I may my selvé nought recouer
Though I be never man so pouer.
I bere an herte and here it is,
So that me faileth wit in this
How that I shulde of mine accorde
The servant lede ayein the lorde.
For if my foot wold owhere go,
Or that min hond wolde ellés do,
Whan that min hert is there ayein
The remenaunt is all in vein.
And thus me lacketh alle wele,
And yet ne dare I nothing stele
Of thing which longeth unto love,
And eke it is so high above
I may nought well therto arecche,
But if so be at time of speche
Full selde if than I stelé may
A worde or two and go my way.
Betwene her high estate and me
Comparison there may none be,
So that I fele and well I wote
All is to hevy and to hote
To set on hondé without leve.
And thus I mot algaté leve
To stelé that I may nought take,
And in this wise I mot forsake
To ben a thefe ayein my will
Of thing which I may nought fulfill.
"For that serpént which never
slept
The flees of gold so well ne kept
In Colchos, as the tale is tolde,
As my ladý a thousand folde
To kepe her body night and day.
She hath a wardein redy ay,
Which is so wounderfull a wight,
That him ne may no mannés might
With swerd ne with no wepon daunt,
Ne with no sleight of charme en-
chaunt
Wherof he might be madé tame,
And Daunger is his righté name,
Whiche under lock and under key,
That no man may it stele awey,
Hath al the tresor underfonge
That unto lové may belonge.
The lesté loking of her eye
May nought be stole, if he it sigh;
And who so gruccheth for so lite
He woldé soné set a wite
On him that woldé stelé more.
And that me greveth wonder sore,
For this provérb is ever newe,
That strongé lockés maken trewe
Of hem that wolden stele and pike.
For so wel can there no man slike 1
By him ne by no other mene,
To whom Daungér wol yive or lene
Of that tresór he hath to kepe.
So though I woldé stalke and crepe
And waite on eve and eke on morwe,
Of Daunger shal I nothing borwe,
And stelé wot wel may I nought.
And thus I am right wel bethought,
While Daunger stont in his office,
Of Stelthé, which ye clepe a Vice,
I shall be gilty never mo.
Therfore I wold he were ago
So fer that I never of him herde
How so that afterward it ferde,
For than I mighté yet par cas
Of lové maké some purchas
By stelth or by some other way,
That now fro me stont fer away.
"But, fader, as ye tolde above,
How Stelthé goth anight for love,
I may nought wel that point forsake,
That ofté timés I ne wake
On nightés whan that other slepe.
But now, I pray you také kepe,
Whan I am loggéd in such wise
That I by nighté may arise
At some windów and loken out
And se the housing al about,
So that I may the chambre knowe
In which my lady, as I trowe,
Lith in her bed and slepeth softe,
Than is min hert a thefe ful ofte,
For there I stondé to behold
The longé nightés that ben cold
And thenke on her that lieth there.
But atté lasté whan I finde
That I am fall into my minde,
And se that I have stondé longe
And have no profit underfonge,
Than stalke I to my bed withinne.
And this is all that ever I winne
Of love, whan I walke on night.
My will is good, but of my might
Me lacketh both and of my grace,
For what so that my thought em-
brace
Yet have I nought the better ferde.
My fader, lo, now have ye herde
What I by Stelth of Love have do,
And how my will hath be therto;
If I be worthy to penaunce,
I put it to your ordenaunce.".
"My sone, of stelth I the behete,
Though it be for a timé swete,
At ende it doth but litel good,
As by ensample how that it stood
Whilom, I may the tellé now."-
“I pray you, fader, say me how."
"My sone, of him, which goth
by day
By wey of stelthé to assay
In lovés cause and taketh his pray,
Ovídé said, as I shall say,
And in his Methamor he tolde
A talé which is good to holde.
The poet upon this matere
Of Stelthé wrote in this manere.
Venus, which hath the lawe in honde
Of thing which may nought be with-
stonde,
As she which the tresór to warde Of love hath within her warde, Phebus to love hath so constreigned That he withouté rest is peined With all his herté to coveite
A maiden which was warded streite Withinné chambre and kept so clos
That selden was whan she desclos
Goth with her moder for to play.
Leucothoë, so as men say,
This maiden hight, and Orchamus
Her fader was, And befell thus,
This doughter that was kept so dere
And haddé be from yere to yere,
Upon the whose nativité
Of comeliheed and of beauté
Natúre hath set all that she may,
That lich unto the fresshé May,
Whiche other monthes of the yere
Sourmounteth, so withouté pere
Was of this maiden the fetúre,
Wherof Phebús out of mesúre
Her loveth and on every side
Awaiteth what so may betide.
In his await so longe he lay
Till it befell upon a day
That he through out her chambre wall
Came in all sodeinlich and stall
That thing which was to him so
But wo the while, he was a thefe,
For Venus, which was enemy
Of thilké lovés michery,
Descovereth all the pleine cas
To Climené, which thanné was
Toward Phebús his concubine.
And she, to letté the covine
Of thilké lové, dedely wrothe,
To pleign upon this maide she goth
And tolde her fader howe it stood,
Wherof for sorwe well nigh wode
Unto her moder thus he saide:
Lo, what it is to kepe a maide.
To Phebus dare I nothing speke
But upon her it shall be wreke.'
And bad with that do make a pit,
Wherin he hath his doughter set,
As he that woll no pité have,
So that she was all quike begrave
And deide anone in his presence.
But Phebus, for the reverence
Of that she haddé be his love, Hath wrought through his powér above
That she sprong up out of the molde Into a flour, was named Golde, Which stant govérnéd of the sonne. And thus whan love is evil wonne, Full ofte it cometh to repentail."
"My fader, that is no merveile, Whan that the counceil is bewreied. For in your tale as it betid, Venus descovereth all the cas, And eke also brode day it was Whan Phebus such a stelthé wrought,
Wherof the maide in blame he brought,
That afterwards he was so lore.
But for ye saiden now to-fore,
How Stelth of Lové goth by night
And doth his thingés out of sight,
Therof me lust also to here
A talé lich to the matere,
Wherof I might ensample take."
"My godé soné, for thy sake,
So as it befell by daiés olde
And so as the poet it tolde,
Upon the nightés michery
Now herken a tale of poesy.
The mightiest of allé men,
Whan Hercules with Eolen,
Which was the love of his coráge,
To-gider upon a pelrinage
Towardé Romé shulden go,
It fell hem by the waié so,
That they upon a day a cave
Within a roché founden have,
Which was real and glorious
And of entailé curioús,
By name and Thophis it was hote. The sonné shone tho wonder hote, As it was in the somer tide.
"This Hercules, which by his side Hath Eolen his lové there, Whan they at thilké cavé were,
He said, he thought it for the best,
That she her for the heté rest
All thilké day. And so befell,
This cavé was under the hill
Of Tímolus, which was begrowe
With vinés, and at thilké throwe
Faunus with Saba the goddesse,
By whom the largé wildernesse
In thilké timé stood governed,
Were in a place, as I am lerned,
Nigh by, which Bachus wodé hight.
"This Faunus toke a great insight
Of Eolen, that was so nigh,
For whan that he her beauté sigh,
Out of his wit he was assoted
And in his herte it hath so noted,
That he forsoke the nimphés alle
And said, he wolde, how so it falle,
Assay an other for to winne,
He set his hertes thought withinne,
And therupon his time awaiteth.
Now take good hede, how love
affaiteth
Him which withal is overcome.
Faire Eolen whan she was come
With Hercules into the cave,
She said him, that she woldé have
His clothés of and hire bothe,
Andeche of hem shulde other clothe.
And all was do right as she bad,
He hath her in his clothés clad
And cast on her his gulion,
Which of the skin of a leon
Was made, as he upon the wey
It slough, and over this to pley
She toke his greté mace also
And knet it at her girdel tho.
So was she lich the man arraied,
And Hercules than hath assaied
To clothen him in her array.
And thus they japé forth the day,
Till that her souper redy were.
And whan they hadden soupéd there,
They shopen hem to go to rest,
And as it thought hem for the best,
They bad, as for that ilké night, Two sondry beddés shuld be dight, Wherin that they to resté gone Eche by hem self in sondry place. Fair Eolen hath set the mace Besides her beddés heved above, And with the clothés of her love She helléd1 all her bed aboute. And he, which had nothing in doubte,
Her wimpel wonde about his cheke,
Her kirtel and her mantel eke
Abrode upon his bed he spredde,
And thus they slepen both a bedde.
And what of travail, what of wine
The servaunts like to dronken swine
Beganné for to routé 2 faste.
This Faunus, which his stelthé caste,
Was thanné comen to the cave
And found, they weren alle save;
Withouté noise and in he went,
The derké night his sighté blent,
And yet it hapned him to go
Where Eolen a beddé tho
Was laid aloné for to slepe.
But for he woldé take kepe
Whose bed it was, he made assay
And of a leon where it lay
The cote he founde and eke he feleth
The mace, and than his herté keleth,
That theré durst he nought abide ;
But stalketh upon every side
And sought abouté with his honde
That other bed, till that he fonde
Where lay bewimpled a viságe.
Tho was he glad in his coráge,
For he her kirtel founde also
And eke her mantel bothé two
Bespred upon the bedde alofte,
And wendé well it weré she.
And thus in stede of Eolé
Anone he profreth him to love,
But he, which sigh a man above,
This Hercules him threw to grounde
1 Helléd, covered.
2 Route, snore.
So soré, that they have him founde Liggendé there upon the morwe, And tho was nought a litel sorwe That Faunus of him selvé made. But ellés there they were all glade And loughen him to scorne aboute, Saba with nimphés all a route Came down to loke how that it ferde, And whan that they the sothé herde He was bejapéd over all.
"My soné, be thou ware with all In aunter if the so betide As Faunus didé thilké tide, Wherofthou might be shaméd so.""Min holy fader, certes no. But if I haddé right good leve, Such micherie I thenké leve. My fainté herté woll nought serve, For malgré wolde I nought deserve In thilké placé where I love. But for ye tolden here above Of Covetise and his pilage, If there be more of that lignage, Which toucheth to my shrifte, I
That ye therof me woldé say,
So that I may the Vice escheue."-
"My sone, if I by order sue The Vices as they stonde a rowe, Of Covetisé thou shalt knowe, There is yet one, which is the last, In whom there may no Vertue last, For he with God him self debateth, Wherof that all the heven him hateth.
The highe God, whiche allégood Purveiéd hath for mannés food Of clothes and of mete and drinke, Bade Adam, that he shuldé swinke To geten him his sustenaunce, And eke he set an ordenaunce Upon the lawe of Moïses, That though a man be havéles, Yet shall he nought by thefté stele. But now a daiés there ben fele,
That woll no labour undertake;
But what they may by stelthé take
They holde it sikerliché wonne.
And thus the lawe is overronne,
Which God hath set, and namély
With hem that so untruëly
The goodés robbe of Holy Chirche.
The thefté, which they thanné
wirche,
By name is cleped Sacrilegge,
Ayein the whom I thenke allegge.
Upon three points as we ben taught
Stont Sacrilege, and ellés nought.
The firsté point is for to say,
Whan that a thefe shall stele away
The holy thing from holy place.
The seconde is, if he purcháce
By way of theft an holy thinge
The whiche upon his knowlechinge
Fro holy place away was toke.
The thirdé point, as saith the boke,
Is suche, as whereas ever it be,
In wode, in felde, or in cite,
Shall no man stelé by no wise
That halowed is to the servise
Of God whiche allé thingés wote.
But there is nouther cold ne hote,
Whiche he for God or man woll
spare,
So that the body may wel fare
And that he may the world escape,
The heven him thinketh is but a jape
Of his condiciön to telle,
Which rifeleth bothe boke and belle,
So forthwith all the remenaunt
To Goddés hous appurtenaunt,
Where that he shuldé bid his bede,
He doth his theft in holy stede,
And taketh what thing he fint therin.
For whan he seeth that he may win
He wondeth for no cursednesse
That he ne breketh the holinesse
And doth to God no reverence.
For he hath lost his conscience,
That though the prest therforé curse,
He saith, he fareth nought the
And for to speke it other wise, What man that lasseth the fraunchise
And taketh of Holy Chirch his pray,
I not what bedés he shall pray
Whan hefro God which hath yive all
The purpartie in speciáll,
Which unto Crist him self is due,
Benimth; he may nought wel eschue
The peiné comend afterward,
For he hath made his foréward
With sacrileggé for to dwelle,
Which hath his heritage in helle.
"And if we rede of tholde lawe,
I findé write in thilké lawe,
Of princes how there weren thre
Coupáble sore in this degre.
That one of hem was clepéd thus
The proudé king Antiochus ;
That other Nabuzardan hight,
Which of his cruelté behight
The temple to destruie and waste,
And so he did in allé haste;
The thridde, which was
Was Nabugodonosor named,
And he Jerusalem put under
Of sacrilegge and many a wonder
There in the holy temple he wrought,
Which Baltazár his heire abought,
Whan Mane Techel Phares write
Was on the wall, as thou might wite
So as the bible it hath declared.
But for al that it is nought spared
Yet now a day that men ne pille
And maken argument and skille
To sacrilegge as it belongeth,
For what man that there after
longeth
He taketh none hede what he doth.
And if a man shall tellé soth,
Of guile and of subtilité
Is none so sligh in his degre
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