He traceth ofte upon the grounde,Makende his invocacioun;And for full enformacioun1330The Scole which HonoriusWrot, he poursuieth: and lo, thusMagique he useth forto winneHis love, and spareth for no Sinne.And over that of his Sotie,Riht as he secheth SorcerieOf hem that ben Magiciens,Riht so of the NaturiensUpon the Sterres from aboveHis weie he secheth unto love,1340Als fer as he hem understondeth.In many a sondry wise he fondeth:He makth ymage, he makth sculpture,He makth writinge, he makth figure,He makth his calculacions,He makth his demonstracions;His houres of AstronomieHe kepeth as for that partieWhich longeth to thinspeccionOf love and his affeccion;1350P. iii. 47He wolde into the helle secheThe devel himselve to beseche,If that he wiste forto spede,To gete of love his lusti mede:Wher that he hath his herte set,He bede nevere fare betNe wite of other hevene more.Confessor.Mi Sone, if thou of such a loreHast ben er this, I red thee leve.835Amans.Min holi fader, be youre leve1360Of al that ye have spoken hiereWhich toucheth unto this matiere,To telle soth riht as I wene,I wot noght o word what ye mene.I wol noght seie, if that I couthe,That I nolde in mi lusti youtheBenethe in helle and ek aboveTo winne with mi ladi loveDon al that evere that I mihte;For therof have I non insihte1370Wher afterward that I become,To that I wonne and overcomeHire love, which I most coveite.Confessor.Mi Sone, that goth wonder streite:For this I mai wel telle soth,Ther is noman the which so doth,For al the craft that he can caste,That he nabeith it ate laste.For often he that wol beguileIs guiled with the same guile,1380P. iii. 48And thus the guilour is beguiled;As I finde in a bok compiledTo this matiere an old histoire,The which comth nou to mi memoire,And is of gret essamplerieAyein the vice of Sorcerie,Wherof non ende mai be good.Bot hou whilom therof it stod,836A tale which is good to knoweTo thee, mi Sone, I schal beknowe.1390

P. iii. 44

Who dar do thing which love ne dar?

To love is every lawe unwar,

Hic tractat qualiter Ebrietas et Delicacia omnis pudicicie contrarium instigantes inter alia ad carnalis concupiscencie promocionem Sortilegio827mmagicam requirunt.

Bot to the lawes of his heste

The fissch, the foul, the man, the beste

Of al the worldes kinde louteth.

For love is he which nothing douteth;

In mannes herte where he sit,827

He compteth noght toward his wit

The wo nomore than the wele,

No mor the hete than the chele,1270

No mor the wete than the dreie,

No mor to live than to deie,

So that tofore ne behinde

He seth nothing, bot as the blinde

Withoute insyhte of his corage

He doth merveilles in his rage.

To what thing that he wole him drawe,

Ther is no god, ther is no lawe,

Of whom that he takth eny hiede;

Bot as Baiard the blinde stede,1280

Til he falle in the dich amidde,

He goth ther noman wole him bidde;

He stant so ferforth out of reule,

Ther is no wit that mai him reule.

And thus to telle of him in soth,

Ful many a wonder thing he doth,

That were betre to be laft,

Among the whiche is wicchecraft,

That som men clepen Sorcerie,828

Which forto winne his druerie1290

P. iii. 45

With many a circumstance he useth,

Ther is no point which he refuseth.

Nota de Auctorum necnon et de829librorum tam naturalis quam execrabilis magice nominibus.

The craft which that Saturnus fond,

To make prickes in the Sond,830

That Geomance cleped is,

Fulofte he useth it amis;

And of the flod his Ydromance,

And of the fyr the Piromance,

With questions echon of tho

He tempteth ofte, and ek also1300

Aëremance in juggement

To love he bringth of his assent:

For these craftes, as I finde,

A man mai do be weie of kinde,

Be so it be to good entente.

Bot he goth al an other wente;

For rathere er he scholde faile,

With Nigromance he wole assaile

To make his incantacioun

With hot subfumigacioun.1310

Thilke art which Spatula is hote,

And used is of comun rote831

Among Paiens, with that craft ek

Of which is Auctor Thosz the Grek,

He worcheth on and on be rowe:

Razel is noght to him unknowe,

Ne Salomones Candarie,832

His Ydeac, his Eutonye;

The figure and the bok withal833

Of Balamuz, and of Ghenbal8341320

P. iii. 46

The Seal, and therupon thymage

Of Thebith, for his avantage

He takth, and somwhat of Gibiere,

Which helplich is to this matiere.

Babilla with hire Sones sevene,

Which hath renonced to the hevene,

With Cernes bothe square and rounde,

He traceth ofte upon the grounde,

Makende his invocacioun;

And for full enformacioun1330

The Scole which Honorius

Wrot, he poursuieth: and lo, thus

Magique he useth forto winne

His love, and spareth for no Sinne.

And over that of his Sotie,

Riht as he secheth Sorcerie

Of hem that ben Magiciens,

Riht so of the Naturiens

Upon the Sterres from above

His weie he secheth unto love,1340

Als fer as he hem understondeth.

In many a sondry wise he fondeth:

He makth ymage, he makth sculpture,

He makth writinge, he makth figure,

He makth his calculacions,

He makth his demonstracions;

His houres of Astronomie

He kepeth as for that partie

Which longeth to thinspeccion

Of love and his affeccion;1350

P. iii. 47

He wolde into the helle seche

The devel himselve to beseche,

If that he wiste forto spede,

To gete of love his lusti mede:

Wher that he hath his herte set,

He bede nevere fare bet

Ne wite of other hevene more.

Confessor.

Mi Sone, if thou of such a lore

Hast ben er this, I red thee leve.835

Amans.

Min holi fader, be youre leve1360

Of al that ye have spoken hiere

Which toucheth unto this matiere,

To telle soth riht as I wene,

I wot noght o word what ye mene.

I wol noght seie, if that I couthe,

That I nolde in mi lusti youthe

Benethe in helle and ek above

To winne with mi ladi love

Don al that evere that I mihte;

For therof have I non insihte1370

Wher afterward that I become,

To that I wonne and overcome

Hire love, which I most coveite.

Confessor.

Mi Sone, that goth wonder streite:

For this I mai wel telle soth,

Ther is noman the which so doth,

For al the craft that he can caste,

That he nabeith it ate laste.

For often he that wol beguile

Is guiled with the same guile,1380

P. iii. 48

And thus the guilour is beguiled;

As I finde in a bok compiled

To this matiere an old histoire,

The which comth nou to mi memoire,

And is of gret essamplerie

Ayein the vice of Sorcerie,

Wherof non ende mai be good.

Bot hou whilom therof it stod,836

A tale which is good to knowe

To thee, mi Sone, I schal beknowe.1390

[Tale of Ulysses and Telegonus.]Among hem whiche at Troie were,837Uluxes ate Siege thereNota contra istos ob amoris causam sortilegos; vbi narrat in exemplum quod, cum Vluxes a subuersione Troie repatriare nauigio voluisset, ipsum in Insula Cilly, vbi illa expertissima maga nomine Circes regnauit, contigit applicuisse: quem vt in sui amoris concupiscenciam exardesceret, Circes omnibus suis incantacionibus vincere conabatur. Vluxes tamen magica potencior ipsam in amore subegit, ex qua filium nomine Thelogonum genuit, qui postea patrem suum interfecit: et sic contra fidei naturam genitus contra generacionis naturam patricidium operatus est.Was on be name in special;Of whom yit the memorialAbit, for whyl ther is a mouth,For evere his name schal be couth.He was a worthi knyht and kingAnd clerk knowende of every thing;He was a gret rethorien,He was a gret magicien;1400Of Tullius the rethorique,Of king Zorastes the magique,Of Tholome thastronomie,Of Plato the Philosophie,Of Daniel the slepi dremes,Of Neptune ek the water stremes,Of Salomon and the proverbes,Of Macer al the strengthe of herbes,And the Phisique of Ypocras,And lich unto Pictagoras1410P. iii. 49Of Surgerie he knew the cures.Bot somwhat of his aventures,Which schal to mi matiere acorde,Ter thee, mi Sone, I wol recorde.This king, of which thou hast herd sein,Fro Troie as he goth hom ayeinBe Schipe, he fond the See divers,With many a wyndi storm revers.Bot he thurgh wisdom that he schapeth838Ful many a gret peril ascapeth,1420Of whiche I thenke tellen on,Hou that malgre the nedle and stonWynddrive he was al soudeinlyUpon the strondes of Cilly,Wher that he moste abyde a whyle.Tuo queenes weren in that yleCalipsa named and Circes;And whan they herde hou UluxesIs londed ther upon the ryve,For him thei senden als so blive.1430With him suche as he wolde he namAnd to the court to hem he cam.839Thes queenes were as tuo goddessesOf Art magique Sorceresses,That what lord comth to that rivage,Thei make him love in such a rageAnd upon hem assote so,840That thei wol have, er that he go,Al that he hath of worldes good.Uluxes wel this understod,1440P. iii. 50Thei couthe moche, he couthe more;Thei schape and caste ayein him sore841And wroghte many a soutil wyle,Bot yit thei mihte him noght beguile.842Bot of the men of his navieThei tuo forschope a gret partie,Mai non of hem withstonde here hestes;Som part thei schopen into bestes,Som part thei schopen into foules,To beres, tigres, Apes, oules,1450Or elles be som other weie;Ther myhte hem nothing desobeie,Such craft thei hadde above kinde.Bot that Art couthe thei noght finde,Of which Uluxes was deceived,That he ne hath hem alle weyved,And broght hem into such a rote,That upon him thei bothe assote;And thurgh the science of his artHe tok of hem so wel his part,1460That he begat Circes with childe.He kepte him sobre and made hem wilde,He sette himselve so above,That with here good and with here love,Who that therof be lief or loth,Al quit into his Schip he goth.Circes toswolle bothe sidesHe lefte, and waiteth on the tydes,And straght thurghout the salte fomHe takth his cours and comth him hom,1470P. iii. 51Where as he fond Penolope;A betre wif ther mai non be,And yit ther ben ynowhe of goode.Bot who hir goodschipe understodeFro ferst that sche wifhode tok,Hou many loves sche forsokAnd hou sche bar hire al aboute,Ther whiles that hire lord was oute,He mihte make a gret avant843Amonges al the remenant1480That sche was on of al the beste.844Wel myhte he sette his herte in reste,This king, whan he hir fond in hele;For as he couthe in wisdom dele,So couthe sche in wommanhiede:And whan sche syh withoute dredeHire lord upon his oghne ground,That he was come sauf and sound,In al this world ne mihte be845A gladdere womman than was sche.1490The fame, which mai noght ben hidd,Thurghout the lond is sone kidd,Here king is come hom ayein:Ther mai noman the fulle sein,Hou that thei weren alle glade,So mochel joie of him thei made.The presens every day be newed,He was with yiftes al besnewed;The poeple was of him so glad,That thogh non other man hem bad,1500P. iii. 52Taillage upon hemself thei sette,And as it were of pure detteThei yeve here goodes to the king:This was a glad hom welcomyng.Thus hath Uluxes what he wolde,His wif was such as sche be scholde,His poeple was to him sougit,Him lacketh nothing of delit.Bot fortune is of such a sleyhte,That whan a man is most on heyhte,8461510Sche makth him rathest forto falle:Ther wot noman what schal befalle,Oracius. Omnia847sunt hominum tenui pendencia filo.The happes over mannes hedBen honged with a tendre thred.That proved was on Uluxes;For whan he was most in his pes,848Fortune gan to make him werreAnd sette his welthe al out of herre.849Upon a dai as he was merie,As thogh ther mihte him nothing derie,8501520Whan nyht was come, he goth to bedde,With slep and bothe his yhen fedde.And while he slepte, he mette a swevene:Him thoghte he syh a stature evene,851Which brihtere than the sonne schon;A man it semeth was it non,Bot yit it was as in figureMost lich to mannyssh creature,Bot as of beaute hevenelichIt was most to an Angel lich:1530P. iii. 53And thus betwen angel and manBeholden it this king began,And such a lust tok of the sihte,That fain he wolde, if that he mihte,The forme of that figure embrace;And goth him forth toward the place,852Wher he sih that ymage tho,And takth it in his Armes tuo,And it embraceth him ayeinAnd to the king thus gan it sein:1540‘Uluxes, understand wel this,The tokne of oure aqueintance isHierafterward to mochel tene:The love that is ous betuene,Of that we nou such joie make,That on of ous the deth schal take,Whan time comth of destine;It may non other wise be.’Uluxes tho began to preieThat this figure wolde him seie1550What wyht he is that seith him so.This wyht upon a spere thoA pensel which was wel begon,Embrouded, scheweth him anon:Thre fisshes alle of o colourIn manere as it were a tourUpon the pensel were wroght.Uluxes kneu this tokne noght,And preith to wite in som partieWhat thing it myhte signefie,1560P. iii. 54‘A signe it is,’ the wyht ansuerde,‘Of an Empire:’ and forth he ferdeAl sodeinly, whan he that seide.Uluxes out of slep abreide,And that was riht ayein the day,That lengere slepen he ne may.Bernardus. Plures plura sciunt853et seipsos nesciunt.Men sein, a man hath knowleching854Save of himself of alle thing;His oghne chance noman knoweth,Bot as fortune it on him throweth:1570Was nevere yit so wys a clerk,Which mihte knowe al goddes werk,Ne the secret which god hath setAyein a man mai noght be let.Uluxes, thogh that he be wys,With al his wit in his avis,The mor that he his swevene acompteth,The lasse he wot what it amonteth:For al his calculacion,He seth no demonstracion1580Al pleinly forto knowe an ende;855Bot natheles hou so it wende,He dradde him of his oghne Sone.That makth him wel the more astone,And schop therfore anon withal,So that withinne castel wallThelamachum his Sone he schette,And upon him strong warde he sette.The sothe furthere he ne knew,Til that fortune him overthreu;1590P. iii. 55Bot natheles for sikernesse,Wher that he mihte wite and gesseA place strengest in his lond,Ther let he make of lym and sondA strengthe where he wolde duelle;Was nevere man yit herde telleOf such an other as it was.And forto strengthe him in that cas,856Of al his lond the sekeresteOf servantz and the worthieste,1600To kepen him withinne warde,He sette his bodi forto warde;857And made such an ordinance,For love ne for aqueintance,That were it erly, were it late,Thei scholde lete in ate gateNo maner man, what so betydde,Bot if so were himself it bidde.Bot al that myhte him noght availe,For whom fortune wole assaile,1610Ther mai be non such resistence,Which mihte make a man defence;Al that schal be mot falle algate.This Circes, which I spak of late,On whom Uluxes hath begeteA child, thogh he it have foryete,Whan time com, as it was wone,Sche was delivered of a Sone,Which cleped is Thelogonus.This child, whan he was bore thus,1620P. iii. 56Aboute his moder to ful age,That he can reson and langage,In good astat was drawe forth:And whan he was so mochel worthTo stonden in a mannes stede,Circes his moder hath him bedeThat he schal to his fader go,And tolde him al togedre thoWhat man he was that him begat.And whan Thelogonus of that1630Was war and hath ful knowleching858Hou that his fader was a king,He preith his moder faire this,To go wher that his fader is;And sche him granteth that he schal,And made him redi forth withal.It was that time such usance,That every man the conoiscanceOf his contre bar in his hond,Whan he wente into strange lond;1640And thus was every man therforeWel knowe, wher that he was bore:For espiaile and mistrowingesThey dede thanne suche thinges,That every man mai other knowe.859So it befell that ilke throweThelogonus as in this cas;Of his contre the signe wasThre fisshes, whiche he scholde bereUpon the penon of a spere:1650P. iii. 57And whan that he was thus arraiedAnd hath his harneis al assaied,That he was redy everydel,His moder bad him farewel,And seide him that he scholde switheHis fader griete a thousand sithe.Thelogonus his moder kisteAnd tok his leve, and wher he wisteHis fader was, the weie nam,Til he unto Nachaie cam,1660Which of that lond the chief CiteWas cleped, and ther axeth heWher was the king and hou he ferde.And whan that he the sothe herde,Wher that the king Uluxes was,Al one upon his hors gret pasHe rod him forth, and in his hondHe bar the signal of his londWith fisshes thre, as I have told;860And thus he wente unto that hold,1670Wher that his oghne fader duelleth.The cause why he comth he tellethUnto the kepers of the gate,And wolde have comen in therate,Bot schortli thei him seide nay:And he als faire as evere he mayBesoghte and tolde hem ofte this,Hou that the king his fader is;Bot they with proude wordes greteBegunne to manace and threte,8611680P. iii. 58Bot he go fro the gate faste,Thei wolde him take and sette faste.Fro wordes unto strokes thusThei felle, and so ThelogonusWas sore hurt and welnyh ded;Bot with his scharpe speres hedHe makth defence, hou so it falle,And wan the gate upon hem alle,And hath slain of the beste fyve;And thei ascriden als so blyve1690Thurghout the castell al aboute.862On every syde men come oute,Wherof the kinges herte afflihte,And he with al the haste he mihteA spere cauhte and out he goth,863As he that was nyh wod for wroth.864He sih the gates ful of blod,Thelogonus and wher he stodHe sih also, bot he ne knewWhat man it was, and to him threw8651700His Spere, and he sterte out asyde.Bot destine, which schal betide,Befell that ilke time so,Thelogonus knew nothing thoWhat man it was that to him caste,And while his oghne spere laste,With al the signe theruponHe caste unto the king anon,And smot him with a dedly wounde.Uluxes fell anon to grounde;1710P. iii. 59Tho every man, ‘The king! the king!’Began to crie, and of this thingThelogonus, which sih the cas,On knes he fell and seide, ‘Helas!I have min oghne fader slain:Nou wolde I deie wonder fain,866Nou sle me who that evere wile,For certes it is riht good skile.’867He crith, he wepth, he seith therfore,‘Helas; that evere was I bore,1720That this unhappi destineSo wofulli comth in be me!’This king, which yit hath lif ynouh,His herte ayein to him he drouh,And to that vois an Ere he leideAnd understod al that he seide,And gan to speke, and seide on hih;‘Bring me this man.’ And whan he sihThelogonus, his thoght he setteUpon the swevene which he mette,1730And axeth that he myhte seHis spere, on which the fisshes threHe sih upon a pensel wroght.868Tho wiste he wel it faileth noght,And badd him that he telle scholde869Fro whenne he cam and what he wolde.Thelogonus in sorghe and woSo as he mihte tolde thoUnto Uluxes al the cas,Hou that Circes his moder was,1740P. iii. 60And so forth seide him everydel,Hou that his moder gret him wel,And in what wise sche him sente.Tho wiste Uluxes what it mente,And tok him in hise Armes softe,And al bledende he kest him ofte,870And seide, ‘Sone, whil I live,This infortune I thee foryive.’After his other Sone in hasteHe sende, and he began him haste1750And cam unto his fader tyt.Bot whan he sih him in such plit,He wolde have ronne upon that otherAnon, and slain his oghne brother,Ne hadde be that UluxesBetwen hem made acord and pes,And to his heir ThelamachusHe bad that he ThelogonusWith al his pouer scholde kepe,Til he were of his woundes depe1760Al hol, and thanne he scholde him yiveLond wher upon he mihte live.Thelamachus, whan he this herde,Unto his fader he ansuerdeAnd seide he wolde don his wille.So duelle thei togedre stille,These brethren, and the fader sterveth.Lo, wherof Sorcerie serveth.Thurgh Sorcerie his lust he wan,Thurgh Sorcerie his wo began,1770P. iii. 61Thurgh Sorcerie his love he ches,Thurgh Sorcerie his lif he les;The child was gete in Sorcerie,The which dede al this felonie:Thing which was ayein kynde wroghtUnkindeliche it was aboght;The child his oghne fader slowh,That was unkindeschipe ynowh.Forthi tak hiede hou that it is,So forto winne love amis,1780Which endeth al his joie in wo:For of this Art I finde also,That hath be do for loves sake,Wherof thou miht ensample take,A gret Cronique imperial,Which evere into memorial871Among the men, hou so it wende,872Schal duelle to the worldes ende.

[Tale of Ulysses and Telegonus.]

Among hem whiche at Troie were,837

Uluxes ate Siege there

Nota contra istos ob amoris causam sortilegos; vbi narrat in exemplum quod, cum Vluxes a subuersione Troie repatriare nauigio voluisset, ipsum in Insula Cilly, vbi illa expertissima maga nomine Circes regnauit, contigit applicuisse: quem vt in sui amoris concupiscenciam exardesceret, Circes omnibus suis incantacionibus vincere conabatur. Vluxes tamen magica potencior ipsam in amore subegit, ex qua filium nomine Thelogonum genuit, qui postea patrem suum interfecit: et sic contra fidei naturam genitus contra generacionis naturam patricidium operatus est.

Was on be name in special;

Of whom yit the memorial

Abit, for whyl ther is a mouth,

For evere his name schal be couth.

He was a worthi knyht and king

And clerk knowende of every thing;

He was a gret rethorien,

He was a gret magicien;1400

Of Tullius the rethorique,

Of king Zorastes the magique,

Of Tholome thastronomie,

Of Plato the Philosophie,

Of Daniel the slepi dremes,

Of Neptune ek the water stremes,

Of Salomon and the proverbes,

Of Macer al the strengthe of herbes,

And the Phisique of Ypocras,

And lich unto Pictagoras1410

P. iii. 49

Of Surgerie he knew the cures.

Bot somwhat of his aventures,

Which schal to mi matiere acorde,

Ter thee, mi Sone, I wol recorde.

This king, of which thou hast herd sein,

Fro Troie as he goth hom ayein

Be Schipe, he fond the See divers,

With many a wyndi storm revers.

Bot he thurgh wisdom that he schapeth838

Ful many a gret peril ascapeth,1420

Of whiche I thenke tellen on,

Hou that malgre the nedle and ston

Wynddrive he was al soudeinly

Upon the strondes of Cilly,

Wher that he moste abyde a whyle.

Tuo queenes weren in that yle

Calipsa named and Circes;

And whan they herde hou Uluxes

Is londed ther upon the ryve,

For him thei senden als so blive.1430

With him suche as he wolde he nam

And to the court to hem he cam.839

Thes queenes were as tuo goddesses

Of Art magique Sorceresses,

That what lord comth to that rivage,

Thei make him love in such a rage

And upon hem assote so,840

That thei wol have, er that he go,

Al that he hath of worldes good.

Uluxes wel this understod,1440

P. iii. 50

Thei couthe moche, he couthe more;

Thei schape and caste ayein him sore841

And wroghte many a soutil wyle,

Bot yit thei mihte him noght beguile.842

Bot of the men of his navie

Thei tuo forschope a gret partie,

Mai non of hem withstonde here hestes;

Som part thei schopen into bestes,

Som part thei schopen into foules,

To beres, tigres, Apes, oules,1450

Or elles be som other weie;

Ther myhte hem nothing desobeie,

Such craft thei hadde above kinde.

Bot that Art couthe thei noght finde,

Of which Uluxes was deceived,

That he ne hath hem alle weyved,

And broght hem into such a rote,

That upon him thei bothe assote;

And thurgh the science of his art

He tok of hem so wel his part,1460

That he begat Circes with childe.

He kepte him sobre and made hem wilde,

He sette himselve so above,

That with here good and with here love,

Who that therof be lief or loth,

Al quit into his Schip he goth.

Circes toswolle bothe sides

He lefte, and waiteth on the tydes,

And straght thurghout the salte fom

He takth his cours and comth him hom,1470

P. iii. 51

Where as he fond Penolope;

A betre wif ther mai non be,

And yit ther ben ynowhe of goode.

Bot who hir goodschipe understode

Fro ferst that sche wifhode tok,

Hou many loves sche forsok

And hou sche bar hire al aboute,

Ther whiles that hire lord was oute,

He mihte make a gret avant843

Amonges al the remenant1480

That sche was on of al the beste.844

Wel myhte he sette his herte in reste,

This king, whan he hir fond in hele;

For as he couthe in wisdom dele,

So couthe sche in wommanhiede:

And whan sche syh withoute drede

Hire lord upon his oghne ground,

That he was come sauf and sound,

In al this world ne mihte be845

A gladdere womman than was sche.1490

The fame, which mai noght ben hidd,

Thurghout the lond is sone kidd,

Here king is come hom ayein:

Ther mai noman the fulle sein,

Hou that thei weren alle glade,

So mochel joie of him thei made.

The presens every day be newed,

He was with yiftes al besnewed;

The poeple was of him so glad,

That thogh non other man hem bad,1500

P. iii. 52

Taillage upon hemself thei sette,

And as it were of pure dette

Thei yeve here goodes to the king:

This was a glad hom welcomyng.

Thus hath Uluxes what he wolde,

His wif was such as sche be scholde,

His poeple was to him sougit,

Him lacketh nothing of delit.

Bot fortune is of such a sleyhte,

That whan a man is most on heyhte,8461510

Sche makth him rathest forto falle:

Ther wot noman what schal befalle,

Oracius. Omnia847sunt hominum tenui pendencia filo.

The happes over mannes hed

Ben honged with a tendre thred.

That proved was on Uluxes;

For whan he was most in his pes,848

Fortune gan to make him werre

And sette his welthe al out of herre.849

Upon a dai as he was merie,

As thogh ther mihte him nothing derie,8501520

Whan nyht was come, he goth to bedde,

With slep and bothe his yhen fedde.

And while he slepte, he mette a swevene:

Him thoghte he syh a stature evene,851

Which brihtere than the sonne schon;

A man it semeth was it non,

Bot yit it was as in figure

Most lich to mannyssh creature,

Bot as of beaute hevenelich

It was most to an Angel lich:1530

P. iii. 53

And thus betwen angel and man

Beholden it this king began,

And such a lust tok of the sihte,

That fain he wolde, if that he mihte,

The forme of that figure embrace;

And goth him forth toward the place,852

Wher he sih that ymage tho,

And takth it in his Armes tuo,

And it embraceth him ayein

And to the king thus gan it sein:1540

‘Uluxes, understand wel this,

The tokne of oure aqueintance is

Hierafterward to mochel tene:

The love that is ous betuene,

Of that we nou such joie make,

That on of ous the deth schal take,

Whan time comth of destine;

It may non other wise be.’

Uluxes tho began to preie

That this figure wolde him seie1550

What wyht he is that seith him so.

This wyht upon a spere tho

A pensel which was wel begon,

Embrouded, scheweth him anon:

Thre fisshes alle of o colour

In manere as it were a tour

Upon the pensel were wroght.

Uluxes kneu this tokne noght,

And preith to wite in som partie

What thing it myhte signefie,1560

P. iii. 54

‘A signe it is,’ the wyht ansuerde,

‘Of an Empire:’ and forth he ferde

Al sodeinly, whan he that seide.

Uluxes out of slep abreide,

And that was riht ayein the day,

That lengere slepen he ne may.

Bernardus. Plures plura sciunt853et seipsos nesciunt.

Men sein, a man hath knowleching854

Save of himself of alle thing;

His oghne chance noman knoweth,

Bot as fortune it on him throweth:1570

Was nevere yit so wys a clerk,

Which mihte knowe al goddes werk,

Ne the secret which god hath set

Ayein a man mai noght be let.

Uluxes, thogh that he be wys,

With al his wit in his avis,

The mor that he his swevene acompteth,

The lasse he wot what it amonteth:

For al his calculacion,

He seth no demonstracion1580

Al pleinly forto knowe an ende;855

Bot natheles hou so it wende,

He dradde him of his oghne Sone.

That makth him wel the more astone,

And schop therfore anon withal,

So that withinne castel wall

Thelamachum his Sone he schette,

And upon him strong warde he sette.

The sothe furthere he ne knew,

Til that fortune him overthreu;1590

P. iii. 55

Bot natheles for sikernesse,

Wher that he mihte wite and gesse

A place strengest in his lond,

Ther let he make of lym and sond

A strengthe where he wolde duelle;

Was nevere man yit herde telle

Of such an other as it was.

And forto strengthe him in that cas,856

Of al his lond the sekereste

Of servantz and the worthieste,1600

To kepen him withinne warde,

He sette his bodi forto warde;857

And made such an ordinance,

For love ne for aqueintance,

That were it erly, were it late,

Thei scholde lete in ate gate

No maner man, what so betydde,

Bot if so were himself it bidde.

Bot al that myhte him noght availe,

For whom fortune wole assaile,1610

Ther mai be non such resistence,

Which mihte make a man defence;

Al that schal be mot falle algate.

This Circes, which I spak of late,

On whom Uluxes hath begete

A child, thogh he it have foryete,

Whan time com, as it was wone,

Sche was delivered of a Sone,

Which cleped is Thelogonus.

This child, whan he was bore thus,1620

P. iii. 56

Aboute his moder to ful age,

That he can reson and langage,

In good astat was drawe forth:

And whan he was so mochel worth

To stonden in a mannes stede,

Circes his moder hath him bede

That he schal to his fader go,

And tolde him al togedre tho

What man he was that him begat.

And whan Thelogonus of that1630

Was war and hath ful knowleching858

Hou that his fader was a king,

He preith his moder faire this,

To go wher that his fader is;

And sche him granteth that he schal,

And made him redi forth withal.

It was that time such usance,

That every man the conoiscance

Of his contre bar in his hond,

Whan he wente into strange lond;1640

And thus was every man therfore

Wel knowe, wher that he was bore:

For espiaile and mistrowinges

They dede thanne suche thinges,

That every man mai other knowe.859

So it befell that ilke throwe

Thelogonus as in this cas;

Of his contre the signe was

Thre fisshes, whiche he scholde bere

Upon the penon of a spere:1650

P. iii. 57

And whan that he was thus arraied

And hath his harneis al assaied,

That he was redy everydel,

His moder bad him farewel,

And seide him that he scholde swithe

His fader griete a thousand sithe.

Thelogonus his moder kiste

And tok his leve, and wher he wiste

His fader was, the weie nam,

Til he unto Nachaie cam,1660

Which of that lond the chief Cite

Was cleped, and ther axeth he

Wher was the king and hou he ferde.

And whan that he the sothe herde,

Wher that the king Uluxes was,

Al one upon his hors gret pas

He rod him forth, and in his hond

He bar the signal of his lond

With fisshes thre, as I have told;860

And thus he wente unto that hold,1670

Wher that his oghne fader duelleth.

The cause why he comth he telleth

Unto the kepers of the gate,

And wolde have comen in therate,

Bot schortli thei him seide nay:

And he als faire as evere he may

Besoghte and tolde hem ofte this,

Hou that the king his fader is;

Bot they with proude wordes grete

Begunne to manace and threte,8611680

P. iii. 58

Bot he go fro the gate faste,

Thei wolde him take and sette faste.

Fro wordes unto strokes thus

Thei felle, and so Thelogonus

Was sore hurt and welnyh ded;

Bot with his scharpe speres hed

He makth defence, hou so it falle,

And wan the gate upon hem alle,

And hath slain of the beste fyve;

And thei ascriden als so blyve1690

Thurghout the castell al aboute.862

On every syde men come oute,

Wherof the kinges herte afflihte,

And he with al the haste he mihte

A spere cauhte and out he goth,863

As he that was nyh wod for wroth.864

He sih the gates ful of blod,

Thelogonus and wher he stod

He sih also, bot he ne knew

What man it was, and to him threw8651700

His Spere, and he sterte out asyde.

Bot destine, which schal betide,

Befell that ilke time so,

Thelogonus knew nothing tho

What man it was that to him caste,

And while his oghne spere laste,

With al the signe therupon

He caste unto the king anon,

And smot him with a dedly wounde.

Uluxes fell anon to grounde;1710

P. iii. 59

Tho every man, ‘The king! the king!’

Began to crie, and of this thing

Thelogonus, which sih the cas,

On knes he fell and seide, ‘Helas!

I have min oghne fader slain:

Nou wolde I deie wonder fain,866

Nou sle me who that evere wile,

For certes it is riht good skile.’867

He crith, he wepth, he seith therfore,

‘Helas; that evere was I bore,1720

That this unhappi destine

So wofulli comth in be me!’

This king, which yit hath lif ynouh,

His herte ayein to him he drouh,

And to that vois an Ere he leide

And understod al that he seide,

And gan to speke, and seide on hih;

‘Bring me this man.’ And whan he sih

Thelogonus, his thoght he sette

Upon the swevene which he mette,1730

And axeth that he myhte se

His spere, on which the fisshes thre

He sih upon a pensel wroght.868

Tho wiste he wel it faileth noght,

And badd him that he telle scholde869

Fro whenne he cam and what he wolde.

Thelogonus in sorghe and wo

So as he mihte tolde tho

Unto Uluxes al the cas,

Hou that Circes his moder was,1740

P. iii. 60

And so forth seide him everydel,

Hou that his moder gret him wel,

And in what wise sche him sente.

Tho wiste Uluxes what it mente,

And tok him in hise Armes softe,

And al bledende he kest him ofte,870

And seide, ‘Sone, whil I live,

This infortune I thee foryive.’

After his other Sone in haste

He sende, and he began him haste1750

And cam unto his fader tyt.

Bot whan he sih him in such plit,

He wolde have ronne upon that other

Anon, and slain his oghne brother,

Ne hadde be that Uluxes

Betwen hem made acord and pes,

And to his heir Thelamachus

He bad that he Thelogonus

With al his pouer scholde kepe,

Til he were of his woundes depe1760

Al hol, and thanne he scholde him yive

Lond wher upon he mihte live.

Thelamachus, whan he this herde,

Unto his fader he ansuerde

And seide he wolde don his wille.

So duelle thei togedre stille,

These brethren, and the fader sterveth.

Lo, wherof Sorcerie serveth.

Thurgh Sorcerie his lust he wan,

Thurgh Sorcerie his wo began,1770

P. iii. 61

Thurgh Sorcerie his love he ches,

Thurgh Sorcerie his lif he les;

The child was gete in Sorcerie,

The which dede al this felonie:

Thing which was ayein kynde wroght

Unkindeliche it was aboght;

The child his oghne fader slowh,

That was unkindeschipe ynowh.

Forthi tak hiede hou that it is,

So forto winne love amis,1780

Which endeth al his joie in wo:

For of this Art I finde also,

That hath be do for loves sake,

Wherof thou miht ensample take,

A gret Cronique imperial,

Which evere into memorial871

Among the men, hou so it wende,872

Schal duelle to the worldes ende.

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