Mi goode Sone, and for thi sake, So as it fell be daies olde, And so as the Poete it tolde, Upon the nyhtes micherie Nou herkne a tale of Poesie. The myhtieste of alle men Whan Hercules with Eolen, Which was the love of his corage, Togedre upon a Pelrinage 6810 Towardes Rome scholden go, It fell hem be the weie so, That thei upon a dai a Cave Withinne a roche founden have, Which was real and glorious And of Entaile curious, Be name and Thophis it was hote. The Sonne schon tho wonder hote, As it was in the Somer tyde; This Hercules, which be his syde 6820 Hath Eolen his love there, Whan thei at thilke cave were, He seide it thoghte him for the beste That sche hire for the hete reste Al thilke day and thilke nyht; And sche, that was a lusti wyht, It liketh hire al that he seide: And thus thei duelle there and pleide The longe dai. And so befell, This Cave was under the hell 6830 Of Tymolus, which was begrowe With vines, and at thilke throwe Faunus with Saba the goddesse, Be whom the large wildernesse In thilke time stod governed, Weere in a place, as I am lerned, Nyh by, which Bachus wode hihte. This Faunus tok a gret insihte Of Eolen, that was so nyh; For whan that he hire beaute syh, 6840 Out of his wit he was assoted, And in his herte it hath so noted, That he forsok the Nimphes alle, And seide he wolde, hou so it falle, Assaie an other forto winne; So that his hertes thoght withinne He sette and caste hou that he myhte Of love pyke awey be nyhte That he be daie in other wise To stele mihte noght suffise: 6850 And therupon his time he waiteth.