Classic Poem

Also ther was a disciple of Plato,
That on a tyme seyde his maister to,
As his book Senior wol bere witnesse,
And this was his demande in soothfastnesse:
" Telle me the name of the privee stoon? "

And Plato answerde unto hym anoon,
" Take the stoon that Titanos men name. "
" Which is that? " quod he. " Magnasia is the same, "
Seyde Plato. " Ye, sire, and is it thus?
This is ignotum per ignocius.
What is Magnasia, good sire, I yow preye? "
" It is a water that is maad, I seye,
Of elementes foure, " quod Plato.

" Telle me the roote, good sire, " quod he tho,
" Of that water, if it be youre wil. "
" Nay, nay, " quod Plato, " as certein, that I nyl.
The philosophres sworn were everychoon
That they sholden discovere it unto noon,
Ne in no book it write in no manere.
For unto Crist it is so lief and deere
That he wol nat that it discovered bee,
But where it liketh to his deitee
Men for t'enspire, and eek for to deffende
Whom that hym liketh; lo, this is the ende. "

Thanne conclude I thus, sith that God of hevene
Ne wil nat that the philosophres nevene
How that a man shal come unto this stoon,
I rede, as for the beste, lete it goon
For whoso maketh God his adversarie,
As for to werken any thyng in contrarie
Of his wil, certes, never shal he thryve,
Thogh that he multiplie terme of his lyve.
And there a poynt; for ended is my tale.
God sende every trewe man boote of his bale!