FullReads

With dreadful* voice the formel her answer’d: *frightened
“My rightful lady, goddess of Nature,
Sooth is, that I am ever under your yerd,* *rod, or government
As is every other creature,
And must be yours, while that my life may dure;
And therefore grante me my firste boon,* *favour
And mine intent you will I say right soon.”

“I grant it you,” said she; and right anon
This formel eagle spake in this degree:* *manner
“Almighty queen, until this year be done
I aske respite to advise me;
And after that to have my choice all free;
This is all and some that I would speak and say;
Ye get no more, although ye *do me dey.* *slay me*

“I will not serve Venus, nor Cupide,
For sooth as yet, by no manner [of] way.”
“Now since it may none other ways betide,”* *happen
Quoth Dame Nature, “there is no more to say;
Then would I that these fowles were away,
Each with his mate, for longer tarrying here.”
And said them thus, as ye shall after hear.

“To you speak I, ye tercels,” quoth Nature;
“Be of good heart, and serve her alle three;
A year is not so longe to endure;
And each of you *pain him* in his degree *strive*
For to do well, for, God wot, quit is she
From you this year, what after so befall;
This *entremess is dressed* for you all.” *dish is prepared*

And when this work y-brought was to an end,
To ev’ry fowle Nature gave his make,
By *even accord,* and on their way they wend: *fair agreement*
And, Lord! the bliss and joye that they make!
For each of them gan other in his wings take,
And with their neckes each gan other wind,* *enfold, caress
Thanking alway the noble goddess of Kind.

But first were chosen fowles for to sing,–
As year by year was alway their usance,* — *custom
To sing a roundel at their departing,
To do to Nature honour and pleasance;
The note, I trowe, maked was in France;
The wordes were such as ye may here find
The nexte verse, as I have now in mind:

Qui bien aime, tard oublie. <45>

“Now welcome summer, with thy sunnes soft,
That hast these winter weathers overshake * *dispersed, overcome
Saint Valentine, thou art full high on loft,
Which driv’st away the longe nightes blake;* *black
Thus singe smalle fowles for thy sake:
Well have they cause for to gladden* oft, *be glad, make mirth
Since each of them recover’d hath his make;* *mate
Full blissful may they sing when they awake.”

And with the shouting, when their song was do,* *done
That the fowls maden at their flight away,
I woke, and other bookes took me to,
To read upon; and yet I read alway.
I hope, y-wis, to reade so some day,
That I shall meete something for to fare
The bet;* and thus to read I will not spare. *better

Explicit.* *the end

Notes to The Assembly of Fowls

1. “The Dream of Scipio” — “Somnium Scipionis” — occupies most of the sixth book of Cicero’s “Republic;” which, indeed, as it has come down to us, is otherwise imperfect. Scipio Africanus Minor is represented as relating a dream which he had when, in B.C. 149, he went to Africa as military tribune to the fourth legion. He had talked long and earnestly of his adoptive grandfather with Massinissa, King of Numidia, the intimate friend of the great Scipio; and at night his illustrious ancestor appeared to him in a vision, foretold the overthrow of Carthage and all his other triumphs, exhorted him to virtue and patriotism by the assurance of rewards in the next world, and discoursed to him concerning the future state and the immortality of the soul. Macrobius, about AD. 500, wrote a Commentary upon the “Somnium Scipionis,” which was a favourite book in the Middle Ages. See note 17 to The Nun’s Priest’s Tale.