FROM CONFESSIO AMANTIS.

THE OLD TIME AND THE NEW.

If I shall draw into my mind
The timè passèd, then I find
The world stood in all his1 wealth.
Then was the life of man in health;
Then was plenty, then was richesse;
Then was the fortune of prowesse;
Then was knight-hood in pris2 by name,
Whereof the wide worldès3 fame,
Writ in croniques, is yet withhold.+
Justice of lawes then was hold ;5
The privilege of regalie

Was safe; and all the baronie
Worshipped was in his1 estate.
The cities knewen no debate;
The people stood in obeisance
Under the rule of governance;
And Peace, with Rightwisnessè kest,
With Charity then stood in rest.
Of mannès heartè the courage
Was shewèd then in the visàge;
The word was like to the conceit,
Withoutè semblaunt of deceit.
Then was there unenvièd love;
Then was virtue set above,
And vice was put under foot.

Now stant1o the crop11 under the root;
The world is changed over all,

And thereof most in special

That love is fallen into discord.

Prologue.

THE VAINGLORIOUS LOVER.

Confessor. The proud vice of vainglory
Remembreth nought of purgatory;
His worldès joyes been so great
Him thinketh heaven no begete.12

1 Its (old form). Maintained.

2 Prized.

6 Ruling.

3 World-wide.

7 Nobility.

4 Retained.

8 Kissed.

This lifès pomp is all his peace;
Yet shall he die nevertheless;
And thereof thinketh he but lite ;1
For all his lust is to delight
In newè thingès proud and vain,
As far forth as he may attain.
I trow, if that he mightè make
His body new, he wolde take
A newè form and leave his old:
For, what thing that he may behold,
The which to common use is strange,
Anon, his oldè guise to change
He woll, and fallè thereupon
Like unto the chamelion;
Which, upon every sundry hue
That he beholt,2 he mote renew
His colour, and thus unavised
Full oftè time he stant3 disguised
More jolif than the bird in May.
He maketh him ever fresh and gay,
And doth all his array disguise,
So that of him the newè guise
Of lusty folk all other take.1
And ekè he can carols make,
Roundel, balad, and virelay."
And with all this, if that he may
Of love get him the avauntage,
Anon he wexth of his courage
So over-glad that of his end

He thinketh there is no death comend.

For he hath then at allè tide9

Of love such a manner pride10

Him thinketh his joy is endeless.

Book I.

1 Little.

THE JEALOUS LOVER.

Lover. My Father, yea, a thousand sithe11

When I have seen another blithe

Of love, and had a goodly cheer,"

Etna, which burneth year by year,

4 All other lusty folk

6 Success in love.

2 Beholdeth.
imitate his new fashions.
7 Is waxed in spirit.

3 Standeth.

5 Rounds and part songs. 8 Coming.

Was thennè not so hot as I

Of thilkè sore which privily

Mine heartès thought withinne brenneth.
The ship which on the wavès renneth,
And is forstormèd and forblowe,1
Is not more painèd for a throwe?
Than I am thennè when I see
Another which that passeth me
In that fortune of Lovès gift . . .
But this ye may right well believe,
Toward my lady that I serve,
Though that I wistè for to sterve,3
Mine heart is full of such folly
That I myself may nought chasty.1
When I the court see of Cupide
Approach unto my lady side
Of them that lusty been and fresh,
Though it avail them nought a resh,5
But only that they been of speech,
My sorrow then is not to seech;"
But, when they rounen in her ear,
Then groweth all my mostè fear;
And, namely, when they talen long,
My sorrow thennè be so strong,
Of that I see them well at ease,
I can nought tellè my disease.
But, sire, as of 10 my lady-selve,
Though she have wooers ten or twelve,
For no mistrust I have of her
Me grieveth nought."1

13

8

But netheless I am beknow12
That when I see at any throw,"
Or else if that I may it hear,
That she make any man good cheer,
Though I thereof have nought to doon,14
My thought woll entermetel him soon.
For, though I be myselven strange,"
Envy maketh mine heart to change,
That I am sorrowfully bestad1
Of that I see another glad

16

1 Storm-driven and blown about.

3 Though I knew I should die.

6 Seek. 7 Chiefly. 8 Tell long tales.

11 I do not grieve for mistrust of her.

With her; but of other,1 all
Of love what-so may befall,

Or that he fail, or that he speed,
Thereof take I but little heed.

Book II.

LOVE AND HATE.

Confessor. Now list, my son, and thou shalt hear.
Hate is a wrathè nought shewend,2
But of long time gatherend,3

And dwelleth in the heartè locken1
Till he see timè to be wroken.5
And then he sheweth his tempest
More sudden than the wilde beast,
Which wotR nothing what mercy is.
My son, art thou knowen' of this?

Lover. My good father, as I ween,8
Now wot I somedeal9 what ye mean.
But I dare safely make an oath
My lady was me10 never loath.11
I woll nought swearè netheless
That I of hate am guiltèless.
For, when I to my lady ply
From day to day, and mercy cry,
And she no mercy on me laith,12
But shortè wordès to me saith,
Though I my lady love algate,13
The wordès must I needès hate,
And wolde they were all dispent,14
Or so far out of londè15 went
That I never after should them hear;
And yet love I my lady dear.
Thus is there hate, as ye may see,
Between my lady's word and me:
The word I hate, and her I love,
Whatso16 shall me betide of love!

9 Now know I something.

7 Conscious of this sin?
10 To me.
11 Hateful.

8 Guess.

12 Layeth.

THE STORY OF PHOEBUS AND DAPHNE.

A maiden whilom1 there was one
Which Daphne hight; 2 and such was none
Of beauty then, as it was said.
Phœbus his love hath on her laid;
And thereupon to her he sought
In his fool-haste, and so besought
That she with him no restè had.
For ever upon her love he grad,3
And she said ever unto him "Nay."
So it befell upon a day,

Cupidè, which hath every chance
Of love under his governance,
Saw Phoebus hasten him so sore;
And, for he should him hasten more,
And yet not speeden at the last,
A dart throughout his heart he cast,
Which was of gold and all a-fire,
That made him many-fold desire
Of lovè morè than he did.

To Daphne eke in the same stead
A dart of lead he cast, and smote,
Which was all cold and no-thing hot.
And thus Phoebus in lovè brenneth,
And in his haste aboutè renneth
To look if that he mightè win;
But he was ever to begin.
For ever away fro him she fled,
So that he never his love sped.
And, for to make him full believe
That no fool-hastè might achieve
To getten love in such degree,
This Daphne into a laurel tree
Was twined; which is ever green,
In token, as yet it may be seen,
That she shall dwell a maiden still,
And Phoebus failen of his will.

Book III.

THE DILIGENT LOVER,

Confessor. Now, son, tell me then so,
What hast thou done of busy-ship

2 Was called.

1 Formerly.

5 Place.

3 Cried.
6 Serving.

4 In order that.