In which the yere hath his deduit
Of grafs, of lefe, of floure, of fruit,
Of corne, and of the winy grape.
And afterward the time is fhape
To froft, to fnow, to wind, to rain,
Till eft that march be come ayein.
The winter woll no fomer knowe,
The grene lefe is overthrowe,
The clothed erth is thanne bare,
Defpuiled is the fomer fare,

That erft was hete, is thanne chele.
And thus thenkende thoughtes fele,
I was out of my fwoune affraid,
Wherof I figh my wittes straid,
And gan to clepe hem home ayein.
And whan refon it herde fain,
That loves rage was awey,
He cam to me the righte wey,
And hath remeved the fotie
Of thilke unwife fantafie,
Wherof that I was wont to plein,
So that of thilke firy pein

I was made fobre and hole inough.
Venus beheld me than and lough
And axeth, as it were in game,
What love was? And I for shame
Ne wifte what I fhulde answere.

And netheles I gan to fwere,

That by my trouth I knewe him nought, So fer it was out of my thought,

Amans.

Right as it hadde never be.

My gode fone, tho quod she,
Now at this time I leve it wele,
So goth the fortune of my whele.
Forthy my counfeil is, thou leve.

Madame, I saide, by your leve,
Ye weten well, and fo wote I,
That I am unbehovely

Your court fro this day for to serve.
And for I may no thank deferve,
And alfo for I am refused,

I praie you to ben excused.
And netheles as for to lafte,

While that my wittes with me laste,
Touchende my confeffion,

I axe an abfolution

Of Genius, er that I go.

The prest anone was redy tho,
And faide: Sone, as of thy fhrifte,
Thou haft full pardon and foryifte,
Foryete it thou, and fo will I.

Min holy fader, graunt mercy,
Quod I to him, and to the
quene
I fell on knees upon the grene,
And toke my leve for to wende.
But fhe, that wolde make an ende,
As therto, which I was moft able,
A paire of bedes blacke as fable
She toke and heng my necke about.
Upon the gaudes all without

Was write of gold pur repofer.
Lo, thus fhe faid, Iohan Gower,
Now thou art ate lafte cafte,
Thus have I for thin ese caste,
That thou no more of love feche.

But my will is, that thou befeche
And pray hereafter for the
pees,
And that thou make a plein relees
To love, which taketh litel hede
Of olde men upon the nede,
Whan that the luftes ben awey,
Forthy to the nis but o wey,
In which let refon be thy guide.
For he may fone him felf mifguide,
That feeth nought the perill to-fore.
My fone, be well ware therfore
And kepe the fentence of my lore
And tarie thou in my court no more,
But go there vertue moral dwelleth,
Where ben thy bokes, as men telleth,
Whiche of long time thou haft write.
For this I do the well to wite,

If thou thin hele wolt purchace,

Thou might nought make fute and chace, Where that the game is nought provable, It were a thing unrefonable,

A man to be so overfeie.

Forthy take hede of that I faie.
For in the lawe of my commune
We be nought shape to commune

Thy felf and I never after this. Now have I faid all that there is Of love, as for thy final ende. Adieu, for I mot fro the wende.*

*MS. Harl. 3490:

And grete well Chaucer, whan ye mete,
As my difciple and my poete.
For in the floures of his youth,
In fondry wife, as he well couth,
Of dittees and of fonges glade,
The which he for my fake made,
The lond fulfilled is over all,
Wherof to him in speciall

Above all other I am moft holde.

Forthy now in his daies olde
Thou fhalt him telle this meffage,
That he upon his later age
To fette an end of all his werke,
As he, which is min owne clerke,
Do make his teftament of love,
As thou haft do thy fhrifte above,
So that my court it may recorde.

Madame, I can me well accorde,
Quod I, to telle as ye me bidde.
And with that worde it fo betidde
Out of my fight all fodeinly,
Enclosed in a fterry sky,

Up to the heven Venus ftraught.

And I my righte waie fought

Home fro the wode and forth I wente,

Where as with al min hole entente

Thus with my bedes upon honde
For hem that true love fonde
I thenke bidde while I live,
Upon the point which I am fhrive.

Ad Laudem Chrifti, quem tu virgo peperisti,
Sit laus Ricardi, quem fceptra colunt leopardi.
Ad fua precepta complevi carmina cepta,
Que Bruti nata legat Anglia perpetuata. ·
He, which withinne daies feven
The large world forth with the heven
Of his eternal providence

Hath made and thilke intelligence
In mannes foule resonable,
Wherof the man of feture
Of alle erthly creature
After the foule is immortall,
To thilke lord in speciall
As he, which is of alle thinges
The creator and of the kinges
Hath the fortune upon honde
His grace and mercy for to fonde,
Upon my bare knees I pray,
That he my worthy king convey
Richard by name the fecounde,
In whom hath ever yet be founde
Juftice medled with pite,
Largeffe forth with charite,
In his persone it may be shewed,
What is a king to be well thewed
Touching of pite namely,
For he yet never unpetously
Ayein the leges of his londe

For no defaute which he fonde

Through cruelte vengeaunce fought.

As though the worldes chaunce in brought

Of infortune great debate,

Yet was he nought infortunate,

Hic in fine libri honorificofque vertuofos illuftriffimi principis domini fui regis Anglie Ricardi fecundi mores ficut dignum eft laude commendabili defcribens pro eiufdem ftatus falubri confervacione cun&tipotentem devocius exo

rat.