HKB
This were a feeble fundament* *foundation To builden a place so high; on which to build He ought him lite to glorify *little That hereon built, God so me save!”
Then saw I all the half y-grave <21> With famous folke’s names fele,* many That hadde been in muche weal, good fortune And their fames wide y-blow. But well unnethes might I know scarcely Any letters for to read Their names by; for out of dread doubt They were almost off thawed so, That of the letters one or two Were molt away of ev’ry name, melted So unfamous was wox their fame; become But men say, “What may ever last?” Then gan I in my heart to cast conjecture That they were molt away for heat, And not away with stormes beat; For on the other side I sey saw Of this hill, that northward lay, How it was written full of names Of folke that had greate fames Of olde times, and yet they were As fresh as men had writ them there The selfe day, right ere that hour That I upon them gan to pore. But well I wiste what it made; meant It was conserved with the shade, All the writing which I sigh, saw Of a castle that stood on high; And stood eke on so cold a place, That heat might it not deface. *injure, destroy
Then gan I on this hill to go’n, And found upon the cop* a won,** *summit <22> *house That all the men that be alive Have not the cunning to descrive skill to describe The beauty of that like place, Nor coulde caste no compass find no contrivance Such another for to make, That might of beauty be its make, match, equal Nor one so wondrously y-wrought, That it astonieth yet my thought, And maketh all my wit to swink, labour Upon this castle for to think; So that the greate beauty, Cast, craft, and curiosity, ingenuity Ne can I not to you devise; describe My witte may me not suffice. But natheless all the substance I have yet in my remembrance; For why, me thoughte, by Saint Gile, Alle was of stone of beryle, Bothe the castle and the tow’r, And eke the hall, and ev’ry bow’r, chamber Withoute pieces or joinings, But many subtile compassings, contrivances As barbicans and pinnacles, watch-towers Imageries and tabernacles, I saw; and eke full of windows, As flakes fall in greate snows. And eke in each of the pinnacles Were sundry habitacles, apartments or niches In which stooden, all without, Full the castle all about, Of all manner of minstrales And gestiours,<23> that telle tales Both of weeping and of game, *mirth Of all that longeth unto Fame.