he mot leve;
For whan a mannes happes failen,
Ther is non haste mai availen.
Mi fader, grant merci of this:
Bot while I se mi ladi is 1730
No tre, but halt hire oghne forme,
Ther mai me noman so enforme,
To whether part fortune wende,
That I unto mi lyves ende
Ne wol hire serven everemo.
Mi Sone, sithen it is so,
I seie nomor; bot in this cas
Bewar how it with Phebus was.
Noght only upon loves chance,
Bot upon every governance 1740
Which falleth unto mannes dede,
Folhaste is evere forto drede,
And that a man good consail take,
Er he his pourpos undertake,
For consail put Folhaste aweie.
Now goode fader, I you preie,
That forto wisse me the more,
Som good ensample upon this lore
Ye wolden telle of that is write,
That I the betre mihte wite 1750
How I Folhaste scholde eschuie,
And the wisdom of conseil suie.
Mi Sone, that thou miht enforme
Thi pacience upon the forme
Of old essamples, as thei felle,
Now understond what I schal telle.
Whan noble Troie was belein
And overcome, and hom ayein
The Gregois torned fro the siege,
The kinges founde here oghne liege 1760
In manye places, as men seide,
That hem forsoke and desobeide.
Among the whiche fell this cas
To Demephon and Athemas,
That weren kinges bothe tuo,
And bothe weren served so:
Here lieges wolde hem noght receive,
So that thei mote algates weyve
To seche lond in other place,
For there founde thei no grace. 1770
Wherof they token hem to rede,
And soghten frendes ate nede,
And ech of hem asseureth other
To helpe as to his oghne brother,
To vengen hem of thilke oultrage
And winne ayein here heritage.
And thus thei ryde aboute faste
To gete hem help, and ate laste
Thei hadden pouer sufficant,
And maden thanne a covenant, 1780
That thei ne scholden no lif save,
Ne prest, ne clerc, ne lord, ne knave,
Ne wif, ne child, of that thei finde,
Which berth visage of mannes k