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|
The envious ordre of Fortunas meving,
In worldly thing fals and flekeryng,
Ne wil not suffre us in this present lyf
To lyve in reste withoute werre or striffe;
For sche is blinde, fikel, and unstable,
And of her cours fals and ful mutable.
[Fortune brings those who sit highest to ruin. She gives some
renown and victory, and humbles others. She overthrows all
who trust her, just as she did King Lamedon. Thus I advise
every man to take heed before starting a dispute. Be warned
by Lamedon's example and show kindness to strangers. Old
Troy was destroyed, the people were led into exile, and
Hesione was given to Telamon because of Lamedon's
unkindness. Great war and destruction can be caused by small
events (lines 77-133).]
Allas, whi nyl thei taken better hede?
For olde Troye and afterward the newe
Thorughe smal enchesoun, who the trouthe knewe,
Wer finally brought to distruccioun,
As olde bokes maken mencioun,
And many worthi and many noble knyght
Slayn in the feld by dures of that fight;
Kynges, princes at that sege ded
Whan Antropos tobrak hir lyves thred,
That for to telle the meschef and the wo
I wante connynge and I fele also
My penne quake and tremble in my hond,
List that my lord, dredde on see and lond,
Whos worthines thorugh the world doth sprede,
My makyng rude schal beholde and rede,
Whiche of colour ful nakyd is and bare:
That but yif he of his grace spare
For to disdeyne and list to have pité,
For fere I tremble that he schuld it se.
But only mercy, that dothe his hert embrace,
Byt me preswme fully in his grace,
Seynge in hym, most vertuous and good,
Mercy anexid unto royal blood,
As to a prince longeth nyghe and ferre,
Ay tofore ryght pité to preferre.
For thorughe the support of his highe noblesse
Sowpowailled, I wil my stile dresse
To write forthe the story by and by
Of newe Troye in ordre ceriously
As myn auctor in Latyn, Guydo, writ,
Preying the reder wher any word myssit,
Causyng the metre to be halte or lame,
For to correcte, to save me fro blame:
Late hym nat wayte after coryousté,
Syth that in ryme Ynglysch hath skarseté.
I am so dulle, certeyn, that I ne can
Folwen Guydo, that clerke, that coryous man,
Whiche in Latyn hath be rethorik
Set so his wordis that I can nat be lyke.
To sewe his stile in my translacioun
Word by word lyche the construccioun
After the maner of gramariens
Nor lyke the stile of rethoricyens,
I toke nat on me this story to translate;
For me to forther Clyo cam to late,
That in swyche craft hath gret experience;
I leve the wordis and folwe the sentence.
And trouth of metre I sette also asyde,
For of that arte I hadde as tho no guyde
Me to reducyn whan I went awrong;
I toke non hede nouther of schort nor long
But to the trouthe and lefte coryousté
Bothe of makyng and of metre be,
Nat purposyng to moche for to varie
Nor for to be dyverse nor contrarie
Unto Guydo, as by discordaunce,
But me conforme fully in substaunce,
Only in menyng to conclude al on;
Albe that I ne can the weye goon
To swe the floures of his eloquence
Nor of peyntyng I have noon excellence
With sondry hewes noble, fresche, and gay,
So riche colours biggen I ne may;
I mote procede with sable and with blake.
And in enewyng wher ye fynde a lak,
I axe mercy or I fro yow twynne;
And with your favour anon I wil begynne
And in al haste my style furthe directe;
And where I erre, I praye yow to correcte.
[At the time Old Troy was destroyed and Lamedon killed, his
son Priam and his family were besieging a castle. Priam
performed great deeds of arms, risking his life in battle. He
had five sons and three daughters. The oldest son was Hector,
the root and stock of chivalry, who excelled everyone in
knighthood. Paris was Hector's next brother, and he was the
most handsome man alive. Deiphebus, a brave and wise man,
was the third son. The fourth was Helenus, a man known for
his learning in the liberal arts. Troilus was the fifth son, and
he was called "Hector the secounde" (line 288) because of his manliness. Vergil records that Priam had two other sons.
Polydorus was sent from Troy by Priam to a king he trusted,
but the king cut the boy's throat and buried
him in a hidden grave. The other son, Ganymede, was carried
off by Jupiter who made him his butler. Priam's oldest
daughter was Creusa, who married Aeneas, son of Anchises
by the goddess Venus. Priam's second daughter was
Cassandra, who had the power of prophecy. His third
daughter was Polyxena, a maiden whom Pyrrhus, the son of
Achilles, eventually slew. Priam also had thirty natural sons,
all of them noble and hardy in arms.
While Priam was besieging the castle, he was told of the fall
of Old Troy, his father's death, and the fate of Hesione.
Sorrow overcame him; he dressed in black, raised the siege,
and returned to Troy. He found a wilderness and lamented for
three days, at the end of which he resolved to rebuild Troy
(lines 2203-478).]
The sorwe aswaged and the syghes olde
By longe processe, liche as I yow tolde,
This worthi kyng, callyd Priamus,
Is in his herte nowe so desyrous
Upon the pleyn that was so waste and wylde,
So strong a toun of newe for to bilde,
At his devyse a cité edefye,
That schal th'assautys outterly defye
Of alle enmyes and his mortal foon
With riche tourys and wallys of hard stoon.
And al aboute the contrés enviroun
He made seke in every regioun
For swiche werkemen as were corious,
Of wyt inventyf, of castyng merveilous,
Or swyche as coude crafte of gemetrye,
Or wer sotyle in her fantasye;
And for everyche that was good devysour,
Mason, hewer, or crafty quareour;
For every wright and passyng carpenter
That may be founde, owther fer or nere;
For swyche as koude grave, grope, or kerve;
Or swiche as werne able for to serve
With lym or stoon for to reise a wal
With bataillyng and crestis marcial;
Or swiche as had konyng in her hed,
Alabastre, owther white or redde,
Or marbil graye for to pulsche it pleyn
To make it smothe of veynes and of greyn.
He sent also for every ymagour,
Bothe in entaille, and every purtreyour
That coude drawe, or with colour peynt
With hewes fresche, that the werke nat feynt;
And swiche as coude with countenaunces glade
Make an ymage that wil nevere fade -
To counterfet in metal, tre, or stoon
The sotil werke of Pigmaleoun
Or of Appollo, the whiche as bokis telle
In ymagerye alle other dide excelle;
For by his crafty werkyng corious,
The towmbe he made of Kyng Daryus
Whiche Alysaundre dide on heyghte reise,
Only for men schuld his fame preise
In his conquest by Perce whan he went.
And thus Priam for every maister sent,
For eche kerver and passynge joignour
To make knottis with many corious flour,
To sette on crestis withinne and withoute
Upon the wal the cité rounde aboute;
Or who that wer excellyng in practik
Of any art callyd mekanyk
Or hadde a name flouryng or famus
Was after sent to come to Priamus.
For he purposeth, this noble worthi kyng,
To make a cité most royal in byldyng -
Brod, large, and wyde - and lest it wer assailled,
For werre proudly aboute enbatailled.
And first the grounde he made to be sought,
Ful depe and lowe, that it faille nought
To make sure the fundacioun;
In the place where the olde toun
Was first ybilt he the wallis sette;
And he of lond many myle out mette
Aboute in compas for to make it large,
As the maysters that toke on hem the charge
Devysed han the settyng and the syyt,
For holsom eyr to be more of delyt.
And whan the soille, defoulit with ruyne
Of walles old, was made pleyn as lyne,
The werkmen gan this cité for to founde
Ful myghtely with stonys square and rounde,
That in this world was to it noon lyche
Of werkmanschip nor of bildyng riche
Nor of crafte of coryous masounry.
I can no termys to speke of gemetrye;
Wherfore as now I muste hem sette asyde,
For douteles I radde never Euclide
That the maister and the foundour was
Of alle that werkyn by squyre or compas
Or kepe her mesour by level or by lyne;
I am to rude clerly to diffyne
Or to discrive this werk in every parte
For lak of termys longyng to that arte.
For I dar wel of trouthe affermyn here,
In al this world ne was ther never pere
Unto this cité, and write it for a sothe,
As in this boke my mayster Guydo doth.
And that it myght in prosperité,
In hyghe honour and felicité,
From al assaut perpetuelly contune,
It reysed was in worschip of Neptune
And namyd Troye, as it was aforn,
Lyche the firste that was thorugh Grekis lorn.
The lenthe was, schortly to conclude,
Thre dayes journé, lyche the latitude,
That never I herd make mencioun
Of swiche another of fundacioun
So huge in compas nor of swiche larges,
Nor to counte so passyng of fayrnes,
So edyfied or lusty to the syght.
And, as I rede, the walles wern on highte
Two hundrid cubites, al of marbil gray,
Maskowed withoute for sautis and assay; 1
And it to make more plesaunt of delyt,
Among the marbil was alabaster white
Meynt in the walles, rounde the toun aboute,
To make it schewe withinne and withoute
So fresche, so riche, and so delitable,
That it alone was incomperable
Of alle cités that any mortal man
Sawe ever yit sithe the world began.
And at the corner of every wal was set
A crowne of golde with riche stonys fret
That schone ful bright ageyn the sonne schene;
And every tour bretexed was so clene
Of chose stoon that wer nat fer asondre,
That to beholde it was a verray wonder.
Therto this cité compassed enviroun
Hadde sexe gatis to entre into the toun:
The first of al and strengest eke with al,
Largest also and most principal,
Of myghty bildynge allone peerles,
Was by the kyng callyd Dardanydes;
And in story, lyche as it is fownde,
Tymbria was named the secounde;
And the thridde callyd Helyas;
The fourte gate hight also Cethas;
The fyfte Troiana; the syxte Anthonydes,
Strong and myghty bothe in werre and pes,
With square toures set on every syde.
At whos corners, of verray pompe and pride,
The werkmen han with sterne and fel visages,
Of riche entaille, set up gret ymages
Wrought out of ston, that never ar like to fayle,
Ful coriously enarmed for batayle.
And thorugh the wal, her fomen for to lette,
At every tour wer grete gunnys sette
For assaut and sodeyn aventurys;
And on tourettis wer reysed up figurys
Of wylde bestis, as beris and lyouns,
Of tigers, bores, of serpentys and dragouns
And hertis eke with her brode hornes,
Olyfauntes and large unicornes,
Buglis, bolys, and many grete grifoun,
Forged of brasse, of copur and latoun,
That cruelly by sygnes of her facys
Upon her foon made fel manacys.
Barbykans and bolewerkys huge
Afore the toun made for highe refuge,
Yiffe nede were, erly and eke late;
And portecolys stronge at every gate,
That hem thar nat non assailyng charge;
And the lowkis thikke, brode, and large,
Of the gatys al of yoten bras;
And withinne the myghty schittyng was
Of strong yrne barres square and rounde
And gret barrerys picched in the grounde
With huge cheynes forged for diffence,
Whiche nolde breke for no violence,
That hard it was thorugh hem for to wynne.
And every hous that was bilt withinne,
Every paleys, and every mancioun
Of marbil werne thorughout al the toun,
Of crafty bildyng and werkyng most roial.
And the heght was of every wal
Sixty cubites from the grounde acountid;
And ther was non that other hath surmountid
In the cité, but of on heght alyche,
In verray sothe, bothe of pore and riche,
That it was harde of highe estat or lowe
Hous or palys asounder for to knowe,
So egaly of tymbre and of stoon
Her housis wern reysed everychon.
And if I schulde rehersen by and by
The korve knottes by crafte of masounry,
The fresche enbowyng with vergis right as linys,
And the vowsyng ful of babewynes,
The riche koynyng, the lusty tablementis,
Vynettis rennynge in the casementis;
Though the termys in Englisch wolde ryme,
To rekne hem alle I have as now no tyme
Ne no langage pyked for the nonys,
The sotil joynyng to tellen of the stonys,
Nor how thei putten in stede of morter
In the joynturys copur gilt ful clere
To make hem joyne by level and by lyne
Among the marbil, freschely for to schyne
Agein the sonne, whan his schene lyght
Smote in the gold that was bornyd bright,
To make the werke gletere on every syde.
And of the toun the stretis large and wyde
Wer by crafte so prudently provided
And by werkemen sette so and devided
That holsom eyr amyddis myght enspire
Erly on morwe to hem that it desyre;
And Zephirus, that is so comfortable
For to norysche thinges vegetable,
In tyme of yere thorughoute every strete,
With sugred flavour, so lusty and so swete,
Most plesantly in the eyr gan smyte,
The cytezeyns only to delyte,
And with his brethe hem to recomfort,
Whan thei list walke hemsilven to disport.
And thorugh the toun by crafty purviaunce,
By gret avys and discret ordynaunce,
By compas cast and squared out by squires,
Of pulsched marbil upon strong pilleris
Devised wern, longe, large, and wyde,
In the frountel of every stretis syde
Fresche alures with lusty highe pynacles
And moustryng outward riche tabernacles,
Vowted above like reclinatories,
That called werne deambulatories,
Men to walke togydre tweine and tweyne
To kepe hem drie whan it dide reyne
Or hem to save from tempest, wynde, or thonder,
Yif that hem list schrowde hemsilve therunder.
And every hous cured was with led;
And many gargoyl and many hidous hed
With spoutis thorugh and pipes as thei ought
From the stonwerke to the canel raught,
Voyding filthes low into the grounde
Thorugh gratis percid of yren percid rounde;
The stretis paved bothe in lengthe and brede
In cheker wyse with stonys white and rede.
And every craft that any maner man
In any lond devise or rekene can
Kyng Priamus, of highe discrecioun,
Ordeyned hath to dwellyn in the toun
And in stretis severyd her and yonder,
Everyche from other to be sette asonder
That thei myght for more comodité
Eche be hymsilfe werke at liberté:
Goldsmythes first; and riche jowellers;
And by hemsilf crafty browdereris;
Wevers also of wolne and of lyne,
Of cloth of gold, damaske, and satyn,
Of welwet, cendel, and double samyt eke, 2
And every clothe that men list to seke;
Smythes also that koude forge wele
Swerdis, pollex, and speris scharp of stele,
Dartis, daggeris, for to mayme and wounde,
And quarel hedis scharp and square grounde.
Ther wer also crafty armoureris,
Bowyers, and fast by fleccheris,
And swyche as koude make schaftes pleyn,
And other eke that dide her besy peyn
For the werre to make also trappuris,
Bete baners and royal cote armuris,
And by devise stondardis and penowns,
And for the felde fresche and gay gytouns.
And every crafte that may rekned be,
To telle schortly, was in this cité.
And thorugh this toun, so riche and excellent,
In the myddes a large river went,
Causyng to hem ful gret commodité;
The whiche on tweyne hath partid the cité,
Of cours ful swyft, with fresche stremys clere;
And highte Xanctus, as Guydo doth us lere.
And as I rede, that upon that flood,
On eche asyde many mylle stood,
Whan nede was her grayn and corn to grinde,
Hem to sustene, in story as I fynde.
This river eke, of fysche ful plenteuous,
Devided was by werkmen corious
So craftely, thorugh castyng sovereyne,
That in his course the stremys myght atteyn
For to areche, as Guydo doth conjecte,
By archis strong his cours for to reflecte
Thorugh condut pipis, large and wyde withal,
By certeyn meatis artificial,
That it made a ful purgacioun
Of al ordure and fylthes in the toun,
Waschyng the stretys as thei stod a rowe
And the goteris in the erthe lowe,
That in the cité was no filthe sene;
For the canel skoured was so clene
And devoyded in so secré wyse
That no man myght espien nor devyse
By what engyn the filthes, fer nor ner,
Wern born awey by cours of the ryver -
So covertly everything was cured.
Wherby the toun was outterly assured
From engenderyng of al corrupcioun,
From wikked eyr and from infeccioun,
That causyn ofte by her violence
Mortalité and gret pestilence.
And by example of this flode ther was
Made Tibre at Rome and wrought by Eneas,
The whiche also departeth Rome on two,
Myn auctor seith, I not wher it be so.
And to enabite this royal chef cité
Kyng Priam hath aboute in the contré
Made for to serche with al his hool entent
And in provinces that werne adjacent,
In borwys, townys, and in smale villages,
Igadred out of al maner ages,
And of thropis folkys ful divers;
And swiche as wern vacaunt and dispers
Aboute Troye in many regioun;
He maked hath to entre into the toun
Gret multitude, what of yong and olde,
It to enhabite, as ye han herde me tolde.
And hem that wern afore to hym foreyns
He hath in Troye maked citezeyns,
Ful discretly, liche as it is founde.
And whan thei gan with peple to abounde,
Kyng Priamus of highe affeccioun
After the bildyng of this myghty toun
Hath in his hert caught a fantasye
His newe cité for to magnyfye.
And it to put the more in remembraunce
He cast fully to do some observaunce
To myghty Mars, sterne and ferse of hewe;
And specialy with certeyn pleies newe,
On horse and fote, in many sondry wyse,
To yeve his men in knyghthod excersyse,
Everyche to putten other at assaye
In justis, bordis, and also in tornay,
To preve her force whan thei happe mete.
The whiche pleies wer fondid first in Crete,
And in that lond of highe and lowe estat
In Martys honour thei wer dedicate.
And in palestre at wakys on the nyght
Wern other pleies men t'assay her myght,
Only on fote with many sotil poynt;
And some of hem wer nakyd and anoynt;
To wynne a prys thei dide her ful entent.
And ther was founde by clerkys ful prudent
Of the ches the pleye most glorious,
Whiche is so sotil and so mervelous
That it wer harde the mater to discryve;
For thoughe a man stodied al his lyve,
He schal ay fynde dyvers fantasyes
Of wardys makyng and newe juparties:
Ther is therin so gret diversité.
And it was first founde in this cité
Duryng the sege, liche as seyth Guydo;
But Jacobus de Vitriaco
Is contrarie of oppynioun:
For, like as he makyth mencioun
And affermeth fully in his avys,
How Philometer, a philysofre wys,
Unto a kyng, to stynte his cruelté,
Fond first this pleie and made it in Caldé;
And into Grece from thense it was sent.
Also in Troye by gret avysement
The pleye was first founde of dees and tables
And of castyng the chaunces deceyvables,
That han be cause ofte of gret debat:
For yif that on be nowe fortunat
To wynne a while be favour of his chance,
Or he be war be sodeyn variaunce
Unhappely he is putte abak
And another, that stood upon the wrak
And of losse was plounged in distresse,
Thei reysed han unto hyghe ryches;
Gladnes of on is to another rage.
Adevaunte, hasard, and passage -
Yif on have joye, another suffereth wo,
Liche as the bonys renne to and fro;
An hundrid sythe in a day thei varie,
Now blaundisschyng and now thei be contrarie;
No man with hem assured is in joye.
And first also I rede that in Troye
Wer song and rad lusty fresche comedies
And other dites that called be tragedies.
And to declare schortly in sentence
Of bothe two the final difference:
A comedie hath in his gynnyng,
At prime face, a maner compleynyng
And afterward endeth in gladnes;
And it the dedis only doth expres
Of swiche as ben in povert plounged lowe;
But tragidie, whoso list to knowe,
It begynneth in prosperité
And endeth ever in adversité;
And it also doth the conquest trete
Of riche kynges and of lordys grete,
Of myghty men and olde conquerouris,
Whiche by fraude of Fortunys schowris
Ben overcast and whelmed from her glorie.
And whilom thus was halwed the memorie
Of tragedies, as bokis make mynde;
Whan thei wer rad or songyn, as I fynde,
In the theatre ther was a smal auter
Amyddes set that was half circuler,
Whiche into the est of custom was directe;
Upon the whiche a pulpet was erecte,
And therin stod an awncien poete
For to reherse by rethorikes swete
The noble dedis that wer historial
Of kynges, princes for a memorial
And of thes olde, worthi emperours,
The grete emprises eke of conquerours,
And how thei gat in Martis highe honour
The laurer grene for fyn of her labour,
The palme of knyghthod disservid by old date
Or Parchas made hem passyn into fate.
And after that with chere and face pale,
With stile enclyned gan to turne his tale,
And for to synge after al her loos
Ful mortally the stroke of Antropos,
And telle also, for al her worthihede,
The sodeyn brekyng of her lives threde:
How pitously thei made her mortal ende
Thorugh fals Fortune, that al the world wil schende;
And howe the fyn of al her worthines
Endid in sorwe and highe distresse
By compassyng of fraude and fals tresoun,
By sodeyn mordre or vengaunce of poysoun,
Or conspiringe of fretyng fals envye;
How unwarly that thei dide dye;
And how her renoun and her highe fame
Was of hatrede sodeynly made lame;
And how her honour drowe unto decline;
And the meschef of her unhappy fyne;
And how Fortune was to hem unswete -
Al this was tolde and rad of the poete.
And whil that he in the pulpit stood
With dedly face al devoide of blood,
Singinge his dites with Muses al torent,
Amydde the theatre schrowdid in a tent
Ther cam out men gastful of her cheris,
Disfigurid her facis with viseris,
Pleying by signes in the peples sight,
That the poete songon hath on hight;
So that ther was no maner discordaunce
Atwen his dites and her contenaunce:
For lik as he alofte dide expresse
Wordes of joye or of hevynes,
Meving and cher, bynethe of hem pleying
From point to point was alwey answering.
Now trist, now glad, now hevy, and now light,
And face chaunged with a sodeyn sight,
So craftily thei koude hem transfigure,
Conformyng hem to the chaunteplure,
Now to synge and sodeinly to wepe,
So wel thei koude her observaunces kepe.
And this was doon in April and in May,
Whan blosmys new bothe on busche and hay
And flouris fresche gynne for to springe;
And the briddis in the wode synge
With lust supprised of the somer sonne,
Whan the pleies in Troye wer begonne
And in theatre halowed and yholde.
And thus the ryyt of tragedies olde
Priamus the worthi kyng began.
Of this mater no more telle I can.
But I wil furthe of this story wryte
And on my maner boistusly endyte,
How Priamus was passyng dilligent,
Right desyrous, and inwardly fervent,
Yif he myght among his werkes alle
To bilde a paleys and a riche halle
Whiche schulde ben his chose chef dongon,
His royal se and sovereyn mansioun.
And whan he gan to this werke aproche,
He made it bilde highe upon a roche
(It for t'assure in his fundacioun)
And callyd it the noble Ylyoun,
The sight of whiche, justly circuler,
By compas cast rounde as any spere.
And who that wold the content of the grounde
Trewly acounten of this place rounde
In the theatre he most first entre,
Takyng the lyne that kerveth thorugh the centre
By gemetrie, as longeth to that art,
And treblid it with the seventhe part;
He fynde myght by experience
The mesour hool of the circumference,
What lond also withinne the stronge wal
Contened was pleynly eke with al -
The creste of whiche, wher it lowest was,
Hadde in hight ful sixe hundred pas,
Bilt of marbil, ful royal and ful strong,
And many other riche stoon among;
Whos touris wern reysed up so highe
That thei raght almost unto the skye;
The werk of whiche no man myght amende.
And who that list by grecis up ascende,
He myghte seen in his inspeccioun
To the boundis of many regioun
And provincys that stond rounde aboute.
And the wallys, withinne and withoute,
ong with knottis grave clene, 3
Depeynt with azour, gold, ginopre, and grene,
That verraily, whan the sonne schon,
Upon the gold meynt among the stoon,
Thei yaf a light withouten any were
As Phebus doth in his mydday spere -
The werke of wyndowe and fenestral,
Wrought of berel and of clere cristal.
And amyddys of this Ylyoun,
So fresche, so riche of fundacioun,
Whiche clerkys yit in her bokis preyse,
Kyng Pryam made an halle for to reyse,
Excellyng alle in bewté and in strenthe,
The latitude acordyng with the lengthe.
And of marbil outeward was the wal;
And the tymbre, most nobil in special,
Was halfe of cedre, as I reherse can,
And the remenant of the riche eban,
Whiche most is able, as I dar specefye,
With stoon to joyne by craft of carpentrie;
For thei of tymbre have the sovereynté.
And for to telle of this eban tre,
Liche in bokys sothly as I fynde,
It cometh out of Ethiope and Ynde,
Blak as is get; and it wil wexe anoon,
Whan it is korve, harde as any stoon,
And evermore lasten and endure,
And nat corrupte with water nor moysture.
And of his halle ferther to diffyne,
With stonys square by level and by lyne
It pavid was with gret diligence
Of masownry and passyng excellence.
And al above, reysed was a se,
Ful coriously of stonys and perré,
That callid was, as chefe and principal,
Of the regne the sete moste royal.
Tofore whiche was set by gret delyt
A borde of eban and of yvor whyt,
So egaly joyned and so clene
That in the werk ther was no rifte sene;
And sessions wer made on every syde,
Only the statis by ordre to devyde.
Eke in the halle, as it was covenable,
On eche party was set a dormont table
Of evor eke and this eban tre;
And even ageyn the kynges royal see,
In the party that was therto contrarie
Ireised was by many crafty stayre
Highe in the halle in the tother syyt,
Right as any lyne in the opposyt,
Of pured metal and of stonys clere
In brede and lengthe a ful riche auter.
On whiche ther stood of figure and visage
Of massé gold a wonderful ymage,
To ben honoured in that highe sete,
Only in honour of Jubiter the grete.
And the statue, for al his huge weghgte,
Fiftene cubites complet was of heighgte,
A crowne of gold highe upon his hed
With hevenly saphirs and many rubé red
Fret enviroun with other stonys of Ynde;
And among wer medled, as I fynde,
Whyte perlis - massyf, large, and rounde;
And for most chefe al dirkenes to confounde,
Was a charbocle, kyng of stonys alle,
To recounfort and gladyn al the halle
And it t'enlumyn in the blake nyght
With the freschenes of his rody light.
The valu was therof inestimable
And the riches pleynly incomperable,
For this ymage by divisioun
Was of schap and of proporcioun
From hed to foot so maisterly entayled
That in a point the werkeman hath nat failed
It to parforme by crafty excellence.
Whom Priamus with drede and reverence
Honoured hath above the goddys alle,
In al meschef to hym to clepe and calle;
For in hym was his hool affeccioun,
His sovereyn trust and devocioun,
His hope also and his affyaunce,
His heile, his joye, and his assuraunce;
And his welfare and prosperité
He hath commytted to his deité,
Wenyng in hert wonder sekerly
To ben assured from al meschef therby,
And diffended in eche adversité,
And hold his regne in highe felicité,
And in honour continuelly to schyne,
Whil Jubiter thorugh his power divyne
Hym and his hath in proteccioun -
This was his trust and ful oppinioun.
And thus this werke finally acheved,
Wherof Priam with joye ful releved
That he his cité and noble Ylyoun
Hath fully brought unto perfeccioun,
Liche his entent whan that he began.
And thus Priam, this kyng, this worthi man,
Ful many day in his newe Troye
With his liges lad his lyf in joye,
Wher I hym leve in his royal sete
Sovereynly regnynge in quiete,
Procedyng forthe, yif ye liste to here,
Unto the effect anoon of my matere.
[Anger and malice continue to stir Priam to seek vengeance
on the Greeks. Though Hector is away, Priam calls a council
in Troy to announce his intent to seek revenge. Before starting
a war, however, he will seek peaceful redress, and he decides
to ask that Hesione be returned. Antenor is chosen as an
ambassador; he sails to Thessaly where King Peleus receives
him graciously but then orders him to leave when he reveals
Priam's demand to return Hesione. Antenor sails next to King
Telamon, who holds Hesione. Telamon listens to Antenor's
message, derides him and Priam, and orders him to leave.
Antenor sails to Achaia where Castor and Pollux angrily
reject the demand. His final visit is to Pylos where King
Nestor can barely control his anger when Antenor delivers his
message. After a terrifying storm at sea, Antenor reaches Troy
and reports to Priam. Driven by his anger, Priam decides to
risk war by sending a fleet to attack the Greeks (lines 1067-1796).]
But seye, Priam, what infelicité,
What new trouble, what hap, what destyné,
Or from above what hateful influence
Descendid is by unwar violence
To meve the - thou canst not lyve in pes!
What sodeyn sort, what fortune graceles,
What chaunce unhappy, withoute avisenes,
What wilful lust, what fonnyd hardynes
Han putte thi soule out of tranquillité,
To make the wery of thi prosperité!
Whi hast thou savour in bitter more than swete,
That canst nat lyve in pes nor in quyete?
Thou art travailed with wilful mocions,
Overmaystred with thi passiouns,
For lak of resoun and of highe prudence
Dirked and blind from al providence,
And ful bareyn to cast aforne and see
The harmys foloyng of thin adversité!
Thou wer to slow wisely to consydre;
For want of sight made the to slydre,
Thorugh myst of errour falsely to forveye
By pathis wrong from the righte weye,
To voyde resoun of wilful hastynes!
Wher was thi guyde, wher was thi maistres
Discrecioun, so prudent and so sad,
Avisely that schulde the have lad
From the tracis of sensualité,
Though it ful selde in mannys power be
By suffraunce hymsilven to restreyne,
Whan sodeyn ire doth his herte streyne?
Thou schust aforn bet ha cast thi chaunce,
Wrought by counseil, and nat put in balaunce
Thi sikernes - allas, whi distow so? -
And have symuled somdel of thi wo,
And cast thi chance wel afore the prime
To have forgoten wrongis of old tyme,
And thought aforn in thin advertence
That ofte falleth in experience
That whyles men do most besynes
Vengably her wrongis to redres,
With double harme, or that thei ar ware,
Thei falle ageyn in a newe snare;
And damages that wer foryete clene
By fals report of rumour fresche and grene
Renewed ben, thorugh the swifte fame
That fleth so fer to hindre a lordis name;
Namly, whan thei to a purpos wende
Only of hed and se nat to the ende.
For of pride and of sodeyn hete
Thei voide hemsilf out of al quiete,
Adverting nat to wirke avisely
Nor the proverbe that techeth commounly,
"He that stant sure, enhast hym not to meve";
For yif he do, it schal hym after greve;
And he that walkyth surly on the pleyn,
Yif he stumble, his wit is but in veyn;
But if so be he list of his foly
Be necligent to putte hym wilfully
In aventure and of hymsilf ne reche
T'eschewen perel, I hold he be a wreche.
For sothly, Priam, thou wer to rekles
For to comytte thi quiete and thi pes
So dredfully, duryng by no date,
To cruel Fortune or to fikel Fate;
Whos maner is of costom comounly
That whan a man trusteth most sovereynly
On this goddesse, blind and ful unstable,
Than sche to hym is most deceyveable,
Hym to abate from his royal stalle,
And sodeynly to make hym doun to falle,
And with a trip throwe hym on the bake -
Who that geynstryveth schal have litel tak.
Sche is so sleighty with hir gynny snare
That sche can make a man from his welfare
With hir panter, that is with fraude englued,
Whan he lest weneth for to be remewed.
Therfor, no man have noon affyance,
In Fortune nor in hir variaunce;
Ne late no wight his ese more jupart -
List that the pleye wil afterward departe -
To turne his chaunce outher to wel or wo:
For selde in oon sche doth the gamen go,
As ye may se be example of Priamus
That of foly is so desyrous
To wirke of hede and folwe his oune wille,
To trouble, allas, the calm of his tranquille -
As in this boke hereafter schal be founde -
Hym and his cité platly to confounde
And outterly to his confusioun;
That afterward by long successioun
It schal be rad in story and in fable
And remembrid with dites delytable
To do plesaunce to hem that schal it here:
That be example thei may be war and lere
Of hasty lust or of volunté
To gynne a thing which in nounsureté
Dependeth ay, as strif, werre, and debate;
For in swiche pley unwarly cometh chekmate;
And harme ydone to late is to amende,
Whos fyn is ofte other than thei wende -
In this story as ye schal after seen.
And late Priam alwey your merour ben,
Hasty errour be tymes to correcte.
For I anoon my poyntel wil directe
After the maner of his tracis rude
Of this story the remnaunte to conclude.
[Priam summons lords from every part of the town to a
parliament at which he discloses the Greeks' rejection of
Antenor's mission. He reminds his men of the need for unity
and proposes to send a force by ship to attack Greek towns
and lay waste to their fields. Mindful of Fortune's instability,
he thinks it may now be time for her to favor the Trojans over
the Greeks who have been lifted up so high. Priam then
recesses parliament and calls for his sons to gather in council,
where he can reveal his intention to seek vengeance for the
death of their ancestors, the destruction of Old Troy, and the
outrage to Hesione. He calls first on Hector to carry out his
purpose, and Hector answers with soft, courteous speech
(lines 1903-2182).]
"Myn owne lord and my fader dere,
Benignely yif ye list to here,
After the force and the grete myght
And the somme of naturis right,
Whiche everything by kynde doth constreyne
In the boundis of hir large cheyne,
It fittyng is, as sche doth enspire,
And acordyng that every man desyre
Of wrongis don to han amendement
And to hir law right convenient;
Namly, to swiche that with nobilité
Kynd hath endewed and set in highe degré;
For to swiche gret repref is and schame
Whan any wrong be do unto her name;
For eche trespas mote consydered be,
Justly mesurid after the qualité
Of hym that is offendid and also
After the persone by whom the wrong is do;
Be it in werre, in contek, or debate.
For gretter gref is to highe estate
To suffre an harme, of cas or aventure,
Or any wrong unjustly to endure,
Or injuries compassed of malys
Is more offence by discret avys
To hem that ben famous in manhod,
Renomed, and born of gentyl blood,
Than to swiche on that holde is but a wreche.
Wherfore, we most gretly charge and reche
Only of knyghthod oure worschip for to eke,
Of wrongis don amendis for to seke,
Oure staat consydered and oure highe noblesse
And in what plyte we stonde of worthines,
Whan that bestis of resoun rude and blinde
Desire the same by instynt of kynde.
And for my part trusteth in certeyn,
Ye have no sone that wolde halfe so feyn
Upon Grekis avenged ben as I:
For here my trouth I seye yow feithfully,
For ire of hem I brenne as doth the glede;
I thurst her blood more than other mede;
For right as I eldest am of age
Among your sonys, so am I most with rage
Ifret withinne, justly of knyghthood,
With my right hond to schede the Grekys blod,
As thei schal fynd paraunter or thei wene:
Whan tyme cometh, the sothe schal be sene.
But first I rede, wysely in your mynde
To cast aforn and leve nat behynde,
Or ye begynne, discretly to adverte
And prudently consyderen in your herte
Al, only nat the gynnyng but the ende
And the myddes, what weie thei wil wende,
And to what fyn Fortune wil hem lede:
Yif ye thus don, amys ye may nat spede.
For that counseil in myn oppinioun
Is worthi litel by discrecioun
To have a pris that cast nat by and by
The course of thinges by ordre ceryously,
What weye thei trace to wo or to delite;
For though a gynnyng have his appetite,
Yet in the ende, pleynly this no fable,
Ther may thing folwe whiche is nat commendable.
For what is worthe a gynnyng fortunat,
That causeth after strif and gret debat?
Wherfor in sothe principles are to drede,
But men wel knowe what fyn schal succede;
For a gynnyng with grace is wel fortunyd,
Whan ende and myddes aliche ben contunyd.
But whan that it in wele ne may contene,
It is wel bet bytymes to abstene
Than put in doute that stant in sureté;
For whoso doth hath ofte adversité.
But humblely to your estat royal
Of hert I praye, lat nat offende at al,
That I am bolde to seie my mocioun;
For in good feith, of noon entencioun
I no thing mene yow to don offence;
But only this - that your magnificence
Procede nat of hede wilfully
Ne that no spirit you meve folyly
To gynne thing that after wil you schende,
For lak that ye se nat to the ende
Nor taken hede in youre advertence
To consydere by good providence
How Grekis han in her subjeccioun
Europ and Aufrik with many regioun
Ful large and wyde, of knyghthod most famus,
And of riches wonder plentevous,
Right renomed also of worthines.
With your support that I dar wel expresse,
Ful perlous is displese hem or disturbe;
For yif that we oure quiete now pertourbe,
Whiche stant in pes, gretly is to drede;
For though al Asye help us at our nede,
Yif it be lokid on every part aright,
Thei be nat egal unto Grekis myght;
And though also myn aunte Exioun
Ageyn al right be holde of Thelamoun,
It is nat good for hir redempcioun
To putte us alle to destruccioun.
I rede nat to bien hir half so dere;
For many of us in hap that sitten here
And other mo myghten for hir sake
Deth underfonge and an ende make;
Whiche were no wisdam, liche as semeth me.
And it may happen also how that sche
In schort tyme hir fatal cours schal fyne,
Whan Antropos the threde atwo schal twyne.
What had we wonne thanne and sche wer go
But enmyté, thought, and sorow and wo,
Slaughter of oure men, deth and confusioun!
Wherfore I rede, by dissymulacioun,
Withoute more that we oure wo endure
And nat to putte ouresilf in aventure -
This hold I best - and wirkyn as the wyse.
But douteles for no cowarddyse
I seie nat this in youre highe presence.
But for cause I hold it no prudence
To Fortune, ful of doubilnes
(Sith we be sure) to putte oure sikernes:
This al and som, th'effect of al my wille."
And with that worde Hector held hym stille.
And whan Hector by ful highe prudence
Concluded hath the fyn of his sentence,
Ful demurly he kepte his lippis cloos.
And therwithal Parys up aroos
And gan his tale thus afore the kyng.
"My lord," quod he, "so it be lykyng
To youre highnes for to taken hede,
As me semeth, we schuld litel drede
In knyghtly wyse for to undirtake
Upon Grekis a werre for to make,
Al attonys her pride to confounde;
Sith that we passyngly habounde
Of chivalrie here withinne our toun
And have plenté and pocessioun
Of eche thing that may to werre aveile,
Stuf in oursilf and ryal appareile
Of al that longeth to assautis marcial,
And with al this, more in special,
Help and socour of many regioun
With us to werke to her destruccioun,
The pompe and pride manly to abate
And of Grekis the malis for to mate;
For al that thei of herte ben so stoute,
Me semeth schortly that we dar nat doute
Nor on no part for to be dismaied.
Wherfor I rede, lat nat be delaied
Our schippes first redy for to make;
And I mysilf wil fully undirtake,
So it to you be lykyng and plesance,
Of this emprise hoolly the governaunce,
And yow assuren and putte in certeyn
Exyona to recure ageyn.
And in what forme that it schal be wrought
I have a weye founden in my thought
That likly is hereafter to be don,
Whiche unto yow I wil declare anoon.
First, I have cast with strong and myghty hond
For to ravysche som lady of that lond
Of heyghe estat, and make no tarying,
And myghttyly into Troye hir bring,
Maugre her myght, for this conclusioun:
That ye may have restitucioun
Be eschange of hir that ye desyre so.
And hereupon schal be no long ado,
I you behete, for al the Grekis strong.
And for that I schal yow nat prolonge,
I wil yow seyn excludyng every dout
How this avis schal be brought aboute:
First, how that I schal this purpos fyn
The goddis han thorugh her power devyne
Schewed unto me be revelacioun;
For theruppon I had a visioun
But late agoon, as I ley and slepe,
Unto the whiche, yif ye taken kepe,
Ye may not faile nor be in no dispeire
To han recur of hir that is so faire,
For whom ye have now so moche care.
And the maner hol I wil declare
Of this drem to your magnificence,
Yif it so be ye yeve wil credence
To my tale; for I schal nat dwelle
Ceriously in ordre for to telle
The trouthe pleyn and no fable feyn
To yow that ben my lord most sovereyn.
First, yif that ye remembryn in your mynde,
This other day whan I was last in Ynde
By your avis and commaundement
For a mater whiche in your entent
Was specialy had in cherité,
As it is kouthe atwixe you and me,
Of whiche I toke upon me the charge
In the boundis of that lond ful large,
The same tyme your desyre to spede -
Whan that Tytan with his bemys rede
From Gemmyny drof his chare of gold
Toward the Crabbe for to take his holde,
Whiche named is the paleys of Dyane,
The bente mone that wexe can and wane;
Whanne halwed is the sonnys stacioun
Nighe the myddes of the moneth of Jun -
At whiche sesoun erly on a morwe,
Whan that Phebus to voide nyghtes sorwe
Doth Pirrous hys wayn ageyn up drawe
And Aurora estward doth adawe,
And with the water of hir teris rounde
The silver dewe causeth to abounde
Upon herbis and on floures soote
For kyndely norissyng bothe of crop and rote;
Then out I roos of my bedde anoon
Ful desyrous on huntyng for to goon,
Priked in hert with lusty fresche plesance
To do to Love some due observaunce
And Lucyna that day to magnifie,
Which callid is lady of venarye;
And duely oure rytis to observe,
Cithera and hire for to serve,
I and my feris, oure hertis to releve,
Cast us fully til it drowe to eve,
In the forest to pley us and disport
And plesauntly us to recomfort,
As it longeth to love of lustines.
For thilke day to Venus the goddes
Isacrid was by ful gret excellence,
With gret honour and due reverence
Doon unto hir, bothe of on and alle;
And on a Fryday this aventure is falle,
Whan we gan hast us to the wodis grene
In hope that day som game for to sene,
With gret labour rydyng to and fro,
Til we hadde ful many buk and do
By strengthe slaw, as we myght hem fynde,
The hert ichasid with houndis and the hynde
Thorugh the downys and the dalys lowe,
Til brighte Phebus of his daies bowe
Amyd the arke was of meridyen,
Whan his bemys ful hote wern and schene,
And we most besy wern upon the chas,
Than me byfil a wonder divers cas.
For of fortune it happed sodeynly,
Whil I was severyd fro my company
Sool be mysilf among the holtis hore
To fynde game desyrous evermore,
Or I was war, thorugh thikke and thinne,
A ful gret hert I sawe afore me renne
Doun by the launde and the walys grene
That I in soth myghte nat sustene,
He was so swyft, for to nighe hym ner;
Albe that I priked my courser
Nighe to the deth thorugh many sondri schaw,
Out of my sight so fer he gan withdrawe,
For al that ever that I sewen myght,
That I anoon lost of hym the sighte
In a wode that Ida bare the name.
And I so feynt gan wexen of that game,
And myn hors on whiche I dide ryde,
Fomyng ful whit upon every syde
And his flankis al with blood disteyned -
In my pursute so sore he was constreyned
With my sporis, scharp and dyed rede -
After the hert so priked I my stede
Now up, now doun, with a ful besy thought;
But my labour availed me right nought,
Til at the last among the bowes glade
Of aventure he caught a plesaunt slade,
Ful smothe and pleyn and lusty for to sene
And soft as welwet was the yonge grene -
Wher fro myn hors I alight as faste
And on a bowe I his reyne cast,
So feynt and maat of werynes I was
That I me laide doun upon the gras,
Upon a brink, schortly for to telle,
Besyde a river and a cristal welle.
And the water, as I reherse can,
Like quiksilver in his stremys ran,
Of whiche the gravel and the brighte stoon
As any gold ageyn the sonne schon.
Wher right anon for verray werynes
A sodeyn slep gan me so oppresse
That fro tyme that I first was born
I never was aslepe so toforn;
And as I ley I hadde a wonder swevene.
For methought highe doun fro hevene
The wynged god wonderful of cher,
Mercuryus, to me dide appere,
Of whom I was first somdel aferde;
For he was girt with his crokyd swerde,
And with hym brought also in his honde
His slepy yerde, plyaunt as a wonde,
With a serpent goyng enviroun.
And at his fete also lowe adoun
Me sempte also that ther stood a cok,
Singyng his houris trewe as any clok.
And to the mouthe of this god Mercurie
Wer pipes sette that songe wonder merye,
Of whiche the soote sugred armonye
Made in myn eris swiche a melodye
That me sempte tho in myn avis
I was ravasched into paradys.
And thus this god, divers of liknes,
More wonderful than I can expresse,
Schewed hymsilf in his apparence
Liche as he is discrived in Fulgence,
In the book of his Methologies,
Wher be rehersed many poysyes
And many liknes, liche as ye may se.
And for to take the moralité,
His longe yerde, right as is a lyne,
Whiche on no syde wrongly may decline,
Signefieth the prudent governaunce
Of discret folke that thorugh her purviaunce
Cast a perel or that it befalle;
And his pipes, loude as any schalle,
That thorugh musik ben entuned trewe
Betokeneth eke, with many lusty hewe,
The sugred dites by gret excellence
Of rethorik and of eloquence,
Of whiche this god is sovereyn and patroun;
And of this cok the soote lusty soun
That justly kepeth the houris of the night
Is outerly th'avise inward sight
Of swiche as voide by waker dilligence
Oute of her court slouthe and necligence;
And his swerd, whiche croketh so ageyn,
That is nat forget nor ymade in veyn,
Is to revoke to the righte weye
Swiche as wrongly fro trouthe do forveye;
And the serpent, whiche that I of tolde,
Whiche wrinkled is, as ye may beholde,
Upon the yerde and aboute goth,
Signefieth that falshede wood and wroth
Lith in aweyt by many sleighty weye,
With his gynnes trouthe to werreye.
And this god, of elloquence kyng,
Brought with hym eke in his commyng
Cithera, whom loveres serve,
Juno, and Pallas, that callid is Minerve.
And this Venus, her legis to delite,
Aboute hir hed hadde dowes white,
With loke benigne and eyen deboneyre,
Ay flikeryng with snowy wyngys fayre,
For to declare schortly in sentence
By the dowes verray innocence
Of hem in love that but trouthe mene,
And that her grounde schulde honest be and clene,
Itokenyd is, clerly be witnes,
Without soillyng or any unclennes;
And the fairnes of the roses rede,
That in somer so lustyly do sprede
And in wynter of her colour fade,
Signyfieth the hertly thoughtis glade
Of yonge folkis that ben amerous,
Fervent in hope, and inly desyrous,
Whan love gynneth in her hertis flour
Til longe proces maketh hem to lour
With the wynter of unweldy age,
That lust is pallid and dullid with the rage
Of febilnes whan somer is agoon,
As folkys knowe, I trowe mo than on;
And therfor Venus fleteth in a se
To schewe the trowble and adversité
That is in love and his stormy lawe,
Whiche is beset with many sturdy wawe,
Now calm, now rowe, whoso taketh hede,
And hope assailled ay with sodeyn drede.
And next Venus, Pallas I behelde,
With hir spere and hir cristal schelde
And a raynbowe rounde aboute hir hed,
That of colour was grene, blew, and red;
And aforn hir, as I can discryve,
Sche growyng had a grene fresche olyve;
And theruppon with his browes fowle
In the brawnchis I sawe sitte an owle.
And first the scheld of Pallas the goddes
Signified, as I can expresse,
In vertu force, by manly highe diffence
Ageyns vices to maken resistence;
And hir spere, scharp and kene grounde,
By just rygour was forged to confounde
Hem that be false and to putte abake;
And for that mercy schal medle with the wrak,
The schaft in soth schave was ful pleyn,
List merciles that right ne wrought in veyn;
And after werre to make a ful reles
Ther was the olyve that betokneth pes;
The owle also, so odyous at al,
That songis singeth at festis funeral
Declareth pleynly the fyn of every glorie
Is only deth, who hath it in memorie;
And the raynbow grene, red, and pers
Signifieth the changis ful divers
That ofte falle in werre and bataille,
Now to wynne and sodeynly to faille,
Now stable as blew, chaunging now as grene;
For Pallas pley is alwey meynt with tene.
And alderlast, as I have in mynde,
With hir nymphes Juno cam behynde,
Whiche of custom, as Fulgense tellis,
Abide in flodis and in depe wellis.
And this Juno, as poetis seyn,
A mayden is and of frute bareyn;
And the pecok to this fresche quene
Isacrid is with his fetheris schene,
Splayed abrod as a large sail
With Argus eyen enprented in his tail.
The water rennyng in river and in flood
Is the labour that men have for good,
The grete trouble and the besynes
That day and nyght thei suffre for ryches;
That who that ever in this flodis rowe,
Lat hym be war, for ay after the flowe
Of nature, right as it is dewe,
Folwyng the mone ther mote an ebbe sewe;
The moste drede is ay uppon the fulle,
List Fortune the fresche fetheris pulle
Of riche folke that schyne in gold so schene,
Sith sche of chaunge lady is and quene.
And Argus eyen that ar sette behynde
In nygard hertis be oft sythes blynde,
Whiche nat adverte of goodis to the ende,
That liche an ebbe sodeynly wil wende,
Whyche thei no thing consydren in her sight;
For as the faire lusty fetheris bright
Of a pecok unwarly falle awey,
Right so riches schortly at a day
Wiln her maister sodeynly forsake,
Seyn adieu, and her leve take.
And as Juno bareyn is of frute,
Right so nakid, bare, and destitute
Ar thes gredy hertis covetous,
Whiche to gadre ben so desyrous
That in nothing can have sufficiaunce;
The fret of drede hem putte in swiche meschaunce,
Ymagenyng that the world wil faille;
And in her fere ageyn the wynd thei saille
Til attonys thei mote go ther fro.
And thus of good ay the fyn is wo,
Namly of hem that so pynche and spare:
For this no drede, as clerkis can declare,
The frute of good is to spende large;
And who is manful, set but litel charge
To parte frely his tresour in comoune,
Whan he discretly seth tyme oportune.
He hath no joye to put his good in mwe;
For an hert that fredam list t |