O noble Chaucer, whos pullisshyd eloquence
Oure Englysshe rude so fresshely hath set out,
That bounde ar we with all deu reverence,
With all our strength that we can brynge about,
To owe to yow our servyce, and more if we mowte!
But what sholde I say? Ye wote what I entende,
Whiche glad am to please and loth to offende

O maister deere and Fadir reverent,
Mi maister Chaucer, flour of eloquence,
Mirour of fructuous entendement,
O, universel fadir in science!
Allas! þat þou thyn excellent prudence
In þi bed mortel mightist naght by-qwethe;
What eiled deth? allas! whi wolde he sle the?

And fadir Chaucer fayn wolde han me taght;
But I was dul and lernèd lite or naght.
Allas! my worthi maister honorable,
This landës verray tresor and richesse.

Dan Chaucer, well of English undefyled, On Fames eternall beadroll worthie to be fyled.

As old Chaucer was wont to say, that broad famous English poet.

For he owre englishe gilte with his sawes,
Rude and boistous firste be olde dawes,
That was ful fer from al perfeccioun
And but of litel reputacioun
Til that he cam, and thorugh his poetrie,
Gan oure tonge firste to magnifie
And adourne it with his eloquence:
To whom honour, laude and reuerence.

Dan Chaucer, the first warbler, whose sweet breath Preluded those melodious bursts that fill The spacious times of great Elizabeth With sounds that echo still.

And Chaucer, with his infantine
Familiar clasp of things divine.

That old man eloquent.

He was a renowned orator.