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

Ayein the hihe goddes myht,

       Wherof divided anon ryht

       Was the langage in such entente,

       Ther wiste non what other mente,

       So that thei myhten noght procede.

       And thus it stant of every dede,

       Wher Senne takth the cause on honde,

       It may upriht noght longe stonde;

       For Senne of his condicioun

       Is moder of divisioun 1030

       And tokne whan the world schal faile.

       For so seith Crist withoute faile,

       That nyh upon the worldes ende

       Pes and acord awey schol wende

       And alle charite schal cesse,

       Among the men and hate encresce;

       And whan these toknes ben befalle,

       Al sodeinly the Ston schal falle,

       As Daniel it hath beknowe,

       Which al this world schal overthrowe, 1040

       And every man schal thanne arise

       To Joie or elles to Juise,

       Wher that he schal for evere dwelle,

       Or straght to hevene or straght to helle.

       In hevene is pes and al acord,

       Bot helle is full of such descord

       That ther may be no loveday:

       Forthi good is, whil a man may,

       Echon to sette pes with other

       And loven as his oghne brother; 1050

       So may he winne worldes welthe

       And afterward his soule helthe.

       Bot wolde god that now were on

       An other such as Arion,

       Which hadde an harpe of such temprure,

       And therto of so good mesure

       He song, that he the bestes wilde

       Made of his note tame and milde,

       The Hinde in pes with the Leoun,

       The Wolf in pes with the Moltoun, 1060

       The Hare in pees stod with the Hound;

       And every man upon this ground

       Which Arion that time herde,

       Als wel the lord as the schepherde,

       He broghte hem alle in good acord;

       So that the comun with the lord,

       And lord with the comun also,

       He sette in love bothe tuo

       And putte awey malencolie.

       That was a lusti melodie, 1070

       Whan every man with other low;

       And if ther were such on now,

       Which cowthe harpe as he tho dede,

       He myhte availe in many a stede

       To make pes wher now is hate;

       For whan men thenken to debate,

       I not what other thing is good.

       Bot wher that wisdom waxeth wod,

       And reson torneth into rage,

       So that mesure upon oultrage 1080

       Hath set his world, it is to drede;

       For that bringth in the comun drede,

       Which stant at every mannes Dore:

       Bot whan the scharpnesse of the spore

       The horse side smit to sore,

       It grieveth ofte. And now nomore,

       As forto speke of this matiere,

       Which non bot only god may stiere.

      Explicit Prologus

Incipit Liber Primus

       Table of Contents

      Naturatus amor nature legibus orbem

       Subdit, et vnanimes concitat esse feras:

       Huius enim mundi Princeps amor esse videtur,

       Cuius eget diues, pauper et omnis ope.

       Sunt in agone pares amor et fortuna, que cecas

       Plebis ad insidias vertit vterque rotas.

       Est amor egra salus, vexata quies, pius error,

       Bellica pax, vulnus dulce, suaue malum.

      I may noght strecche up to the hevene

       Min hand, ne setten al in evene

       This world, which evere is in balance:

       It stant noght in my sufficance

       So grete thinges to compasse,

       Bot I mot lete it overpasse

       And treten upon othre thinges.

       Forthi the Stile of my writinges

       Fro this day forth I thenke change

       And speke of thing is noght so strange, 10

       Which every kinde hath upon honde,

       And wherupon the world mot stonde,

       And hath don sithen it began,

       And schal whil ther is any man;

       And that is love, of which I mene

       To trete, as after schal be sene.

       In which ther can noman him reule,

       For loves lawe is out of reule,

       That of tomoche or of tolite

       Welnyh is every man to wyte, 20

       And natheles ther is noman

       In al this world so wys, that can

       Of love tempre the mesure,

       Bot as it falth in aventure:

       For wit ne strengthe may noght helpe,

       And he which elles wolde him yelpe

       Is rathest throwen under fote,

       Ther can no wiht therof do bote.

       For yet was nevere such covine,

       That couthe ordeine a medicine 30

       To thing which god in lawe of kinde

       Hath set, for ther may noman finde

       The rihte salve of such a Sor.

       It hath and schal ben everemor

       That love is maister wher he wile,

       Ther can no lif make other skile;

       For wher as evere him lest to sette,

       Ther is no myht which him may lette.

       Bot what schal fallen ate laste,

       The sothe can no wisdom caste, 40

       Bot as it falleth upon chance;

       For if ther evere was balance

       Which of fortune stant governed,

       I may wel lieve as I am lerned

       That love hath that balance on honde,

       Which wol no reson understonde.

       For love is blind and may noght se,

       Forthi may no certeinete

       Be set upon his jugement,