It shope so that he had a little glasse,
Which with that water anon filled he:
And when he further in his way gone was,
Before him he beheld and saw a tree
That fair fruit bore, and in great plentie:

He eate thereof, the taste him liked well,
But he there-through became a foule mesel.

For which unto the ground for sorrow and wo
He fell, and said, "Cursed be that day
That I was borne, and time and houre also
That my mother conceived me, for ay
Now am I lost! Alas, and well away!"

And when some deel slaked his heavinesse,
He rose, and on his way he gan him dresse.

Another water before him he sye,
Which (sore) to comen in he was adrad:
But nathelesse, since thereby, other way
Ne about it there could none be had,
He thought," So streitly am I bestad,

That though it sore me affese or gast,
Assoile it wole I," and through it he past.

And right as the first water his flesh
Departed from his feet, so the secownd
Restored it, and made all whole and fresh:
And glad was he, and joyfull that stownd,
When he felt his feet whole were and sound:
A violl of the water of that brooke

He fill'd, and fruit of the tree with him tooke.

Forth his journey this Jonathas held,
And as he his looke about him cast,
Another tree from afarre he beheld,
To which he hasted, and him hied fast;
Hungry he was, and of the fruit he thrast
Into his mouth, and eate of it sadly,
And of the lepry he purged was thereby.

Of that fruit more he raught, and thence is gone,
And a faire castle from a farre saw he,
In compasse of which, heads many one
Of men there hung, as he might well sce,
But not for that he shun would, or flee,

He thither him dresseth the streight way
In that ever that he can or may.

Walking so, two men came him ageine,
And saiden thus: "Deere friend, we you pray,
What man be ye?" "Sirs," quoth he, "certeine
A leech I am; and though myselfe it say,
Can for the health of sicke folkes well purvay."

They said to him, "Of yonder castle the king
A leeper is, and can whole be for nothing.

"With him there hath been many a sundry leech,
That undertooke him well to cure and heale
On paine of their heads, but all to secch
Their art was, ware that thou not with him deale,
But if thou canst the charter of health enseale:

Lest that thou leese thy head, as didden they,
But thou be wise thou find it shall no pley."
"Sirs," said he, "you thanke I of your reed,
For gently ye han you to me quit:
But I nat dread to loose mine heed,
By God's helpe full safe keepe I will it.
God of his grace such cunning and wit
Hath lent me, that I hope I shall him cure.
Full well dare I me put in aventure."

They to the king's presence han him lad,
And him of the fruit of the second tree
He gave to eate, and bad him to be glad,
And said, "Anon your health han shall yee:"
Eke of the second water him gave he

To drinke, and whan he those two had received,
His lepry from him voided was and weived,

The king (as unto his high dignity
Convenient was) gave him largely,
And to him said, "If that it like thee
Abiden here, I more abundantly

Thee give wole." "My lord, sickerly,"
Quoth he, "faine would I your pleasure fulfill,
And in your high presence abide still,
"But I no while may with you abide,
So mochill have I to done elsewhere."
Jonathas every day to the sea side,
Which was nye, went to looke and enquere
If any ship drawing thither were,
Which him home to his countrey lead might,
And on a day, of ships had he sight.

Well a thirty toward the castle draw,
And at a time of evensong, they all
Arriveden, of which he was full faw,
And to the shipmen cry he gan and call;
And said, "If it so hap might and fall,
That some of you me home to my countrie
Me bring would, well quit should he be."
And told them whither that they shoulden goe,
One of the shipmen forth start at last,
And to him said, "My ship, and no moe
Of them that here been, doth shope and cast
Thither to wend; let see, tell on fast,"

Quoth the shipman, "that thou for my travaile
Me give wilt, if that I thither saile."

They were accorded, Jonathas forth goeth
Unto the king to aske him licence

To twine thence, to which the king was loth,
And nathlesse with his benevolence,
This Jonathas from his magnificence

Departed is, and forth to the shipman
His way he taketh, as swyth as he can.
Into the ship he entreth, and as blive
As wind and wether good hope to be,
Thither as he purposed him arrive
They sailed forth, and came to the cittie
In which this serpentine woman was, she

That had him terned with false deceitis,
But where no remedy followeth, streit is.
Turnes been quit, all be they good or bad
Sometime, though they put been in delay.
But to my purpose: she deemed he had
Been devoured with beasts many a day
Gone, she thought he delivered was for ay.

Folke of the cittie knew not Jonathas,
So many a yeare was past, that he there was:

Misliking and thought changed eke in his face,
Abouten he go'th, and for his dwelling
In the cittie, he hired him a place,
And therein exercised his cunning
Of physicke, to whom weren repairing
Many a sicke wight, and all were healed;
Well was the sicke man that with him dealed.

Now shop it thus that this Fellicula,
(The well of deceivable doublenesse,
Follower of the steps of Dallida)
Was then exalted unto high richesse,
But she was fallen into great sicknesse
And heard seyne, for not might it been hid
How masterfull a leech he had him kid.

Messages solemne to him she sent,
Praying him to do so mochill labour
As come and see her; and he thither went:
Whan he her saw, that she his paramour
Had been, he well knew, and for that dettour
To her he was, her he thought to quite
Or he went, and no longer it respite.

But what that he was, she ne wist nat :
He saw her urine, and exe felt her pous,
And said, "The sooth is this plaine and flat,
A sicknesse han ye strange and mervailous,
Which to avoid is wonder dangerous :

To heale you there is no way but one,
Leech in this world other can find none.
"Aviseth you whether you list it take
Or not, for I told have you my wit."
"Ah, sir!" said she, "for God's sake,
That way me show, and I shall follow it
Whatever it be; for this sicknesse sit

So nigh mine heart, that I wot not how
Me to demene: tell on, I pray yow."

"Lady, yee must openly you confesse,
And if against good conscience and right,
Any good han ye take more or lesse,
Beforne this boure, of any manner wight,
Yeeld it anon; else not in the might

Of man is it, to give a medicine

That you may heale of your sicknes and pine.

"If any such thing be, tell it out reed, And ye shall been all whole I you beheet; Else mine art is nought withouten dreed."

"O Lord!" she thought, "health is a thing full sweet,

Therewith desire I soverainly to meet:

Since I it by confession may recover,
A foole am I but I my guilt discover."
How falsely to the sonne of th' emperour,
Jonathas, had she done, before them all
As ye han heard above, all that errour
By knew she, O Fellicula thee call!
Well may I so, for of the bitter gall

Thou takest the beginning of thy name,
Thou root of malice and mirrour of shame.
Then said Jonathas, "Where are those three
Jewels, that thee fro' the clerke withdrew ?"
"Sir, in a coffer, at my bed's feet, ye
Shall find them; open it, and so pray I you.
He thought not to make it queint and tow
And say nay, and streine courtesie,

But with right good will thither he gan hye.
The coffer he opened, and them there found,
Who was a glad man but Jonathas? who
The ring upon a finger of his hond
He put, and the brooch on his breast also,
The cloth eke under his arme held he tho;
And to her him dresseth to done his cure.
Cure mortall, way to her sepulture. »

He thought rue she should, and fore-thinke
That she her had unto him misbore:
And of that water her he gave to drinke,
Which that his flesh from his bones before
Had twined, where through he was almost lore
Nad he relieved been, as ye above

Han heard, and this he did eke for her love,
Of the fruit of the tree he gave her ete,
Which that him made into the leper stert,
And as blive in her wombe gan they fret
And gnaw so, that change gan her hert,
Now harkneth how it her made smert :
Her wombe opened, and out fell each entraile
That in her was, thus it is said sans faile.
Thus wretchedly (lo !) this guile-man dyde,
And Jonathas with jewels three

No lenger there thought to abide,

But home to the empresse his mother hasteth he, Whereas in joy, and in prosperitee,

His life led he to his dying day,

And so God us grant that we doe may,

WILLIE.

By my hooke this is a tale
Would befit our Whitson-ale:
Better cannot be I wist,
Descant on it he that list.
And full gladly give I wold
The best cosset in my fold,
And a mazor for a fee,

If this song thou'lt teachen me.
"Tis so quaint and fine a lay,
That upon our revell day,
If I sung it, I might chance
(For my paines) be tooke to dance
With our lady of the May.

ROGET.

Roget will not say thee nay,
If thou deem'st it worth thy paines,
'Tis a song not many swaines
Singen can, and though it be
Not so deckt with nycetie

Of sweet words full neatly choosed,
As are now by shepheards used:
Yet if well you sound the sence,
And the moral's excellence,
You shall find it quit the while,
And excuse the homely stile.
Well I wot, the man that first
Sung this lay, did quench his thirst
Deeply as did ever one
In the Muses' Helicon.
Many times he hath been seene
With the fairies on the greene,
And to them his pipe did sound,
Whilst they danced in a round.
Mickle solace would they make him,
And at midnight often wake him,
And convey him from his roome
To a field of yellow broome;
Or into the meadowes, where
Mints perfume the gentle aire,
And where Flora spends her treasure,
There they would begin their measure.
If it chanc'd night's sable shrowds
Muffled Cynthia up in clowds;
Safely home they then would see him,
And from brakes and quagmires free him.

There are few such swaines as he Now adayes for harmonie.

WILLIE.

What was he thou praisest thus ?

ROGET.

Scholler unto Tityrus, Tityrus, the bravest swaine /Ever lived on the plaine,

Taught him how to feed his lambes,
How to cure them, and their dams:
How to pitch the fold, and then,
How he should remove agen:
Taught him, when the corne was ripe,
How to make an oaten pipe,

How to joyne them, how to cut them,
When to open, when to shut them,
And with all the skill he had
Did instruct this willing lad.

WILLIE.

Happy surely was that swaine,
And he was not taught in vaine:
Many a one that prouder is,
Han not such a song as this:
And have garlands for their meed,
That but jarre as Skelton's reed.

ROGET.

"Tis too true: but see the Sunne Hath his journey fully runne; And his horses all in sweate, In the ocean cool their heate: Sever we our sheepe and fold them, 'Twill be night ere we have told them.

Thomas Occleeve, one of the privie seale, composed this first tale, and was never till now imprinted. As this shall please, I may be drawne to publish the rest of his workes, being all perfect in my hands. He wrote in Chaucer's time,

THE SHEPHEARD'S PIPE.

THE SECOND EGLOGUE.

THE ARGUMENT.

Two shepheards here complaine the wrong Done by a swinish lout,

That brings his hogges their sheepe among, And spoyle the plaine throughout.

WILLIE. JOCKIE.

WILLIE.

JOCKIE, say: What might he be
That sits on yonder hill:
And tooteth out his notes of glee
So uncouth and so shrill?

JOCKIE.

Notes of glee? bad ones I trow,
I have not heard beforne
One so mistooke as Willy now,
'Tis some sow-gelder's horne.

And well thou asken might'st if I

Doe know him, or from whence He comes, that to his minstralsie Requires such patience.

He is a swinward, but I thinke
No swinward of the best:

For much he reketh of his swinke,
And carketh for his rest.

WILLIE.

Harme take the swaine! What makes he here? What lucklesse planet frownes

Have drawne him and his hogges in feere

To root our daisied downes?

Ill mote he thrive! and may his hogges,
And all that ere they breed,

Be ever worried by our dogges,

For so presumptuous deed.

Why kept he not amongst the fennes?
Or in the copses by,

Or in the woods, and braky glennes,
Where hawes and acorns lie?

About the ditches of the towne,

Or hedge-rowes, he might bring them.

JOCKIE.

But then some pence 'twould cost the clowne To yoke and eke to ring them;

And well I weene he loves no cost

Το

But what is for his backe:

goe full gay him pleaseth most,

And lets his belly lacke.

Two sutes he hath, the one of blew,
The other home-spun gray:
And yet he meanes to make a new

Against next revell day;

And though our May lord at the feast
Seem'd very trimly clad,

In cloth by his own mother drest,
Yet comes not neere this lad.
His bonnet neatly on his head,

With button on the top,

His shoes with strings of leather red,
And stocking to his slop.
And yet for all it comes to passe,
He not our gybing scapes:
Some like him to a trimmed asse,
And some to Jack-an-apes.

WILLIE.

It seemeth then, by what is said,
That Jockie knowes the boore;

I would my scrip and hooke have laid
Thou knew'st him not before.

JOCKIE.

Sike lothed chance by fortune fell,
(If fortune aught cau doe)
Not kend him? Yes: Iken him well,
And sometime paid for't too.

WILLIE.

Would Jockie ever stoope so low,

As conissance to take

Of sike a churle? Full well I know

No nymph of spring or lake,
No heardesse, nor no shepheard's gerle,
But faine would sit by thee,
And sea-nymphs offer shells of perle
For thy sweet melodie.

The satyrs bring thee from the woods
The strawberrie for hire,

And all the first fruits of the buds,

To wooe thee to their quire.
Silvanus' songsters learne thy straine,
For by a neighbour spring
The nightingale records againe
What thou dost primely sing.
Nor canst thou tune a madrigall,
Or any drery mone,

But nymphs, or swaines, or birds, or all,
Permit thee not alone.

And yet (as though devoid of these)
Canst thou so low decline,

As leave the lovely Naides

For one that keepeth swine? But how befell it?

JOCKIE.

T'other day

As to the field I set me,
Neere to the May-pole on the way
This sluggish swinward met me :
And seeing Weptol with him there,
Our fellow-swaine and friend

I bad good day, so on did fare
To my proposed end.

But as backe from my wintring ground
I came the way before,

This rude groome all alone I found
Stand by the alehouse dore.
There was no nay, but I must in
And taste a cup of ale;
Where on his pot he did begin

To stammer out a tale.
He told me how he much desir'd

Th' acquaintance of us swaines,
And from the forest was retir'd
To graze upon our plaines:
But for what cause I cannot tell,
He cannot pipe nor sing,
Nor knowes he how to digge a well,

Nor neatly dresse a spring:
Nor knowes a trap nor snare to till,
He sits as in a dreame;

Nor scarce hath so much whistling skill
Will hearten on a teame.

Well, we so long together were,
I gan to haste away,

He licenc'd me to leave him there,
And gave me leave to pay.

WILLIE.

Done like a swinward; may you all
That close with such as he,
Be used so that gladly fall

Into like company.

But, if I faile not in mine art,

Ile send him to his yerd,

And make him from our plaines depart With all his Jurty herd.

I wonder he hath suff'red been

Upon our common heere,

His hogges doe root our yonger treen,
And spoyle the smelling breere.
Our purest welles they wallow in,
All over-spred with durt,
Nor will they from our arbours lin,

But all our pleasures hurt.
Our curious benches, that we build
Beneath a shady tree,
Shall be orethrowne, or so defilde
As we would loath to see.

Groomes he had, and he did send them
With his heards a field to tend them,

Had they further been:
Sluggish, lazy, thriftlesse elves,
Sheepe had better kept themselves
From the foxes' teen.

Some would kill their sheepe, and then
Bring their master home agen
Nothing but the skin;

Telling him, how in the morne
In the fold they found them torne,
And nere lying lin.

If they went unto the faire
With a score of fatned ware,
And did chance to sell,
If old Neddy had againe
Halfe his owne; I dare well saine,
That but seldome fell.
They at their return would say,
Such a man, or such, would pay,
Well knowne of your hyne.
Alas, poore man! that subtill knave
Undid him, and vaunts it brave,
Though his master pine.

Of his master he would beg
Such a lambe that broke his lega

And if there were none,

To the fold by night he'd hye,
And them hurt full rufully,

Or with the staffe or stone.
He would have petitions new,
And for desprate debts would suo

Neddy had forgot :

He would grant: the other then
Tares from poore and aged men
Or in jayles they rot.
Neddy, lately rich in store,
Giving much, deceived more,
On a sudden fell.

Then the steward lent him gold,
Yet no inore than might be told
Worth his master's cell.
That is gone, and all beside,
(Well-a-day, alacke the tide!)
In a hollow den,

Underneath yond gloomy wood
Wons he now, and wails the brood
Of ingratefull men.