BOOK THREE

Invocation

	O God of wisdom and of light,
	Apollo, through thy glorious might
	Favour this little book, the last!
	Not that I’d have it highly classed
	As poetry, to give delight;
	But since the rhymes are crude and light,
	Yet make it, please, at least agreeable,
	Though verses often lack a syllable;
	Because my effort is not seen
1100	In graces, but in what I mean.
	And if, Divinest Virtue, thou
	Wilt help me to exhibit now
	What’s clearly printed in my head –
	Behold! It should be boldly said:
	It’s to describe the House of Fame –
	Thou’lt see me go with certain aim
	To the nearest laurel that I see
	And kiss it, for it is thy tree.
	Now quickly come into my breast!

The Dream

1110	Leaving the eagle, I addressed
	Myself to studying the place.
	Before my verses further pace,
	I shall describe the house and site
	In detail and in form, then write
	Of how I scaled the rocky height
	On which that castle stood in might:
	There’s not a higher one in Spain.
	But up I climbed in utter pain,
	And though to climb was hard for me,
1120	Yet keenly I desired to see
	By gazing as I bent down low,
	If somehow I could come to know
	What sort of stone this high rock was.
	Crystalline alum in form of glass
	It seemed, but that it shone more bright,
	Yet what compacted substance might
	Compose it was not clear to me.
	But I perceived eventually
	It was wholly, in essence real,
1130	A rock of ice, and not of steel.
	‘By Saint Thomas à Becket!’ I thought,
	‘Foundation of a feeble sort
	On which to build a house so high!
	The builder of it I deny
	The right to boast, God save my soul!’
	Then saw I carved along the whole
	Of one side famous names galore
	Of folk who’d prospered long before,
	Whose fame had blown the wide world over.
1140	But scarcely could my eyes recover
	The shapes of any letters for me
	To read their names; for certainly
	They’d thawed and were so lost to view
	That of the letters one or two
	Had melted out of every name –
	And thus unfamous was their fame!
	Men well say: ‘What can ever last?’
	I pondered then how they had passed
	Away. Did they not melt in heat?
1150	Or founder in the tempest-beat?
	For on the other side, I say,
	Of that great height which northward lay,
	The hill was carved with many a name
	Whose owner had enjoyed great fame
	In olden times, and yet they were
	As fresh as if the writing there
	Were done that day, that hour indeed
	When I’d arrived to gaze and read.
	Of course I knew exactly why
1160	All those words before my eye
	Had been preserved: because they stayed
	Within a lofty castle’s shade.
	Besides it was so high a place
	That heat was powerless to deface.
	Then up the hill I made my way
	And found upon its crest, I say,
	A building of such loveliness
	That no man living could express
	Its beauty by his verbal art,
1170	Nor yet design its counterpart,
	Then build a perfect copy of it
	Which might in beauty rival it,
	Being most marvellously wrought.
	Yes, every time I give it thought,
	That castle astounds me; and my wit,
	Striving to tell the truth of it,
	The beauty and superb design,
	And craft in every detail fine,
	Cannot meet such a high demand.
1180	I can’t describe it, understand?
	But all the same I hold in mind
	The essential things of every kind.
	Thus, by Saint Giles,* to me it seemed
	That everything in beryl gleamed,
	Both the castle and the tower,
	The hall and every room and bower –
	A jointless whole without a flaw.
	But yet much delicate work I saw:
	Pinnacles, turrets, ornament,
1190	Niches, gargoyles excellent,
	While many windows made a show
	Like heavy flakes in a storm of snow.
	Carved deep in every turret’s face
	Were niches, various in their grace,
	In which there stood all round about
	That castle, always facing out,
	Statues of minstrels most diverse
	And story-tellers who rehearse
	Romances of both joy and grief,
1200	A sphere in which Fame rules as chief.
	Orpheus* I heard harping there
	With truest tune and tone most fair –
	Musicianship supremely high!
	And playing at his side close by
	There sat Arion with his lyre,*
	Chiron, the centaurs’ wisest sire,
	The Breton bard Glasgerion,
	And other harpists many a one.
	And little harpists sat below,
1210	Each with his harp most apropos,
	And looking up at them agape
	In imitation like an ape:
	Art miming Nature, you might say.
	I saw behind, not far away
	From these performing by themselves,
	At least a thousand men times twelve
	Playing music of various forms
	On bagpipes, oboes, strident shawms
	And many more wind instruments.
1220	Their playing was all excellence
	On dulcet and reed-pipe, which grace
	The ox-roast at the feasting-place,
	And trumpet, flute and lilting horn,
	And rough pipes fashioned from green corn,
	Music of shepherd-boy or groom
	Who guards his livestock in the broom.
	I saw Athenian Pseustis there,*
	Atiteris and, I declare,
	The satyr Marsyas, whose skin
1230	Was flayed from body, face and chin
	Because he claimed to pipe as well
	As God Apollo, sages tell.
	I saw famed pipers old and young,
	Speakers of Teutonic tongue,
	Teaching love- and leaping-dances,
	Rounds and other steps and fancies.
	Then saw I in another place
	Standing in an open space
	Those who blow the clarion sounds
1240	Of bugle and trump on battle-grounds,
	For stirring clarion calls are right
	Where blood is shed in deadly fight.
	I heard Misenus, trumpeter famed,*
	Whom Virgil in the Aeneid named.
	I listened there while Joab blew,
	Thiodamas and others too;
	And all who blew the clarion
	In Catalonia and Aragon
	And were illustrious in their day
1250	For trumpeting, I there heard play.
	Sitting nearby, a host immense
	Were playing different instruments
	Whose names I know not, numberless
	As stars are in the sky, I guess;
	And these I shall not put in rhyme
	To spoil your ease or waste your time.
	For time that’s gone you can’t retrieve
	By any means, you must believe.
	Minstrels, magicians, conjurors
1260	I saw performing, sorcerers,
	Charm-spellers too and sorceresses,
	Ancient witches, Pythonesses
	Who work in smoky emanations
	At exorcisms and incantations;
	And scholars too who know the arts
	Of natural magic in their hearts,
	At some ascendants with their skill
	Making images which will
	Through magic of the Zodiac
1270	Cure the sick or set them back.
	Queen Medea I there did view,*
	And Circe and Calypso too;
	There saw I Hermes Belinous,
	Simon Magus and Elymas.
	I saw them there, knew them by name:
	By such art great men have their fame.
	Colle the magician there I saw
	Upon a table of sycamore
	Perform a trick most strange to tell:
1280	I saw him put a whole windmill
	Under a tiny walnut-shell.
	Why should I draw it out and tell
	From now until the Day of Doom
	Exactly what I saw and whom?
	When I had marked those people well
	And found myself still free, I fell
	To musing and considered long
	Those beryl walls so fine and strong,
	Which shone more luminous than glass
1290	And made each thing seem to surpass
	Itself in worth and in acclaim –
	That is the natural way with Fame!
	I wandered forth till I came straight
	On my right hand to the castle gate,
	Whose carving was so fine that none
	So beautiful was ever done;
	And yet what made that building fair
	Derived from chance as much as care.
	No need to make you longer dwell
1300	Upon this portal while I tell
	Its images, embellishments,
	Ingenious carvings, ornaments
	And hacked out masonry such as
	The corbel and its figured mass.
	But Lord! How lovely to behold!
	For all was leafed in carven gold.
	So in I went, no pause for doubt,
	And met a crowd there crying out:
	‘Largess! A bounty! Do us grace!
1310	God save the lady of this place,
	Our own true noble Lady Fame,
	And those who wish to win their name
	From us!’ I heard that cry from all.
	Quickly they came then from the hall,
	Jingling coins both silver and gold;
	And some were kings-at-arms with bold
	Shapes of diamond on their crowns.
	And ribbons on their splendid gowns.
	And many fringes on them too.
1320	I saw that those who came in view
	Were heralds and pursuivants all,
	Who praised rich people with their call.
	And every single officer there,
	As I most truly can declare,
	Had on a garment which men call
	A coat of arms. Yes, one and all
	Wore rich-embroidered surcoats* there;
	Though all were different, all were fair.
	But now I shall not, as I live
1330	All the lively detail give
	Of all the escutcheons that I saw
	Upon those surcoats that they wore.
	The task would be impossible,
	For all the detail told in full
	Would make a twenty-foot-thick book!
	If one who knew them undertook
	To scan the arms, he’d see all those
	Of famous men that Europe knows,
	And Africa and Asia too,
1340	From when the knightly code first grew.
	Lo! How can I convey all this?
	About the great hall, what need is
	To say to you that every wall
	Of it, and floor and roof and all,
	Was half a foot thick golden plate,
	And none was in a shabby state,
	But proved as fine in every way
	As ducat from Venice any day,
	Of which my purse contains too few?
1350	Each surface was set thickly through
	With foils containing jewels as fair
	As those the Lapidary* calls rare,
	Profuse as grass in any dell.
	But it would take too long to tell
	Their names, so I’ll proceed apace.
	Within this fine luxurious place
	So pleasant called the House of Fame,
	No mighty press of people came,
	Nor was there overcrowding there.
1360	But on a dais high and fair,
	Seated on an imperial throne
	Entirely made of ruby stone –
	A carbuncle that jewel is called –
	I saw in permanence installed
	In state a splendid female creature,
	So beautifully formed by Nature
	There could not be a lovelier.
	And first of all, as I aver,
	She was, I thought, so small and slight
1370	That no more than a cubit’s height
	In very truth she seemed to be;
	Yet being thus, she suddenly,
	Miraculously, grew and so,
	With feet upon the earth below,
	Yet with her head reached up to heaven,
	Where there shine the planets seven.
	And in my judgement a still more
	Extraordinary thing I saw
	When I looked upon her eyes;
1380	I could not count them anywise.
	She had as many, take my word,
	As there are feathers on a bird,
	Or on the feathered creatures four*
	Who to God’s throne such honour bore
	In the Apocalypse, John’s book.
	Curling and wavy, her hair shook
	Like burnished gold reflecting light,
	And she besides – I truly write –
	Had as many upstanding ears
1390	And tongues as on a beast are hairs;
	And swiftly growing on her feet
	I saw wings of the partridge fleet.
	But Lord! The jewels, wealth limitless
	I saw adorning this goddess!
	And Lord! The heavenly melody
	Of songs most full of harmony
	As round her throne I heard the singing
	That set the palace walls all ringing!
	There sang the Muse of Epic, she
1400	Whom all men call Calliope;*
	And her eight sisters too were there
	Whose faces seemed most meekly fair,
	And evermore continually
	They sang of Fame, as there heard I:
	‘All praise to thee and to thy name,
	Thou goddess of Renown and Fame!’
	Then I perceived there finally,
	When I chanced to look up high,
	That this noble queen upon
1410	Her shoulders wore inscribed and drawn
	The coat of arms and the true name
	Of every soul that won great fame:
	Alexander, Hercules –
	A shirt concluded his life’s lease!*
	Thus seated saw I this goddess
	In honour, wealth and worthiness,
	Concerning whom I’ll cease to prate
	While other matters I relate.
	I saw there standing on each side,
1420	And leading to the portals wide
	Down from the dais, columns made
	Of metal which no gleams displayed.
	But though their value was not great,
	Yet they were made for high estate,
	And people worthy of reverence
	And noble and lofty sentiments
	Were on the columns standing high.
	To tell you of them now I’ll try.
	First of all then I saw there
1430	Upon a column tall and fair
	All made of lead and iron fine
	Him of the sect called saturnine,*
	Josephus,* that great Jew of old,
	Who all the Hebrew history told,
	And on his shoulders high he bore
	The Jewish people’s fame. I saw
	Another seven standing by
	In honour and in wisdom high
	Who helped him with his weighty charge,
1440	It was so heavy and so large.
	The writing being of battles fell
	And other marvels old as well,
	On this account the column there,
	Whose use I now to you declare,
	Was made of iron and of lead,
	For iron is the metal dread
	Of Mars, the god of strife and war,
	While lead, I tell you now for sure,
	Is Saturn’s metal, Saturn who
1450	A mighty orbit must go through.
	Then stood forth in row on row
	Of those whose histories I know,
	Which I shall not in order tell –
	Too long on such a host to dwell! –
	Those whose fame I shall recall.
	I saw there standing first of all
	Upon an iron column strong
	Painted end to end along
	With tigers’ blood, the Toulouse poet
1460	Whose name was Statius,* all men know it,
	Who on his shoulders bore the fame
	Of ancient Thebes, besides the name
	Of cruel Achilles, that proud Greek.
	And by him stood – no lie I speak –
	High on a column of iron true,
	Great Homer, with him Dares too,
	The Phrygian, Dictys* of Crete
	In front, and Lollius, complete
	With Guido delle Colonne* and
1470	Geoffrey of Monmouth,* understand?
	For each of these, God grant me joy,
	Busily penned the fame of Troy.
	So mighty was that city’s fame,
	To write of it was not a game.
	In fact, among the six I saw
	No little envy spread therefore.
	One said that Homer wrote all lies,
	His verses being but false surmise
	Favouring Greeks to a degree:
1480	It was all fairy tales, said he.
	Iron tin-plated and hence bright
	Was the column on whose height
	The Latin poet Virgil stood,
	Who long maintained with hardihood
	The pious Aeneas’ mighty fame.
	Next on a copper pillar came
	Venus’s poet Ovid, who
	Publicized the whole world through
	The mighty God of Love’s great name.
1490	And there he spread abroad his fame
	From on the column’s top, as high
	As I could pierce with my eye;
	For all the time this mighty hall
	Was growing more wide and long and tall,
	And was a thousand times, I saw,
	As huge as it had been before.
	Upon a column strongly made
	Of iron, next my eye surveyed
	The famous poet Lucan,* who
1500	Upon his shoulders gave to view,
	So high that I could well behold,
	The fame of Caesar and Pompey bold.
	And next them all those scholars came
	Who wrote of Rome’s great deeds and fame,
	So many that I haven’t time
	To state their titles in my rhyme.
	And next there, on a sulphur column,
	As if distracted, madly solemn,
	Stood Claudian,* I truly tell,
1510	Who wrote of all the fame of hell,
	Of Pluto and of Proserpine,*
	The queen of torment’s dark confine.
	Yet why should I inform you more?
	That palace was as full, for sure,
	Of tellers of tales and histories,
	As with rooks’ nests lofty trees.
	And it would be bewildering
	If I recounted everything
	They wrote of, and their names as well.
1520	But while I saw these things I tell
	I heard a sudden buzzing sound
	Like that in any beehive found
	When bees are ready to fly out.
	Just such a buzz without a doubt
	For all the world it seemed to be.
	Looking about, I came to see
	A mighty thronging company
	Entering the hall tumultuously
	From every corner of the earth,
1530	Of every kind and sort of worth
	Of folk who live beneath the moon,
	Both poor and rich. And just as soon
	As they arrived within the hall,
	Down on their knees fell one and all
	Before this Queen of noble name,
	Saying, ‘Lovely Lady Fame,
	Grant each of us by grace a boon!’
	And some of these she granted soon,
	And some denied most gracefully,
1540	And others yet, the contrary
	Of what they asked she brought about.
	But truly I cannot work out
	The reason she decided so,
	For all those people, as I know,
	Although they were diversely served,
	A very decent fame deserved;
	Fame’s like her sister Fortune,* who
	Similar things is wont to do.
	Now listen how she satisfied
1550	Those who for her favours cried;
	And yet, I say, this company
	All told the truth, with never a lie.
	‘Great Madam,’ said they, ‘here are we
	In supplication come to thee
	To beg that thou wilt give us fame
	And let our exploits have that name;
	In recompense for what we’ve done,
	Make us the gift of high renown!’
	‘That I deny,’ at once said she,
1560	‘You get no high renown from me,
	By God! And therefore go your way!’
	‘Alas!’ they wailed, ‘And woe the day!
	Explain what might our reason be.’
	‘Because it’s not my wish,’ said she.
	‘No one shall speak at all of you,
	Not good nor bad, whatever you do.’
	Upon which word she then did call
	Her messenger, who was in hall,
	And told him he at once must find,
1570	On pain of being stricken blind,
	Aeolus the God of Wind.
	‘In Thrace you’ll find him; and remind
	The god to bring his trumpet here,
	Whose various sounds are cloud and clear.
	Its name, we know, is Great Renown:
	With that he makes the fame well known
	Of those whose praise rejoices me.
	And tell that god besides that he
	Should bring his other clarion
1580	Called Evil Fame in every town,
	With which his wont is to defame
	Whomever I wish, and do them shame.’
	This messenger was quickly gone,
	And found deep in a cave of stone
	Within the country known as Thrace
	This Aeolus, with relentless face
	Confining with power pitiless
	The winds in such extreme distress
	That, like wild bears, with growling sound
1590	They roared their agony profound.
	The envoy cried immediately,
	‘Rise up, and quick as quick can be,
	Come to my Lady! And take care
	To take your trumpets with you there.
	Now hurry up.’ So Aeolus told
	The sea-god Triton then to hold
	His trumpets, and he next let out
	A certain wind which blew about
	So violently, so loud and high,
1600	That soon in all the wide long sky
	There was not left a single cloud.
	This Aeolus no pause allowed
	Until he’d come to the feet of Fame
	With that sea-god, Triton by name:
	And there he stood, as still as stone.
	And soon there came towards the throne
	A second mighty company
	Of folk who pleaded loud and high:
	‘Lady, grant us now good fame,
1610	And let our deeds have that great name
	Now in honour of chivalry;
	And may God bless thy soul so free!
	For since we have deserved our fame,
	It’s right we should receive the same.’
	She answered, ‘As I live, you’ll fail!
	Your virtuous deeds shall not avail
	Just now to win renown from me.
	But you know what? I here decree
	That you shall have an evil fame,
1620	A foul report and fouler name,
	Though fair renown you have deserved.
	Now off you go: you have been served.
	And you, god Aeolus, let me see
	You take your trumpet now,’ said she,
	‘The one called Fickle Slander. Blow
	Their disrepute, that men shall know
	And speak of all their wickedness,
	And not their good and worthiness.
	For you must trumpet contrary
1630	To deeds of worth and bravery.’
	‘Alas!’ I thought, ‘What evil thing
	These luckless folk are suffering!
	To be so shamed amongst the throng
	When surely they have done no wrong!
	But Fate cannot be dodged, it’s true.’
	So what did Aeolus then do?
	He raised his blackened trump of brass
	Which fouler than the devil was,
	And blew it loudly, as if so
1640	The universe he’d overthrow.
	Through every region all around
	Went that ghastly trumpet’s sound
	As fast as cannon-ball from gun
	When flames amidst the powder run.
	And such a powerful smoke belched out
	From that appalling trumpet mouth,
	Black, blue and greenish, swarthy red,
	As gushes out, when men melt lead,
	From the chimney opening.
1650	And then I saw another thing:
	The further that the smoke-cloud blew,
	The bigger and stronger yet it grew,
	Like a river from spring or well;
	And it stank like the pit of hell.
	Alas! though guiltless, thus was rung
	Their shameful name on every tongue!
	A third great company then came
	Stepping up to the throne of Fame,
	Where down upon their knees they fell,
1660	Exclaiming, ‘All of us excel
	As people who most certainly
	Deserve renown most rightfully.
	We pray thee that it may be known
	Just as it is, and forth be blown!’
	; I grant it, for it pleases me
	That your great deeds be known,’ said she.
	‘Indeed, though foes would do you down,
	You shall possess a higher renown
	At once than you deserve, I say.
1670	So Aeolus,’ said she, ‘put away
	That trumpet which is black and grim.
	Your other trumpet, take out him
	Called Great Renown, and blow it so
	That round the world their fame shall go
	Harmoniously and not too fast,
	So that it’s known until the last.’
	‘Most gladly, Lady,’ he replied.
	His golden trumpet from his side
	He drew, and put it to his mouth
1680	And blew it east and west and south
	And north, as loud as any thunder,
	And all who heard were struck with wonder,
	So far it sounded: then it ceased,
	And truly, all the breath released
	From that fine trumpet’s mouth there swelled
	As if a pot of balm were held
	Inside a basket full of roses,
	Scenting their honour in our noses.
	And straight away there caught my eye
1690	A fourth advancing company,
	And very few indeed were they:
	A single row made their array.
	They stood and pleaded, ‘Lady bright,
	In truth we strove with all our might,
	But we have no regard for fame,
	So please efface our deeds and name
	For love of God, for truly we
	Did everything in charity,
	And not for gain of any kind.’
1700	Fame answered, ‘All you have in mind
	Is granted: let your deeds be dead.’
	At that I turned and scratched my head,
	And saw then a fifth company
	Who to this lady bowed the knee,
	Bending low before her throne;
	And they begged her every one
	Not of their good deeds to speak,
	Saying they wouldn’t give a leek
	For fame or noble reputation
1710	Because it was for contemplation
	And love of God that they had acted:
	By love of fame they weren’t attracted.
	‘What’s that? Are you quite mad?’ cried she,
	‘And would you do such charity
	And for its doing not win fame?
	And do you scorn to have my name?
	No! All of you shall live in glory.
	Aeolus! Sound out their story
	In concord on your trumpet: blow
1720	Their fame that all the world may know,’
	She ordered, ‘and their deeds may hear.’
	And then he blew their fame so clear
	Upon his golden clarion,
	It crossed the world, went on and on,
	Piercing sharp, yet sweetly soft,
	And at the last dissolved aloft.
	Then came the sixth fine company,
	And fast to Fame they raised their cry,
	Exclaiming just as I write here,
1730	‘Have mercy on us, Lady dear!
	To tell it truly as it is,
	We have done neither that nor this,
	But have been idle all our days,
	But each one notwithstanding prays
	That he may have as good a name,
	As great renown and noble fame,
	As those whose deeds were high-aspiring
	And who fulfilled their whole desiring
	In love or any other thing.
1740	Not one of us had brooch or ring
	Or other gift by woman sent;
	No lady with her heart’s intent
	Ever made us friendly cheer
	But what might bring us to our bier.
	Yet let us to the people seem
	Such that the world may of us deem
	That women loved us to distraction.
	That will produce as good reaction
	For us, and heart and spirit please
1750	By counterpoising work and ease,
	As if for it we’d worked and fought.
	For that is honour dearly bought,
	Considering our idleness.
	Yet grant thou us still more largess:
	Let us be reputed wise,’
	Honoured and virtuous in men’s eyes,
	And happy on the field of love.
	For love of God, who sits above,
	Though we may not have got possession
1760	Of women’s bodies, let the impression
	Of having done it bring us fame.
	Enough that we have such a name!’
	Fame said, ‘I grant it, by my troth.
	Now Aeolus, don’t yield to sloth.
	Take out your golden trumpet, see,
	And blow as they requested me;
	So all shall think they earned high praise
	Although they practised evil ways.’
	So Aeolus made their glory known
1770	And widely through the whole world blown.
	The seventh company then came,
	And kneeling down with loud exclaim
	Cried, ‘Quickly do us, Lady free,
	The same favour to the same plea
	That to the last lot thou hast done!’
	She said, ‘Fie on you every one!
	You sluggish swine, you lazy wretches,
	Full of rotten torpid tetches!
	What? Lying thieves, how could you ask
1780	For fame, and then in glory bask
	Without deserving, and not care?
	You should be hanged for that. I swear!
	For you are like the fagged-out cat
	Who longed for fish; but you know what?
	He couldn’t bear to wet his claws.
	May bad luck grip you by the jaws,
	And me as well if I agree
	To favour your posterity!
	Now Aeolus, you King of Thrace,
1790	Go blow this lot a rotten grace
	At once!’ said she, ‘And you know how?
	Do just as I instruct you now.
	Say: “These men want an honoured name.
	But haven’t done a thing for fame,
	Not one good deed, yet they’d persuade
	The world Isolde* couldn’t evade
	Inviting them to serve love’s turn!”
	A slattern grinding at a quern
	Would be too good to ease their heart.’
1800	Aeolus leapt up with a start
	And on his blackened trumpet blew
	A sounding din, I swear to you,
	As loud as bellowing gale in hell,
	With comic blasts which, truth to tell,
	Were just as many as grimaces
	Upon a crowd of monkeys’ faces.
	All round the world the discords went,
	And everyone who heard gave vent,
	As if quite mad, to laughs and shouts,
1810	Such fun they made of those poor louts.
	Then came another company
	Who had performed more treachery
	And done more harm and wickedness
	Than any living soul could guess.
	They prayed to her for virtuous fame,
	And begged her not to bring them shame,
	But have them praised and well renowned
	In the appropriate trumpet sound.
	‘No, that would be,’ said she, ‘a vice.
1820	I know my justice isn’t nice,
	But all the same, I don’t feel pleased,
	And therefore you shall not be eased.’
	Next came leaping in a gang
	Who laid about with thwack and bang,
	Hitting men upon the head
	And making people howl with dread
	Throughout the palace. ‘Lady dear!’
	They cried, ‘We’re men, as you can hear.
	To tell the truth and get it done,
1830	We’re horrid villains every one,
	Who take delight in wickedness
	As good folk do in righteousness.
	We love to be renowned as knaves
	Whom brutal roguery depraves;
	And so we line up to request
	That you our proper fame attest
	Exactly as it really is.’
	Fame said, ‘Of course I grant you this:
	But who are you, with stripe upon
1840	Your stocking and a bell* upon
	Your cope, to make me such a plea?’
	‘Madam, to tell the truth,’ said he,
	‘I am the man of vile renown
	Who burned the temple of Isis down
	In Athens, city by the sea.’
	‘And why did you do that?’ asked she.
	He said, ‘I swear, my Lady Fame,
	I wished to have a famous name
	Like other people in the town,
1850	Although they all won great renown
	By noble deeds and moral powers.
	I thought as great fame should be ours,
	We evil men, for wickedness,
	As good men have for righteousness.
	Since fair renown I cannot know,
	The other one I won’t forego;
	And so to interest Lady Fame,
	I set the temple all aflame.
	Now if thou truly wouldst rejoice,
1860	Have our fame blown with trumpet noise!’
	‘Gladly!’ said she. ‘Aeolus!
	You hear what they implore of us?’
	Said he, ‘My Lady, yes, I hear.
	By God, I’ll trumpet loud and clear!’
	He took his pitch-black trumpet fast,
	And puffed and blew with mighty blast
	Until the world’s end heard the sound.
	And at that point I swivelled round
	Because it seemed someone* behind
1870	Me spoke with words both good and kind,
	Saying, ‘Friend, what is your name?
	And have you ventured here for fame?’
	‘No, truly,’ answered I, ‘my friend.
	God save my soul, for no such end
	Did I come hither, by my head!
	It will suffice when I am dead
	That no one falsely quotes my name.
	My right worth I myself best claim,
	For what I suffer, what I think,
1880	Shall wholly be my own to drink,
	As surely, for the greater part,
	As I know my poet’s art.’
	‘But why come here then?’ questioned he.
	I said, ‘I’ll tell you openly
	The reason for my being here:
	Of deeds or news I well might hear,
	Or novel thing, I don’t know what,
	Some great event, of this or that,
	Of love, or other happy thing.
1890	For truly, he who chanced to bring
	Me hither well instructed me
	That in this place I’d hear and see
	Extraordinary goings-on:
	But it’s not the things being done
	I chiefly mean.’ Said he, ‘Oh no?’
	‘By God!’ I answered, ‘No, not so.
	For ever since my wits matured,
	My mind has truly been assured
	That many people longed for fame
1900	In different ways to praise their name.
	But certainly I knew not how
	Or where Fame lived until just now,
	Nor did I know her form or feature,
	Her way of life or living nature,
	Or her style of dealing doom,
	Until to this place I had come.’
	‘Then what about those new events
	You mentioned with such eloquence
	Of which you’ve heard?’ he said to me.
1910	‘No matter now, for well I see
	Exactly what you want to hear.
	Come forth, and stay no longer here,
	And I shall faithfully direct
	You where you may indeed inspect
	And listen to such goings-on.’
	It wasn’t long before we’d gone
	Out of the castle, I declare.
	Then saw I in a valley there
	Close by beneath the castle wall
1920	The House of Daedalus.* Men call
	It Labyrinth, for never house
	Was made so wholly marvellous,
	Or with such quaint designing wrought.
	For all the time, as swift as thought
	It whirled around, that mighty hall,
	And never once stayed still at all.
	And from it came so strange a noise
	That had it stood upon the Oise*
	Men could have heard it easily
1930	As far as Rome, most certainly.
	For all the world the din I heard,
	As all around the place it whirred,
	Was like the roaring of a stone
	When from a catapult it’s thrown.
	And all this house of which I tell you
	Was built with twigs, red, brownish yellow
	And green; and some were whittled white
	As when men fashion cages right,
	Or are the manufacturers
1940	Of baskets or of panniers.
	What with the swishing of the twigs,
	The moans and squeaks and creaking jigs,
	The house was full of clamourings
	Of movement and of other things.
	It had as many entrances
	As there are leaves upon the trees
	In summer when they bloom with green;
	And on its roof were to be seen
	More than a thousand holes, I know,
1950	To let the sound out from below.
	All day the doors were open wide,
	At morning, noon and eventide;
	Wide too, at night, the doorways stood.
	There was no porter there who could
	Admit good news or false report.
	There was no rest of any sort
	Within, but what was still infused
	With shouted or with whispered news.
	The house’s corners, all its angles,
1960	Were full of chitter-chatter jangles
	Of wars and peace and marriages,
	Of rest and work, and voyages,
	Of suffering, of death and life,
	Of love and hate, accord and strife,
	Of praise, of loss and then of gain,
	Health, sickness, then of cure again;
	Of tempests and of zephyrs mild,
	Plague deaths of men and creatures wild;
	Of various sudden transmutations
1970	Of circumstances and locations;
	Of trust and doubt and jealousy,
	Of wit and folly, victory,
	Of plenty and of great starvation,
	Of trade, of dearth, of ruination,
	Of good rule and bad governments,
	Of fire and various accidents.
	This house of which I tell you all
	Was certainly by no means small,
	For it was sixty miles in length.
1980	Although the timber had no strength,
	Yet it was founded to endure
	As long as Chance exerts her lure,
	Who gives all news her mothering,
	As sea is mother of well and spring;
	And it was fashioned like a cage.
	‘In all my life, I will engage,
	Such a house I never saw,’
	Said I and, pondering it with awe,
	I suddenly became aware
1990	My Eagle friend was close by there
	Perched upon a stone on high.
	So quickly to him then went I
	And spoke the following: ‘I pray
	That with me for a while you’ll stay
	For love of God, and help me see
	What wonders in this place may be.
	For I may learn by happy chance
	Some good, and so my mind enhance
	With pleasing truth, before I leave.’
2000	‘By Peter, that I shall achieve!’
	Said he, ‘And that is why I stay.
	And one thing I am bound to say:
	Unless I show the way to you,
	There’s nothing you could ever do
	To gain admission, without doubt,
	Because it whirls so fast about.
	But seeing Jove in bounteous measure,
	As I have said, will grant you pleasure
	Finally in all these things –
2010	Unusual sights and happenings –
	To help you fight your dolefulness;
	And seeing he pities your distress,
	Which you combat so manfully,
	And so well knows you utterly
	To have surrendered hope of bliss,
	Since Lady Fortune did amiss,
	Making that fruit, your peace of heart,
	Rotten and ready to burst apart –
	He through his mighty merit will
2020	In small degree your wish fulfil.
	For he expressly ordered me –
	And I obey, as you shall see –
	To help you on with all my might,
	Equipping you with guidance right,
	To hear all news of consequence:
	You’ll promptly learn of such events.’
	Upon those words he swiftly rose
	And, seizing me between his toes,
	He through a window in the wall
2030	Conducted me, as I recall –
	And then that house’s whirling stopped;
	All movement there to nothing dropped –
	And set me down upon the floor.
	Such milling crowds of folk galore
	As I saw roaming all about,
	Some in the hall, and some without,
	Were never, nor yet will be, seen:
	In all the world have never been
	So many brought to birth by Nature,
2040	Nor yet died so many a creature;
	So scarcely in the whole wide place
	Could I secure a foot’s breadth space.
	And every person I saw there
	Was whispering in another’s ear
	Some novel tidings secretly,
	Or else was talking openly
	As thus: ‘What’s happened? Have you heard?
	And do you know the latest word?’
	‘No,’ said the other, ‘tell me what.’
2050	The other told him this and that,
	And swore that all of it was true.
	‘He says so’ and ‘He’s going to do’;
	‘He’s at it now!’ ‘I heard some chat’;
	‘You’ll find it’s true!’ ‘I’ll bet on that!’
	Yes, all who on this planet dwell
	Would not possess the craft to tell
	The many things that there I heard
	By open speech or whispered word.
	But most astonishing of all,
2060	When one heard something, I recall,
	Straight to another man he went
	And immediately gave vent
	To all that he had just been told
	Before the yarn was two ticks old,
	And by the way he told the tale,
	He magnified the news’s scale
	And made it bigger than before.
	And when he left him, what was more.
	He drew a breath and quickly met
2070	A third man, and before he let
	A moment pass, he told him too,
	And whether it was false or true,
	Each time he told it to a man
	His news was more and stranger than
	It was before. Thus north and south
	Went all the news from mouth to mouth,
	Each time increasing more and more,
	Like fire that starts to glow and draw
	From sparks that accidentally flash,
2080	Until a city’s burnt to ash.
	And when the tale was fully sprung
	By growing greater on each tongue
	That told it, then at once it tried
	To find a gap and fly outside;
	But if it failed there it would try
	To creep out by some crack, then fly
	Away at once. While watching there,
	I saw two rising to the air,
	A falsehood and a serious truth
2090	By chance at one time coming both
	And striving for a window space.
	Colliding in that narrow place,
	Each one was hindered, as it tried
	To make its own escape outside,
	By the other one and, jostling there,
	They started shouting, I declare.
	‘Let me go first!’ ‘No, no, let me!
	I promise you most faithfully,
	On condition that you do,
2100	That I shall never go from you,
	But swear to be your own true brother!
	We shall so mingle with each other
	That no man, even in a rage,
	Shall have just one, but must engage
	The two of us, like it or not,
	Come day or night, come cold or hot,
	Be we loud or softly sounded.’
	Thus saw I false and true confounded,
	Flying up in each report.
2110	So out of holes there squeezed and fought
	Each bit of news, and went to Fame,
	Who gave to each report its name
	According to its disposition,
	And fixed its life-span by permission:
	Some to wax and wane quite soon
	Like the beautiful white moon,
	Then disappear. There might you see
	Winged wonders flying furiously,
	Twenty thousand rushing out
2120	As Aeolus blew them about.
	Lord! Non-stop in that house I saw
	Sailors and pilgrims by the score,
	Their satchels stuffed brimful with lies
	Mixed up with truth and some surmise,
	And each, moreover, by himself.
	O many a thousand times twelve
	Did I perceive these pardoners.
	Couriers too and messengers
	With boxes crammed with falsities
2130	As full as bottles are of lees.
	And as I swiftly moved and went
	About fulfilling my intent,
	Obtaining knowledge and diversion
	By getting news in many a version
	About some land of which I’d heard –
	Of that I shall not say a word:
	Truly, no need, for others sing
	It better than my minstrelling;
	For soon or late, without a doubt,
2140	Like sheaves from a barn, all must out –
	There struck my ear a mighty din
	In a hall-corner far within,
	Where news of love and all its ways
	Was being told: thither my gaze
	I bent and saw men running there
	As fast as ever they could, I swear.
	And all exclaimed, ‘What thing is that?’
	And some replied, ‘We don’t know what.’
	And as they scrambled in a heap,
2150	Those behind them tried to leap
	And clamber over them on high,
	Raising prying nose and eye,
	And treading on each other’s heels
	And stamping, as men do on eels.
	At last I saw a person there
	Of whose true name I’m not aware.
	But certainly he seemed to be
	A man of great authority…*