#  John Gower in Love 

 



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**Use the gl**ossary in** The Riverside Chaucer **for words not glossed in the margins; see also[ a note on Gower's spellings](/pages/note-gowers-spelling).**

***Confessio Amantis*, Book I, 93-202**

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Upon the point that is befalle   
 Of love, in which that I am falle,   
 I thenke telle my matiere:   
 Now herkne, who that wol it hiere,   
 Of my fortune how that it ferde.   
   
 This enderday, as I forthferde  
 To walke, as I yow telle may, --   
 And that was in the Monthe of Maii,   
 Whan every brid hath chose his make  
 And thenkth his merthes forto make   
 Of love that he hath achieved;   
 Bot so was I nothing relieved,   
 For I was further fro my love   
 Than Erthe is fro the hevene above,   
 As forto speke of eny sped:  
 So wiste I me non other red,   
 Bot as it were a man forfare  
 Unto the wode I gan to fare,   
 Noght forto singe with the briddes,   
 For whanne I was the wode amiddes,   
 I fond a swote grene pleine,   
 And ther I gan my wo compleigne   
 Wisshinge and wepinge al myn one,  
 For other merthes made I none.   
   
 So hard me was that ilke throwe,  
 That ofte sithes overthrowe   
 To grounde I was withoute breth;   
 And evere I wisshide after deth,   
 Whanne I out of my peine awok,   
 And caste up many a pitous lok   
 Unto the hevene, and seide thus:   
 "O thou Cupide, O thou Venus,   
 Thou god of love and thou goddesse,   
 Wher is pite? wher is meknesse?   
 Now doth me pleinly live or dye,   
 For certes such a maladie   
 As I now have and longe have hadd,   
 It myhte make a wisman madd,   
   
 If that it scholde longe endure.   
 O Venus, queene of loves cure,   
 Thou lif, thou lust, thou mannes hele,  
 Behold my cause and my querele,   
 And yif me som part of thi grace,   
 So that I may finde in this place   
 If thou be gracious or non."   
   
 And with that word I sawh anon   
 The kyng of love and qweene bothe;   
 Bot he that kyng with yhen wrothe   
 His chiere aweiward fro me caste,   
 And forth he passede ate laste.   
 Bot natheles er he forth wente   
 A firy Dart me thoghte he hente  
 And threw it thurgh myn herte rote:   
 In him fond I non other bote,  
 For lenger list him noght to duelle.   
   
 Bot sche that is the Source and Welle   
 Of wel or wo, that schal betide   
 To hem that loven, at that tide   
 Abod, bot forto tellen hiere   
 Sche cast on me no goodly chiere:   
 Thus natheles to me sche seide,   
 "What art thou, Sone?" and I abreide  
 Riht as a man doth out of slep,   
 And therof tok sche riht good kep   
 And bad me nothing ben adrad:   
 Bot for al that I was noght glad,   
 For I ne sawh no cause why.   
 And eft scheo asketh, what was I:   
   
 I seide, "A Caitif that lith hiere:   
 What wolde ye, my Ladi diere?   
 Schal I ben hol or elles dye?"   
   
 Sche seide, "Tell thi maladie:   
 What is thi Sor of which thou pleignest?   
 Ne hyd it noght, for if thou feignest,   
 I can do the no medicine."   
   
 "Ma dame, I am a man of thyne,   
 That in thi Court have longe served,   
 And aske that I have deserved,   
 Some wele after my longe wo."  
   
 And sche began to loure tho,   
 And seide, "Ther is manye of yow   
 Faitours, and so may be that thow  
 Art riht such on, and be feintise  
 Seist that thou hast me do servise."   
 And natheles sche wiste wel,   
 Mi world stod on an other whiel   
 Withouten eny faiterie:  
 Bot algate of my maladie   
 Sche bad me telle and seie hir trowthe.   
   
 "Ma dame, if ye wolde have rowthe,"   
 Quod I, "than wolde I telle yow."   
   
 "Sey forth," quod sche, "and tell me how;   
 Schew me thi seknesse everydiel."   
   
 "Ma dame, that can I do wel,   
 Be so my lif therto wol laste."   
   
 With that hir lok on me sche caste,   
 And seide: "In aunter if thou live,  
 Mi will is ferst that thou be schrive;   
 And natheles how that it is   
 I wot miself, bot for al this   
 Unto my prest, which comth anon,   
 I woll thou telle it on and on,  
 Bothe all thi thoght and al thi werk.   
   
 "O Genius myn oghne Clerk,   
 Com forth and hier this mannes schrifte,"   
 Quod Venus tho; and I uplifte   
 Min hefd with that, and gan beholde   
 The selve Prest, which as sche wolde   
 Was redy there and sette him doun   
 To hiere my confessioun.



  
   
   
   
   
   
 **other day fared forth**  
   
   
 **mate**  
   
   
   
   
   
 **success**  
   
 **gone wrong**  
   
   
   
   
   
 **all by myself**  
   
   
 **that same time**  
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
 **health, salvation**  
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
 **seized**  
   
 **remedy**  
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
 **started, moved suddenly**  
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
 **good, happiness**  
   
   
   
 **fakers**  
 **pretense, trickery**  
   
   
   
 **pretense, trickery**  
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
 **if by chance**  
   
   
   
   
 **every bit**







*In what follows, Genius, Love's priest, questions Gower about his sins (against love, at least at the beginning) and instructs him by telling illustrative stores, exempla of the various sins and their remedies. As the work progresses, the concern develops from courtly love to matters of morals, politics, and religion.*

  
Text adapted from: *The English Works of John Gower*, ed. G. C. Macaulay, EETS e.s. 81-82. London. 1900-01.