Whiche unto this mater accordeth,
As Ovid in his boke recordeth,
How Poliphemus whilom wrought,
Whan that he Galathe besought
Of love, whiche he may nought lacche,
That made him for to waite and wacche
By alle waies howe it ferde,
Till at the last he knewe and herde,
How that an other hadde leve
To love there, as he mot leve,
As for to speke of any spede,
So that he knew none other rede,
But for to waiten upon alle
Till he may fe the chaunce falle,
That he her love mighte greve,
Whiche he him felf may nought acheve.
This Galathe, faith the poete,
Above all other was unmete
Of beaute, that men thanne knewe,
And had a lufty love and trewe
A bacheler in his degre
Right fuch an other as was she,
On whom the hath her herte fet,
So that it mighte nought be let
For yifte ne for no behefte,
That she ne was all at his hefte.
This yonge knight Acis was hote,
Whiche her ayeinwarde alfo hote
All only loveth and no mo.
Herof was Poliphemus wo
juxta litus maris colloquium adinvicem habuerunt, Poliphemus gigas concuffa rupe magnam inde partem fuper caput Acis ab alto projiciens ipfum per invidiam interfecit. Et cum ipfe fuper hoc dictam Galatheam
rapere voluiffet, Neptunus giganti obfiftens ipfam inviolatam falva cuftodia prefervavit. Sed et dii miferti corpus Acis defuncti in fontem aque dulciffime fubito tranfmutarunt.
Through pure envie and ever aspide
And waiteth upon every side,
Whan he to-gider mighte se
This yonge Acis with Galathe.
So longe he waiteth to and fro,
Till at the lafte he founde hem two
In prive place, where they stood
To speke and have her wordes good.
The place, where as he hem sigh,
It was under a banke nigh
The great fe, and he above
Stood and behelde the lufty love,
Whiche eche of hem to other made
With goodly chere and wordes glade,
That all his hert hath fette a fire
Of pure envie. And as a vire,
Which flieth out of a mighty bowe,
Away he fledde for a throwe,
As he that was for love wode,
Whan that he figh how that it stode.
This Polipheme a geaunt was.
And whan he figh the fothe cas,
How Galathe him hath forfake
And Acis to her love take,
His herte may it nought forbere,
That he ne roreth as a bere
And as it were a wilde beast,
In whom no reson might areste.
He ranne Ethna the hill about,
Where never yet the fire was out,
Fulfilled of forwe and great disese,
That he figh Acis well at efe.
Till ate last he him bethoughte
As he, which all envie foughte,
And torneth to the banke ayein,
Where he with Galathe hath sein
That Acis, whom he thought greve,
Though he him self may nought releve.
This geaunt with his rude might
Part of the banke he shof down right,
The whiche even upon Acis fell,
So that with falling of this hill
This Poliphemus Acis slough,
Wherof she made forwe inough.
And as fhe fledde from the londe,
Neptunus toke her by the honde
And kept her in so faste a place
Fro Polipheme and his manace,
That he with his false envie
Ne might atteigne her compaignie.
This Galathe, of whom I speke
That of her self may nought be wreke,
Without any femblaunt feigned
She hath her loves deth compleigned,
And with her forwe and with her wo
She hath the goddes moved so,
That they of pite and of grace
Have Acis in the fame place,
There he lay dede, into a welle
Transformed, as the bokes telle,
With fresshe ftremes and with clere,
As he whilom with lufty chere
Was fresh his love for to queme.
And with this rude Polipheme
For his envie and for his hate
They were wroth and thus algate.
My fone, thou might understonde,
That if thou wolt in grace ftonde
With love, thou must leve envie.
And as thou wolt for thy partie
Toward thy love stonde fre,
So must thou fuffre another be
What fo befalle upon thy chaunce.
For it is an unwife vengeaunce
Which to none other man is lefe
And is unto him felve grefe.
My fader, this enfample is good,
But how fo ever that it stood
With Poliphemus love as tho,
It shall nought ftonde with me fo
To worchen any felonie
In love for no fuche envie.
Forthy if there ought elles be,
Now axeth forth, in what degre
It is, and I me fhall confeffe
With fhrifte unto your holineffe.
Vita fibi folito mentalia gaudia livor
Dum videt alterius damna doloris agit.
Invidus obridet hodie fletus aliorum,
Fletus cui proprios craftina fata parant.
Sic in amore pari ftat forte jocofus, amantes
Cum vidit illufos invidus ille quafi.
Sic licet in vacuum fperat tamen ipfe levamen,
Alterius cafu lapfus et ipfe fimul.
My gode fone, yet there is
A vice revers unto this,
Whiche envious taketh his gladneffe
Of that he feeth the hevineffe
Of other men. For his welfare
Is, whan he wote another care
Of that an other hath a falle,
He thenketh him felfe arife with alle.
Suche is the gladship of envie
In worldes thinges and in partie,
Full ofte times eke alfo
In loves cause it stant right fo.
If thou, my fone, haft joie had,
Whan thou an other figh unglad,
Shrive the therof. My fader, yis.
I am beknowe unto you this
Of these lovers that loven ftreite,
And for that point, which they coveite,
Ben purfuauntes from yere to yere
In loves court, when I
How that they climbe upon the whele,
And whan they wene all shall be wele,
They ben down throwen ate laste,
Than am I fed of that they fafte
And laugh, of that I se hem loure.
And thus of that they brewe foure
Hic loquitur confeffor de fecunda fpecie invidie, que gaudium alterius doloris dicitur, et primo eiufdem vicii materiam tractans amantis confcienciam fuper eodem ulterius inveftigat.
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