#  The Tale of Phoebus and the Crow 

 



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*Use the glossary 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 III, 783-817**

Sort  
   
 **770**  
   
   
   
   
 **775**  
   
   
   
   
 **780**  
   
   
   
   
   
   
 **785**  
   
   
   
   
 **790**  
   
   
   
   
   
 **795**  
   
   
   
   
 **800**  
   
   
   
   
 **805**  
   
   
   
   
 **810**  
   
   
   
   
   
 **815**



Mi Sone, be thou war ther by,   
 And hold thi tunge stille clos:   
 For who that hath his word desclos   
 Er that he wite what he mene,   
 He is fulofte nyh his tene  
 And lest ful many time grace,  
 Wher that he wolde his thonk pourchace.   
 And over this, my Sone diere,   
 Of othre men, if thou miht hiere   
 In privete what thei have wroght,   
 Hold conseil and descoevere it noght,   
 For Cheste can no conseil hele,  
 Or be it wo or be it wele:   
 And tak a tale into thi mynde,   
 The which of olde ensample I finde.   
   
   
 Phebus, which makth the daies lihte,   
 A love he hadde, which tho hihte   
 Cornide, whom aboven alle   
 He pleseth: bot what schal befalle   
 Of love ther is noman knoweth,   
 Bot as fortune hire happes throweth.   
 So it befell upon a chaunce,   
 A yong kniht tok hire aqueintance   
 And hadde of hire al that he wolde:   
 Bot a fals bridd, which sche hath holde   
 And kept in chambre of pure yowthe,   
 Discoevereth all that evere he cowthe.   
   
 This briddes name was as tho   
 Corvus, the which was thanne also   
 Welmore whyt than eny Swan,   
 And he that schrewe al that he can  
 Of his ladi to Phebus seide;   
 And he for wraththe his swerd outbreide,  
 With which Cornide anon he slowh.   
 Bot after him was wo ynowh,   
 And tok a full gret repentance,   
 Wherof in tokne and remembrance   
 Of hem whiche usen wicke speche,   
 Upon this bridd he tok this wreche,   
 That ther he was snow whyt tofore,   
 Evere afterward colblak therfore   
 He was transformed, as it scheweth,   
 And many a man yit him beschreweth,   
 And clepen him into this day   
 A Raven, be whom yit men mai   
 Take evidence, whan he crieth,   
 That som mishapp it signefieth.   
   
 Be war therfore and sei the beste,   
 If thou wolt be thiself in reste,   
 Mi goode Sone, as I the rede.



  
   
   
   
 **harm**   
 **loses**   
   
   
   
   
   
 **contentiousness conceal**   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
 **rascal**   
   
 **pulled out**







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