But nathelees, yit hast thou no powèr
His name slee; his hy vertu asterteth
Unslayn fro thee, which ay us lyfly herteth
With bokes of his ornat endyting,
That is to al this land enlumining....
My dere maister—God his soule quyte—
and fader, Chaucer, fayn wolde han me taught;
But I was dul, and lernede right naught[[180]].
Allas! my worthy maister honorable,
This landes verray tresor and richesse!