CHAUCER'S DREAME,

Never before the year 1597 printed, that which heretofore bath gone under the name of his Dreame is The Book of the Duchesse, or, The Death of Blanch Ducheffe of Lancaster.

WHEN Flora, the quene of Plesaunce,

Had whole achievid th' obeyfaunce

Of the fresh and the new fefon
Thorow out every region,

And with her mantle whole covert
That wintir made had discovert,
Of avinture withoutin light

In May I lay upon a night

Alone, and on my lady thought,

Chaucer's Dreame] This Dreame, devised by Chaucer, femeth to be a covert report of the mariage of John of Gaunt, the king's fonne, with Blanch the daughter of Henry Duke of Lancafter, who after long love (during the time wherof the poet faineth them to be dead) were in the end by confent of friends happily maried, figured by a bird bringing in her bill an hearbe which restored them to lyfe againe. Here alfo is thewed Chaucer's match with a certain gentlewoman, who although the was a stranger was notwithstanding fo well liked and loved of the Lady Blanch and her lord, as Chaucer himselfe also was, that gladly they concluded a marriage betweene them. Urry,

6

Couth well entayle in imagery,
And fhewid had grete maistiry,
When he in fo litil a space
Made fuch a body and a face,

So

grete beautie with fwich fetures,
More than in othir creatures;
And in my thoughtis as I lay
Within a lodge out of the way,
Befide a well in a forest,
Where aftir hunting I toke reft,
Nature and kind fo in me wrought
That halfe on flape they me ybrought,
And gan to dreme to my thinking
With mind of knowliche like making,
For what I dremid, as me thought,
I faw it, and I fleptin nought,
Wherefore is yet my full beleve
That fome gode spirit that ilke eve,
By mene of fome curious port,
Bare me where I faw payne and sport;
But whether it were I woke or flept
Well wot I oft I lough and wept;
Wherefore I wollan sefembraunce
Put whole the payne and the plesaunce,
Which was to me axin and hele;
Would God ye wift it everydele,
Or at the left ye might o night
Of fuch another have a fight,

20

25

30

35

Although it were to you a payne,
Yet on the mo'row ye would be fayne,
And wish that it might long endure,
Then might ye fay ye had gode cure,
For he that dremes and wenes he fe
Mochil the bettir yet maie he
Ywit what, and of whom, and where,
And eke the laffe it woll hindere

To thinke I fe this with mine eene,
Iwis this may not dremè kene,
But figne or a fignifiaunce
Of hafty thing founing plefaunce;
For on this wife upon a night,

As ye have herd, withoutin light,
Not all wakyng ne full on flepe,
About fuch hour as lovirs wepe
And crie aftir ther ladies grace,
Befell me tho this wondir cace,

*

40

45

3.

35

Which ye shall here, and all the wife,

So wholly as I can devife:

In playne English evill writtin,

For flepe writir, well ye wittin,
Excufid is though he do mis

More than one whiche that waking is,
Wherefore here of your gentilneffe
I you requyre my boistoufneffe
Ye lettin paffe as thingè rude,
And herith what I woll conclude,

60

65

And of the' endityng taketh no hede,
Ne of the termes, fo God you spede, ́
But let all paffe as nothing were,
For thus befell, as you fhall here.: 1
Within an yle methought I was
Where wall and yate was all of glaffe,
And fo was clofid round about
That leveleffe none come in ne out,
Uncouth and ftraunge to behold,
For every yate of fine gold...
A thousand fanis aie turning

Entunid had, and briddes finging 5.
Divers, and on eche fané a paire

With opin mouth again the aire; hi
And of a fute were all the toures,
Subtily corvin aftir floures, :
Of uncouth colours during aye,!
That nevir ben none fene in May,
With many a fmall turret hie;
But man on live could I non fie,
Ne creturis, fave ladies play,
Which werin fuch of ther array
That as me thought of godelihed
They paffeden all and womanhed,
For to behold them daunce and fing
It femid like none erthly thing,
Such was ther uncouth countinaunce
In every play of right ufaunce,

70

75

80

85

90