Confessio Amantis | Page 3

by Diane M. Brendan.
CONFESSIO AMANTIS
or
TALES OF THE SEVEN DEADLY SINS
By John Gower, 1330-1408 A.D.
Prologus
Torpor, ebes sensus, scola parua labor minimusque
Causant quo minimus ipse minora canam:?Qua tamen Engisti lingua canit Insula Bruti
Anglica Carmente metra iuuante loquar.?Ossibus ergo carens que conterit ossa loquelis
Absit, et interpres stet procul oro malus.
Of hem that writen ous tofore?The bokes duelle, and we therfore?Ben tawht of that was write tho:?Forthi good is that we also?In oure tyme among ous hiere?Do wryte of newe som matiere,?Essampled of these olde wyse?So that it myhte in such a wyse,?Whan we ben dede and elleswhere,?Beleve to the worldes eere 10?In tyme comende after this.?Bot for men sein, and soth it is,?That who that al of wisdom writ?It dulleth ofte a mannes wit?To him that schal it aldai rede,?For thilke cause, if that ye rede,?I wolde go the middel weie?And wryte a bok betwen the tweie,?Somwhat of lust, somewhat of lore,?That of the lasse or of the more 20?Som man mai lyke of that I wryte:?And for that fewe men endite?In oure englissh, I thenke make?A bok for Engelondes sake,?The yer sextenthe of kyng Richard.?What schal befalle hierafterward?God wot, for now upon this tyde?Men se the world on every syde?In sondry wyse so diversed,?That it welnyh stant al reversed, 30?As forto speke of tyme ago.?The cause whi it changeth so?It needeth nought to specifie,?The thing so open is at ije?That every man it mai beholde:?And natheles be daies olde,?Whan that the bokes weren levere,?Wrytinge was beloved evere?Of hem that weren vertuous;?For hier in erthe amonges ous, 40?If noman write hou that it stode,?The pris of hem that weren goode?Scholde, as who seith, a gret partie?Be lost: so for to magnifie?The worthi princes that tho were,?The bokes schewen hiere and there,?Wherof the world ensampled is;?And tho that deden thanne amis?Thurgh tirannie and crualte,?Right as thei stoden in degre, 50?So was the wrytinge of here werk.?Thus I, which am a burel clerk,?Purpose forto wryte a bok?After the world that whilom tok?Long tyme in olde daies passed:?Bot for men sein it is now lassed,?In worse plit than it was tho,?I thenke forto touche also?The world which neweth every dai,?So as I can, so as I mai. 60?Thogh I seknesse have upon honde?And longe have had, yit woll I fonde?To wryte and do my bisinesse,?That in som part, so as I gesse,?The wyse man mai ben avised.?For this prologe is so assised?That it to wisdom al belongeth:?What wysman that it underfongeth,?He schal drawe into remembrance?The fortune of this worldes chance, 70?The which noman in his persone?Mai knowe, bot the god al one.?Whan the prologe is so despended,?This bok schal afterward ben ended?Of love, which doth many a wonder?And many a wys man hath put under.?And in this wyse I thenke trete?Towardes hem that now be grete,?Betwen the vertu and the vice?Which longeth unto this office. 80?Bot for my wittes ben to smale?To tellen every man his tale,?This bok, upon amendment?To stonde at his commandement,?With whom myn herte is of accord,?I sende unto myn oghne lord,?Which of Lancastre is Henri named:?The hyhe god him hath proclamed?Ful of knyhthode and alle grace.?So woll I now this werk embrace 90?With hol trust and with hol believe;?God grante I mot it wel achieve.?If I schal drawe in to my mynde?The tyme passed, thanne I fynde?The world stod thanne in al his welthe:?Tho was the lif of man in helthe,?Tho was plente, tho was richesse,?Tho was the fortune of prouesse,?Tho was knyhthode in pris be name,?Wherof the wyde worldes fame 100?Write in Cronique is yit withholde;?Justice of lawe tho was holde,?The privilege of regalie?Was sauf, and al the baronie?Worschiped was in his astat;?The citees knewen no debat,?The poeple stod in obeissance?Under the reule of governance,?And pes, which ryhtwisnesse keste,?With charite tho stod in reste: 110?Of mannes herte the corage?Was schewed thanne in the visage;?The word was lich to the conceite?Withoute semblant of deceite:?Tho was ther unenvied love,?Tho was the vertu sett above?And vice was put under fote.?Now stant the crop under the rote,?The world is changed overal,?And therof most in special 120?That love is falle into discord.?And that I take to record?Of every lond for his partie?The comun vois, which mai noght lie;?Noght upon on, bot upon alle?It is that men now clepe and calle,?And sein the regnes ben divided,?In stede of love is hate guided,?The werre wol no pes purchace,?And lawe hath take hire double face, 130?So that justice out of the weie?With ryhtwisnesse is gon aweie:?And thus to loke on every halve,?Men sen the sor withoute salve,?Which al the world hath overtake.?Ther is no regne of alle outtake,?For every climat hath his diel?After the tornynge of the whiel,?Which blinde fortune overthroweth;?Wherof the certain noman knoweth: 140?The hevene wot what is to done,?Bot we that duelle under the mone?Stonde in this world upon a weer,?And namely bot the pouer?Of hem