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

He seide how that he wolde fonde 2530

       The grete See to passe unknowe,

       And there abyde for a throwe

       Upon the werres to travaile.

       And to this point withoute faile

       This kniht, whan he hath herd his lord,

       Is swore, and stant of his acord,

       As thei that bothe yonge were;

       So that in prive conseil there

       Thei ben assented forto wende.

       And therupon to make an ende, 2540

       Tresor ynowh with hem thei token,

       And whan the time is best thei loken,

       That sodeinliche in a Galeie

       Fro Romelond thei wente here weie

       And londe upon that other side.

       The world fell so that ilke tide,

       Which evere hise happes hath diverse,

       The grete Soldan thanne of Perse

       Ayein the Caliphe of Egipte

       A werre, which that him beclipte, 2550

       Hath in a Marche costeiant.

       And he, which was a poursuiant

       Worschipe of armes to atteigne,

       This Romein, let anon ordeigne,

       That he was redi everydel:

       And whan he was arraied wel

       Of every thing which him belongeth,

       Straght unto Kaire his weie he fongeth,

       Wher he the Soldan thanne fond,

       And axeth that withinne his lond 2560

       He mihte him for the werre serve,

       As he which wolde his thonk deserve.

       The Soldan was riht glad with al,

       And wel the more in special

       Whan that he wiste he was Romein;

       Bot what was elles in certein,

       That mihte he wite be no weie.

       And thus the kniht of whom I seie

       Toward the Soldan is beleft,

       And in the Marches now and eft, 2570

       Wher that the dedli werres were,

       He wroghte such knihthode there,

       That every man spak of him good.

       And thilke time so it stod,

       This mihti Soldan be his wif

       A Dowhter hath, that in this lif

       Men seiden ther was non so fair.

       Sche scholde ben hir fader hair,

       And was of yeres ripe ynowh:

       Hire beaute many an herte drowh 2580

       To bowe unto that ilke lawe

       Fro which no lif mai be withdrawe,

       And that is love, whos nature

       Set lif and deth in aventure

       Of hem that knyhthode undertake.

       This lusti peine hath overtake

       The herte of this Romein so sore,

       That to knihthode more and more

       Prouesce avanceth his corage.

       Lich to the Leoun in his rage, 2590

       Fro whom that alle bestes fle,

       Such was the knyht in his degre:

       Wher he was armed in the feld,

       Ther dorste non abide his scheld;

       Gret pris upon the werre he hadde.

       Bot sche which al the chance ladde,

       Fortune, schop the Marches so,

       That be thassent of bothe tuo,

       The Soldan and the Caliphe eke,

       Bataille upon a dai thei seke, 2600

       Which was in such a wise set

       That lengere scholde it noght be let.

       Thei made hem stronge on every side,

       And whan it drowh toward the tide

       That the bataille scholde be,

       The Soldan in gret privete

       A goldring of his dowhter tok,

       And made hire swere upon a bok

       And ek upon the goddes alle,

       That if fortune so befalle 2610

       In the bataille that he deie,

       That sche schal thilke man obeie

       And take him to hire housebonde,

       Which thilke same Ring to honde

       Hire scholde bringe after his deth.

       This hath sche swore, and forth he geth

       With al the pouer of his lond

       Unto the Marche, where he fond

       His enemy full embatailled.

       The Soldan hath the feld assailed: 2620

       Thei that ben hardy sone assemblen,

       Wherof the dredfull hertes tremblen:

       That on sleth, and that other sterveth,

       Bot above all his pris deserveth

       This knihtly Romein; where he rod,

       His dedly swerd noman abod,

       Ayein the which was no defence;

       Egipte fledde in his presence,

       And thei of Perse upon the chace

       Poursuien: bot I not what grace 2630

       Befell, an Arwe out of a bowe

       Al sodeinly that ilke throwe

       The Soldan smot, and ther he lay:

       The chace is left for thilke day,

       And he was bore into a tente.

       The Soldan sih how that it wente,

       And that he scholde algate die;

       And to this knyht of Romanie,

       As unto him whom he most triste,

       His Dowhter Ring, that non it wiste, 2640

       He tok, and tolde him al the cas,

       Upon hire oth what tokne it was

       Of that sche scholde ben his wif.

       Whan this was seid, the hertes lif

       Of this Soldan departeth sone;

       And therupon, as was to done,

       The dede body wel and faire

       Thei carie til thei come at Kaire,

       Wher he was worthily begrave.

       The lordes, whiche as wolden save 2650

       The Regne which was desolat,

       To bringe it into good astat

       A parlement thei sette anon.

       Now herkne what fell therupon:

       This yonge lord, this worthi kniht

       Of Rome, upon the same niht

       That thei amorwe trete scholde,

       Unto his Bacheler he tolde

       His conseil, and the Ring with al

       He scheweth, thurgh which that he schal, 2660

       He seith, the kinges Dowhter wedde,