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

My goode Sone, and tak good hiede.

       And overthis yet I thee rede

       That thou be war of thin heringe,

       Which to the Herte the tidinge 450

       Of many a vanite hath broght,

       To tarie with a mannes thoght.

       And natheles good is to hiere

       Such thing wherof a man may lere

       That to vertu is acordant,

       And toward al the remenant

       Good is to torne his Ere fro;

       For elles, bot a man do so,

       Him may fulofte mysbefalle.

       I rede ensample amonges alle, 460

       Wherof to kepe wel an Ere

       It oghte pute a man in fere.

       A Serpent, which that Aspidis

       Is cleped, of his kynde hath this,

       That he the Ston noblest of alle,

       The which that men Carbuncle calle,

       Berth in his hed above on heihte.

       For which whan that a man be sleyhte,

       The Ston to winne and him to daunte,

       With his carecte him wolde enchaunte, 470

       Anon as he perceiveth that,

       He leith doun his on Ere al plat

       Unto the ground, and halt it faste,

       And ek that other Ere als faste

       He stoppeth with his tail so sore,

       That he the wordes lasse or more

       Of his enchantement ne hiereth;

       And in this wise himself he skiereth,

       So that he hath the wordes weyved

       And thurgh his Ere is noght deceived. 480

       An othre thing, who that recordeth,

       Lich unto this ensample acordeth,

       Which in the tale of Troie I finde.

       Sirenes of a wonder kynde

       Ben Monstres, as the bokes tellen,

       And in the grete Se thei duellen:

       Of body bothe and of visage

       Lik unto wommen of yong age

       Up fro the Navele on hih thei be,

       And doun benethe, as men mai se, 490

       Thei bere of fisshes the figure.

       And overthis of such nature

       Thei ben, that with so swete a stevene

       Lik to the melodie of hevene

       In wommanysshe vois thei singe,

       With notes of so gret likinge,

       Of such mesure, of such musike,

       Wherof the Schipes thei beswike

       That passen be the costes there.

       For whan the Schipmen leie an Ere 500

       Unto the vois, in here avys

       Thei wene it be a Paradys,

       Which after is to hem an helle.

       For reson may noght with hem duelle,

       Whan thei tho grete lustes hiere;

       Thei conne noght here Schipes stiere,

       So besiliche upon the note

       Thei herkne, and in such wise assote,

       That thei here rihte cours and weie

       Foryete, and to here Ere obeie, 510

       And seilen til it so befalle

       That thei into the peril falle,

       Where as the Schipes be todrawe,

       And thei ben with the Monstres slawe.

       Bot fro this peril natheles

       With his wisdom king Uluxes

       Ascapeth and it overpasseth;

       For he tofor the hond compasseth

       That noman of his compaignie

       Hath pouer unto that folie 520

       His Ere for no lust to caste;

       For he hem stoppede alle faste,

       That non of hem mai hiere hem singe.

       So whan they comen forth seilinge,

       Ther was such governance on honde,

       That thei the Monstres have withstonde

       And slain of hem a gret partie.

       Thus was he sauf with his navie,

       This wise king, thurgh governance.

       Wherof, my Sone, in remembrance 530

       Thou myht ensample taken hiere,

       As I have told, and what thou hiere

       Be wel war, and yif no credence,

       Bot if thou se more evidence.

       For if thou woldest take kepe

       And wisly cowthest warde and kepe

       Thin yhe and Ere, as I have spoke,

       Than haddest thou the gates stoke

       Fro such Sotie as comth to winne

       Thin hertes wit, which is withinne, 540

       Wherof that now thi love excedeth

       Mesure, and many a peine bredeth.

       Bot if thou cowthest sette in reule

       Tho tuo, the thre were eth to reule:

       Forthi as of thi wittes five

       I wole as now nomore schryve,

       Bot only of these ilke tuo.

       Tell me therfore if it be so,

       Hast thou thin yhen oght misthrowe?

       Mi fader, ye, I am beknowe, 550

       I have hem cast upon Meduse,

       Therof I may me noght excuse:

       Min herte is growen into Ston,

       So that my lady therupon

       Hath such a priente of love grave,

       That I can noght miselve save.

       What seist thou, Sone, as of thin Ere?

       Mi fader, I am gultyf there;

       For whanne I may my lady hiere,

       Mi wit with that hath lost his Stiere: 560

       I do noght as Uluxes dede,

       Bot falle anon upon the stede,

       Wher as I se my lady stonde;

       And there, I do yow understonde,

       I am topulled in my thoght,

       So that of reson leveth noght,

       Wherof that I me mai defende.

       My goode Sone, god thamende:

       For as me thenketh be thi speche

       Thi wittes ben riht feer to seche. 570

       As of thin Ere and of thin yhe

       I woll nomore specefie,

       Bot I woll axen overthis

       Of othre thing how that it is.

       Mi Sone, as I thee schal enforme,

       Ther ben yet of an other forme

       Of dedly vices sevene applied,

       Wherof the herte is ofte plied

       To thing which after