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

That grace wolde he noght forsake; 1470

       And thus ful gret almesse he dede,

       Wherof sche hadde many a bede.

       This Emperour out of the toun

       Withinne a ten mile enviroun,

       Where as it thoghte him for the beste,

       Hath sondry places forto reste;

       And as fortune wolde tho,

       He was duellende at on of tho.

       The king Allee forth with thassent

       Of Couste his wif hath thider sent 1480

       Moris his Sone, as he was taght,

       To themperour and he goth straght,

       And in his fader half besoghte,

       As he which his lordschipe soghte,

       That of his hihe worthinesse

       He wolde do so gret meknesse,

       His oghne toun to come and se,

       And yive a time in the cite,

       So that his fader mihte him gete

       That he wolde ones with him ete. 1490

       This lord hath granted his requeste;

       And whan the dai was of the feste,

       In worschipe of here Emperour

       The king and ek the Senatour

       Forth with here wyves bothe tuo,

       With many a lord and lady mo,

       On horse riden him ayein;

       Til it befell, upon a plein

       Thei sihen wher he was comende.

       With that Constance anon preiende 1500

       Spak to hir lord that he abyde,

       So that sche mai tofore ryde,

       To ben upon his bienvenue

       The ferste which schal him salue;

       And thus after hire lordes graunt

       Upon a Mule whyt amblaunt

       Forth with a fewe rod this qweene.

       Thei wondren what sche wolde mene,

       And riden after softe pas;

       Bot whan this ladi come was 1510

       To themperour, in his presence

       Sche seide alowd in audience,

       "Mi lord, mi fader, wel you be!

       And of this time that I se

       Youre honour and your goode hele,

       Which is the helpe of my querele,

       I thonke unto the goddes myht."

       For joie his herte was affliht

       Of that sche tolde in remembrance;

       And whanne he wiste it was Constance, 1520

       Was nevere fader half so blithe.

       Wepende he keste hire ofte sithe,

       So was his herte al overcome;

       For thogh his Moder were come

       Fro deth to lyve out of the grave,

       He mihte nomor wonder have

       Than he hath whan that he hire sih.

       With that hire oghne lord cam nyh

       And is to themperour obeied;

       Bot whan the fortune is bewreied, 1530

       How that Constance is come aboute,

       So hard an herte was non oute,

       That he for pite tho ne wepte.

       Arcennus, which hire fond and kepte,

       Was thanne glad of that is falle,

       So that with joie among hem alle

       Thei riden in at Rome gate.

       This Emperour thoghte al to late,

       Til that the Pope were come,

       And of the lordes sende some 1540

       To preie him that he wolde haste:

       And he cam forth in alle haste,

       And whan that he the tale herde,

       How wonderly this chance ferde,

       He thonketh god of his miracle,

       To whos miht mai be non obstacle:

       The king a noble feste hem made,

       And thus thei weren alle glade.

       A parlement, er that thei wente,

       Thei setten unto this entente, 1550

       To puten Rome in full espeir

       That Moris was apparant heir

       And scholde abide with hem stille,

       For such was al the londes wille.

       Whan every thing was fulli spoke,

       Of sorwe and queint was al the smoke,

       Tho tok his leve Allee the king,

       And with full many a riche thing,

       Which themperour him hadde yive,

       He goth a glad lif forto live; 1560

       For he Constance hath in his hond,

       Which was the confort of his lond.

       For whan that he cam hom ayein,

       Ther is no tunge it mihte sein

       What joie was that ilke stounde

       Of that he hath his qweene founde,

       Which ferst was sent of goddes sonde,

       Whan sche was drive upon the Stronde,

       Be whom the misbelieve of Sinne

       Was left, and Cristes feith cam inne 1570

       To hem that whilom were blinde.

       Bot he which hindreth every kinde

       And for no gold mai be forboght,

       The deth comende er he be soght,

       Tok with this king such aqueintance,

       That he with al his retenance

       Ne mihte noght defende his lif;

       And thus he parteth from his wif,

       Which thanne made sorwe ynowh.

       And therupon hire herte drowh 1580

       To leven Engelond for evere

       And go wher that sche hadde levere,

       To Rome, whenne that sche cam:

       And thus of al the lond sche nam

       Hir leve, and goth to Rome ayein.

       And after that the bokes sein,

       She was noght there bot a throwe,

       Whan deth of kinde hath overthrowe

       Hir worthi fader, which men seide

       That he betwen hire armes deide. 1590

       And afterward the yer suiende

       The god hath mad of hire an ende,

       And fro this worldes faierie

       Hath take hire into compaignie.

       Moris hir Sone was corouned,

       Which so ferforth was abandouned

       To Cristes feith, that men him calle

       Moris the cristeneste of alle.

       And thus the wel meninge of love

       Was ate laste set above; 1600

       And so as thou hast herd tofore,