Classic Poem

A Tribute to Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester

" And of o thyng now wel I me remembre
Why thow purposist in this book trauaille.
I trowe þat in the monthe of Septembre
Now last, or nat fer from, it is no faille —
No force of the tyme, it shal nat auaille
To my mateere, ne it hyndre or lette —
Thow seidist of a book thow were in dette

" Vnto my lord þat now is lieutenant,
My lord of Gloucestre, is it nat so?"
" Yis soothly, freend, and as by couenant
He sholde han had it many a day ago.
But seeknesse and vnlust and othir mo
Han be the causes of impediment."
" Thomas, than this book haast thow to him ment?"

" Yee sikir, freend, ful treewe is your deemynge.
For him it is þat I this book shal make.
As blyue as þat I herde of his comynge
Fro France I penne and ynke gan to take
And my spirit I made to awake,
þat longe lurkid hath in ydilnesse
For any swich labour or bisynesse.

" But of sum othir thyng fayn trete I wolde,
My noble lordes herte with to glade,
As therto bownden am I deepe and holde.
On swich mateere, by God þat me made,
Wolde I bestowe many a balade,
Wiste I what. Good freend, telle on what is best
Me for to make, and folwe it am I prest.

" Next our lord lige, our kyng victorious,
In al this wyde world lord is ther noon
Vnto me so good ne so gracious,
And haath been swich yeeres ful many oon.
God yilde it him. As sad as any stoon
His herte set is and nat change can
Fro me, his humble seruant and his man.

" For him I thoghte han translated Vegece
Which tretith of the art of chiualrie.
But I see his knyghthode so encrece
þat nothyng my labour sholde edifie,
For he þat art wel can for the maistrie.
Beyonde, he preeued hath his worthynesse,
And among othre Chirburgh to witnesse.

" This worthy prynce lay before þat hold,
Which was ful strong, at seege many a day,
And thens for to departe hath he nat wold
But knyghtly there abood vpon his pray
Til he by force it wan, it is no nay.
Duc Henri, þat so worthy was and good,
Folwith this prince, as wel in deede as blood.

" Or he to Chirburgh cam in iourneyynge,
Of Constantyn he wan the cloos and yle,
For which laude and honur and hy preysynge
Rewarden him and qwyten him his whyle.
Thogh he beforn þat had a worthy style,
Yit of noble renoun is þat encrees.
He is a famous prince, doutelees.

" For to reherce or telle in special
Euery act þat his swerd in steel wroot there
And many a place elles, I woot nat al,
And thogh euery act come had to myn ere,
T' e xepresse hem my spirit wolde han fere
Lest I his thank par chaunce mighte abregge
Thurgh vnkonnynge if I hem sholde allegge.

" But this I seye. He callid is Humfrey
Conueniently, as þat it seemeth me,
For this conceit is in myn herte alwey.
Bataillous Mars in his natiuitee
Vnto þat name of verray specialtee
Titled him, makynge him therby promesse
þat strecche he sholde into hy worthynesse.

" For Humfrey, as vnto myn intellect,
Man make I shal in Englissh is to seye.
And þat byheeste hath taken treewe effect,
As the commune fame can bywreye.
Whoso his worthy knyghthode can weye
Duely in his conceites balaunce
Ynow hath wherof his renoun enhaunce.

" To cronicle his actes were a good deede,
For they ensaumple mighte and encorage
Ful many a man for to taken heede
How for to gouerne hem in the vsage
Of armes. It is a greet auauntage
A man before him to haue a mirour
Therin to see the path vnto honour.

" O lord, whan he cam to the seege of Roon
Fro Chirburgh, whethir fere or cowardyse
So ny the walles made him for to goon
Of the town as he dide? I nat souffyse
To telle yow in how knyghtly a wyse
He logged him there and how worthyly
He baar him. What! he is al knyght, soothly.

" Now good freend, shoue at the cart, I yow preye.
What thyng may I make vnto his plesance?
Withouten your reed noot I what to seye."
" O no, pardee, Thomas, O no, ascance."
" No, certein, freend, as now no cheuissance
Can I. Your conseil is to me holsum.
As I truste in yow, mynystreth me sum."

The Friend's Advice

He a long tyme in a studie stood,
And aftir þat thus tolde he his entente.
" Thomas, sauf bettre auys, I holde it good,
Syn now the holy seson is of lente
In which it sit euery man him repente
Of his offense and of his wikkidnesse,
Be heuy of thy gilt and the confesse

" And satisfaccion do thow for it.
Thow woost wel, on wommen greet wyt and lak
Ofte haast thow put. Be waar lest thow be qwit
Thy wordes fille wolde a quarter sak,
Which thow in whyt depeynted haast with blak.
In hir repreef mochil thyng haast thow write,
That they nat foryeue haue ne foryite.

" Sumwhat now wryte in honour and preysynge
Of hem. So maist thow do correccioun
Sumdel of thyn offense and misberynge.
Thow art cleene out of hire affeccioun.
Now syn it is in thyn eleccioun
Whethir thee list hir loue ageyn purchace
Or stonde as thow doost out of loue and grace,

" Be war, rede I, cheese the bettre part.
Truste wel this, wommen been fell and wyse.
Hem for to plese lyth greet craft and art.
Wher no fyr maad is, may no smoke aryse.
But thow haast ofte, if thow thee wel auyse,
Maad smoky brondes. And for al þat gilt
Yit maist thow stonde in grace, if þat thow wilt.

" By buxum herte and by submissioun
To hir graces yildinge thee coupable,
Thow pardon maist haue and remissioun
And do vnto hem plesance greable.
To make partie art thow nothyng able.
Humble thy goost, be nat sturdy of herte.
Bettre than thow art han they maad to smerte.

" The Wyf of Bathe take I for auctrice
þat wommen han no ioie ne deyntee
þat men sholde vpon hem putte any vice.
I woot wel so, or lyk to þat, seith shee.
By wordes writen, Thomas, yilde thee.
Euene as thow by scripture hem haast offendid,
Right so let it be by wrytynge amendid."

" Freend, thogh I do so, what lust or pleisir
Shal my lord haue in þat? Noon, thynkith me."
" Yis, Thomas, yis. His lust and his desir
Is, as it wel sit to his hy degree,
For his desport and mirthe in honestee
With ladyes to haue daliance,
And this book wole he shewen hem, par chance.

" And syn he thy good lord is, he be may
For thee swich mene þat the lightlyere
Shuln they foryeue thee. Putte in assay
My conseil, let see, nat shal it thee dere
So wolde I doon if in thy plyt I were
Leye hond on thy breest, if thow wilt so do
Or leue. I can no more seyn therto."