demen comunly
Of thinges that be made more subtily
Than they can in their lernyng comprehende,
They deemen gladly to the badder ende.
And som of them wondred on the mirroúr,
That born was up into the maister tour,
How men might in it suche thinges see.
Another answerd, and sayd, it might wel be
Al naturelly by composicioúns
Of angles, and of high reflexiouns;
And sayde that in Rome was such a one.
They speeke of Alocen and Vitilyon,
And Aristotle, that writen in their lyves
Of queynte myrrours and of perspectyves,
As knowen they that have their bokes herd.
And other folk have wondred on the swerd,
That wolde passe thorughout every thing;
And fel in speche of Thelophus the kyng,
And of Achilles for his queynte steel,
For he coude with hit bothe kille and hele,
Right in such wyse as men may with the swerd,
Of which right now ye have your-selven herd.
They speken of sondry hardyng of metál,
And speken of medicines therwithal,
And how and when it shulde harded be,
Which is unknowe however unto me.
Then speeken they of Canacées ryng,
And seyden alle, that such a wonder thing
Of craft of rynges herd they never noon,
Sauf that he, Moyses, and kyng Salamon
Hadden a name of connyng in such art.
Thus sey the peple, and drawen them apart.
But nontheles som seiden that it was
A wonder thing to make of ashes glas,
And yit are asshes nought y-like to glas,
But that they knowe so it made was;
Therfor cesseth their janglyng and their wonder.
And sore wondered som of cause of thonder,
On ebbe and flood, on gossomer, and on myst,
And on alle thing, til that the cause is wist,
Thus janglen they, and demen and devyse,
Til that the kyng gan fro his bord arise.

Phebus hath laft the angle merydyonal,
And yit ascendyng was the beste roial,
The gentil Lyoun, with his Aldiran.
Whan that this Tartre Kyng, this Cambynskan,
Ros fro his bord, wher as he sat ful hye;
Biforn him goth ful lowde menstralcye,
Til he cam to his chambre of ornaments,
Where as ther were divers instruments
That is y-like an heven for to heere.

Now dauncen lusty Venus children deere;
For in the fissh their lady sat ful hy,
And loketh on them with a friendly eye.
This noble kyng is set upon his trone;
This straunge knight is brought to him ful sone,
And in the daunce he gan with Canacee.
Here is the revel and the jolytee,
That is not able a dul man to devyse;
He most have knowen love and his servise,
And be a festly man, as fresch as May,
That shulde you devyse such array.
Who coude telle you the forme of daunce
So uncouth, and so fresche countinaunce,
Such subtil lokyng of dissemblyngs,
For drede of jalous folk apperceyvynges?
No man but Launcelot, and he is deed.
Therfor I passe over al this lustyheed,
I say no more, but in this jolynesse
I lete them, til men to soper presse.
The styward bad them bring the spicerie
And eek the wyn, in al this melodye;
Thes usshers and thes squyers be agon,
The spices and the wyn is come anon;
They eet and drank, and when this had an ende,
Unto the temple, as resoun was, they wende;
The servise doon, they soupen al by day.
What needeth to rehersen their array?
Ech man wel knoweth, that a kynges feste
Hath plentee, to the lest and to the best,
And deyntees mo than be in my knowyng.
And after souper goth this noble kyng
To see this hors of bras, with al his route
Of lordes and of ladyes him aboute.
Swich wondryng was ther on this hors of bras,
That since the grete siege of Troye was,
When as men wondred on an hors also,
There was not such a wondryng y-knowe.
But fynally the kyng askèd the knight
The vertu of this courser, and the might,
And prayd him tellen of his governaúnce.
The hors anon gan for to trippe and daunce,
Whan that the knight leyd hand upon his rayne,
And sayde, “Sir, ther is nomore to sayne,
But whan you lust to ryden any where,
Ye muste trille a pyn that stant in his ere,
Which I shal tellen you bitwen us two,
Ye moste namen him to what place also,
Or what countree you luste for to ryde.
And when ye come where you wil abyde,
Bid him descende, and trille another pynne,
(For therin lieth the efect of the engin)
And he wil doun descend and do your wille,
And in that place he wol abyde still;
Though al the world had the contráry swore,
He shal nat thence be taken or i-bore.
Or if you lust to bid him quickly goon,
Trille this pyn, and he wil vanyssh anon
Out of the sight of every maner wight,
And come agein, be it by day or night,
When that you lust to clepen him agayn
In such a gyse, right as I shal yow sayn
Bitwixe you and me, and therfor so,
Byd when you lust, ther is nomor to do.”
Enformèd when the kyng was of the knight,
And had conceyvèd in his wit aright
The maner and the forme of al this thing,
Ful glad and blith, this noble doughty kyng
Repeyryng to his revel, as biforn,
The bridel is unto the tour i-born,
And kept among his jewels leef and deere;
The hors vanysht, I know not the manére,
Out of their sight, ye get nomore of me;
But thus I lete him in his jolitee
This Cambinskan his lordes al festeynge,
Til atte laste the day bigan to sprynge.