A thousand tymes have I herd men telle, +That ther is Ioye in heven, and peyne in helle; And I acorde wel that hit is so; But natheles, yit wot I wel also, That ther nis noon dwelling in this contree, 5 That either hath in heven or helle y-be, +Ne may of hit non other weyes witen, +But as he hath herd seyd, or founde hit writen; +For by assay ther may no man hit preve. But god forbede but men shulde leve 10 +Wel more thing then men han seen with yë! +Men shal nat wenen every-thing a lyë But-if him-self hit seeth, or elles dooth; For, god wot, thing is never the lasse sooth, +Thogh every wight ne may hit nat y-see. 15 +Bernard the monk ne saugh nat al, parde! +Than mote we to bokes that we finde, +Through which that olde thinges been in minde. +And to the doctrine of these olde wyse, +Yeve credence, in every skilful wyse, 20 That tellen of these olde appreved stories, +Of holinesse, of regnes, of victories, +Of love, of hate, of other sundry thinges, +Of whiche I may not maken rehersinges. +And if that olde bokes were a-weye, 25 +Y-loren were of remembraunce the keye. Wel oghte us than honouren and beleve These bokes, ther we han non other preve. And as for me, thogh that I can but lyte, +On bokes for to rede I me delyte, 30 And to hem yeve I feyth and ful credence, +And in myn herte have hem in reverence So hertely, that ther is game noon That fro my bokes maketh me to goon, But hit be seldom, on the holyday; 35 Save, certeynly, whan that the month of May Is comen, and that I here the foules singe, +And that the floures ginnen for to springe, Farwel my book and my devocioun! Now have I than swich a condicioun, 40 +That, of alle the floures in the mede, +Than love I most these floures whyte and rede, +Swiche as men callen daysies in our toun. +To hem have I so greet affeccioun, +As I seyde erst, whan comen is the May, 45 +That in my bed ther daweth me no day +That I nam up, and walking in the mede To seen this flour agein the sonne sprede, Whan hit upryseth erly by the morwe; *That blisful sighte softneth al my sorwe, 50 *So glad am I whan that I have presence *Of hit, to doon al maner reverence, As she, that is of alle floures flour, Fulfilled of al vertu and honour, +And ever y-lyke fair, and fresh of hewe; 55 And I love hit, and ever y-lyke newe, *And ever shal, til that myn herte dye; *Al swere I nat, of this I wol nat lye, *Ther loved no wight hotter in his lyve. *And whan that hit is eve, I renne blyve, 60