Whan I was fro this egle goon, (20) 1110 I gan beholde upon this place. And certein, or I ferther pace, I wol yow al the shap devyse Of hous and site; and al the wyse How I gan to this place aproche 1115 That stood upon so high a roche, Hyer stant ther noon in Spaine. But up I clomb with alle paine, And though to climbe hit greved me, Yit I ententif was to see, (30) 1120 And for to pouren wonder lowe, If I coude any weyes knowe What maner stoon this roche was; For hit was lyk a thing of glas, But that hit shoon ful more clere; 1125 But of what congeled matere Hit was, I niste redely. But at the laste espyed I, And found that hit was, every deel, A roche of yse, and not of steel. (40) 1130 Thoughte I, 'By Seynt Thomas of Kent! This were a feble foundement To bilden on a place hye; He oughte him litel glorifye That her-on bilt, god so me save!' 1135 Tho saw I al the half y-grave With famous folkes names fele, That had y-been in mochel wele, And hir fames wyde y-blowe. But wel unethes coude I knowe (50) 1140 Any lettres for to rede Hir names by; for, out of drede, They were almost of-thowed so, That of the lettres oon or two Was molte away of every name; 1145 So unfamous was wexe hir fame; But men seyn, 'What may ever laste?' Tho gan I in myn herte caste, That they were molte awey with hete, And not awey with stormes bete. (60) 1150 For on that other syde I sey Of this hille, that northward lay, How hit was writen ful of names Of folk that hadden grete fames Of olde tyme, and yit they were 1155 As fresshe as men had writen hem there The selve day right, or that houre That I upon hem gan to poure. But wel I wiste what hit made; Hit was conserved with the shade-- (70) 1160 Al this wrytinge that I sy-- Of a castel, that stood on by, And stood eek on so cold a place, That hete mighte hit not deface. Tho gan I up the hille to goon, 1165 And fond upon the coppe a woon, That alle the men that ben on lyve Ne han the cunning to descryve The beautee of that ilke place, Ne coude casten no compace (80) 1170 Swich another for to make, That mighte of beautee be his make, Ne [be] so wonderliche y-wrought; That hit astonieth yit my thought, And maketh al my wit to swinke 1175 On this castel to bethinke. So that the grete craft, beautee, The cast, the curiositee Ne can I not to yow devyse, My wit ne may me not suifyse.