And with wordes to comforte, And sayde twyës, 'Seynte Marie! Thou art noyous for to carie, And nothing nedeth hit, parde! 575 For al-so wis god helpe me As thou non harm shalt have of this; And this cas, that betid thee is, (70) Is for thy lore and for thy prow;-- Let see! darst thou yet loke now? 580 Be ful assured, boldely, I am thy frend.' And therwith I Gan for to wondren in my minde. 'O god,' thoughte I, 'that madest kinde, Shal I non other weyes dye? 585 Wher Ioves wol me stellifye, Or what thing may this signifye? I neither am Enok, ne Elye, (80) Ne Romulus, ne Ganymede That was y-bore up, as men rede, 590 To hevene with dan Iupiter, And maad the goddes boteler.' Lo! this was tho my fantasye! But he that bar me gan espye That I so thoghte, and seyde this:-- 595 'Thou demest of thy-self amis; For Ioves is not ther-aboute-- I dar wel putte thee out of doute-- (90) To make of thee as yet a sterre. But er I bere thee moche ferre, 600 I wol thee telle what I am, And whider thou shalt, and why I cam To done this, so that thou take Good herte, and not for fere quake.' 'Gladly,' quod I. 'Now wel,' quod he:-- 605 'First I, that in my feet have thee, Of which thou hast a feer and wonder, Am dwelling with the god of thonder, (100) Which that men callen Iupiter, That dooth me flee ful ofte fer 610 To do al his comaundement. And for this cause he hath me sent To thee: now herke, by thy trouthe! Certeyn, he hath of thee routhe, That thou so longe trewely 615 Hast served so ententifly His blinde nevew Cupido, And fair Venus [goddesse] also, (110) Withoute guerdoun ever yit, And nevertheles hast set thy wit-- 620 Although that in thy hede ful lyte is-- To make bokes, songes, dytees, In ryme, or elles in cadence, As thou best canst, in reverence Of Love, and of his servants eke, 625 That have his servise soght, and seke; And peynest thee to preyse his art, Althogh thou haddest never part; (120) Wherfor, al-so god me blesse, Ioves halt hit greet humblesse 630 And vertu eek, that thou wolt make A-night ful ofte thyn heed to ake, In thy studie so thou wrytest, And ever-mo of love endytest, In honour of him and preysinges, 635