« السابقةمتابعة »
Fortune the back him turned, and there- In tender youth how she was first my foe, fore And eft my friend, and how I got recure
He maketh joy and comfort that he quits Of my distress, and all my aventure1 Of their unsekir worldis appetites,
I gan o'erhale, that longer sleep ne rest Ne might I not, so were my wittis wrest.2
To fortune both and to infortune hable,1
Wist thou thy pain to come and thy travail,
The rockis clepe1 I, the prolixity
For sorrow and dread well might thou The lack of wind is the difficulty,
weep and wail.
Thus stant thy comfort in unsekerness,3
Right as the ship that saileth steerless,
I mean this of myself, as in party," Though nature gave me suffisance in youth,
The ripeness of reason lacked I
To govern with my will, so lyte I couth,7 When steerless to travel I begouth,8 Among the waves of this world to drive; And how the case, anon I will discrive.
In inditing of this little treaty small: The boat I clepe, the matter whole of all; My wit into the sail that now I wind, To seek conyng,2though I but little find.
At my beginning first I clepe and call
And, with your bright lanternis, well
My pen to write my torment and my joy.
In vere 5 that full of virtue is and good,
With doubtful heart, among the rockis And Cynthius beginneth to arise
And with the tickling of his heat and light, The tender flowers opened them and spread,
And, in their nature, thanked him for glad.
Not far passed the state of innocence
Were it caused through heavenly influence
By their avise that had of me the cure2
Purvait3 of all that was us necessary, With wind at will, up early by the
Straight unto ship, no longer would we tarry,
The way we took, the time I told to forowe, 4
With many farewell, and Saint John to borowe, 5
Of fellow and friend, and thus with one assent,
Where as in strait ward, and in strong prison,
So fare forth of my life the heavy line, Without comfort in sorrow, abandoune,
The second sister looked hath to twine,1 Near by the space of years twice nine, Till Jupiter his mercy list2 advert, And send comfort in release of my smert.
Where as in ward full oft I would bewail My deadly life, full of pain and penance, Saying right thus, what have I guilt to faille,3
My freedom, in this world, and my
Sen every wight has thereof suffisance,
The bird, the beast, the fish eke in the sea, They live in freedom everich5 in his kind;
And I a man, and lacketh liberty;
What shall I seyne, what reason may I find,
We pulled up sail and forth our wayis That fortune should do so? Thus in my