The Prologue

When ended was my tale of Melibee,
And of Prudénce and her benignity,
Our Hostë said, “As I am faithful man,
And by the precious corpus Madrian,4016
I had lever4017 than a barrel of ale,
That goodë lefe4018 my wife had heard this tale;
For she is no thing of such patiénce
As was this Meliboeus’ wife Prudénce.
By Goddë’s bonës! when I beat my knaves
She bringeth me the greatë clubbed staves,
And crieth, ‘Slay the doggës every one,
And break of them both back and ev’ry bone.’
And if that any neighëbour of mine
Will not in church unto my wife incline,4019
Or be so hardy to her to trespace,4020
When she comes home she rampeth4021 in my face,
And crieth, ‘Falsë coward, wreak4022 thy wife:
By corpus Domini, I will have thy knife,
And thou shalt have my distaff, and go spin.’
From day till night right thus she will begin.
‘Alas!’ she saith, ‘that ever I was shape4023
To wed a milksop, or a coward ape,
That will be overlad4024 with every wight!
Thou darest not stand by thy wifë’s right.’

“This is my life, but if4025 that I will fight;
And out at door anon I must me dight,4026
Or ellës I am lost, but if that I
Be, like a wildë lion, fool-hardý.
I wot well she will do4027 me slay some day
Some neighëbour and thennë go my way;4028
For I am perilous with knife in hand,
Albeit that I dare not her withstand;
For she is big in armës, by my faith!
That shall he find, that her misdoth or saith.4029
But let us pass away from this mattére.
My lord the Monk,” quoth he, “be merry of cheer,
For ye shall tell a talë truëlý.
Lo, Rochester stands here fastë by.
Ride forth, mine owen lord, break not our game.
But by my troth I cannot tell your name;
Whether shall I call you my lord Dan John,
Or Dan Thomas, or ellës Dan Albon?
Of what house be ye, by your father’s kin?
I vow to God, thou hast a full fair skin;
It is a gentle pasture where thou go’st;
Thou art not like a penant4030 or a ghost.
Upon my faith thou art some officer,
Some worthy sexton, or some cellarer.
For by my father’s soul, as to my dome,4031
Thou art a master when thou art at home;
No poorë cloisterer, nor no novíce,
But a govérnor, both wily and wise,
And therewithal, of brawnës4032 and of bones,
A right well-faring person for the nonce.
I pray to God give him confusión
That first thee brought into religión.
Thou would’st have been a treadëfowl4033 aright;
Hadst thou as greatë leave, as thou hast might,
To perform all thy lust in engendrure,
Thou hadst begotten many a creatúre.
Alas! why wearest thou so wide a cope?4034
God give me sorrow, but, an’4035 I were pope,
Not only thou, but every mighty man,
Though he were shorn full high upon his pan,4036
Should have a wife; for all this world is lorn;4037
Religión hath ta’en up all the corn
Of treading, and we borel4038 men be shrimps:4039
Of feeble trees there comë wretched imps.4040
This maketh that our heirës be so slender
And feeble, that they may not well engender.
This maketh that our wives will assay
Religious folk, for they may better pay
Of Venus’ payëmentës than may we:
God wot, no lushëburghës4041 payë ye.
But be not wroth, my lord, though that I play;
Full oft in game a sooth have I heard say.”

This worthy Monk took all in patiénce,
And said, “I will do all my diligence,
As far as souneth unto honesty,4042
To tellë you a tale, or two or three.
And if you list to hearken hitherward,
I will you say the life of Saint Edward;
Or ellës first tragédies I will tell,
Of which I have an hundred in my cell.
Tragédy is to say4043 a certain story,
As oldë bookës maken us memóry,
Of him that stood in great prosperitý,
And is y-fallen out of high degree
In misery, and endeth wretchedly.
And they be versifiëd commonly
Of six feet, which men call hexámetron;
In prose eke be indited many a one,
And eke in metre, in many a sundry wise.
Lo, this declaring ought enough suffice.
Now hearken, if ye likë for to hear.
But first I you beseech in this mattére,
Though I by order tellë not these things,
Be it of popës, emperors, or kings,
After their ages,4044 as men written find,
But tell them some before and some behind,
As it now cometh to my remembránce,
Have me excused of mine ignorance.”

The Tale4045

I will bewail, in manner of tragédy,
The harm of them that stood in high degree,
And fellë so, that there was no remédy
To bring them out of their adversitý.
For, certain, when that Fortune list to flee,
There may no man the course of her wheel hold:
Let no man trust in blind prosperity;
Beware by these examples true and old.

At Lucifer, though he an angel were,
And not a man, at him I will begin.
For though Fortúnë may no angel dere,4046
From high degree yet fell he for his sin
Down into hell, where as he yet is in.
O Lucifer! brightest of angels all,
Now art thou Satanas, that may’st not twin4047
Out of the misery in which thou art fall.

Lo Adam, in the field of Damascene4048
With Goddë’s owen finger wrought was he,
And not begotten of man’s sperm unclean;
And welt4049 all Paradise saving one tree:
Had never worldly man so high degree
As Adam, till he for misgovernance4050
Was driven out of his prosperity
To labour, and to hell, and to mischance.

Lo Sampson, which that was annunciate
By the angel, long ere his nativity;4051
And was to God Almighty consecrate,
And stood in nobless while that he might see;
Was never such another as was he,
To speak of strength, and thereto hardiness;4052
But to his wivës told he his secré,
Through which he slew himself for wretchedness.

Sampson, this noble and mighty champión,
Withoutë weapon, save his handës tway,
He slew and all to-rentë4053 the lión,
Toward his wedding walking by the way.
His falsë wife could him so please, and pray,
Till she his counsel knew; and she, untrue,
Unto his foes his counsel gan bewray,
And him forsook, and took another new.

Three hundred foxes Sampson took for ire,
And all their tailës he together band,
And set the foxes’ tailës all on fire,
For he in every tail had knit a brand,
And they burnt all the cornës of that lend,
And all their olivéres4054 and vinës eke.
A thousand men he slew eke with his hand,
And had no weapon but an ass’s cheek.

When they were slain, so thirsted him, that he
Was well-nigh lorn,4055 for which he gan to pray
That God would on his pain have some pitý,
And send him drink, or ellës must he die;
And of this ass’s check, that was so dry,
Out of a wang-tooth4056 sprang anon a well,
Of which, he drank enough, shortly to say.
Thus help’d him God, as Judicum4057 can tell.

By very force, at Gaza, on a night,
Maugré the Philistines of that citý,
The gatës of the town he hath up plight,4058
And on his back y-carried them hath he
High on an hill, where as men might them see.
O noble mighty Sampson, lefe4059 and dear,
Hadst thou not told to women thy secré,
In all this world there had not been thy peer.

This Sampson never cider drank nor wine,
Nor on his head came razor none nor shear,
By precept of the messenger divine;
For all his strengthës in his hairës were;
And fully twenty winters, year by year,
He had of Israel the governance;
But soonë shall he weepë many a tear,
For women shall him bringë to mischance.

Unto his leman4060 Dalila4061 he told,
That in his hairës all his strengthë lay;
And falsely to his foemen she him sold,
And sleeping in her barme4062 upon a day
She made to clip or shear his hair away,
And made his foemen all his craft espien.
And when they foundë him in this array,
They bound him fast, and put out both his eyen.

But, ere his hair was clipped or y-shave,
There was no bond with which men might him bind;
But now is he in prison in a cave,
Where as they made him at the quernë4063 grind.
O noble Sampson, strongest of mankind!
O whilom judge in glory and richéss!
Now may’st thou weepë with thine eyen blind,
Since thou from weal art fall’n to wretchedness.

Th’ end of this caitiff4064 was as I shall say;
His foemen made a feast upon a day,
And made him as their fool before them play;
And this was in a temple of great array.
But at the last he made a foul affray,
For he two pillars shook, and made them fall,
And down fell temple and all, and there it lay,
And slew himself and eke his foemen all;

This is to say, the princes every one;
And eke three thousand bodies were there slain
With falling of the great temple of stone.
Of Sampson now will I no morë sayn;
Beware by this example old and plain,
That no man tell his counsel to his wife
Of such thing as he would have secret fain,
If that it touch his limbës or his life.

Of Hercules the sov’reign conqueroúr
Singë his workës’ land and high renown;
For in his time of strength he bare the flow’r.
He slew and reft the skin of the lioún
He of the Centaurs laid the boast adown;
He Harpies4065 slew, the cruel birdës fell;
He golden apples reft from the dragón
He drew out Cerberus the hound of hell.

He slew the cruel tyrant Busirus.4066
And made his horse to fret4067 him flesh and bone;
He slew the fiery serpent venomous;
Of Achelous’ two hornës brake he one.
And he slew Cacus in a cave of stone;
He slew the giant Antaeus the strong;
He slew the grisly boar, and that anon;
And bare the heav’n upon his neckë long.4068

Was never wight, since that the world began,
That slew so many monsters as did he;
Throughout the widë world his namë ran,
What for his strength, and for his high bounté;
And every realmë went he for to see;
He was so strong that no man might him let;
At both the worldë’s ends, as saith Trophee,4069
Instead of boundës he a pillar set.

A leman had this noble champión,
That hightë Dejanira, fresh as May;
And, as these clerkës makë mentión,
She hath him sent a shirtë fresh and gay;
Alas! this shirt, alas and well-away!
Envenomed was subtilly withal,
That ere that he had worn it half a day,
It made his flesh all from his bonës fall.

But natheless some clerkës her excuse
By one, that hightë Nessus, that it maked;
Be as he may, I will not her accuse;
But on his back this shirt he wore all naked,
Till that his flesh was for the venom blaked.4070
And when he saw none other remedy,
In hotë coals he hath himselfë raked,
For with no venom deigned he to die.

Thus starf4071 this worthy mighty Hercules.
Lo, who may trust on Fortune any throw?4072
For him that followeth all this world of pres,4073
Ere he be ware, is often laid full low;
Full wise is he that can himselfë know.
Beware, for when that Fortune list to glose
Then waiteth she her man to overthrow,
By such a way as he would least suppose.

The mighty throne, the precious treasór,
The glorious sceptre, and royal majesty,
That had the king Nabuchodonosor
With tongue unnethës4074 may described be.
He twice won Jerusalem the citý,
The vessels of the temple he with him lad;4075
At Babylonë was his sov’reign see,4076
In which his glory and delight he had.

The fairest children of the blood royál
Of Israel he did do4077 geld anon,
And maked each of them to be his thrall.4078
Amongës others Daniel was one,
That was the wisest child of every one;
For he the dreamës of the king expounded,
Where in Chaldaea clerkë was there none
That wistë to what fine4079 his dreamës sounded.

This proudë king let make a statue of gold
Sixty cubitës long, and seven in bread’,
To which imagë bothë young and old
Commanded he to lout,4080 and have in dread,
Or in a furnace, full of flamës red,
He should be burnt that wouldë not obey:
But never would assentë to that deed
Daniel, nor his youngë fellows tway.

This king of kingës proud was and elate;
He ween’d4081 that God, that sits in majesty,
Mightë him not bereave of his estate;
But suddenly he lost his dignity,
And like a beast he seemed for to be,
And ate hay as an ox, and lay thereout
In rain, with wildë beastës walked he,
Till certain time was y-come about.

And like an eagle’s feathers wax’d his hairs,
His nailës like a birdë’s clawës were,
Till God released him at certain years,
And gave him wit; and then with many a tear
He thanked God, and ever his life in fear
Was he to do amiss, or more trespace:
And till that time he laid was on his bier,
He knew that God was full of might and grace.

His sonë, which that hightë Balthasar,
That held the regne4082 after his father’s day,
He by his father couldë not beware,
For proud he was of heart and of array;
And eke an idolaster was he aye.
His high estate assured4083 him in pride;
But Fortune cast him down, and there he lay,
And suddenly his regnë gan divide.

A feast he made unto his lordës all
Upon a time, and made them blithë be,
And then his officérës gan he call;
“Go, bringë forth the vessels,” saidë he,
“Which that my father in his prosperity
Out of the temple of Jerusalem reft,
And to our highë goddës thankë we
Of honour, that our elders4084 with us left.”

His wife, his lordës, and his concubines
Aye drankë, while their appetites did last,
Out of these noble vessels sundry wines.
And on a wall this king his eyen cast,
And saw an hand, armless, that wrote full fast;
For fear of which he quaked, and sighed sore.
This hand, that Balthasar so sore aghast,4085
Wrote Mane, tekel, phares, and no more.

In all that land magician was there none
That could expoundë what this letter meant.
But Daniel expounded it anon,
And said, “O King, God to thy father lent
Glory and honour, regnë, treasure, rent;4086
And he was proud, and nothing God he drad;4087
And therefore God great wreche4088 upon him sent,
And him bereft the regnë that he had.

“He was cast out of mannë’s company;
With asses was his habitatión;
And ate hay, as a beast, in wet and dry,
Till that he knew by grace and by reasón
That God of heaven hath dominatión
O’er every regne, and every creatúre;
And then had God of him compassión,
And him restor’d his regne and his figúre.

“Eke thou, that art his son, art proud also,
And knowest all these thingës verily;
And art rebel to God, and art his foe.
Thou drankest of his vessels boldëly;
Thy wife eke, and thy wenches, sinfully
Drank of the samë vessels sundry winës,
And heried4089 falsë goddës cursedly;4090
Therefore to thee y-shapen4091 full great pine4092 is.

“This hand was sent from God, that on the wall
Wrote Mane, tekel, phares, trustë me;
Thy reign is done; thou weighest naught at all;
Divided is thy regne, and it shall be
To Medës and to Persians giv’n,” quoth he.
And thilkë samë night this king was slaw;4093
And Darius occupied his degree,
Though he thereto had neither right nor law.

Lordings, example hereby may ye take,
How that in lordship4094 is no sickerness;4095
For when that Fortune will a man forsake,
She bears away his regne and his richéss,
And eke his friendës bothë more and less.
For what man that hath friendës through fortúne,
Mishap will make them enemies, I guess;
This proverb is full sooth, and full commúne.

Zenobia, of Palmyrie the queen,4096
As writë Persians of her nobléss,
So worthy was in armës, and so keen,
That no wight passed her in hardiness,
Nor in lineage, nor other gentleness.4097
Of the king’s blood of Perse4098 is she descended;
I say not that she haddë most fairnéss,
But of her shape she might not he amended.

From her childhood I findë that she fled
Office of woman, and to woods she went,
And many a wildë hartë’s blood she shed
With arrows broad that she against them sent;
She was so swift, that she anon them hent.4099
And when that she was older, she would kill
Lions, leopárds, and bearës all to-rent,
And in her armës wield them at her will.

She durst the wildë beastës’ dennës seek,
And runnen in the mountains all the night,
And sleep under a bush; and she could eke
Wrestle by very force and very might
With any young man, were he ne’er so wight;4100
There mightë nothing in her armës stond.
She kept her maidenhood from every wight,
To no man deigned she for to be bond.

But at the last her friendës have her married
To Odenate,4101 a prince of that countrý;
All were it so, that she them longë tarried.
And ye shall understandë how that he
Haddë such fantasies as haddë she;
But natheless, when they were knit in fere,4102
They liv’d in joy, and in felicity,
For each of them had other lefe4103 and dear.

Save one thing, that she never would assent,
By no way, that he shouldë by her lie
But onës, for it was her plain intent
To have a child, the world to multiply;
And all so soon as that she might espy
That she was not with childë by that deed,
Then would she suffer him do his fantasy
Eftsoon,4104 and not but onës, out of dread.4105

And if she were with child at thilkë cast,
No morë should he playë thilkë game
Till fully forty dayës werë past;
Then would she once suffer him do the same.
All4106 were this Odenatus wild or tame,
He got no more of her; for thus she said,
It was to wivës lechery and shame
In other case4107 if that men with them play’d.

Two sonës, by this Odenate had she,
The which she kept in virtue and lettrure.4108
But now unto our talë turnë we;
I say, so worshipful a creatúre,
And wise therewith, and largë with measúre,4109
So penible4110 in the war, and courteous eke,
Nor more labour might in war endure,
Was none, though all this worldë men should seek.

Her rich array it mightë not be told,
As well in vessel4111 as in her clothíng:
She was all clad in pierrie4112 and in gold,
And eke she leftë not,4113 for no huntíng,
To have of sundry tonguës full knowíng,
When that she leisure had, and for t’ intend4114
To learnë bookës was all her likíng,
How she in virtue might her life dispend.

And, shortly of this story for to treat,
So doughty was her husband and eke she,
That they conquered many regnës great
In th’ Orient, with many a fair city
Appertinent unto the majesty
Of Rome, and with strong handë held them fast,
Nor ever might their foemen do4115 them flee,
Aye while that Odenatus’ dayës last’.

Her battles, whoso list them for to read,
Against Sapor the king,4116 and other mo’,
And how that all this process fell in deed,
Why she conquér’d, and what title thereto,
And after of her mischief4117 and her woe,
How that she was besieged and y-take,
Let him unto my master Petrarch go,
That writes enough of this, I undertake.

When Odenate was dead, she mightily
The regnë held, and with her proper hand
Against her foes she fought so cruelly,
That there n’as4118 king nor prince in all that land,
That was not glad, if be that gracë fand
That she would not upon his land warray;4119
With her they maden álliánce by bond,
To be in peace, and let her ride and play.

The emperor of Romë, Claudius,
Nor, him before, the Roman Gallien,
Durstë never be so courageoús,
Nor no Armenian, nor Egyptien,
Nor Syrian, nor no Arabien,
Within the fieldë durstë with her fight,
Lest that she would them with her handës slén,4120
Or with her meinie4121 puttë them to flight.

In kingës’ habit went her sonës two,
As heirës of their father’s regnës all;
And Herëmanno and Timolaó
Their namës were, as Persians them call
But aye Fortúne hath in her honey gall;
This mighty queenë may no while endure;
Fortune out of her regnë made her fall
To wretchedness and to misádventúre.

Aurelian, when that the governánce
Of Romë came into his handës tway,4122
He shope4123 upon this queen to do vengeánce;
And with his legións he took his way
Toward Zenobie, and, shortly for to say,
He made her flee, and at the last her hent,4124
And fetter’d her, and eke her children tway,
And won the land, and home to Rome he went.

Amongës other thingës that he wan,
Her car, that was with gold wrought and pierrie,
This greatë Roman, this Aurelian
Hath with him led, for that men should it see.
Before in his triumphë walked she
With giltë chains upon her neck hangíng;
Crowned she was, as after4125 her degree,
And full of pierrie charged4126 her clothíng.

Alas, Fortúnë! she that whilom was
Dreadful to kingës and to emperoúrs,
Now galeth4127 all the people on her, alas!
And she that helmed was in starkë stowres,4128
And won by forcë townës strong and tow’rs,
Shall on her head now wear a vitremite;4129
And she that bare the sceptre full of flow’rs
Shall bear a distaff, her cost for to quite.4130

Although that Nero were so vicious
As any fiend that lies full low adown,
Yet he, as telleth us Suetonius,4131
This widë world had in subjectioún,
Both East and West, South and Septentrioún.
Of rubies, sapphires, and of pearlës white
Were all his clothes embroider’d up and down,
For he in gemmës greatly gan delight.

More delicate, more pompous of array,
More proud, was never emperor than he;
That ilkë cloth4132 that he had worn one day,
After that time he would it never see;
Nettës of gold thread had he great plentý,
To fish in Tiber, when him list to play;
His lustës were as law, in his degree,
For Fortune as his friend would him obey.

He Romë burnt for his délicacý;4133
The senators he slew upon a day,
To hearë how that men would weep and cry;
And slew his brother, and by his sister lay.
His mother made he in piteous array;
For he her wombë slittë, to behold
Where he conceived was; so well-away!
That he so little of his mother told.4134

No tear out of his eyen for that sight
Came; but he said, a fair woman was she.
Great wonder is, how that he could or might
Be doomësman4135 of her deadë beautý:
The wine to bringë him commanded he,
And drank anon; none other woe he made,
When might is joined unto cruelty,
Alas! too deepë will the venom wade.

In youth a master had this emperoúr,
To teachë him lettrure4136 and courtesy;
For of morality he was the flow’r,
As in his timë, but if4137 bookës lie.
And while this master had of him mast’rý,
He made him so conning and so souple,4138
That longë time it was ere tyranný,
Or any vicë, durst in him uncouple.4139

This Seneca, of which that I devise,4140
Because Nero had of him suchë dread,
For he from vices would him aye chastise
Discreetly, as by word, and not by deed;
“Sir,” he would say, “an emperor must need
Be virtuous, and hatë tyranny.”
For which he made him in a bath to bleed
On both his armës, till he mustë die.

This Nero had eke of a custumance4141
In youth against his master for to rise;4142
Which afterward he thought a great grievánce;
Therefore he made him dien in this wise.
But natheless this Seneca the wise
Chose in a bath to die in this mannére,
Rather than have another tormentise;4143
And thus hath Nero slain his master dear.

Now fell it so, that Fortune list no longer
The highë pride of Nero to cherice;4144
For though he werë strong, yet was she stronger.
She thoughtë thus; “By God, I am too nice4145
To set a man, that is full fill’d of vice,
In high degree, and emperor him call!
By God, out of his seat I will him trice!4146
When he least weeneth,4147 soonest shall he fall.”

The people rose upon him on a night,
For his default; and when he it espied,
Out of his doors anon he hath him dight4148
Alone, and where he ween’d t’ have been allied,4149
He knocked fast, and aye the more he cried
The faster shuttë they their doorës all;
Then wist he well he had himself misgied,4150
And went his way, no longer durst he call.

The people cried and rumbled up and down,
That with his earës heard he how they said;
“Where is this falsë tyrant, this Neroún?”
For fear almost out of his wit he braid,4151
And to his goddës piteously he pray’d
For succour, but it mightë not betide;
For dread of this he thoughtë that died,
And ran into a garden him to hide.

And in this garden found he churlës tway,
That sattë by a firë great and red;
And to these churlës two he gan to pray
To slay him, and to girden4152 off his head,
That to his body, when that he were dead,
Were no despitë done for his defame.4153
Himself he slew, he coud no better rede;4154
Of which Fortúnë laugh’d and haddë game.4155

Was never capitain under a king,
That regnës more put in subjectioún,
Nor stronger was in field of allë thing
As in his time, nor greater of renown,
Nor more pompous in high presumptioún,
Than Holofernes, whom Fortúne aye kiss’d
So lik’rously, and led him up and down,
Till that his head was off ere that he wist.

Not only that this world had of him awe,
For losing of richéss and liberty;
But he made every man reny his law.4156
Nabuchodónosór was God, said he;
None other Goddë should honoúred be.
Against his hest4157 there dare no wight trespace,
Save in Bethulia, a strong citý,
Where Eliáchim priest was of that place.

But take keep4158 of the death of Holofern;
Amid his host he drunken lay at night
Within his tentë, large as is a bern;4159
And yet, for all his pomp and all his might,
Judith, a woman, as he lay upright
Sleeping, his head off smote, and from his tent
Full privily she stole from every wight,
And with his head unto her town she went.

What needeth it of king Antiochus4160
To tell his high and royal majesty,
His great pride, and his workës venomous?
For such another was there none as he;
Readë what that he was in Maccabee.
And read the proudë wordës that he said,
And why he fell from his prosperity,
And in an hill how wretchedly he died.

Fortúne him had enhanced so in pride,
That verily he ween’d he might attain
Unto the starrës upon every side,
And in a balance weighen each mountáin,
And all the floodës of the sea restrain.
And Goddë’s people had he most in hate;
Them would he slay in torment and in pain,
Weening that God might not his pride abate.

And for that Nicanor and Timothee
With Jewës werë vanquish’d mightily,4161
Unto the Jewës such an hate had he,
That he bade graith his car4162 full hastily,
And swore and saidë full dispiteously,
Unto Jerusalem he would eftsoon,4163
To wreak his ire on it full cruelly
But of his purpose was he let4164 full soon.

God for his menace him so sorë smote,
With invisíble wound incurable,
That in his guttës carf it so and bote,4165
Till that his painës were importable;4166
And certainly the wreche4167 was reasonable,
For many a mannë’s guttës did he pain;
But from his purpose, curs’d4168 and damnable,
For all his smart he would him not restrain;

But bade anon apparailë4169 his host.
And suddenly, ere he was of it ware,
God daunted all his pride, and all his boast;
For he so sorë fell out of his chare,4170
That it his limbës and his skin to-tare,
So that he neither mightë go nor ride;
But in a chairë men about him bare,
Allë forbruised bothë back and side.

The wreche4171 of God him smote so cruelly,
That through his body wicked wormës crept,
And therewithal he stank so horribly
That none of all his meinie4172 that him kept,
Whether so that he woke or ellës slept,
Ne mightë not of him the stink endure.
In this mischíef he wailed and eke wept,
And knew God Lord of every creatúre.

To all his host, and to himself also,
Full wlatsom4173 was the stink of his carráin;4174
No mannë might him bearë to and fro.
And in this stink, and this horríble pain,
He starf4175 full wretchedly in a mountáin.
Thus hath this robber, and this homicide,
That many a mannë made to weep and plain,
Such guerdon4176 as belongeth unto pride.

The story of Alexander is so commúne,
That ev’ry wight that hath discretioún
Hath heard somewhat or all of his fortúne.
This widë world, as in conclusioún,4177
He won by strength; or, for his high renown,
They werë glad for peace to him to send.
The pride and boast of man he laid adown,
Whereso he came, unto the worldë’s end.

Comparison yet4178 never might be maked
Between him and another conqueroúr;
For all this world for dread of him had quaked;
He was of knighthood and of freedom flow’r:
Fortúne him made the heir of her honoúr.
Save wine and women, nothing might assuage
His high intent in armës and laboúr,
So was he full of leonine couráge.

What praise were it to him, though I you told
Of Darius, and a hundred thousand mo’,
Of kingës, princes, dukes, and earlës bold,
Which he conquér’d, and brought them into woe?
I say, as far as man may ride or go,
The world was his, why should I more devise?4179
For, though I wrote or told you evermo’,
Of his knighthood it mightë not suffice.

Twelve years he reigned, as saith Maccabee;
Philippe’s son of Macedon he was,
That first was king in Greecë the countrý.
O worthy gentle4180 Alexander, alas
That ever should thee fallë such a case!
Empoison’d of thine owen folk thou were;
Thy six4181 Fortúne hath turn’d into an ace,
And yet for thee she weptë never a tear.

Who shall me givë tearës to complain
The death of gentiléss, and of franchise,4182
That all this worldë had in his demaine,4183
And yet he thought it mightë not suffice,
So full was his coráge4184 of high emprise?
Alas! who shall me helpë to indite
Falsë Fortúne, and poison to despise?
The whichë two of all this woe I wite.4185

By wisdom, manhood, and by great laboúr,
From humbleness to royal majesty
Up rose he, Julius the Conqueroúr,
That won all th’ Occident,4186 by land and sea,
By strength of hand or ellës by treatý,
And unto Romë made them tributáry;
And since4187 of Rome the emperor was he,
Till that Fortúnë wax’d his adversáry.

O mighty Caesar, that in Thessaly
Against Pompeius, father thine in law,4188
That of th’ Oriént had all the chivalry,
As far as that the day begins to daw,
That through thy knighthood hast them take and slaw,4189
Save fewë folk that with Pompeius fled;
Through which thou put all th’ Orient in awe;
Thankë Fortúnë that so well thee sped.

But now a little while I will bewail
This Pompeius, this noble governór
Of Romë, which that fled at this battaile;
I say, one of his men, a false traitór,
His head off smote, to winnë him favór
Of Julius, and him the head he brought;
Alas! Pompey, of th’ Orient conquerór,
That Fortune unto such a fine4190 thee brought!

To Rome again repaired Julius,
With his triumphë laureate full high;
But on a time Brutus and Cassius,
That ever had of his estate envý,
Full privily have made conspiracý
Against this Julius in subtle wise
And cast4191 the place in which he shouldë die,
With bodëkins,4192 as I shall you devise.4193

This Julius to the Capitólë went
Upon a day, as he was wont to gon;
And in the Capitol anon him hent4194
This falsë Brutus, and his other fone,
And sticked him with bodëkins anon
With many a wound, and thus they let him lie.
But never groan’d he at no stroke but one,
Or else at two, but if4195 the story lie.

So manly was this Julius of heart,
And so well lov’d estately honesty,4196
That, though his deadly woundës sorë smert,4197
His mantle o’er his hippës castë he,
That no man shouldë see his privity
And as he lay a-dying in a trance,
And wistë verily that dead was he,
Of honesty yet had he remembránce.

Lucan, to thee this story I recommend,
And to Sueton’, and Valerie also,
That of this story writë word and end;4198
How that to these great conquerórës two
Fortune was first a friend, and since4199 a foe.
No mannë trust upon her favour long,
But have her in await4200 for evermo’;
Witness on all these conquerórës strong.

The richë Croesus, whilom king of Lyde⁠—
Of which Croesus Cyrus him sorë drad⁠—4201
Yet was he caught amiddës all his pride,
And to be burnt men to the fire him lad;4202
But such a rain down from the welkin shad,4203
That slew the fire, and made him to escape:
But to beware no gracë yet he had,
Till fortune on the gallows made him gape.

When he escaped was, he could not stint4204
For to begin a newë war again;
He weened well, for4205 that Fortúne him sent
Such hap, that he escaped through the rain,
That of his foes he mightë not be slain.
And eke a sweven4206 on a night he mette,4207
Of which he was so proud, and eke so fain,4208
That he in vengeance all his heartë set.

Upon a tree he was set, as he thought,
Where Jupiter him wash’d, both back and side,
And Phoebus eke a fair towél him brought
To dry him with; and therefore wax’d his pride.
And to his daughter that stood him beside,
Which he knew in high science to abound,
He bade her tell him what it signified;
And she his dream began right thus expound.

“The tree,” quoth she, “the gallows is to mean,
And Jupiter betokens snow and rain,
And Phoebus, with his towel clear and clean,
These be the sunnë’s streamës,4209 sooth to sayn;
Thou shalt y-hangeth be, father, certáin;
Rain shall thee wash, and sunnë shall thee dry.”
Thus warned him full plat and eke full plain
His daughter, which that called was Phaníe.

And hanged was Croesus the proudë king;
His royal thronë might him not avail.
Tragédy is none other manner thing,
Nor can in singing crien nor bewail,
But for that Fortune all day will assail
With unware stroke the regnës4210 that be proud:
For when men trustë her, then will she fail,
And cover her bright facë with a cloud.

O noble, O worthy Pedro,4211 glory of Spain,
Whom Fortune held so high in majesty,
Well oughtë men thy piteous death complain.
Out of thy land thy brother made thee flee,
And after, at a siege, by subtlety,
Thou wert betray’d, and led unto his tent,
Where as he with his owen hand slew thee,
Succeeding in thy regne and in thy rent.4212

The field of snow, with th’ eagle of black therein,
Caught with the lion, red-colour’d as the glede,4213
He brew’d this cursedness,4214 and all this sin;
The wicked nest was worker of this deed;
Not Charlës’ Oliver,4215 that took aye heed
Of truth and honour, but of Armorike
Ganilion Oliver, corrupt for meed,
Broughtë this worthy king in such a brike.4216

O worthy Petro, King of Cypre,4217 also,
That Alexandre won by high mast’ry,
Full many a heathen wroughtest thou full woe,
Of which thine owen lieges had envý;
And, for no thing but for thy chivalry,
They in thy bed have slain thee by the morrow;
Thus can Fortúne her wheel govérn and gie,4218
And out of joy bringë men into sorrow.

Of Milan greatë Barnabo Viscount,
God of delight, and scourge of Lombardy,
Why should I not thine infortúne account,4219
Since in estate thou clomben wert so high?
Thy brother’s son, that was thy double allý,
For he thy nephew was and son-in-law,
Within his prison madë thee to die,
But why, nor how, n’ot4220 I that thou were slaw.4221

Of th’ Earl Hugolin of Pise the languoúr4222
There may no tonguë tellë for pitý.
But little out of Pisa stands a tow’r,
In whichë tow’r in prison put was he,
Aud with him be his little children three;
The eldest scarcely five years was of age;
Alas! Fortúne, it was great crueltý
Such birdës for to put in such a cage.

Damned was he to die in that prisón;
For Roger, which that bishop was of Pise,
Had on him made a false suggestión,
Through which the people gan upon him rise,
And put him in prisón, in such a wise
As ye have heard; and meat and drink he had
So small, that well unneth4223 it might suffice,
And therewithal it was full poor and bad.

And on a day befell, that in that hour
When that his meatë wont was to be brought,
The jailor shut the doorës of the tow’r;
He heard it right well, but he spakë nought.
And in his heart anon there fell a thought,
That they for hunger wouldë do him dien;4224
“Alas!” quoth he, “alas that I was wrought!”4225
Therewith the tearës fellë from his eyen.

His youngest son, that three years was of age,
Unto him said, “Father, why do ye weep?
When will the jailor bringen our pottáge?
Is there no morsel bread that ye do keep?
I am so hungry, that I may not sleep.
Now wouldë God that I might sleepen ever!
Then should not hunger in my wombë creep;
There is no thing, save bread, that one were lever.”4226

Thus day by day this child begun to cry,
Till in his father’s barme4227 adown he lay,
And saidë, “Farewell, father, I must die;”
And kiss’d his father, and died the samë day.
And when the woeful father did it sey,4228
For woe his armës two he gan to bite,
And said, “Alas! Fortúne, and well-away!
To thy false wheel my woe all may I wite.”4229

His children ween’d4230 that it for hunger was
That he his armës gnaw’d, and not for woe,
And saidë, “Father, do not so, alas!
But rather eat the flesh upon us two.
Our flesh thou gave us, our flesh take us fro’,
And eat enough;” right thus they to him said.
And after that, within a day or two,
They laid them in his lap adown, and died.

Himself, despaired, eke for hunger starf.4231
Thus ended is this Earl of Pise;
From high estate Fortúne away him carf.4232
Of this tragédy it ought enough suffice
Whoso will hear it in a longer wise,4233
Readë the greatë poet of Itále,
That Dante hight, for he can it devise4234
From point to point, not one word will he fail.