PROLOGUE.
Maistur in magesté, Maker of alle,
Endles and on, euer to last!
Now, God, of þi grace, graunt me þi helpe,
And wysshe me with wyt þis werke for to ende
Off aunters ben olde of aunsetris nobill, 5
And slydyn vppon shlepe by slomeryng of age;
Of stithe men in stoure, strongest in armes,
And wisest in wer, to wale in hor tyme,
Þat ben drepit with deth, and þere day paste,
And most out of mynd for þere mecull age. 10
Sothe stories ben stoken vp, and straught out of mynde,
And swolowet into swym by swiftenes of yeres,
For new þat ben now next at our hond,
Breuyt into bokes for boldyng of hertes,
On lusti to loke with lightnes of wille, 15
Cheuyt throughe chaunce and chaungyng of peopull;
Sum tru for to traist, triet in þe ende,
Sum feynit o fere and ay false vnder.
Yche wegh as he will warys his tyme,
And has lykyng to lerne þat hym list after. 20
But olde stories of stithe þat astate helde
May be solas to sum þat it segh neuer,
Be writyng of wees þat wist it in dede,
With sight for to serche of hom þat suet after,
To ken all the crafte how þe case felle 25
By lokyng of letturs þat lefte were of olde.
Now of Troy for to telle is myn entent euyn,
Of the stoure and þe stryffe when it distroyet was.
Þof fele yeres ben faren syn þe fight endid,
And it meuyt out of mynd, myn hit I thinke, 30
Alss wise men haue writen the wordes before,
Left it in Latyn for lernyng of us.
But sum poyetis full prist þat put hom þerto
With fablis and falshed fayned þere speche,
And made more of þat mater þan hom maister were. 35
Sum lokyt ouer litle, and lympit of the sothe.
Amonges þat menye, to myn hym be nome,
Homer was holden haithill of dedis
Qwiles his dayes enduret, derrist of other,
Þat with the Grekys was gret, and of Grice comyn.40
He feynet myche fals was neuer before wroght,
And turnet þe truth, trust ye non other.
Of his trifuls to telle I haue no tome nowe,
Ne of his feynit fare þat he fore with:
How goddes foght in the filde, folke as þai were! 45
And other errours vnable, þat after were knowen,
That poyetis of prise have preuyt vntrew:
Ouyde and othir þat onest were ay,
Virgille þe virtuus, verrit for nobill,
Thes dampnet his dedys, and for dull holdyn. 50
But þe truth for to telle, and þe text euyn,
Of þat fight, how it felle in a few yeres,
Þat was clanly compilet with a clerk wise,
On Gydo, a gome þat graidly hade soght,
And wist all þe werks by weghes he hade, 55
That bothe were in batell while the batell last,
And euþer sawte and assembly see with þere een.
Thai wrote all þe werkes wroght at þat tyme
In letturs of þere langage, as þai lernede hade:
Dares and Dytes were duly þere namys. 60
Dites full dere was dew to the Grekys,
A lede of þat lond, and logede hom with.
The tother was a tulke out of Troy selfe,
Dares, þat duly the dedys behelde.
Aither breuyt in a boke on þere best wise, 65
That sithen at a sité somyn were founden,
After, at Atthenes, as aunter befell.
The whiche bokes barely, bothe as þai were,
A Romayn ouerraght, and right hom hymseluyn,
That Cornelius was cald to his kynde name. 70
He translated it into Latyn for likyng to here,
But he shope it so short þat no shalke might
Haue knowlage by course how þe case felle;
For he brought it so breff, and so bare leuyt,
Þat no lede might have likyng to loke þerappon; 75
Till þis Gydo it gate, as hym grace felle,
And declaret it more clere, and on clene wise.
In this shall faithfully be founden, to the fer ende,
All þe dedis bydene as þai done were:
How þe groundes first grew, and þe grete hate, 80
Bothe of torfer and tene þat hom tide aftur.
And here fynde shall ye faire of þe felle peopull:
What kynges þere come of costes aboute;
Of dukes full doughty, and of derffe erles,
That assemblid to þe citie þat sawte to defend; 85
Of þe Grekys þat were gedret how gret was þe nowmber,
How mony knightes þere come, and kynges enarmede,
And what dukes thedur droghe for dedis of were;
What shippes þere were shene, and shalkes within,
Bothe of barges and buernes þat broght were fro Grese; 90
And all the batels on bent þe buernes betwene;
What duke þat was dede throughe dyntes of hond,
Who fallen was in fylde, and how it fore after.
Bothe of truse and trayne þe truthe shalt þu here,
And all the ferlies þat fell, vnto the ferre ende. 95
Fro this prologe I passe, and part me þerwith.
Frayne will I fer, and fraist of þere werkes,
Meue to my mater, and make here an ende.
EXPLICIT PROLOGUE.
THE XXXI BOKE: OF THE PASSAGE OF THE GREKYS FRO TROY (ll. 12463-12547).
Hyt fell thus, by fortune, þe fairest of þe yere
Was past to the point of the pale wintur. 100
Heruest, with the heite and the high sun,
Was comyn into colde, with a course low.
Trees, thurgh tempestes, tynde hade þere leues,
And briddes abatid of hor brem songe;
The wynde of the west wackenet aboue, 105
Blowyng full bremly o the brode ythes;
The clere aire ouercast with cloudys full thicke,
With mystes full merke mynget with showres.
Flodes were felle thurgh fallyng of rayne,
And wintur vp wacknet with his wete aire. 110
The gret nauy of the Grekes and the gay kynges
Were put in a purpos to pas fro the toune.
Sore longit þo lordis hor londys to se,
And dissiret full depely, doutyng no wedur.
Þai counted no course of the cold stormys, 115
Ne the perellis to passe of the pale windes.
Hit happit hom full hard in a hondqwile,
And mony of þo mighty to misse of hor purpos.
Thus tho lordes in hor longyng laghton þe watur,
Shotton into ship mong shene knightes, 120
With the tresowre of þe toune þai token before,
Relikes full rife, and miche ranke godes.
Clere was the course of the cold flodis,
And the firmament faire, as fell for the wintur.
Thai past on the pale se, puld vp hor sailes, 125
Hadyn bir at þere backe, and the bonke leuyt.
Foure dayes bydene, and hor du nyghtis,
Ful soundly þai sailed with seasonable windes.
The fyft day fuersly fell at the none,
Sodonly the softe winde vnsoberly blew; 130
A myste and a merkenes myngit togedur;
A thoner and a thicke rayne þrublet in the skewes,
With an ugsom noise, noy for to here;
All flasshet in a fire the firmament ouer;
Was no light but a laite þat launchit aboue: 135
Hit skirmyt in the skewes with a skyre low,
Thurgh the claterand clowdes clos to the heuyn,
As the welkyn shuld walt for wodenes of hete;
With blastes full bigge of the breme wyndes,
Walt vp the waghes vpon wan hilles. 140
Stith was the storme, stird all the shippes,
Hoppit on hegh with heste of the flodes.
The sea was unsober, sondrit the nauy,
Walt ouer waghes, and no way held,
Depertid the pepull, pyne to behold, 145
In costes vnkowthe; cut down þere sailes,
Ropis al torochit, rent vp the hacches,
Topcastell ouerturnyt, takelles were lost.
The night come onone, noye was the more!
All the company cleane of the kyng Telamon, 150
With þere shippes full shene, and þe shire godis,
Were brent in the bre with the breme lowe
Of the leymonde laite þat launchit fro heuyn,
And euyn drownet in the depe, dukes and other!
Oelius Aiax, as aunter befelle, 155
Was stad in the storme with the stith windes,
With his shippes full shene and the shire godes.
Thrifty and þriuaund, thretty and two
There were brent on the buerne with the breme low,
And all the freikes in the flode floterand aboue. 160
Hymseluyn in the sea sonkyn belyue,
Swalprit and swam with swyngyng of armys.
Ȝet he launchet to londe, and his lyf hade,
Bare of his body, bretfull of water,
In the slober and the sluche slongyn to londe; 165
There he lay, if hym list, the long night ouer,
Till the derke was done, and the day sprang;
[Þare] sum of his sort, þat soght were to lond
And than wonen of waghes, with wo as þai might,
Laited þere lord on the laund-syde,170
If hit fell [hym] by fortune the flodes to passe.
Þan found þai the freike in the fome lye,
And comford hym kyndly, as þere kyd lord;
With worchip and wordes wan hym to fote.
Bothe failet hym the fode and the fyne clothes. 175
Thus þere goddes with gremy with þe Grekes fore,
Mighty Myner<u>a, of malis full grete,
For Telamon, in tene, tid for to pull
Cassandra the clene out of hir cloise temple.
Thus hit fell hom by fortune of a foule ende, 180
For greuyng þere goddes in hor gret yre.
Oftsythes men sayn, and sene is of olde,
Þat all a company is cumbrit for a cursed shrewe.
168-9 [transposed in MS.]
171 [hym]] hom MS.
VIII PIERS PLOWMAN (1362-1400) BY WILLIAM LANGLAND
Recent criticism of Piers Plowman has done more to weaken the hold of opinions once generally accepted than to replace them by others better founded. It is still most probable that 'Long Will', who is more than once mentioned in the text as the poet, was William Langland. The earliest external evidence of his home and parentage is given in a fifteenth-century note in MS. Dublin D 4. 1, of which both the matter and the vile Latinity bear the stamp of genuineness: 'Memorandum quod Stacy de Rokayle, pater Willielmi de Langlond, qui Stacius fuit generosus, et morabatur in Schiptone under Whicwode, tenens domini le Spenser in comitatu Oxon., qui praedictus Willielmus fecit librum qui vocatur Perys Ploughman.' Shipton-under-Wychwood is near Burford in Oxfordshire. The poem shows familiarity with the Malvern Hills and the streets of London; but it is hard to say how much is fact and how much is fiction in the references to Long Will in the text itself, more especially the description of his London life added as the Sixth Passus in Version C, and reproduced here as the second extract.
Since Skeat's edition for the Early English Text Society, the many manuscripts have been grouped into three main types. The shortest, or A-text, appears from internal evidence to have been written about 1362. The B-text (about 1377) has the most compact manuscript tradition. It is distinguished by considerable additions throughout, and by the reconstruction and expansion of the visions of Dowel, Dobet, Dobest, which make up the second half of the poem. The C-text, the latest and fullest form, appears to have been completed in the last decade of the fourteenth century.
Until recently it has been assumed that these three versions represent progressive revisions by the author. But Professor Manly has found considerable support for his view that more than one writer—perhaps as many as five—had a share in the work. For the present, judgement on this question, and on the intricate problem of the relations of the different versions, is suspended until the results of a complete re-examination of all the MSS. are available. It would not be surprising to find that even when this necessary work is done differences of opinion on the larger questions remain as acute as ever.
It is impossible in short space to give an outline of the whole work, which describes no less than eleven visions. The structure is loose, and allegory is developed or dropped with disconcerting abruptness, for the writer does not curb his vigorous imagination in the interests of formal correctness.
The first part is the best known. On a May morning the poet falls asleep on the Malvern Hills and sees a 'Field full of Folk', where all classes of men are busy about their occupations, more particularly the nefarious occupations that engage the attention of the moralist. Holy Church explains that a high tower in the Field is the home of Truth; and that a 'deep dale' is the Castle of Care, where Wrong dwells with the wicked. She points out Falseness, who is about to marry Lady Meed (i.e. Reward, whether deserved reward or bribe). Lady Meed and her company are haled before the King, who, with Reason and Conscience as his guides, decides her case, and upholds the plea of Peace against Wrong.
The second vision is prefaced (in the C-text only) by the passage printed as the second selection. The poet falls asleep again, and sees Conscience preaching to the people in the Field. Representatives of the Seven Deadly Sins are vividly described. They are brought to penitence, and all set out in search of Truth. But no one knows the way. A palmer who wears the trophies of many pilgrimages to distant saints is puzzled by their inquiries, for he has never heard of pilgrims seeking Truth. Then Peter the Plowman comes forward and explains the way in allegorical terms. Here the first extract begins. The second vision closes with a general pardon given by Truth to Piers Plowman in this simple form:
Do wel, and haue wel, and God shal haue þi sowle;
And do yuel, and haue yuel, hope þow non other
But after þi ded-day þe Deuel shal haue þi sowle.
The several visions of the second part make up the lives of Dowel, Dobet, and Dobest. Piers Plowman is there identified with Christ, and the poem ends with Conscience, almost overcome by sin, setting out resolutely in search of Piers.
First impressions of mediaeval life are usually coloured by the courtly romances of Malory and his later refiners. Chaucer brings us down to reality, but his people belong to a prosperous middle-class world, on holiday and in holiday mood. Piers Plowman stands alone as a revelation of the ignorance and misery of the lower classes, whose multiplied grievances came to a head in the Peasants' Revolt of 1381. It must not be supposed that Langland idealized the labourers. Their indolence and improvidence are exposed as unsparingly as the vices of the rich; and Piers himself is not so much a representative of the English workman in the fourteenth century as a character drawn straight from the Gospels. Still, such an eager plea for humbleness, simplicity, and honest labour, could not fail to encourage the political hopes of the poor, and we see in John Ball's letter (p. 160) that 'Piers Plowman' had become a catchword among them. The poet himself rather deprecates political action. His satire is directed against the general slackening of the bonds of duty that marked the last years of an outworn system of society. For the remedy of abuses he appeals not to one class but to all: king, nobles, clergy, and workers must model their lives on the pattern of the Gospels.