And yet, lo! all this companie
Y faidin soche, and not a lie.
Madame, (thus sayid thei) we be
Folke whiche that here berechin the
That thou grauntin us now gode Fame,
And let our workiş have gode name;
In full recompensacion
Of gode worke give us gode renoun.
I warne it you (quod she anone)
Ye gettin of me gode Fame none
By God, and therefore go your waie.
Alas, (quod thei) and welawaie! 'Tellith us what your cause maie be.
For that me liste it not, (quod she.)
No wight fall speke of you iwis
Ne gode ne harme, ne chat ne this.
And with that worde Te gan to call
Her messeagir that was in hall,
And bad that he should fast ygone,
Upon pain to be blinde anone,
For Æolus, the god of Winde,
In Thrace there ye shall hym ysinde,
And bid hym bryng his clarioun
That is full divers of his foun,
And it is clepid Clerè Laude,
With whiche he wont is to heraude
'Hem that me lift ipraisid be;
And also bid hym how that he
Volume XIII,
Bryng eke his othir clarioun,
That hight Sclaundir in every toune,
With whiche he wont is to diffame
'Hem that me list and doe 'hem shame.
This messengir gan fast to gone,
And founde where in a cave of stone,
In a countre which that hight Thrace,
This Æolus with hardè grace
Yhelde the windis in distres
And
gan
'hem undir hym to presse,
That thei gone as the beris rore,
He bounde and preslid 'hem so sore.
This messengir gan fast to crie,
Rise up (quod he) and fast the hie
Untill thou at my ladie be,
And take thy clarions eke with the,
And spede the fast: and he anone
Toke to him one that hight Tritone,
His clarions to berin tho,
And let a certain winde ygo,
That blewe fo hidously and hie
'That it ne leftè not a skie
In all the welkin long and brode.
This Æolus no where abode
Till' he was come to Fam'is fete,
And eke the man that I'riton hete,
And there he stode as still as stone:
And here withall there came anone
An othir hugè companie
Of gode folke, and began to crie
Ladie! grauntith us now gode Fame,
And let our workis have that name,
Now in honour of gentilnesse,
And al so God your soule yblesse,
For we han well deservid it,
Therefore is right that we be quit.
As thrive I (quod she) ye shall saile,
Gode workis shall you not availe
To have of me gode Fame as now;
But wote
ye
what? I grauntin yowe That ye
fhall havin a fhrewde name,
And wickid loos and worsè Fame, -
Though ye gode loos have well deserved;
Now goeth your waie, for ye ben ferved.
And thou Dan Æolus, (quod fhe)
Take forthe thy trompe anone, let fë, i
That is iclepid Sclaundir light,
And blowe ther loos, that every wight
Speke of 'hem harnie and threudineile
In stede of gode and worthineffe,
For thou shalt trumpe all the contraire
Of that thei have doen well and faire.
Alas! thought I, what avintares
Yhavin these forie cretures,
That thei emongis al the pres
Should thus be hamid giltiles!
But what it must nedis ybe.
What did this Æolus? but he
Toke out his blackè trompe of bras,
That foulir then the devill was,
And gan this trompè for to blowe
As all the worlde should ovirthrowe:
Throughout every regioun
Ywent this foulè trump'is foun
Asswift as pelit out of gonne
When fire is in the poudir ronne,
And foche a smokè gan out wende
Out of the foulè trump'is ende,
Blacke, blue, and grenishe, fwartishe, rede,
As doith where that men melte lede,
Lo! all on hie from the tewell;
And therto one thyng fawe I well,
That
ay
the ferthir that it ranne
The gretir werin it beganne,
As doech the rivir from a well,
And it stanke as the pitte of hell:
Alas! thus was ther shame irong,
And giltleffe, on every tong.
'Tho came the thirdè companie,
And gone up to the dees to hie,
And doune on knees thei fell anone,
And saidin, We ben everichone
Folke that yhan full truilie
Defervid Famè rightfullie,
And prayin you it might be knowe
Right as it is, and forthe yblowe.
I graunte, (quod she) for now nie lift
That
your gode workis shall be wilt,
And yet ye shall have bectir loos,
Right in dispite of all your foos,
Then worthie is, and that anone.
Let now (quod fhe) thy trumpè gone,
Thou Æolus, that is so blacke,
And out thyne othir trumpè take
That'hightin Laude, and blowe it fo
That through the worlde ther Fame may go
All esily and not to fast,
That it be knowin at the last.
Full gladly, ladie myne ! he saied;
And out his trumpe of golde he braied
Anone, and set it to his mouthe,
And blewe ic eft, and west, and southe,
And northe, as londe as any thonder,
That every wight hath of it wonder,
So brode it ran or that it ftent;
And certis all the breth that went
Out of his trump'is mouthe ysmelde
As men a potte full of baume helde
Emong a baskit full of roses;
This favour did he to ther loses.
And right with this I gan espie
There came the fowirth companie,
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