MANY men sayen that in swevenynges,
Ther nys but fables and lesynges;
But men may some swevene sene,
Whiche hardely that false ne bene,
But afterwarde ben apparaunt.
This
maye I drawe to warraunt,
An authour that highte Macrobes,1
That halte nat dremes false ne lees,2
But undoth us the avysyoun
That whylom mette kyng Cipioun.
And who-so sayth or weneth 5 it be A jape, or elles nycetie "
To wene that dremes after falle,
Lette who-so lyst a foole me calle.
For this trowe I, and saye for me,
That dremes signifiaunce be
Of good and harme to many wightes,
That dremen in her sleep a-nyghtes
Ful many thynges covertly,
That fallen after al openly.
Within my twenty yere of age, Whan that love taketh his corage Of
yonge folk, I wente soon
1 Macrobius. Cf. Parlement of Foules, 1. 31.
foldeth. + Dreamed. 5 Thinketh. A joke or else an ignorance. 7 Cf. House of Fame, ll. 1-65, and Canterbury Tales, 1. 8591.
To bed, as I was wont to doon,
And fast I slept; and in slepyng,
Me mette suche a swevenyng,
That lykede1 me wonderous wele ;
But in that sweven is never a dele
That it nys afterwarde befalle,
Ryght as this dreme wol tel us alle.
Now this dreme wol I ryme aryghte,
To make your hertes gaye and lyghte ;
For Love it prayeth, and also
Commaundeth me that it be so.
And yf there any aske me,
Whether that it be he or she,
How this boke which is here
Shal hatte, that I rede you here,
It is the "Romaunce of the Rose,"
In which alle the art of love I close.3
The mater fayre is of to make ;
God graunt me in gre1 that she it take
For whom that it begonnen is!
And that is she that hath, ywys,
So mochel pris; and therto she
So worthy is biloved to be,
That she wel ought of pris and ryght
Be cleped "Rose" of every wight.
That it was May me thoughte tho,
It is fyve yere or more ago;
That it was May, thus dremede me,
In tyme of love and jolite,
1 Pleased. 2 Be called. 3 Include. 4 Favor.
THE BIRDS SING.
That al thing gynneth waxen gay,
For there is neither busk nor hay1
In May, that it nyl shrouded bene,
And it with newe leves wrene.2
These wodes eek recoveren grene,
That drie in wynter ben to sene ;
And the erth wexith proude withalle,
For swote dewes that on it falle ;
And the pore estat forgette,
In which that wynter had it sette.
And than bycometh the ground so proude,
That it wole have a newe shroude,
And makith so queynt his robe and faire,
That it had hewes an hundred payre,
Of gras and flouris, ynde and pers,*
And many hewes ful dyvers:
That is the robe I mene, iwis,5
Through which the ground to preisen is.
The briddes, that haven lefte her song,
While thei han suffride cold so strong
In wedres gryl' and derk to sighte,
Ben in May for the sonne brighte,
So glade, that they shewe in syngyng,
That in her hertis is sich lykyng,
That they mote syngen and be light.
Than doth the nyghtyngale hir myght,
To make noyse, and syngen blythe.
Than is blisful many sithe
1 Bush nor hedge. 2 Cover. 3 Sweet. 4 Azure and sky-colored. 5 Truly. To be praised. 7 Severe.
The chelaundre and the papyngay.1
Than younge folk entenden 2
For to ben gay and amorous,
The tyme is than so faverous.3
Hard is the hert that loveth nought
In May, whan al this mirth is wrought;
Whan he may on these braunches here
The smale briddes syngen clere
Her blesful, swete song pitous,
And in this sesoun delytous,
Whan love affraieth * alle thing.
Me thought a nyght, in my slepyng,
Right in my bed ful redily,
That it was by the morowe erly;
And up I roos, and gan me clothe ;
Anoon I wisshe 5 myn hondis bothe;
A sylvre nedle forth I droughe,
Out of an aguler queynt ynoughe,
And gan this nedle threde anon,
For out of toun me list to gon,
The song of briddes for to here
That in thise buskes syngen clere,
And in the swete seson that leve' is ;
With a threde bastyng my slevis,
Alone I wente in my plaiyng,
The smale foules song harknyng,
They peyned hem ful many peyre,
To synge on bowes blosmed feyre.
1 The finch and the parrot. 2 Attend. 3 Propitious. 5 Washed. 6 Needle-case. 7 Lovely.
"I SAUGH A GARDYN."
Joly and gay, ful of gladnesse,
Toward a ryver gan I me dresse,
That I herd renne faste by ;
For fairer plaiyng non saugh I
Than playen me by that ryvere,
For from an hille that stood ther nere,
Cam doun the streme ful stif and bold.
Cleer was the water, and as cold
As any welle 1 1 is, sooth to seyn,
And somdele lasse it was than Seyn,2
But it was strayghter, wel-away!
And never saugh I, er that day,
The water that so wel lykede3 me;
And wondir glad was I to se
That lusty place, and that ryvere;
And with that watir that ran so clere
My face I wysshe. Tho saugh I welle
The botme paved everydelle
With gravel, full of stones shene.
The medewe softe, swote and grene,
Beet right up on the-watir syde.
Ful clere was than the morow tyde,
And ful attempre, out of drede.
Tho gan I walke thorough the mede,
Dounward ay in my pleiyng,
The ryver syde costeiyng.*
And whan I had a while goon,
I saugh a gardyn right anoon,
2 Seine. 3 Pleased. 4 Walking by the bank (Lat.
costa, a side; compare "coast").
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