Confessio Amantis - Tales Of The Seven Deadly Sins, 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 that ben the worldes guides     With good consail on alle sides     Be kept upriht in such a wyse,     That hate breke noght thassise     Of love, which is al the chief     To kepe a regne out of meschief.     150     For alle resoun wolde this,     That unto him which the heved is     The membres buxom scholden bowe,     And he scholde ek her trowthe allowe,     With al his herte and make hem chiere,     For good consail is good to hiere.     Althogh a man be wys himselve,     Yit is the wisdom more of tuelve;     And if thei stoden bothe in on,     To hope it were thanne anon     160     That god his grace wolde sende     To make of thilke werre an ende,     Which every day now groweth newe:     And that is gretly forto rewe     In special for Cristes sake,     Which wolde his oghne lif forsake     Among the men to yeve pes.     But now men tellen natheles     That love is fro the world departed,     So stant the pes unevene parted     170     With hem that liven now adaies.     Bot forto loke at alle assaies,     To him that wolde resoun seche     After the comun worldes speche     It is to wondre of thilke werre,     In which non wot who hath the werre;     For every lond himself deceyveth     And of desese his part receyveth,     And yet ne take men no kepe.     Bot thilke lord which al may kepe,     180     To whom no consail may ben hid,     Upon the world which is betid,     Amende that wherof men pleigne     With trewe hertes and with pleine,     And reconcile love ayeyn,     As he which is king sovereign     Of al the worldes governaunce,     And of his hyhe porveaunce     Afferme pes betwen the londes     And take her cause into hise hondes,     190     So that the world may stonde apppesed     And his godhede also be plesed.     To thenke upon the daies olde,     The lif of clerkes to beholde,     Men sein how that thei weren tho     Ensample and reule of alle tho     Whiche of wisdom the vertu soughten.     Unto the god ferst thei besoughten     As to the substaunce of her Scole,     That thei ne scholden noght befole     200     Her wit upon none erthly werkes,     Which were ayein thestat of clerkes,     And that thei myhten fle the vice     Which Simon hath in his office,     Wherof he takth the gold in honde.     For thilke tyme I understonde     The Lumbard made non eschange     The bisschopriches forto change,     Ne yet a lettre for to sende     For dignite ne for Provende,     210     Or cured or withoute cure.     The cherche keye in aventure     Of armes and of brygantaille     Stod nothing thanne upon bataille;     To fyhte or for to make cheste     It thoghte hem thanne noght honeste;     Bot of simplesce and pacience     Thei maden thanne no defence:     The Court of worldly regalie     To hem was thanne no baillie;     220     The vein honour was noght desired,     Which hath the proude herte fyred;     Humilite was tho withholde,     And Pride was a vice holde.     Of holy cherche the largesse     Yaf thanne and dede gret almesse     To povere men that hadden nede:     Thei were ek chaste in word and dede,     Wherof the poeple ensample tok;     Her lust was al upon the bok,     230     Or forto preche or forto preie,     To wisse men the ryhte weie     Of suche as stode of trowthe unliered.     Lo, thus was Petres barge stiered     Of hem that thilke tyme were,     And thus cam ferst to mannes Ere     The feith of Crist and alle goode     Thurgh hem that thanne weren goode     And sobre and chaste and large and wyse.     Bot now men sein is otherwise,     240     Simon the cause hath undertake,     The worldes swerd on honde is take;     And that is wonder natheles,     Whan Crist him self hath bode pes     And set it in his testament,     How now that holy cherche is went,     Of that here lawe positif     Hath set to make werre and strif     For worldes good, which may noght laste.     God wot the cause to the laste     250     Of every right and wrong also;     But whil the lawe is reuled so     That clerkes to the werre entende,     I not how that thei scholde amende     The woful world in othre thinges,     To make pes betwen the kynges     After the lawe of charite,     Which is the propre duete     Belongende unto the presthode.     Bot as it thenkth to the manhode,     260     The hevene is ferr, the world is nyh,     And veine gloire is ek so slyh,     Which coveitise hath now withholde,     That thei non other thing beholde,     Bot only that thei myhten winne.     And thus the werres thei beginne,     Wherof the holi cherche is taxed,     That in the point as it is axed     The disme goth to the bataille,     As thogh Crist myhte noght availe     270     To don hem riht be other weie.     In to the swerd the cherche keie     Is torned, and the holy bede     Into cursinge, and every stede     Which scholde stonde upon the feith     And to this cause an Ere leyth,     Astoned is of the querele.     That scholde be the worldes hele     Is now, men sein, the pestilence     Which hath exiled pacience     280     Fro the clergie in special:     And that is schewed overal,     In eny thing whan thei ben grieved.     Bot if Gregoire be believed,     As it is in the bokes write,     He doth ous somdel forto wite     The cause of thilke prelacie,     Wher god is noght of compaignie:     For every werk as it is founded     Schal stonde or elles be confounded;     290     Who that only for Cristes sake     Desireth cure forto take,     And noght for pride of thilke astat,     To bere a name of a prelat,     He schal be resoun do profit     In holy cherche upon the plit     That he hath set his conscience;     Bot in the worldes reverence     Ther ben of suche manie glade,     Whan thei to thilke astat ben made,     300     Noght for the merite of the charge,     Bot for thei wolde hemself descharge     Of poverte and become grete;     And thus for Pompe and for beyete     The Scribe and ek the Pharisee     Of Moises upon the See     In the chaiere on hyh ben set;     Wherof the feith is ofte let,     Which is betaken hem to kepe.     In Cristes cause alday thei slepe,     310     Bot of the world is noght foryete;     For wel is him that now may gete     Office in Court to ben honoured.     The stronge coffre hath al devoured     Under the keye of avarice     The tresor of the benefice,     Wherof the povere schulden clothe     And ete and drinke and house bothe;     The charite goth al unknowe,     For thei no grein of Pite sowe:     320     And slouthe kepeth the libraire     Which longeth to the Saintuaire;     To studie upon the worldes lore     Sufficeth now withoute more;     Delicacie his swete toth     Hath fostred so that it fordoth     Of abstinence al that ther is.     And forto loken over this,     If Ethna brenne in the clergie,     Al openly to mannes ije     330     At Avynoun thexperience     Therof hath yove an evidence,     Of that men sen hem so divided.     And yit the cause is noght decided;     Bot it is seid and evere schal,     Betwen tuo Stoles lyth the fal,     Whan that men wenen best to sitte:     In holy cherche of such a slitte     Is for to rewe un to ous alle;     God grante it mote wel befalle     340     Towardes him which hath the trowthe.     Bot ofte is sen that mochel slowthe,     Whan men ben drunken of the cuppe,     Doth mochel harm, whan fyr is uppe,     Bot if somwho the flamme stanche;     And so to speke upon this branche,     Which proud Envie hath mad to springe,     Of Scisme, causeth forto bringe     This newe Secte of Lollardie,     And also many an heresie     350     Among the clerkes in hemselve.     It were betre dike and delve     And stonde upon the ryhte feith,     Than knowe al that the bible seith     And erre as somme clerkes do.     Upon the hond to were a Schoo     And sette upon the fot a Glove     Acordeth noght to the behove     Of resonable mannes us:     If men behielden the vertus     360     That Crist in Erthe taghte here,     Thei scholden noght in such manere,     Among hem that ben holden wise,     The Papacie so desguise     Upon diverse eleccioun,     Which stant after thaffeccioun     Of sondry londes al aboute:     Bot whan god wole, it schal were oute,     For trowthe mot stonde ate laste.     Bot yet thei argumenten faste     370     Upon the Pope and his astat,     Wherof thei falle in gret debat;     This clerk seith yee, that other nay,     And thus thei dryve forth the day,     And ech of hem himself amendeth     Of worldes good, bot non entendeth     To that which comun profit were.     Thei sein that god is myhti there,     And schal ordeine what he wile,     Ther make thei non other skile     380     Where is the peril of the feith,     Bot every clerk his herte leith     To kepe his world in special,     And of the cause general,     Which unto holy cherche longeth,     Is non of hem that underfongeth     To schapen eny resistence:     And thus the riht hath no defence,     Bot ther I love, ther I holde.     Lo, thus tobroke is Cristes folde,     390     Wherof the flock withoute guide     Devoured is on every side,     In lacke of hem that ben unware     Schepherdes, whiche her wit beware     Upon the world in other halve.     The scharpe pricke in stede of salve     Thei usen now, wherof the hele     Thei hurte of that thei scholden hele;     And what Schep that is full of wulle     Upon his back, thei toose and pulle,     400     Whil ther is eny thing to pile:     And thogh ther be non other skile     Bot only for thei wolden wynne,     Thei leve noght, whan thei begynne,     Upon her acte to procede,     Which is no good schepherdes dede.     And upon this also men sein,     That fro the leese which is plein     Into the breres thei forcacche     Her Orf, for that thei wolden lacche     410     With such duresce, and so bereve     That schal upon the thornes leve     Of wulle, which the brere hath tore;     Wherof the Schep ben al totore     Of that the hierdes make hem lese.     Lo, how thei feignen chalk for chese,     For though thei speke and teche wel,     Thei don hemself therof no del:     For if the wolf come in the weie,     Her gostly Staf is thanne aweie,     420     Wherof thei scholde her flock defende;     Bot if the povere Schep offende     In eny thing, thogh it be lyte,     They ben al redy forto smyte;     And thus, how evere that thei tale,     The strokes falle upon the smale,     And upon othre that ben grete     Hem lacketh herte forto bete.     So that under the clerkes lawe     Men sen the Merel al mysdrawe,     430     I wol noght seie in general,     For ther ben somme in special     In whom that alle vertu duelleth,     And tho ben, as thapostel telleth,     That god of his eleccioun     Hath cleped to perfeccioun     In the manere as Aaron was:     Thei ben nothing in thilke cas     Of Simon, which the foldes gate     Hath lete, and goth in othergate,     440     Bot thei gon in the rihte weie.     Ther ben also somme, as men seie,     That folwen Simon ate hieles,     Whos carte goth upon the whieles     Of coveitise and worldes Pride,     And holy cherche goth beside,     Which scheweth outward a visage     Of that is noght in the corage.     For if men loke in holy cherche,     Betwen the word and that thei werche     450     Ther is a full gret difference:     Thei prechen ous in audience     That noman schal his soule empeire,     For al is bot a chirie feire     This worldes good, so as thei telle;     Also thei sein ther is an helle,     Which unto mannes sinne is due,     And bidden ous therfore eschue     That wikkid is, and do the goode.     Who that here wordes understode,     460     It thenkth thei wolden do the same;     Bot yet betwen ernest and game     Ful ofte it torneth other wise.     With holy tales thei devise     How meritoire is thilke dede     Of charite, to clothe and fede     The povere folk and forto parte     The worldes good, bot thei departe     Ne thenken noght fro that thei have.     Also thei sein, good is to save     470     With penance and with abstinence     Of chastite the continence;     Bot pleinly forto speke of that,     I not how thilke body fat,     Which thei with deynte metes kepe     And leyn it softe forto slepe,     Whan it hath elles al his wille,     With chastite schal stonde stille:     And natheles I can noght seie,     In aunter if that I misseye.     480     Touchende of this, how evere it stonde,     I here and wol noght understonde,     For therof have I noght to done:     Bot he that made ferst the Mone,     The hyhe god, of his goodnesse,     If ther be cause, he it redresce.     Bot what as eny man accuse,     This mai reson of trowthe excuse;     The vice of hem that ben ungoode     Is no reproef unto the goode:     490     For every man hise oghne werkes     Schal bere, and thus as of the clerkes     The goode men ben to comende,     And alle these othre god amende:     For thei ben to the worldes ije     The Mirour of ensamplerie,     To reulen and to taken hiede     Betwen the men and the godhiede.     Now forto speke of the comune,     It is to drede of that fortune     500     Which hath befalle in sondri londes:     Bot often for defalte of bondes     Al sodeinliche, er it be wist,     A Tonne, whanne his lye arist,     Tobrekth and renneth al aboute,     Which elles scholde noght gon oute;     And ek fulofte a litel Skar     Upon a Banke, er men be war,     Let in the Strem, which with gret peine,     If evere man it schal restreigne.     510     Wher lawe lacketh, errour groweth,     He is noght wys who that ne troweth,     For it hath proeved ofte er this;     And thus the comun clamour is     In every lond wher poeple dwelleth,     And eche in his compleignte telleth     How that the world is al miswent,     And ther upon his jugement     Yifth every man in sondry wise.     Bot what man wolde himself avise,     520     His conscience and noght misuse,     He may wel ate ferste excuse     His god, which evere stant in on:     In him ther is defalte non,     So moste it stonde upon ousselve     Nought only upon ten ne twelve,     Bot plenerliche upon ous alle,     For man is cause of that schal falle.     And natheles yet som men wryte     And sein that fortune is to wyte,     530     And som men holde oppinion     That it is constellacion,     Which causeth al that a man doth:     God wot of bothe which is soth.     The world as of his propre kynde     Was evere untrewe, and as the blynde     Improprelich he demeth fame,     He blameth that is noght to blame     And preiseth that is noght to preise:     Thus whan he schal the thinges peise,     540     Ther is deceipte in his balance,     And al is that the variance     Of ous, that scholde ous betre avise;     For after that we falle and rise,     The world arist and falth withal,     So that the man is overal     His oghne cause of wel and wo.     That we fortune clepe so     Out of the man himself it groweth;     And who that other wise troweth,     550     Behold the poeple of Irael:     For evere whil thei deden wel,     Fortune was hem debonaire,     And whan thei deden the contraire,     Fortune was contrariende.     So that it proeveth wel at ende     Why that the world is wonderfull     And may no while stonde full,     Though that it seme wel besein;     For every worldes thing is vein,     560     And evere goth the whiel aboute,     And evere stant a man in doute,     Fortune stant no while stille,     So hath ther noman al his wille.     Als fer as evere a man may knowe,     Ther lasteth nothing bot a throwe;     The world stant evere upon debat,     So may be seker non astat,     Now hier now ther, now to now fro,     Now up now down, this world goth so,     570     And evere hath don and evere schal:     Wherof I finde in special     A tale writen in the Bible,     Which moste nedes be credible;     And that as in conclusioun     Seith that upon divisioun     Stant, why no worldes thing mai laste,     Til it be drive to the laste.     And fro the ferste regne of alle     Into this day, hou so befalle,     580     Of that the regnes be muable     The man himself hath be coupable,     Which of his propre governance     Fortuneth al the worldes chance.     The hyhe almyhti pourveance,     In whos eterne remembrance     Fro ferst was every thing present,     He hath his prophecie sent,     In such a wise as thou schalt hiere,     To Daniel of this matiere,     590     Hou that this world schal torne and wende,     Till it be falle to his ende;     Wherof the tale telle I schal,     In which it is betokned al.     As Nabugodonosor slepte,     A swevene him tok, the which he kepte     Til on the morwe he was arise,     For he therof was sore agrise.     To Daniel his drem he tolde,     And preide him faire that he wolde     600     Arede what it tokne may;     And seide: "Abedde wher I lay,     Me thoghte I syh upon a Stage     Wher stod a wonder strange ymage.     His hed with al the necke also     Thei were of fin gold bothe tuo;     His brest, his schuldres and his armes     Were al of selver, bot the tharmes,     The wombe and al doun to the kne,     Of bras thei were upon to se;     610     The legges were al mad of Stiel,     So were his feet also somdiel,     And somdiel part to hem was take     Of Erthe which men Pottes make;     The fieble meynd was with the stronge,     So myhte it wel noght stonde longe.     And tho me thoghte that I sih     A gret ston from an hull on hyh     Fel doun of sodein aventure     Upon the feet of this figure,     620     With which Ston al tobroke was     Gold, Selver, Erthe, Stiel and Bras,     That al was in to pouldre broght,     And so forth torned into noght."     This was the swevene which he hadde,     That Daniel anon aradde,     And seide him that figure strange     Betokneth how the world schal change     And waxe lasse worth and lasse,     Til it to noght al overpasse.     630     The necke and hed, that weren golde,     He seide how that betokne scholde     A worthi world, a noble, a riche,     To which non after schal be liche.     Of Selver that was overforth     Schal ben a world of lasse worth;     And after that the wombe of Bras     Tokne of a werse world it was.     The Stiel which he syh afterward     A world betokneth more hard:     640     Bot yet the werste of everydel     Is last, whan that of Erthe and Stiel     He syh the feet departed so,     For that betokneth mochel wo.     Whan that the world divided is,     It moste algate fare amis,     For Erthe which is meynd with Stiel     Togedre may noght laste wiel,     Bot if that on that other waste;     So mot it nedes faile in haste.     650     The Ston, which fro the hully Stage     He syh doun falle on that ymage,     And hath it into pouldre broke,     That swevene hath Daniel unloke,     And seide how that is goddes myht,     Which whan men wene most upryht     To stonde, schal hem overcaste.     And that is of this world the laste,     And thanne a newe schal beginne,     Fro which a man schal nevere twinne;     660     Or al to peine or al to pes     That world schal lasten endeles.     Lo thus expondeth Daniel     The kynges swevene faire and wel     In Babiloyne the Cite,     Wher that the wiseste of Caldee     Ne cowthen wite what it mente;     Bot he tolde al the hol entente,     As in partie it is befalle.     Of gold the ferste regne of alle     670     Was in that kinges time tho,     And laste manye daies so,     Therwhiles that the Monarchie     Of al the world in that partie     To Babiloyne was soubgit;     And hield him stille in such a plit,     Til that the world began diverse:     And that was whan the king of Perse,     Which Cirus hyhte, ayein the pes     Forth with his Sone Cambises     680     Of Babiloine al that Empire,     Ryht as thei wolde hemself desire,     Put under in subjeccioun     And tok it in possessioun,     And slayn was Baltazar the king,     Which loste his regne and al his thing.     And thus whan thei it hadde wonne,     The world of Selver was begonne     And that of gold was passed oute:     And in this wise it goth aboute     690     In to the Regne of Darius;     And thanne it fell to Perse thus,     That Alisaundre put hem under,     Which wroghte of armes many a wonder,     So that the Monarchie lefte     With Grecs, and here astat uplefte,     And Persiens gon under fote,     So soffre thei that nedes mote.     And tho the world began of Bras,     And that of selver ended was;     700     Bot for the time thus it laste,     Til it befell that ate laste     This king, whan that his day was come,     With strengthe of deth was overcome.     And natheles yet er he dyde,     He schop his Regnes to divide     To knyhtes whiche him hadde served,     And after that thei have deserved     Yaf the conquestes that he wan;     Wherof gret werre tho began     710     Among hem that the Regnes hadde,     Thurgh proud Envie which hem ladde,     Til it befell ayein hem thus:     The noble Cesar Julius,     Which tho was king of Rome lond,     With gret bataille and with strong hond     Al Grece, Perse and ek Caldee     Wan and put under, so that he     Noght al only of thorient     Bot al the Marche of thoccident     720     Governeth under his empire,     As he that was hol lord and Sire,     And hield thurgh his chivalerie     Of al this world the Monarchie,     And was the ferste of that honour     Which tok the name of Emperour.     Wher Rome thanne wolde assaille,     Ther myhte nothing contrevaille,     Bot every contre moste obeie:     Tho goth the Regne of Bras aweie,     730     And comen is the world of Stiel,     And stod above upon the whiel.     As Stiel is hardest in his kynde     Above alle othre that men finde     Of Metals, such was Rome tho     The myhtieste, and laste so     Long time amonges the Romeins     Til thei become so vileins,     That the fals Emperour Leo     With Constantin his Sone also     740     The patrimoine and the richesse,     Which to Silvestre in pure almesse     The ferste Constantinus lefte,     Fro holy cherche thei berefte.     Bot Adrian, which Pope was,     And syh the meschief of this cas,     Goth in to France forto pleigne,     And preith the grete Charlemeine,     For Cristes sake and Soule hele     That he wol take the querele     750     Of holy cherche in his defence.     And Charles for the reverence     Of god the cause hath undertake,     And with his host the weie take     Over the Montz of Lombardie;     Of Rome and al the tirandie     With blodi swerd he overcom,     And the Cite with strengthe nom;     In such a wise and there he wroghte,     That holy cherche ayein he broghte     760     Into franchise, and doth restore     The Popes lost, and yaf him more:     And thus whan he his god hath served,     He tok, as he wel hath deserved,     The Diademe and was coroned.     Of Rome and thus was abandoned     Thempire, which cam nevere ayein     Into the hond of no Romein;     Bot a long time it stod so stille     Under the Frensche kynges wille,     770     Til that fortune hir whiel so ladde,     That afterward Lombardz it hadde,     Noght be the swerd, bot be soffrance     Of him that tho was kyng of France,     Which Karle Calvus cleped was;     And he resigneth in this cas     Thempire of Rome unto Lowis     His Cousin, which a Lombard is.     And so hit laste into the yeer     Of Albert and of Berenger;     780     Bot thanne upon dissencioun     Thei felle, and in divisioun     Among hemself that were grete,     So that thei loste the beyete     Of worschipe and of worldes pes.     Bot in proverbe natheles     Men sein, ful selden is that welthe     Can soffre his oghne astat in helthe;     And that was on the Lombardz sene,     Such comun strif was hem betwene     790     Thurgh coveitise and thurgh Envie,     That every man drowh his partie,     Which myhte leden eny route,     Withinne Burgh and ek withoute:     The comun ryht hath no felawe,     So that the governance of lawe     Was lost, and for necessite,     Of that thei stode in such degre     Al only thurgh divisioun,     Hem nedeth in conclusioun     800     Of strange londes help beside.     And thus for thei hemself divide     And stonden out of reule unevene,     Of Alemaine Princes sevene     Thei chose in this condicioun,     That upon here eleccioun     Thempire of Rome scholde stonde.     And thus thei lefte it out of honde     For lacke of grace, and it forsoke,     That Alemans upon hem toke:     810     And to confermen here astat,     Of that thei founden in debat     Thei token the possessioun     After the composicioun     Among hemself, and therupon     Thei made an Emperour anon,     Whos name as the Cronique telleth     Was Othes; and so forth it duelleth,     Fro thilke day yit unto this     Thempire of Rome hath ben and is     820     To thalemans. And in this wise,     As ye tofore have herd divise     How Daniel the swevene expondeth     Of that ymage, on whom he foundeth     The world which after scholde falle,     Come is the laste tokne of alle;     Upon the feet of Erthe and Stiel     So stant this world now everydiel     Departed; which began riht tho,     Whan Rome was divided so:     830     And that is forto rewe sore,     For alway siththe more and more     The world empeireth every day.     Wherof the sothe schewe may,     At Rome ferst if we beginne:     The wall and al the Cit withinne     Stant in ruine and in decas,     The feld is wher the Paleis was,     The toun is wast; and overthat,     If we beholde thilke astat     840     Which whilom was of the Romeins,     Of knyhthode and of Citezeins,     To peise now with that beforn,     The chaf is take for the corn,     As forto speke of Romes myht:     Unethes stant ther oght upryht     Of worschipe or of worldes good,     As it before tyme stod.     And why the worschipe is aweie,     If that a man the sothe seie,     850     The cause hath ben divisioun,     Which moder of confusioun     Is wher sche cometh overal,     Noght only of the temporal     Bot of the spirital also.     The dede proeveth it is so,     And hath do many day er this,     Thurgh venym which that medled is     In holy cherche of erthly thing:     For Crist himself makth knowleching     860     That noman may togedre serve     God and the world, bot if he swerve     Froward that on and stonde unstable;     And Cristes word may noght be fable.     The thing so open is at ije,     It nedeth noght to specefie     Or speke oght more in this matiere;     Bot in this wise a man mai lere     Hou that the world is gon aboute,     The which welnyh is wered oute,     870     After the forme of that figure     Which Daniel in his scripture     Expondeth, as tofore is told.     Of Bras, of Selver and of Gold     The world is passed and agon,     And now upon his olde ton     It stant of brutel Erthe and Stiel,     The whiche acorden nevere a diel;     So mot it nedes swerve aside     As thing the which men sen divide.     880     Thapostel writ unto ous alle     And seith that upon ous is falle     Thende of the world; so may we knowe,     This ymage is nyh overthrowe,     Be which this world was signified,     That whilom was so magnefied,     And now is old and fieble and vil,     Full of meschief and of peril,     And stant divided ek also     Lich to the feet that were so,     890     As I tolde of the Statue above.     And this men sen, thurgh lacke of love     Where as the lond divided is,     It mot algate fare amis:     And now to loke on every side,     A man may se the world divide,     The werres ben so general     Among the cristene overal,     That every man now secheth wreche,     And yet these clerkes alday preche     900     And sein, good dede may non be     Which stant noght upon charite:     I not hou charite may stonde,     Wher dedly werre is take on honde.     Bot al this wo is cause of man,     The which that wit and reson can,     And that in tokne and in witnesse     That ilke ymage bar liknesse     Of man and of non other beste.     For ferst unto the mannes heste     910     Was every creature ordeined,     Bot afterward it was restreigned:     Whan that he fell, thei fellen eke,     Whan he wax sek, thei woxen seke;     For as the man hath passioun     Of seknesse, in comparisoun     So soffren othre creatures.     Lo, ferst the hevenly figures,     The Sonne and Mone eclipsen bothe,     And ben with mannes senne wrothe;     920     The purest Eir for Senne alofte     Hath ben and is corrupt fulofte,     Right now the hyhe wyndes blowe,     And anon after thei ben lowe,     Now clowdy and now clier it is:     So may it proeven wel be this,     A mannes Senne is forto hate,     Which makth the welkne to debate.     And forto se the proprete     Of every thyng in his degree,     930     Benethe forth among ous hiere     Al stant aliche in this matiere:     The See now ebbeth, now it floweth,     The lond now welketh, now it groweth,     Now be the Trees with leves grene,     Now thei be bare and nothing sene,     Now be the lusti somer floures,     Now be the stormy wynter shoures,     Now be the daies, now the nyhtes,     So stant ther nothing al upryhtes,     940     Now it is lyht, now it is derk;     And thus stant al the worldes werk     After the disposicioun     Of man and his condicioun.     Forthi Gregoire in his Moral     Seith that a man in special     The lasse world is properly:     And that he proeveth redely;     For man of Soule resonable     Is to an Angel resemblable,     950     And lich to beste he hath fielinge,     And lich to Trees he hath growinge;     The Stones ben and so is he:     Thus of his propre qualite     The man, as telleth the clergie,     Is as a world in his partie,     And whan this litel world mistorneth,     The grete world al overtorneth.     The Lond, the See, the firmament,     Thei axen alle jugement     960     Ayein the man and make him werre:     Therwhile himself stant out of herre,     The remenant wol noght acorde:     And in this wise, as I recorde,     The man is cause of alle wo,     Why this world is divided so.     Division, the gospell seith,     On hous upon another leith,     Til that the Regne al overthrowe:     And thus may every man wel knowe,     970     Division aboven alle     Is thing which makth the world to falle,     And evere hath do sith it began.     It may ferst proeve upon a man;     The which, for his complexioun     Is mad upon divisioun     Of cold, of hot, of moist, of drye,     He mot be verray kynde dye:     For the contraire of his astat     Stant evermore in such debat,     980     Til that o part be overcome,     Ther may no final pes be nome.     Bot other wise, if a man were     Mad al togedre of o matiere     Withouten interrupcioun,     Ther scholde no corrupcioun     Engendre upon that unite:     Bot for ther is diversite     Withinne himself, he may noght laste,     That he ne deieth ate laste.     990     Bot in a man yit over this     Full gret divisioun ther is,     Thurgh which that he is evere in strif,     Whil that him lasteth eny lif:     The bodi and the Soule also     Among hem ben divided so,     That what thing that the body hateth     The soule loveth and debateth;     Bot natheles fulofte is sene     Of werre which is hem betwene     1000     The fieble hath wonne the victoire.     And who so drawth into memoire     What hath befalle of old and newe,     He may that werre sore rewe,     Which ferst began in Paradis:     For ther was proeved what it is,     And what desese there it wroghte;     For thilke werre tho forth broghte     The vice of alle dedly Sinne,     Thurgh which division cam inne     1010     Among the men in erthe hiere,     And was the cause and the matiere     Why god the grete flodes sende,     Of al the world and made an ende     Bot Noe5 with his felaschipe,     Which only weren saulf be Schipe.     And over that thurgh Senne it com     That Nembrot such emprise nom,     Whan he the Tour Babel on heihte     Let make, as he that wolde feihte     1020     Ayein the hihe goddes myht,     Wherof divided anon ryht     Was the langage in such entente,     Ther wiste non what other mente,     So that thei myhten noght procede.     And thus it stant of every dede,     Wher Senne takth the cause on honde,     It may upriht noght longe stonde;     For Senne of his condicioun     Is moder of divisioun     1030     And tokne whan the world schal faile.     For so seith Crist withoute faile,     That nyh upon the worldes ende     Pes and acord awey schol wende     And alle charite schal cesse,     Among the men and hate encresce;     And whan these toknes ben befalle,     Al sodeinly the Ston schal falle,     As Daniel it hath beknowe,     Which al this world schal overthrowe,     1040     And every man schal thanne arise     To Joie or elles to Juise,     Wher that he schal for evere dwelle,     Or straght to hevene or straght to helle.     In hevene is pes and al acord,     Bot helle is full of such descord     That ther may be no loveday:     Forthi good is, whil a man may,     Echon to sette pes with other     And loven as his oghne brother;     1050     So may he winne worldes welthe     And afterward his soule helthe.     Bot wolde god that now were on     An other such as Arion,     Which hadde an harpe of such temprure,     And therto of so good mesure     He song, that he the bestes wilde     Made of his note tame and milde,     The Hinde in pes with the Leoun,     The Wolf in pes with the Moltoun,     1060     The Hare in pees stod with the Hound;     And every man upon this ground     Which Arion that time herde,     Als wel the lord as the schepherde,     He broghte hem alle in good acord;     So that the comun with the lord,     And lord with the comun also,     He sette in love bothe tuo     And putte awey malencolie.     That was a lusti melodie,     1070     Whan every man with other low;     And if ther were such on now,     Which cowthe harpe as he tho dede,     He myhte availe in many a stede     To make pes wher now is hate;     For whan men thenken to debate,     I not what other thing is good.     Bot wher that wisdom waxeth wod,     And reson torneth into rage,     So that mesure upon oultrage     1080     Hath set his world, it is to drede;     For that bringth in the comun drede,     Which stant at every mannes Dore:     Bot whan the scharpnesse of the spore     The horse side smit to sore,     It grieveth ofte. And now nomore,     As forto speke of this matiere,     Which non bot only god may stiere.     Explicit Prologus