Confessio Amantis; Or, Tales of the Seven Deadly Sins. John Gower

Bot only that here herte soucheth

       In hindringe of an other wiht;

       And thus ful many a worthi knyht

       And many a lusti lady bothe

       Have be fulofte sythe wrothe.

       So that an yhe is as a thief

       To love, and doth ful gret meschief; 320

       And also for his oghne part

       Fulofte thilke firy Dart

       Of love, which that evere brenneth,

       Thurgh him into the herte renneth:

       And thus a mannes yhe ferst

       Himselve grieveth alther werst,

       And many a time that he knoweth

       Unto his oghne harm it groweth.

       Mi Sone, herkne now forthi

       A tale, to be war therby 330

       Thin yhe forto kepe and warde,

       So that it passe noght his warde.

       Ovide telleth in his bok

       Ensample touchende of mislok,

       And seith hou whilom ther was on,

       A worthi lord, which Acteon

       Was hote, and he was cousin nyh

       To him that Thebes ferst on hyh

       Up sette, which king Cadme hyhte.

       This Acteon, as he wel myhte, 340

       Above alle othre caste his chiere,

       And used it fro yer to yere,

       With Houndes and with grete Hornes

       Among the wodes and the thornes

       To make his hunting and his chace:

       Where him best thoghte in every place

       To finde gamen in his weie,

       Ther rod he forto hunte and pleie.

       So him befell upon a tide

       On his hunting as he cam ride, 350

       In a Forest al one he was:

       He syh upon the grene gras

       The faire freisshe floures springe,

       He herde among the leves singe

       The Throstle with the nyhtingale:

       Thus er he wiste into a Dale

       He cam, wher was a litel plein,

       All round aboute wel besein

       With buisshes grene and Cedres hyhe;

       And ther withinne he caste his yhe. 360

       Amidd the plein he syh a welle,

       So fair ther myhte noman telle,

       In which Diana naked stod

       To bathe and pleie hire in the flod

       With many a Nimphe, which hire serveth.

       Bot he his yhe awey ne swerveth

       Fro hire, which was naked al,

       And sche was wonder wroth withal,

       And him, as sche which was godesse,

       Forschop anon, and the liknesse 370

       Sche made him taken of an Hert,

       Which was tofore hise houndes stert,

       That ronne besiliche aboute

       With many an horn and many a route,

       That maden mochel noise and cry:

       And ate laste unhappely

       This Hert his oghne houndes slowhe

       And him for vengance al todrowhe.

       Lo now, my Sone, what it is

       A man to caste his yhe amis, 380

       Which Acteon hath dere aboght;

       Be war forthi and do it noght.

       For ofte, who that hiede toke,

       Betre is to winke than to loke.

       And forto proven it is so,

       Ovide the Poete also

       A tale which to this matiere

       Acordeth seith, as thou schalt hiere.

       In Metamor it telleth thus,

       How that a lord which Phorce.s 390

       Was hote, hadde dowhtres thre.

       Bot upon here nativite

       Such was the constellacion,

       That out of mannes nacion

       Fro kynde thei be so miswent,

       That to the liknesse of Serpent

       Thei were bore, and so that on

       Of hem was cleped Stellibon,

       That other soster Suriale,

       The thridde, as telleth in the tale, 400

       Medusa hihte, and natheles

       Of comun name Gorgones

       In every contre ther aboute,

       As Monstres whiche that men doute,

       Men clepen hem; and bot on yhe

       Among hem thre in pourpartie

       Thei hadde, of which thei myhte se,

       Now hath it this, now hath it sche;

       After that cause and nede it ladde,

       Be throwes ech of hem it hadde. 410

       A wonder thing yet more amis

       Ther was, wherof I telle al this:

       What man on hem his chiere caste

       And hem behield, he was als faste

       Out of a man into a Ston

       Forschape, and thus ful manyon

       Deceived were, of that thei wolde

       Misloke, wher that thei ne scholde.

       Bot Perse.s that worthi knyht,

       Whom Pallas of hir grete myht 420

       Halp, and tok him a Schield therto,

       And ek the god Mercurie also

       Lente him a swerd, he, as it fell,

       Beyende Athlans the hihe hell

       These Monstres soghte, and there he fond

       Diverse men of thilke lond

       Thurgh sihte of hem mistorned were,

       Stondende as Stones hiere and there.

       Bot he, which wisdom and prouesse

       Hadde of the god and the godesse, 430

       The Schield of Pallas gan enbrace,

       With which he covereth sauf his face,

       Mercuries Swerd and out he drowh,

       And so he bar him that he slowh

       These dredful Monstres alle thre.

       Lo now, my Sone, avise the,

       That thou thi sihte noght misuse:

       Cast noght thin yhe upon Meduse,

       That thou be torned into Ston:

       For so wys man was nevere non, 440

       Bot if he wel his yhe kepe

       And take of fol delit no kepe,

       That he with lust nys ofte nome,

       Thurgh strengthe of love and overcome.

       Of mislokynge how it hath ferd,

       As I have told, now hast thou herd,