The extracts are taken from the admirable edition by G. C. Macaulay: 'The Works of John Gower', 4 vols., Oxford 1899-1902. A. CEIX AND ALCEONE. From Bk. iv, ll. 2927 ff. This finde I write in Poesie: Ceïx the king of Trocinie Hadde Alceone to his wif, Which as hire oghne hertes lif Him loveth; and he hadde also 5 A brother, which was cleped tho Dedalion, and he per cas Fro kinde of man forschape was Into a goshauk of liknesse; Wherof the king gret hevynesse 10 Hath take, and thoghte in his corage To gon upon a pelrinage Into a strange regioun, Wher he hath his devocioun To don his sacrifice and preie, 15 If that he mihte in eny weie Toward the goddes finde grace His brother hele to pourchace, So that he mihte be reformed Of that he hadde be transformed. 20 To this pourpos and to this ende This king is redy for to wende, As he which wolde go be schipe; And for to don him felaschipe His wif unto the see him broghte, 25 With al hire herte and him besoghte That he the time hire wolde sein Whan that he thoghte come aȝein: 'Withinne,' he seith, 'tuo monthe day.' And thus in al the haste he may 30 He tok his leve, and forth he seileth, Wepende and sche hirself beweileth, And torneth hom, ther sche cam fro. Bot whan the monthes were ago, The whiche he sette of his comynge, 35 And that sche herde no tydinge, Ther was no care for to seche: Wherof the goddes to beseche Tho sche began in many wise, And to Iuno hire sacrifise 40 Above alle othre most sche dede, And for hir lord sche hath so bede To wite and knowe hou that he ferde, That Iuno the goddesse hire herde, Anon and upon this matiere 45 Sche bad Yris hir messagere To Slepes hous that <sc>he schal wende, And bidde him that he make an ende, Be swevene and schewen al the cas Unto this ladi, hou it was. 50 This Yris, fro the hihe stage Which undertake hath the message, Hire reyny cope dede upon, The which was wonderli begon With colours of diverse hewe, 55 An hundred mo than men it knewe; The hevene lich unto a bowe Sche bende, and so she cam doun lowe, The god of Slep wher that sche fond; And that was in a strange lond, 60 Which marcheth upon Chymerie: For ther, as seith the Poesie, The God of Slep hath mad his hous, Which of entaille is merveilous. Under an hell ther is a cave, 65 Which of the sonne mai noght have, So that noman mai knowe ariht The point betwen the dai and nyht: