Of instruments of stringes in accorde
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 grevance 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 slee, 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 and hath the might
To don by force a wight to don folie :
Disfigured was she, I will not lie,
And by himselfe, under 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 upon pillers great of jasper long,
I sawe a temple of brasse yfounded 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 disheveled went they there,
That was their office ever, 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, upon 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 every 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 soverain place stond,
In such array, as whan the asse him shent
With crie by night, and with sceptre in honde;
Full busilie men gan assay and fonde,
Upon his hedde to set of sondrie hewe,
Garlandes full of freshe floures newe.

And in a privie corner, in disport
Found I Venus, and her porter Richesse,
That was full noble and hautein of her port;
Darke was that place, but after lightnesse
I sawe a lite, unnethes 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
Ybound were, untressed as she lay,
And naked from the brest unto the hede,
Men might her see, and sothly for to saie,
The remnaunt, covered well to my paie,
Right with a little kerchefe of Valence,
There was no thicker clothe of defence.

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

That in dispite of Diane the chaste,
Full many a bowe y broke hing on the wall,
Of maidens, such as gone hir times waste
In her service and painted over 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 love, 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 selven to solace,
Tho was I ware, where there sate a quene,
That as of light the sommer Sunne shene
Passeth the sterre, right so over mesure,
She fairer was than any creature.

And in a launde, upon an hill of floures,
Was set this noble goddesse Nature,
Of branches were her halles and her boures
Ywrought, after her craft and her mesure,
Ne there n'as foul that cometh of engendrure,
That there ne were prest in her presence,
To take hir dome and yeve hir audience.

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

And right as Alain, in the Plaint of Kinde,
Deviseth Nature of such araie and face,
In suche aray men might her there finde.
This noble empresse full of all grace,
Bad every 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 ravine
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 liveth 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 devisen con;
There was the tyrant with his fethers don,
And grene, I mean the goshauke that doth pine
To birdes, for his outragious ravine.

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

The crane, the geaunt, with his trompes soune,
The thief the chough, and the chattring pie,
The scorning jaye, 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 thorpes lite.

The sparowe Venus' son, and the nightingale
That clepeth forth the fresh leaves new,
The swalowe, 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 ever unkind,
The popingey, full of delicasy,
The drake, stroier of his owne kind,
The storke, wreker of aduoutry,
The hote cormeraunt, ful of glotony,

The ravin and the crowe, with her voice of care,
The throstell olde, and the frostie feldefare.

What should I say? of foules of every kind,
That in this world have 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 point: Nature held on her hond,
A formell egle, of shape the gentillest,
That ever she among her workes fond,
The most benigne, and eke the goodliest,
In her was every vertue, at his rest

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

"Ye knowe wel, how on Saint Valentines day,
By my statute, and through my governance,
Ye do 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, above you all in degre,
The wise and worthie, the secret true as stele,
The which I have formed, as ye may see,
In every parte as it best liketh mee,
It nedeth not his shape you to devise,
He shall first chese, and speken in his gise.

"And after him, by order shall ye chese,
After your kind, everiche as you liketh,
And as your hap is, shall ye win or lese,
But which of you that love most entriketh,
God sende him her 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 everiche that is here,
That she agree to his election,

Who so he be, that should been her fere,
This is our usage alway, fro yere to yere,
And who so may at this time have 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 soveraine lady, and not my fere,
I chose and chese, with will, herte, and thought,
The formell on your hand, so wel ywrought,
Whose I am all, and ever will her serve,
Doe what her luste, to doe me live or sterve.
"Besechyng her of mercy, and of grace,
As she that is my ladie soveraine,
Or let me die here present in this place,
For certes long may I not live in paine,
For in my herte is corven every vaine,
Having regard onely to my trouth,
My dere herte, have on my wo some routh.
"And if I be found to her untrue,
Disobeisaunt, or wilfull negligent,
Avauntour, or in processe love 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 ever find
To her untrue, or in my gilte unkind.
"And sith that none loveth her so well as I,
Although she never of love me behet,
Than ought she be mine through her mercy,
For other bonde can I none on her knet:
For wele nor wo never shall I let

To serve 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 rot, I you assure.”

Another tercell egle spake anon,

Of lower kind, and said, "That should not he,
I love her better than ye doe, by saint John,
Or at the least, I love her as well as ye,
And lenger have served her in my degree,
And if she should have loved for long loving,
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 servise
As well as my wit can me suffise,

Fro point to point, her honour for to save,
Take she my life, and all the good I have.”

The third tercell egle answerde tho,
"Now sirs, ye see the little leaser here,
For every 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 service avaunt 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 wolde 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;
Aud 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 us 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 leve,
For ye or nay, without any preve?"

The goos, the duck, and the cuckowe also,
So cried "Keke, keke, Cuckow, Queke, queke, hie,"
Through mine eares the noise went tho.
The goos said than " Al this n'is 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 unworthiest,
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 uncommitted oft annoyeth."

Nature, which that alway had 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 every 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 hir 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 loveth 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 used 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 man,
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) "never mote she the,
Lo, such a thing it is to have a tongue lose :
Now parde foole, yet were it better for the
Have held thy peace than shewd thy nicete;
It lieth nat in his wit, nor in his will,
But sooth is said, a fole cannot be still."

A A

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, and 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 see nor gess."

Tho gan the cuckow put him forth in preace,
For foule that eateth worme, and said blive:
"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 paunch 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, leude be thou while the world may dure."

"Now peace," quod Nature, "I commaunde here,
For I have heard all your opinion,
And in effect yet be we never 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 have 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 he her, that his herte hath on her knet ;
This judge 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 formei 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 you do me dey.

"I woll not serven Venus ne Cupide,
Forsooth as yet, by no maner 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 winde,
Thanking alway the noble goddess of kinde.

But first were chosen foules for to sing,
As yere by yere was alway hir usaunce,
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 high on loft,
Which drivest 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.

In May, whan Flora the fresh lusty quene,
The soile hath cladde in grene, red, and whight,
And Phebus gan to shede his stremes shene
Amidde the Bulle, with all the beames bright,
And Lucifer to chace away the night,
Ayen the morow our orizont hath take,
To bid all lovers out of hir slepe awake.

And hertes heavy for to recomfort
From drerihed of heavy night sorowe,
Nature bad hem rise and hem disport
Ayen the goodly glad grey morowe,
And Hope also, with saint Johan to borowe,
Bad, in dispite of daunger and dispaire,
For to take the holsome lusty aire.

And with a sigh, I gan for to abreide
Out of my slumber, and sodainly up starte,
As he (alas) that nigh for sorow deide,
My sicknesse sate aye so nie my herte;
But for to finde succour of my smart,
Or at the least some release of my peine,
That me so sore halte in every veine.

I rose anone, and thought I woulde gone
Into the woode, to heare the birdes sing,
Whan that the misty vapour was agone,
And cleare and faire was the morning,
The dewe also like silver in shining
Upon the leaves, as any baume swete,
Till firy Titan with his persant hete

Had dried up the lusty licour new
Upon the herbes in the grene mede,
And that the floures of many divers hew,
Upon hir stalkes gon for to sprede,
And for to splay out hir leves in brede
Againe the Sunne, gold burned in his spere,
That doune to hem cast his beames clere.

And by a river forth I gan costay,
Of water clere as birell or cristall,
Till at the last, I found a little way
Toward a parke, enclosed with a wall
In compace rounde, and by a gate small
Who so that would might freely gone
Into this parke, walled with grene stone.

And in I went to heare the birdes song,
Which on the braunches, both in plaine and vale,
So loud sang that all the wood rong,
Like as it should shiver in peeces smale
And, as me thought, that the nightingale
With so great might her voice gan out wrest,
Right as her herte for love would brest.

The soile was plaine, smoth, and wonder soft,
All oversprad with tapettes that Nature
Had made her selfe: covered eke aloft
With bowes greene the floures for to cure,
That in hir beauty they may long endure
From all assaut of Phebus fervent fere,
Which in his sphere so hote shone and clere.

The aire attempre, and the smothe wind
Of Zepherus, among the blosomes white,
So holsome was, and so nourishing by kind,
That smale buddes and round blosomes lite
In maner gan of hir brethe delite,
To yeve us hope there fruite shall take
Ayenst autumne redy for to shake.

I saw the Daphene closed under rinde,
Greene laurer, and the holsome pine,
The mirre also that wepeth ever of kinde,
The cedres hie, upright as a line,
The filbert eke, that lowe doth encline
Her bowes grene to the earth adoun,
Unto her knight called Demophoun.

There sawe I eke the freshe hauthorne
In white motley, that so swote doth smell,
Ashe, firre, and oke, with many a yong acorn,
And many a tree mo than I can tell,
And me beforne I sawe a little well,
That had his course, as I gan beholde,
Under an hill, with quicke stremes colde.

The gravel gold, the water pure as glasse,
The bankes round the well environyng,
And soft as velvet the yonge grasse
That thereupon lustely came springyng,
The sute of trees about compassyng,
Hir shadow cast, closing the well round,
And all the herbes growing on the ground.

The water holsome was, and so vertuous,
Through might of herbes growing beside,
Not like the welle where as Narcissus
Yslaine was, through vengeaunce of Cupide,
Where so covertly he did hide

The graine of death upon eche brinke,
That death mote folow who that ever drinke.

Ne like the pitte of the Pegace,
Under Pernaso, where poets slept,
Nor like the welle of pure chastite,
Which that Diane with her nimphes kept
Whan she naked into the water lepte,
That slowe Acteon with her hondes fell,
Onely for he came so nigh the well.