Hyt nedeth noght efte the to teche.
But understonde now ryght wel this,
Whan any speche ycomen ys
Up to the paleys, anon rygat
Hyt wexeth lyke the same wight,
Which that the worde in erbe -nak,
Be hyt clothed rede or blak
And so were hys lykenesse,
And spake the word, that thou wilt gesse
That it the same body be,
Man or woman, he or she.
And ys not this a wonder thynge?"
"Yis," quod I tho, "by hevene kynge!"
And with this worde, "Farewel," quod he,
"And here I wol abyden the,
And God of hevene sende the grace,
Some goode to lerne in this place.”
And I of him toke leve anon,
And gan forthe to the paleys gon.
O God of science1 and of lyght, Apollo, thurgh thy grete myght, This lytel laste boke thou gye!2 Nat that I wilne for maistrye
1 Knowledge. Direct. Compare this invocation with Dante' Paradiso, i. 13-27.
Here art poetical be shewed;
But, for the ryme ys lyght and lewed,
Yit make hyt sumwhat agreable,
Though somme vers fayle in a sillable;
And that I do no diligence,
To shewe crafte, but o sentence.1
And gif devyne vertu nowe
Wilt helpe me to shewe yowe,
That in myn hede ymarked ys,
Loo, that is for to menen this,
The Hous of Fame 2 for to descryve, -
Thou shalte se me go as blyve
Unto the next laurer I see,
And kysse yt, for hyt is thy tree.
Now entreth in my brest anoon!
Whan i was fro thys egle goon,
beholde upon this place.
I gan
And certein, or I ferther pace,
I wol yow al thys shape devyse
Of hous and citee; and al the wyse
How I gan to thys place aproche,
That stood upon so hygh a roche,
Hiere stant there noone in Spayne.
But I clombe with alle payne,
And though to clymbe grevede me,
Yit I ententyf was to see,
Compare with this book Pope's Temple of Fame.
And for to powren wondre lowe,
Yf I koude eny weyes knowe
What maner stoon this roche was,
For hyt was lyke a thynge of glas,
But that hyt shoone ful more clere;
But of what congeled matere
Hyt was, nyste I redely.
But at the laste espied I,
And founde that hit was everydele
A roche of yse, and not of stele.
Thought I, “By Seynt Thomas1 of Kent!
This were a feble fundament,
To bilden on a place hye;
He ought him lytel glorifye
That heron bilte, God so me save!”
Tho sawgh I the halfe y-grave
With famouse folkes names fele,2
That had yben in mochel wele,
And her fames wide y-blowe.
But wel unnethes koude I knowe
Any lettres for to rede
Hir names be; for, oute of drede,
They were almost of thowed * so,
'That of the lettres oon or two
Were molte away of every name.
So unfamouse was wox hir fame;
But men seyn, "What may ever laste?"
Thoo gan I in myn herte caste,
That they were molte awey with hete,
1 Of Canterbury. 2 Many. Good fortune. Thawed off
A DWELLING ON THE TOP.
And not awey with stormes bete.
For on that other syde I say
Of this hille, that northewarde lay,
How hit was writen ful of names
Of folkes that hadden grete fames
Of olde tymes, and yet they were
As fressh as men had writen hem here
The selfe day ryght, or that oure
That I upon hem gan to poure.
But wel I wiste what yt made;
Hyt was conserved with the shade,
Alle this wrytynge that I sigh,1
Of a castel stoode on high;
And stoode eke on so colde a place,
That hete hyt myght not deface.
Thoo gan I up the hille to goone,
And fonde upon the cop a woone,2
That alle the men that ben on lyve
Ne han the kunnynge to descrive
The beaute of that ylke place,
Ne coude casten no compace
Swich another for to make,
That myght of beaute be hys make ;3
Ne wonderlyche so y-wrought,
That hyt astonyeth yit my thought,
And maketh alle my wytte to swynke
On the castel to bethynke.
So that the grete beaute,
Saw. Dwelling. Mate. Labor. Contrivanos.
Ne kan I not to yow devyse,
My wit ne may me not suffise.
But natheles alle the substance
I have yit in my remembrance;
For-why me thoughte, by Seynte Gyle! 1
Alle was of stone of beryle,
Bothe castel and the toure,
And eke the halle, and every boure,
Wythouten peces or joynynges.
But many subtile compassinges,
Rabewyures and pynacles,
Ymageries and tabernacles,$
I say ;* and ful eke of wyndowes,
As flakes falle in grete snowes.
And eke in ech of the pynacles
Weren sondry habitacles,
In whiche stode, alle withoute,
Ful the castel alle aboute,
Of al maner of mynestralles,
And gestiours, that tellen tales
Bothe of wepinge and of game,
Of alle that longeth unto Fame.
There herd I pleyen upon an harpe
That sowneth bothe wel and sharpe,
Orpheus ful craftely,
And on the syde faste by
Sat the harper Orioun 5
And Eacides Chiroun,"
1 Cf. Canterbury Tales, 1. 17,585. Chamber.
Chiron, of the family of acus, the severe tutor o
Cf Ovid, Ars Amatoria, i. 16; Fasti, v. 379
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