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Some hote and moyst, and some colde and dry;
Some hote and drye, moyst and colde;
Thus every one hath vertues sundry,
As is made mencyon in the bokes olde.
They shewe theyr power and werke many a folde;
Man upon them hath his dysposycyon,
By the naturate power of constellacyon.
What shoulde I wryte more in thys matter hye, In my maternall tonge opprest wyth ignoraunce? For who that lyst to lerne astronomye,
He shall fynde all fruytfull pleasaunce
In the Latyn tonge by goodly ordenaunce;
Wherfore of it I wyll no lenger tary,
For fere from trouthe that I happen to vary.
Of dame Astronomy I dyd take my lycence.
For to travayle to the toure of Chyvalry;
For al my minde, wyth percyng influence,
Was sette upon the most fayre lady
La Bell Pucell, so muche ententyfly,
That every daye I dyd thinke fyftene,
I agayne had her swete person sene.
To you experte in the seven scyence,
Now al my maysters, I do me excuse
If I offended by my great neclygence.
This lytel werke yet do ye not refuse;
I am but yonge, it is to me obtuse
Of these maters to presume to endyte,
But for my lernyng that I lyst to wryte.
Under obedyence and the true correctyon
Of you my maysters experte in conninge,
I me submytte now wyth hole affeccyon
Unto your perfyte understandynge;
As evermore mekely to you inclynyng,
With diligent labour now without doutaunce
To detraye or adde all at your plesaunce.
HOW GRAUNDE AMOURE CAME TO THE TOURE OF
WHAN clene Aurora, with her golden bemes,
Gan to enlumyne the derke cloudy ayre,
And combust Dyane her gret fyry lemes
Amyddes of the Bull began to reflayre;
Than on my jorney, my selfe to repayre,
Wyth my verlet called Attendaunce,
Forthe on I rode by longe contynuaunce:
Wyth my grayhoundes, both Grace and Governaunce,
Over an hyll and so downe in a valley,
Amonge the thornes of great encumbraunce,
The goodli greyhounds caught me on mi wey.
So foorth I passed my troublous journey,
Tyll that I came unto a ryall playne,
With Flora paynted in many a sundry vayne.
Wyth purple colour the floures enhewed,
In dyvers knottes wyth many one ful blue,
The gentyll gelofer his odoure renued.
Wyth sundry herbes replete wyth vertue:
Amonge these floures as I dyd ensue,
Castynge my syght sodaynly so ferre,
Over a toure I sawe a flambynge sterre.
Towarde this toure as I rode nere and nere,
I behelde the rocke of merveylous altytude,
On whych it stode that quadrante did appere,
Made all of stele wonderous fortytude,
Gargeylde wyth beestes in sundry symylytude;
And many turrettes above the toures hye,
With ymages was set full marveylously.
Towarde thys toure forth on my way I wente,
Tyll that I came to a myghty fortresse,
Where I saw hange a merveylous instrumente,
Wyth a shelde and helmet before the entres:
I knewe nothynge therof the perfytnes,
But at aventure the instrument I toke,
And blewe so loude that all the toure I shoke.
Whan the porter herde the hedyous sounde
Of my ryght lusty and stormy blast,
That made the walles therof to redounde,
Full lyke a knyght that was nothinge agast,
Towarde the gate gave hym selfe to hast,
And opened it, and asked my name,
And fro whence I came, to certyfy the same.
My name, quod I, is Graunde Amoure;
Of late I came fro the toure of Doctryne,
Where I attayned all the hygh honoure
Of the seven scyences, me to enlumyne;
And frome thence I dyd determyne
Forthe to travayle to thys toure of Chyvalry,
Where I have blowen thys blast so sodeynly.
Whan he herd thys, ryght gentylly he sayd:
Unto thys toure ye must resorte by ryght
For to renue that hath be longe decayd,
The flour of Chyvalry, with your hole delyght.
Come on your way, it draweth toward nyghte.
And therwith all he ledde me to his warde,
Me to repose in pleasaunt due saufgard.
After the travayle my selfe for to ease,
I did there reste in all goodly wyse,
And slept right well without any disease,
Till on the morow the sonne did aryse;
Than up I rose, as was my perfyte guyse,
And made me redy into the courte to go,
With my verlet and greyhoundes also.
The gentil porter, named Stedfastnes,
Into the basse courte on my way he brought,
Where stode a toure of mervaylous highnes,
That al of jasper ful wonderly wrought,
As ony man can printe in his thought;
And foure ymages above the toure there were,
On horsebacke, armed, and every one a spere.
These ymages were made ful curiously,
Wyth theyr horses of the stele so fyne,
And eche of them, in theyr places sundry,
About were sette that clerely dyd shyne,
Lyke Dyane clere in her spere celestyne;
And under eche horse there was, ful pryvely,
A great whele made by craftly Geometry,
Wyth many cogges, unto whiche were tyed
Dyvers cordes that in the horses holowe
To every joynte full wonderly applyed;
Whan the wheles wente the horses dyd folowe,
To trotte and galop both even and morowe,
Brekynge theyr speres and coude them dyscharge,
Partynge asonder for to turney at large.
OF THE MARVEYLOUS ARGUMENT BETWENE MARS AND FORTUNE.
BESYDE this toure of olde foundacion
There was a temple strongly edefyed;
To the high honoure and reputacyon
Of the mighty Mars it was so fortefyed:
And for to know what it signifyed
I entred in, and sawe of golde so pure
Of worthy Mars the mervaylous pycture.