This aforesaid Affrikan me hent anone,
And forthwith him to a gate brought,
Right of a parke, walled with grene stone,
And over the gate, with letters large iwrought,
There were verse ywritten as me thought
On either halfe, of full great difference,
Of which I shall you say the playne sentence:

"Through me men gon into the blisful place Of hertes heale and dedly wounds cure, Through me men gon into the well of grace, There grene and lusty May shall ever endure, This is the way to all good auenture,

Be glad thou reader, and thy sorow off cast, All open am I, passe in and spede thee fast."

[side)

"Through me men gon" (than spake the other
"Unto the mortall strokes of the speare,
Of which disdaine and danger is the gide,
There never tree shall fruit ne leaves beare,
This streme you ledeth to the sorowful were,
There as the fish in pryson is all dry,
The eschewing is onely the remedy."

These verses of gold and asure ywritten weare,
Of which I gan astonied to behold,
For with that one encreased all my feare,
And with that other gan my herte to bold,
That one me het, that other did me cold,
No wit had I for errour for to chese,
To enter or flie, or me to save or lese.

Right as betwene adamants two,
Of even weight, a peece of yron set
Ne hath no might to move to ne fro,
For what that one may hale that other let,
So fared I, that I nist where me was bet
To entre or leave, till Affrikan my gide,
Me hent and shove in at the gates wide.
And said, "It standeth written in thy face,
Thine errour, though thou tell it not me,
But dread thee not to come into this place,
For this writing is nothing meant by thee,
Ne by none, but he Loves servaunt bee,
For thou of love hast lost thy tast I gesse,
As sicke man hath, of swete and bitternesse.

"But natheles, although thou be dull,
That thou canst not doe, yet mayst thou see,
For many a man that may not stand a pull,
Yet liketh it him at the wrestlyng for to be,
And demeth yet, whether he doe bet, or he,
And if thou haddest connyng for tendite,
I shall thee shew matter of to write."

And with that my hand in his he toke anon,
Of which I comfort caught, and went in fast,
But Lord so I was glad, and well begon,
For ouer all, where I mine iyen cast,
Were trees clad with leaues, that aie shal last
Eche in his kind, with colour fresh and grene,
As emeraude, that joy it was to sene.

The bilder oke, and eke the hardy asshe,
The piller elme, the coffre vnto caraine,
The boxe pipe tree, holme to whips lasshe,
The sailing firre, the cipres death to plaine,
The shooter ewe, the aspe for shaftes plaine,
The oliue of peace, aud eke the dronken vine,
The victor palme, the laurer to diuine.

A gardein saw I, full of blosomed bowis,
Upon a river, in a grene mede,
There as sweetnesse euermore inough is,
With floures white, blewe, yelowe, and red,
And cold welle streames, nothing dede,
That swommen full of smale fishes light,
With finnes rede, and scales silver bright.

On every bough the birdes heard I sing,
With voice of angell, in hir armonie,
That busied hem, hir birdes forth to bring,
The little pretty conies to hir play gan hie,
And further all about I gan espie,
The dredful roe, the buck, the hart, and hind,
Squirrels, and beasts small, of gentle kind.

Of instruments of stringes in accord,
Heard I so play, a ravishing swetnesse,
That God, that maker is of all and Lorde,
Ne heard never better, as I gesse,
Therewith a wind, unneth it might be lesse,
Made in the leaves grene a noise soft,
Accordant to the foules song on loft.

The aire of the place so attempre was,
That never was ther greuance of hot ne cold
There was eke every holsome spice and gras,
Ne no man may there waxe sicke ne old,
Yet was there more joy o thousand fold,
Than I can tell or ever could or might,
There is ever clere day, and never night,

Under a tree, beside a well I sey
Cupide our lorde, his arrowes forge and file,
And at his feete his bowe already lay,
And well his doughter tempred all the while
The heddes in the well, with her wile
She couched hem after, as they should serve
Some to slea, and some to wound and carve.

Tho was I ware of Pleasaunce anon right,
And of Array, Lust, Beauty, and Curtesie,
And of the Craft, that can hath the might
To done by force, a wight to done folie:
Disfigured was she, I will not lie,
And by himselfe, vnder an oke I gesse,
Sawe I Delite, that stood with Gentlenesse.

Than saw I Beauty, with a nice attire,
And Youth, full of game and jolitee,
Foole Hardinesse, Flatterie, and Desire,
Messagerie, Mede, and other three,
Hir names shall not here be told for me,
And vpon pillers great of jasper long,
I sawe a temple of brasse ifounded strong.
And about the temple daunced alway
Women inow, of which some there were
Faire of hemself, and some of hem were gay,
In kirtils all disheueled went they there,
That was their office euer, fro yere to yere,
And on the temple, saw I white and faire,
Of doves sitting many a thousand paire.

And before the temple doore full soberly,
Dame Peace sat, a curtaine in her honde,
And her beside wonder discretly,
Dame Pacience, sitting there I fonde,
With face pale, vpon an hill of sonde,
And alther next, within and without,
Behest and Arte, and of her folke a rout.

Within the temple, of sighes hote as fire,
I heard a swough, that gan about ren,
Which sighes were engendred with desire,
That made euery herte for to bren
Of newe flambe, and well espied I then,
That all the cause of sorowes, that they drie,
Come of the bitter goddess Jalousie.

The god Priapus, saw I as I went

Within the temple, in souerain place stond,
In such array, as whan the asse him shent
With crie by night, and with sceptre in hond,
Full busilie men gan assay and fond,
Upon his hedde to set of sondrie hewe,
Garlandes full of freshe floures newe.

And in a priuie corner, in disport
Found I Venus, and her porter Richesse,
That was full noble, and hauten of her port,
Darke was that place, but after lightnesse
I sawe a lite, vnnethes, it might be lesse,
And on a bed of golde she lay to rest,
Till that the hote Sonne gan to west.

Her gilte heeres, with a gold threde
Ibound were, vntressed as she lay,
And naked from the brest vnto the hede,
Men might her see, and sothly for to say,
The remnaunt, couered well to my pay,
Right with a little kerchefe of Valence,
There was no thicker clothe of defence.

The place gaue a thousand sauours soote,
And Bacchus god of wine sate her beside,
And Ceres next, that doeth of hunger boote,
And as I said, a middes lay Cupide,
To whom on knees, the yong folkes cride,
To be their helpe, but thus I let her lie,
And farther in the temple I gan espie.

That in dispite of Diane the chaste,
Full many a bowe ibroke hing on the wall,
Of maidens, such as gone hir times waste
In her seruice: and painted ouer all,
Of many a storie, of which I touch shall
A fewe, as of Calixte, and Athalant,

And many a maid, of which the name I want.

Semyramus, Candace, and Hercules,
Biblis, Dido, Tisbe, and Piramus,
Tristram, Isoude, Paris, and Achilles,
Helaine, Cleopatre, and Troilus,
Sylla, and eke the mother of Romulus,
All these were paynted on that other side,
And all hir loue, and in what plite they dide.
Whan I was commen ayen into the place
That I of spake, that was so soote and grene,
Forth walked I tho, my seluen to solace,
Tho was I ware, where there sate a quene,
That as of light, the sommer Sunne shene
Passeth the sterre, right so ouer measure,
She fairer was than any creature.

And in a laund, vpon an hill of floures,
Was set this noble goddesse Nature,
Of branches were her halles and her boures
Iwrought, after her craft and her measure,
Ne there nas foul, that cometh of engendrure,
That there ne were prest, in her presence,
To take hir dome, and yeue hir audience.

For this was on sainct Valentines day,
Whan euery foul cometh to chese hir make,
Of euery kind, that men thinke may,
And that so huge a noise gan they make,
That yearth, sea, and tree, and euery lake,
So full was, that vnneth there was space
For me to stand, so full was all the place.

And right as Alaine, in the plaint of kind,
Deuiseth Nature, of such araie and face,
In soche aray, men might her there find.
This noble empresse full of all grace,
Bad euery foule take hir owne place,
As they were wont alway, fro yere to yere,
On sainct Valentines day, standen there.

That is to say, the foules of rauine
Were highest set, and than the foules smale,
That eaten, as that nature would encline,
As worme or thing, of which I tell no tale,
But water foule sat lowest in the dale,
And foules that liueth by seed sat on the grene,
And that so many, that wonder was to sene.

There might men the royall egle find,
That with his sharpe looke perseth the Son,
And other egles of a lower kind,

Of which that clerkes well deuisen con,
There was the tyrant with his fethers don,
And grene, I mean the goshauke that doth pine
To birdes, for his outragious rauine.

The gentle faucon, that with his fete distreineth
The kings hand, the hardy sperhauke eke,
The quales foe, the merlion that peineth
Himself full oft the larke for to seke,
There was the doue, with her iyen meke,
The jelous swan, ayenst his deth that singeth,
The oul eke, that of deth the bode bringeth.

The crane, the geant, with his tromps soune,
The theif the chough, and the chattring pie,
The scorning jaie, the eles foe the heroune,
The false lapwing, full of trecherie,

The stare, that the counsaile can bewrie,
The tame ruddocke, and the coward kite,
The cocke, that horiloge is of thropes lite.
The sparow Venus son, and the nightingale
That cleapeth forth the fresh leaues new,
The swalow, murdrer of the bees smale,
That maken honie of floures fresh of hew,
The wedded turtell, with his herte true,
The pecocke, with his angel fethers bright,
The fesaunt, scorner of the cocke by night.

The waker gose, the cuckowe euer vnkind,
The popingeie, full of delicasie,
The drake, stroier of his owne kind,
The storke, wreker of aduoutrie,
The hote cormeraunt, ful of glotonie,

The rauin and the crowe, with her voyce of care,
The trostell old, and the frostie feldfare.

What should I say of fouls of euery kind,
That in this world haue fethers and stature,
Men might in that place assembled find,
Before that noble goddess of Nature,
And eche of them did his busie cure,
Benignely to chese, or for to take

By her accorde, his formell or his make.

But to the poinct, Nature held on her hond,
A formell egle, of shape the gentillest,
That euer she among her workes fond,
The most benigne, and eke the goodliest,
In her was euery vertue, at his rest

So farforth, that Nature her selfe had blisse,
To looke on her, and oft her beeke to kisse.

Nature, the vicare of the almightie Lord,
That hote, colde, heuie, light, moist, and drie,
Hath knit, by euen number of accord,
In easie voice, began to speake and say,
"Foules take hede of my sentence I pray,
And for your own ease, in fordring of your need,
As fast as I may speak, I will me speed.

"Ye know wel, how on S. Valentines day,
By my statute, and through my gouernance,
Ye doe chese your makes, and after flie away
With hem, as I pricke you with pleasaunce,
But nathelesse, as by rightfull ordinaunce,
May I not let, for all this world to win,
But he that most worthiest is, shall begin.

"The tercell egle, as ye know full wele,
The foule royall, aboue you all in degre,
The wise and worthie, the secret true as stele,
The which I haue formed, as ye may see,
In euery parte, as it best liketh mee,
It nedeth not his shape you to devise,
He shall first chese, and speaken in his gise.

"And after him, by order shall ye chese,
After your kind, euerich as you liketh,
And as your hap is, shall ye win or lese,
But which of you, that loue most entriketh,
God sende him ber, that sorest for him siketh:"
And therewithall, the tercell gan she call,
And said, "My sonne the choise is to thee fall.

"But nathelesse, in this condicion

Must be the choice, of eueriche that is here,
That she agree to his election,

Who so he be, that should been her fere,
This is our vsage alway, fro yere to yere,
And who so may at this time haue his grace,
In blisfull time he came into this place."

With hed enclined, and with ful humble chere,
This roial tercell spake, and taried nought,
"Unto my soueraine lady, and not my fere,
I chose and chese, with will, herte, and thought,
The formell on your hand, so wel iwrought,
Whose I am all, and euer will her serue,
Doe what her luste, to doe me liue or sterue.

"Besechyng her of mercy, and of grace,
As she that is my ladie soverain,
Or let me die here present in this place,
For certes long may I not liue in pain,
For in my herte is coruen euery vain,
Hauing regard onely to my trouth,
My dere herte, haue on my wo some routh.

"And if I be found to her vntrue,
Disobeisaunt, or wilfull negligent,
Auauntour, or in processe loue a newe,
I pray to you this be my judgement,
That with these foules I be all to rent,
That ilke day that she me euer find
To her vatrue, or in my gilte vnkind.

"And sith that none loueth her so well as I,
Although she neuer of loue me behet,
Than ought she be mine through her mercy,
For other bonde can I none on her knet:
For well nor wo neuer shall I let

To serue her, how farre so that she wende,
Say what you list, my tale is at an ende."

Right as the fresh redde rose newe,
Against the sommer Sunne coloured is,
Right so for shame all waxen gan the hewe
Of this formell, whan she heard all this,
Neither she answerde well, ne said amis,
So sore abashed was she, till that Nature
Said, "Doughter drede you not, I you assure."

Another tercell egle spake anon,

Of lower kind, and said "That should not be,
I loue her better than ye doe, by sainct John,
Or at the least I loue her as well as ye,
And lenger haue serued her in my degree,
And if she should haue loued for long louing,
To me alone had be the guerdoning.

"I dare eke say, if she me finde false,
Unkind jangler, or rebell in any wise,
Or jelous, doe me hang by the halse,
And but I beare me in her seruise
As well as my wit can me suffise,
Fro poinct to poinct, her honour for to saue,
Take she my life, and all the good I haue."

The third tercell egle answerde tho,
"Now sirs, ye see the little leaser here,
For euery foule crieth out to be ago
Forth with his make, or with his lady dere:
And eke Nature her self ne will not here
For tarying her, not half that I would sey,
And but I speake, I must for sorrow dey.

"Of long seruice auaunt I me nothing,
But as possible is me to die to day,
For wo, as he that hath be languishing
This twenty winter, and wel it happen may,
A man may serve better, and more to pay,
In half a year, although it were no more,
Than some man doth, that hath served full yore.

"I ne say not this by me, for I ne can
Do no service that may my lady please,
But I dare say, I am her trewest man,
As to my dome, and fainest wold her please:
At short wordes, till that death me cease,
I will be hers, whether I wake or winke,
And trewe in all that herte may bethinke."

Of al my life sith that day I was borne,
So gentle plee in love or other thing,
Ne herde never no man me beforne,
Who so that had leiser and conning

For to rehearse their chere, and their speaking,
And from the morrow gan this spech last,
Till downward went the Sunne wonder fast.

The noyse of foules for to be deliverd,
So loude rang, "Have don and let vs wend,"
That well weend I, the wood had al to shiverd
"Come off" they cryd, "alas, ye will us shend,
Whan shal your cursed pleding have an end,
How should a judge either party leue,
For ye or nay, without any preue?"

The goos, the duck, and the cuckow also,
So cried "Keke, keke, Cuckow, Queke queke hie,"
Through mine cares the noise went tho.
The goos said than "Al this nys worth a flie,
But I can shape hereof a remedie,

And will say my verdite, faire and swithe,
For water foule, whoso be wroth or blithe."

"And I for worm foule," said the fole cuckow "For I will of mine own authorite,

For common spede, take on me the charge now,
For to deliver us, it is great charite."
"Ye may abide a while, yet perde,"
(Quod the turtel)" if it be your will,
A wight may speak, it were as good be still.

"I am a sede foule, one the vnworthiest,
That wote I well, and leest of conning,
But better is that a wights tonge rest,
Than entremete him of such doing
Of which he neither rede can nor sing,
And who so it doth, full foule himself acloyeth,
For office vncommitted oft annoyeth."

Nature, which that alway bad an eare,
To murmure of the lewdenesse behind,
With facond voice said, "Hold your tongues there,
And I shall soone, I hope, a counsaile find,
You for to deliver, and fro this noyse unbind:
I charge of euery flock ye shall one call,
To say the verdite of you foules all."

Assented were to this conclusion,
The birdes all: and foules of ravine
Have chosen first by plaine election,
The tercelet of the faucon to define

All bir sentence, and as him lust to termine,
And to Nature him they did present,
And she accepteth him with glad entent.

The tercelet said than in this manere,
"Full hard it were to preve it by reason,
Who loueth best this gentle formell here,
For everich hath such replicatioun,
That by skils may none be brought adoun,
I cannot see that arguments availe,
Than seemeth it there must be battaile."

"All ready" (quod these eagle tercels tho :)
"Nay sirs" (quod he) " if that I durst it say,
Ye do me wrong, my tale is not ydo:
For sirs, taketh nat a greefe I pray,
It may not be as ye would, in this way,
Ours is the voice, that have the charge in hand,
And to the judges dome ye must stand.
"And therefore peace I say, as to my wit,
Me would thinke, how that the worthiest
Of knighthood, and lengest had vsed it,
Most of estate, of blood the gentillest,
Were fitting for her, if that her lest,

And of these three, she wote her selfe I trow
Which that he be, for it is light to know."

The water foules have their heads laid
Togider, and of short avisement,
Whan everiche had this verdite said,
They said soothly all by one assent,
How that the goos, with the facond gent,
That so desireth to pronounce our nede,
Shal tel her tale, and praid to God her spede.

And for these water foules tho began
The goose to speake, and in her cakeling,
She said, "Peace now, take keep every mats,
And herken which a reason I shall forth bring,
My witte is sharpe, I love no tarrying,

I say I rede him, tho he were my brother,
But she will love him, let him love another."

"Lo here a parfite reason of a goose" (Quod the sperhauke)

66 neuer mote she thee, Lo such a thing it is to have a tongue lose: Now parde foole, yet were it better for thee Haue held thy peace, than shewd thy nicete, It lieth nat in his wit, nor in his will, But sooth is said, a fool cannot be still."

The laughter arose of gentill foules all,
And right anone the seed foules chosen had
The turtle true, and gan her to hem call,
And prayed her to say the sooth sad
Of this matter, aud asked what she rad?
And she answerd, that plainly her entent
She would shew, and soothly what she ment.

"Nay, God forbede a lover should chaunge,"
The turtle said (and wex for shame all red)
"Though that his lady evermore be straunge,
Yet let him serve her alway, till he be deed,
Forsooth, I praise not the gooses reed,
For tho she died, I would none other make,
I will be hers, till that the death me take."

"Well ybourded" (quod the duck) "by my hat,
That men should love alway causelesse,
Who can a reason find, or wit in that,
Daunceth he merry that is mirthlesse,
Who should recke of that is retchlesse,

Ye queke yet," quod the duck, "full well and fair,
There be mo sterres in the skie than a pair."

"Now fie churle," quod the gentle tercelet, "Out of the dunghill came that word aright, Thou canst not see which thing is well beset, Thou farest by love as owles do by light,

The day hem blindeth, full well they see by night, Thy kind is of so low wretchedness,

That what love is, thou canst not se nor gess."

Tho gan the cuckow put him forth in preace,
For foule that eateth worme, and said bliue:
"So I," quod he, "may have my make in peace,
I retch not how long that ye strive,
Let ech of hem be soleine all hir live,
This is my rede, sens they may nat accord,
This short lesson needeth not record."

Ye, have the glutton filde his pauuch,
Than are we well," said the emerlon,
"Thou murdrer of the heysugge on the braunch
That brought thee forth, thou ruful glutton,
Live thou solein, wormes corruption,

For no force is of lack of thy nature,

Go, leud be thou while the world may dure."

"Now peace," quod Nature, "I commaund here, For I have heard all your opinion,

And in effect yet be we neuer the nere,

But finally, this is my conclusion,

That she her selfe shall have her election
Of whom her list, who so be wrothe or blithe,
Him that she cheseth, he shall her haue as swithe.

"For sith it may not here discussed be
Who loveth her best, as said the tercelet,
Than woll I done this favour to her, that she
Shall have right him, on whom her herte is set,
And be her, that his herte hath on her knet,
This iudge I nature, for I may not lie
To none estate, I have none other eye..

"But as for counsaile, for to chuse a make,
If I were reason, than would I
Counsaile you, the royal tercell take,
As said the tercelet, full skilfully,
As for the gentillest, and most worthy,
Which I have wroght so wel to my plesaunce
That to you it ought ben a suffisaunce."

With dredeful voice that formel her answerd,
My rightful lady, goddess of Nature,
Sooth is, that I am ever under your yerd,
As is everich other creature,

And must be yours while my life may dure,
And therefore graunt me my first boone,
And mine entent, you woll I say right soone."

"I graunt it you," quod she, and right anone
This formel eagle spake in this degree:
"Almighty quene, unto this year be done
I aske respite for to avisen mee,

And after that to have my choice all free,
This all and some, that I would speak and sey,
Ye get no more, although ye do me dey.

"I woll not seruen Venus ne Cupide,
Forsooth as yet, by no manner way."
"Now sens it may none other ways betide"
(Quod Nature)" here is no more to say,
Than would I that these foules were away,
Ech with his make, for tarying lenger here,"
And said hem thus, as ye shall after here.

"To you speke I, ye tercelets" (quod Nature)
"Beth of good herte, and serveth all three,
A yeare is not so long to endure,
And ech of you paine him in his degree,
For to do well, for God wote quit is she
Fro you this year, what after so befall,
This entremes is dressed for you all."

And whan this werk brought was to an end,
To every foule Nature yave his make,
By even accord, and on hir way they wend,
And Lord the blisse and joy that they make,
For ech of hem gan other in his wings take,
And with hir neckes ech gan other wind,
Thanking alway the noble goddess of kind.

But first were chosen foules for to sing,
As yerc by yere was alway hir vsaunce,
To sing a roundel at hir departing,
To do Nature honour and pleasaunce,
The note I trow maked was in Fraunce,
The words were such, as ye may here find,
The next verse, as I now have in mind.

Qui bien ayme tard oublye.

"Now welcome summer, with thy sunnes soft,
That hast this winter weathers overshake,
Saint Valentine, thou art full bigh on loft,
Which driuest away the long nights blake,
Thus singen smale foules for thy sake,
Well have they cause for to gladen oft,
Sens each of hem recovered hath his make,
Full blisful may they sing whan they awake."

And with the shouting whan hir song was do,
That the foules made at hir flight away,

I woke, and other bookes took me to
To rede upon, and yet I rede alway,
I hope ywis to rede so some day,
That I shall mete something for to fare
The bet, and thus to rede I nill not spare.

EXPLICIT.

OF

QUEEN ANNELIDA AND FALSE ARCITE.

Arcite a Theban knight, forsaketh queen Annelida, who loved him intirely, and taketh a new lady: whereupon Annelida maketh this great com. plaint.

"O THOU fiers God of armes Mars the rede,
That in thy frosty countrey called Thrace,
Within thy grisly temples full of drede,
Honoured art as patrone of that place,
With the Bellona, Pallas full of grace,
Be present, and my song continue and gie,
At my beginning thus to thee I cry.

"For it full depe is sonken in minde, With pitous herte in English to endite, This old story, in Latine which I finde, Of queene Annelida and false Arcite, That elde, which all can frete and bite, And it hath freten many a noble story, Hath nigh devoured out of our memory.

"Be favourable eke thou Polimnia
On Pernaso that hath thy sisters glade,
By Elicon, not far from Cirsa,
Singest with voice memorial in the shade,
Under the laurer, which that may not fade,
And doe that I my ship to haven winne,
First follow I Stace, and after him Corinne.

Jamque domos patrias Cithia post aspera gentis,
Prælia laurigeo subeuntem Thesea curru,
Lætifici plausus missusque ad sidera vulgi, &c.

Whan Theseus with warres long and great,
The aspre folke of Cithe had ouercome,
The laurer crowned in his chaire gold beat,
Home to his country houses is ycome,
For which the people blisful all and some,
So criden, that to the sterres it went,
And him to honouren did all hir entent.

Before this duke in sign of victory,
The trompes come, and in his baner large,
The image of Mars, and in token of glory,
Men might see of treasure many a charge,
Many a bright helm, and many a spere and targe,
Many a fresh knight, and many a blisful rout,
On horse and on foot, in all the field about.