‘THE MINOR POEMS’ IN VOL. I. (continued 10)

Auctor. O perilous fyr, that in the bedstraw bredeth! (540) O famulier foo, that his servyce bedeth! 1785 O servant traitour, false hoomly hewe, Lyk to the naddre in bosom sly untrewe, God shilde us alle from your aqueyntaunce! O Ianuarie, dronken in plesaunce Of mariage, see how thy Damian, 1790 Thyn owene squyer and thy borne man, Entendeth for to do thee vileinye. God graunte thee thyn hoomly fo tespye. For in this world nis worse pestilence (550) Than hoomly foo al day in thy presence.

1795 Parfourned hath the sonne his ark diurne, No lenger may the body of him soiurne On thorisonte, as in that latitude. Night with his mantel, that is derk and rude, Gan oversprede the hemisperie aboute; 1800 For which departed is this lusty route Fro Ianuarie, with thank on every syde. Hom to hir houses lustily they ryde, Wher-as they doon hir thinges as hem leste, (560) And whan they sye hir tyme, goon to reste. 1805 Sone after that, this hastif Ianuarie Wolde go to bedde, he wolde no lenger tarie. He drinketh ipocras, clarree, and vernage Of spyces hote, tencresen his corage; And many a letuarie hadde he ful fyn, 1810 Swiche as the cursed monk dan Constantyn Hath writen in his book de Coitu; To eten hem alle, he nas no-thing eschu. And to his privee freendes thus seyde he: (570) ‘For goddes love, as sone as it may be, 1815 Lat voyden al this hous in curteys wyse.’ And they han doon right as he wol devyse. Men drinken, and the travers drawe anon; The bryde was broght a-bedde as stille as stoon; And whan the bed was with the preest y-blessed, 1820 Out of the chambre hath every wight him dressed. And Ianuarie hath faste in armes take His fresshe May, his paradys, his make. He lulleth hir, he kisseth hir ful ofte (580) With thikke bristles of his berd unsofte, 1825 Lyk to the skin of houndfish, sharp as brere, For he was shave al newe in his manere. He rubbeth hir aboute hir tendre face, And seyde thus, ‘allas! I moot trespace To yow, my spouse, and yow gretly offende, 1830 Er tyme come that I wil doun descende. But nathelees, considereth this,’ quod he, ‘Ther nis no werkman, what-so-ever he be, That may bothe werke wel and hastily; (590) This wol be doon at leyser parfitly. 1835 It is no fors how longe that we pleye; In trewe wedlok wedded be we tweye; And blessed be the yok that we been inne, For in our actes we mowe do no sinne. A man may do no sinne with his wyf, 1840 Ne hurte him-selven with his owene knyf; For we han leve to pleye us by the lawe.’ Thus laboureth he til that the day gan dawe; And than he taketh a sop in fyn clarree, (600) And upright in his bed than sitteth he, 1845 And after that he sang ful loude and clere, And kiste his wyf, and made wantoun chere. He was al coltish, ful of ragerye, And ful of Iargon as a flekked pye. The slakke skin aboute his nekke shaketh, 1850 Whyl that he sang; so chaunteth he and craketh. But god wot what that May thoughte in hir herte, Whan she him saugh up sittinge in his sherte, In his night-cappe, and with his nekke lene; (610) She preyseth nat his pleying worth a bene. 1855 Than seide he thus, ‘my reste wol I take; Now day is come, I may no lenger wake.’ And doun he leyde his heed, and sleep til pryme. And afterward, whan that he saugh his tyme, Up ryseth Ianuarie; but fresshe May 1860 Holdeth hir chambre un-to the fourthe day, As usage is of wyves for the beste. For every labour som-tyme moot han reste, Or elles longe may he nat endure; (620) This is to seyn, no lyves creature, 1865 Be it of fish, or brid, or beest, or man.

Now wol I speke of woful Damian, That languissheth for love, as ye shul here; Therfore I speke to him in this manere: I seye, ‘O sely Damian, allas! 1870 Answere to my demaunde, as in this cas, How shaltow to thy lady fresshe May Telle thy wo? She wole alwey seye “nay”; Eek if thou speke, she wol thy wo biwreye; (630) God be thyn help, I can no bettre seye.’

1875 This syke Damian in Venus fyr So brenneth, that he dyeth for desyr; For which he putte his lyf in aventure, No lenger mighte he in this wyse endure; But prively a penner gan he borwe, 1880 And in a lettre wroot he al his sorwe, In manere of a compleynt or a lay, Un-to his faire fresshe lady May. And in a purs of silk, heng on his sherte, (640) He hath it put, and leyde it at his herte. 1885 The mone that, at noon, was, thilke day That Ianuarie hath wedded fresshe May, In two of Taur, was in-to Cancre gliden; So longe hath Maius in hir chambre biden, As custume is un-to thise nobles alle. 1890 A bryde shal nat eten in the halle, Til dayes foure or three dayes atte leste Y-passed been; than lat hir go to feste. The fourthe day compleet fro noon to noon, (650) Whan that the heighe masse was y-doon, 1895 In halle sit this Ianuarie, and May As fresh as is the brighte someres day. And so bifel, how that this gode man Remembred him upon this Damian, And seyde, ‘Seinte Marie! how may this be, 1900 That Damian entendeth nat to me? Is he ay syk, or how may this bityde?’ His squyeres, whiche that stoden ther bisyde, Excused him by-cause of his siknesse, (660) Which letted him to doon his bisinesse; 1905 Noon other cause mighte make him tarie.

‘That me forthinketh,’ quod this Ianuarie, ‘He is a gentil squyer, by my trouthe! If that he deyde, it were harm and routhe; He is as wys, discreet, and as secree 1910 As any man I woot of his degree; And ther-to manly and eek servisable, And for to been a thrifty man right able. But after mete, as sone as ever I may, (670) I wol my-self visyte him and eek May, 1915 To doon him al the confort that I can.’ And for that word him blessed every man, That, of his bountee and his gentillesse, He wolde so conforten in siknesse His squyer, for it was a gentil dede. 1920 ‘Dame,’ quod this Ianuarie, ‘tak good hede, At-after mete ye, with your wommen alle, Whan ye han been in chambre out of this halle, That alle ye go see this Damian; (680) Doth him disport, he is a gentil man; 1925 And telleth him that I wol him visyte, Have I no-thing but rested me a lyte; And spede yow faste, for I wole abyde Til that ye slepe faste by my syde.’ And with that word he gan to him to calle 1930 A squyer, that was marchal of his halle, And tolde him certeyn thinges, what he wolde.

This fresshe May hath streight hir wey y-holde, With alle hir wommen, un-to Damian. (690) Doun by his beddes syde sit she than, 1935 Confortinge him as goodly as she may. This Damian, whan that his tyme he say, In secree wise his purs, and eek his bille, In which that he y-writen hadde his wille, Hath put in-to hir hand, with-outen more, 1940 Save that he syketh wonder depe and sore, And softely to hir right thus seyde he: ‘Mercy! and that ye nat discovere me; For I am deed, if that this thing be kid.’ (700) This purs hath she inwith hir bosom hid, 1945 And wente hir wey; ye gete namore of me. But un-to Ianuarie y-comen is she, That on his beddes syde sit ful softe. He taketh hir, and kisseth hir ful ofte, And leyde him doun to slepe, and that anon. 1950 She feyned hir as that she moste gon Ther-as ye woot that every wight mot nede. And whan she of this bille hath taken hede, She rente it al to cloutes atte laste, (710) And in the privee softely it caste. 1955 Who studieth now but faire fresshe May? Adoun by olde Ianuarie she lay, That sleep, til that the coughe hath him awaked; Anon he preyde hir strepen hir al naked; He wolde of hir, he seyde, han som plesaunce, 1960 And seyde, hir clothes dide him encombraunce, And she obeyeth, be hir lief or looth. But lest that precious folk be with me wrooth, How that he wroghte, I dar nat to yow telle; (720) Or whether hir thoughte it paradys or helle; 1965 But here I lete hem werken in hir wyse Til evensong rong, and that they moste aryse.

Were it by destinee or aventure, Were it by influence or by nature, Or constellacion, that in swich estat 1970 The hevene stood, that tyme fortunat Was for to putte a bille of Venus werkes (For alle thing hath tyme, as seyn thise clerkes) To any womman, for to gete hir love, (730) I can nat seye; but grete god above, 1975 That knoweth that non act is causelees, He deme of al, for I wol holde my pees. But sooth is this, how that this fresshe May Hath take swich impression that day, For pitee of this syke Damian, 1980 That from hir herte she ne dryve can The remembraunce for to doon him ese. ‘Certeyn,’ thoghte she, ‘whom that this thing displese, I rekke noght, for here I him assure, (740) To love him best of any creature, 1985 Though he na-more hadde than his sherte.’ Lo, pitee renneth sone in gentil herte.

Heer may ye se how excellent franchyse In wommen is, whan they hem narwe avyse. Som tyrant is, as ther be many oon, 1990 That hath an herte as hard as any stoon, Which wolde han lete him sterven in the place Wel rather than han graunted him hir grace; And hem reioysen in hir cruel pryde, (750) And rekke nat to been an homicyde.

1995 This gentil May, fulfilled of pitee, Right of hir hande a lettre made she, In which she graunteth him hir verray grace; Ther lakketh noght but only day and place, Wher that she mighte un-to his lust suffyse: 2000 For it shal be right as he wol devyse. And whan she saugh hir time, up-on a day, To visite this Damian goth May, And sotilly this lettre doun she threste (760) Under his pilwe, rede it if him leste. 2005 She taketh him by the hand, and harde him twiste So secrely, that no wight of it wiste, And bad him been al hool, and forth she wente To Ianuarie, whan that he for hir sente.

Up ryseth Damian the nexte morwe, 2010 Al passed was his siknesse and his sorwe. He kembeth him, he proyneth him and pyketh, He dooth al that his lady lust and lyketh; And eek to Ianuarie he gooth as lowe (770) As ever dide a dogge for the bowe. 2015 He is so plesant un-to every man, (For craft is al, who-so that do it can) That every wight is fayn to speke him good; And fully in his lady grace he stood. Thus lete I Damian aboute his nede, 2020 And in my tale forth I wol procede.

Somme clerkes holden that felicitee Stant in delyt, and therefor certeyn he, This noble Ianuarie, with al his might, (780) In honest wyse, as longeth to a knight, 2025 Shoop him to live ful deliciously. His housinge, his array, as honestly To his degree was maked as a kinges. Amonges othere of his honest thinges, He made a gardin, walled al with stoon; 2030 So fair a gardin woot I nowher noon. For out of doute, I verraily suppose, That he that wroot the Romance of the Rose Ne coude of it the beautee wel devyse; (790) Ne Priapus ne mighte nat suffyse, 2035 Though he be god of gardins, for to telle The beautee of the gardin and the welle, That stood under a laurer alwey grene. Ful ofte tyme he, Pluto, and his quene, Proserpina, and al hir fayërye Disporten hem and maken melodye Aboute that welle, and daunced, as men tolde.

This noble knight, this Ianuarie the olde, Swich deintee hath in it to walke and pleye, (800) That he wol no wight suffren bere the keye 2045 Save he him-self; for of the smale wiket He bar alwey of silver a smal cliket, With which, whan that him leste, he it unshette. And whan he wolde paye his wyf hir dette In somer seson, thider wolde he go, And May his wyf, and no wight but they two; And thinges whiche that were nat doon a-bedde, He in the gardin parfourned hem and spedde. And in this wyse, many a mery day, (810) Lived this Ianuarie and fresshe May. 2055 But worldly Ioye may nat alwey dure To Ianuarie, ne to no creature.

Auctor. O sodeyn hap, o thou fortune instable, Lyk to the scorpion so deceivable, That flaterest with thyn heed when thou wolt stinge; 2060 Thy tayl is deeth, thurgh thyn enveniminge. O brotil Ioye! o swete venim queynte! O monstre, that so subtilly canst peynte Thy yiftes, under hewe of stedfastnesse, (820) That thou deceyvest bothe more and lesse! 2065 Why hastow Ianuarie thus deceyved, That haddest him for thy ful frend receyved? And now thou hast biraft him bothe hise yën, For sorwe of which desyreth he to dyen.

Allas! this noble Ianuarie free, 2070 Amidde his lust and his prosperitee, Is woxen blind, and that al sodeynly. He wepeth and he wayleth pitously; And ther-with-al the fyr of Ialousye, (830) Lest that his wyf sholde falle in som folye, 2075 So brente his herte, that he wolde fayn That som man bothe him and hir had slayn. For neither after his deeth, nor in his lyf, Ne wolde he that she were love ne wyf, But ever live as widwe in clothes blake, 2080 Soul as the turtle that lost hath hir make. But atte laste, after a monthe or tweye, His sorwe gan aswage, sooth to seye; For whan he wiste it may noon other be, (840) He paciently took his adversitee; 2085 Save, out of doute, he may nat forgoon That he nas Ialous evermore in oon; Which Ialousye it was so outrageous, That neither in halle, nin noon other hous, Ne in noon other place, never-the-mo, 2090 He nolde suffre hir for to ryde or go, But-if that he had hand on hir alway; For which ful ofte wepeth fresshe May, That loveth Damian so benignely, (850) That she mot outher dyen sodeynly, 2095 Or elles she mot han him as hir leste; She wayteth whan hir herte wolde breste.

Up-on that other syde Damian Bicomen is the sorwefulleste man That ever was; for neither night ne day 2100 Ne mighte he speke a word to fresshe May, As to his purpos, of no swich matere, But-if that Ianuarie moste it here, That hadde an hand up-on hir evermo. (860) But nathelees, by wryting to and fro 2105 And privee signes, wiste he what she mente; And she knew eek the fyn of his entente. Auctor. O Ianuarie, what mighte it thee availle, Thou mightest see as fer as shippes saille? For also good is blind deceyved be, 2110 As be deceyved whan a man may se. Lo, Argus, which that hadde an hondred yën, For al that ever he coude poure or pryen, Yet was he blent; and, god wot, so ben mo, (870) That wenen wisly that it be nat so. 2115 Passe over is an ese, I sey na-more.

This fresshe May, that I spak of so yore, In warme wex hath emprented the cliket, That Ianuarie bar of the smale wiket, By which in-to his gardin ofte he wente. 2120 And Damian, that knew al hir entente, The cliket countrefeted prively; Ther nis na-more to seye, but hastily Som wonder by this cliket shal bityde, (880) Which ye shul heren, if ye wole abyde.

Auctor. O noble Ovyde, ful sooth seystou, god woot! 2126 What sleighte is it, thogh it be long and hoot, That he nil finde it out in som manere? By Piramus and Tesbee may men lere; Thogh they were kept ful longe streite overal, 2130 They been accorded, rouninge thurgh a wal, Ther no wight coude han founde out swich a sleighte. But now to purpos; er that dayes eighte Were passed, er the monthe of Iuil, bifil (890) That Ianuarie hath caught so greet a wil, 2135 Thurgh egging of his wyf, him for to pleye In his gardin, and no wight but they tweye, That in a morwe un-to this May seith he: ‘Rys up, my wyf, my love, my lady free; The turtles vois is herd, my douve swete; 2140 The winter is goon, with alle his reynes wete; Com forth now, with thyn eyën columbyn! How fairer been thy brestes than is wyn! The gardin is enclosed al aboute; (900) Com forth, my whyte spouse; out of doute, 2145 Thou hast me wounded in myn herte, o wyf! No spot of thee ne knew I al my lyf. Com forth, and lat us taken our disport; I chees thee for my wyf and my confort.’

Swiche olde lewed wordes used he; 2150 On Damian a signe made she, That he sholde go biforen with his cliket: This Damian thanne hath opened the wiket, And in he stirte, and that in swich manere, (910) That no wight mighte it see neither y-here; 2155 And stille he sit under a bush anoon.

This Ianuarie, as blind as is a stoon, With Maius in his hand, and no wight mo, In-to his fresshe gardin is ago, And clapte to the wiket sodeynly. 2160 ‘Now, wyf,’ quod he, ‘heer nis but thou and I, That art the creature that I best love. For, by that lord that sit in heven above, Lever ich hadde dyen on a knyf, (920) Than thee offende, trewe dere wyf! 2165 For goddes sake, thenk how I thee chees, Noght for no coveityse, doutelees, But only for the love I had to thee. And though that I be old, and may nat see, Beth to me trewe, and I shal telle yow why. 2170 Three thinges, certes, shul ye winne ther-by; First, love of Crist, and to your-self honour, And al myn heritage, toun and tour; I yeve it yow, maketh chartres as yow leste; (930) This shal be doon to-morwe er sonne reste. 2175 So wisly god my soule bringe in blisse, I prey yow first, in covenant ye me kisse. And thogh that I be Ialous, wyte me noght. Ye been so depe enprented in my thoght, That, whan that I considere your beautee, 2180 And ther-with-al the unlykly elde of me, I may nat, certes, thogh I sholde dye, Forbere to been out of your companye For verray love; this is with-outen doute. (940) Now kis me, wyf, and lat us rome aboute.’

2185 This fresshe May, whan she thise wordes herde, Benignely to Ianuarie answerde, But first and forward she bigan to wepe, ‘I have,’ quod she, ‘a soule for to kepe As wel as ye, and also myn honour, 2190 And of my wyfhod thilke tendre flour, Which that I have assured in your hond, Whan that the preest to yow my body bond; Wherfore I wole answere in this manere (950) By the leve of yow, my lord so dere: 2195 I prey to god, that never dawe the day That I ne sterve, as foule as womman may, If ever I do un-to my kin that shame, Or elles I empeyre so my name, That I be fals; and if I do that lakke, 2200 Do strepe me and put me in a sakke, And in the nexte river do me drenche. I am a gentil womman and no wenche. Why speke ye thus? but men ben ever untrewe, (960) And wommen have repreve of yow ay newe. 2205 Ye han non other contenance, I leve, But speke to us of untrust and repreve.’

And with that word she saugh wher Damian Sat in the bush, and coughen she bigan, And with hir finger signes made she, 2210 That Damian sholde climbe up-on a tree, That charged was with fruit, and up he wente; For verraily he knew al hir entente, And every signe that she coude make (970) Wel bet than Ianuarie, hir owene make. 2215 For in a lettre she had told him al Of this matere, how he werchen shal. And thus I lete him sitte up-on the pyrie, And Ianuarie and May rominge myrie.

Bright was the day, and blew the firmament, 2220 Phebus of gold his stremes doun hath sent, To gladen every flour with his warmnesse. He was that tyme in Geminis, as I gesse, But litel fro his declinacioun (980) Of Cancer, Iovis exaltacioun. 2225 And so bifel, that brighte morwe-tyde, That in that gardin, in the ferther syde, Pluto, that is the king of fayërye, And many a lady in his companye, Folwinge his wyf, the quene Proserpyne, 2230 Ech after other, right as any lyne— Whil that she gadered floures in the mede, In Claudian ye may the story rede, How in his grisly carte he hir fette:— (990) This king of fairye thanne adoun him sette 2235 Up-on a bench of turves, fresh and grene, And right anon thus seyde he to his quene.

‘My wyf,’ quod he, ‘ther may no wight sey nay; Thexperience so preveth every day The treson whiche that wommen doon to man. 2240 Ten hondred thousand [stories] telle I can Notable of your untrouthe and brotilnesse. O Salomon, wys, richest of richesse, Fulfild of sapience and of worldly glorie, (1000) Ful worthy been thy wordes to memorie 2245 To every wight that wit and reson can. Thus preiseth he yet the bountee of man: “Amonges a thousand men yet fond I oon, But of wommen alle fond I noon.”

Thus seith the king that knoweth your wikkednesse; 2250 And Iesus filius Syrak, as I gesse, Ne speketh of yow but selde reverence. A wilde fyr and corrupt pestilence So falle up-on your bodies yet to-night! (1010) Ne see ye nat this honurable knight, 2255 By-cause, allas! that he is blind and old, His owene man shal make him cokewold; Lo heer he sit, the lechour, in the tree. Now wol I graunten, of my magestee, Un-to this olde blinde worthy knight 2260 That he shal have ayeyn his eyen sight, Whan that his wyf wold doon him vileinye; Than shal he knowen al hir harlotrye Both in repreve of hir and othere mo.’

(1020) ‘Ye shal,’ quod Proserpyne, ‘wol ye so; 2265 Now, by my modres sires soule I swere, That I shal yeven hir suffisant answere, And alle wommen after, for hir sake; That, though they be in any gilt y-take, With face bold they shulle hem-self excuse, 2270 And bere hem doun that wolden hem accuse. For lakke of answer, noon of hem shal dyen. Al hadde man seyn a thing with bothe his yën, Yit shul we wommen visage it hardily, (1030) And wepe, and swere, and chyde subtilly, So that ye men shul been as lewed as gees. What rekketh me of your auctoritees?

I woot wel that this Iew, this Salomon, Fond of us wommen foles many oon. But though that he ne fond no good womman, 2280 Yet hath ther founde many another man Wommen ful trewe, ful gode, and vertuous. Witnesse on hem that dwelle in Cristes hous, With martirdom they preved hir constance. (1040) The Romayn gestes maken remembrance 2285 Of many a verray trewe wyf also. But sire, ne be nat wrooth, al-be-it so, Though that he seyde he fond no good womman, I prey yow take the sentence of the man; He mente thus, that in sovereyn bontee 2290 Nis noon but god, that sit in Trinitee.

Ey! for verray god, that nis but oon, What make ye so muche of Salomon? What though he made a temple, goddes hous? (1050) What though he were riche and glorious? 2295 So made he eek a temple of false goddis, How mighte he do a thing that more forbode is? Pardee, as faire as ye his name emplastre, He was a lechour and an ydolastre; And in his elde he verray god forsook. 2300 And if that god ne hadde, as seith the book, Y-spared him for his fadres sake, he sholde Have lost his regne rather than he wolde. I sette noght of al the vileinye, (1060) That ye of wommen wryte, a boterflye. 2305 I am a womman, nedes moot I speke, Or elles swelle til myn herte breke. For sithen he seyde that we ben Iangleresses, As ever hool I mote brouke my tresses, I shal nat spare, for no curteisye, 2310 To speke him harm that wolde us vileinye.’ ‘Dame,’ quod this Pluto, ‘be no lenger wrooth; I yeve it up; but sith I swoor myn ooth That I wolde graunten him his sighte ageyn, (1070) My word shal stonde, I warne yow, certeyn. 2315 I am a king, it sit me noght to lye.’

‘And I,’ quod she, ‘a queene of fayërye. Hir answere shal she have, I undertake; Lat us na-more wordes heer-of make. For sothe, I wol no lenger yow contrarie.’

2320 Now lat us turne agayn to Ianuarie, That in the gardin with his faire May Singeth, ful merier than the papeiay, ‘Yow love I best, and shal, and other noon.’ (1080) So longe aboute the aleyes is he goon, 2325 Til he was come agaynes thilke pyrie, Wher-as this Damian sitteth fill myrie An heigh, among the fresshe leves grene.

This fresshe May, that is so bright and shene, Gan for to syke, and seyde, ‘allas, my syde! 2330 Now sir,’ quod she, ‘for aught that may bityde, I moste han of the peres that I see, Or I mot dye, so sore longeth me To eten of the smale peres grene. (1090) Help, for hir love that is of hevene quene! 2335 I telle yow wel, a womman in my plyt May han to fruit so greet an appetyt, That she may dyen, but she of it have.’ ‘Allas!’ quod he, ‘that I ne had heer a knave That coude climbe; allas! allas!’ quod he, 2340 ‘That I am blind.’ ‘Ye, sir, no fors,’ quod she: ‘But wolde ye vouche-sauf, for goddes sake, The pyrie inwith your armes for to take, (For wel I woot that ye mistruste me) (1100) Thanne sholde I climbe wel y-nogh,’ quod she, 2345 ‘So I my foot mighte sette upon your bak.’ ‘Certes,’ quod he, ‘ther-on shal be no lak, Mighte I yow helpen with myn herte blood.’ He stoupeth doun, and on his bak she stood, And caughte hir by a twiste, and up she gooth. 2350 Ladies, I prey yow that ye be nat wrooth; I can nat glose, I am a rude man. And sodeynly anon this Damian Gan pullen up the smok, and in he throng. (1110) And whan that Pluto saugh this grete wrong, 2355 To Ianuarie he gaf agayn his sighte, And made him see, as wel as ever he mighte. And whan that he hadde caught his sighte agayn, Ne was ther never man of thing so fayn. But on his wyf his thoght was evermo; 2360 Up to the tree he caste his eyen two, And saugh that Damian his wyf had dressed In swich manere, it may nat ben expressed But if I wolde speke uncurteisly: (1120) And up he yaf a roring and a cry 2365 As doth the moder whan the child shal dye: ‘Out! help! allas! harrow!’ he gan to crye, ‘O stronge lady store, what dostow?’

And she answerde, ‘sir, what eyleth yow? Have pacience, and reson in your minde, 2370 I have yow holpe on bothe your eyen blinde. Up peril of my soule, I shal nat lyen, As me was taught, to hele with your yën, Was no-thing bet to make yow to see (1130) Than strugle with a man up-on a tree. 2375 God woot, I dide it in ful good entente.’

‘Strugle!’ quod he, ‘ye, algate in it wente! God yeve yow bothe on shames deeth to dyen! He swyved thee, I saugh it with myne yën, And elles be I hanged by the hals!’

2380 ‘Thanne is,’ quod she, ‘my medicyne al fals; For certeinly, if that ye mighte see, Ye wolde nat seyn thise wordes un-to me; Ye han som glimsing and no parfit sighte.’

(1140) ‘I see,’ quod he, ‘as wel as ever I mighte, 2385 Thonked be god! with bothe myne eyen two, And by my trouthe, me thoughte he dide thee so.’ ‘Ye maze, maze, gode sire,’ quod she, ‘This thank have I for I have maad yow see; Allas!’ quod she, ‘that ever I was so kinde!’ 2390 ‘Now, dame,’ quod he, ‘lat al passe out of minde. Com doun, my lief, and if I have missayd, God help me so, as I am yvel apayd. But, by my fader soule, I wende han seyn, (1150) How that this Damian had by thee leyn, 2395 And that thy smok had leyn up-on his brest.’

‘Ye, sire,’ quod she, ‘ye may wene as yow lest; But, sire, a man that waketh out of his sleep, He may nat sodeynly wel taken keep Up-on a thing, ne seen it parfitly, 2400 Til that he be adawed verraily; Right so a man, that longe hath blind y-be, Ne may nat sodeynly so wel y-see, First whan his sighte is newe come ageyn, (1160) As he that hath a day or two y-seyn. 2405 Til that your sighte y-satled be a whyle, Ther may ful many a sighte yow bigyle. Beth war, I prey yow; for, by hevene king, Ful many a man weneth to seen a thing, And it is al another than it semeth. 2410 He that misconceyveth, he misdemeth.’ And with that word she leep doun fro the tree.

This Ianuarie, who is glad but he? He kisseth hir, and clippeth hir ful ofte, (1170) And on hir wombe he stroketh hir ful softe, 2415 And to his palays hoom he hath hir lad. Now, gode men, I pray yow to be glad. Thus endeth heer my tale of Ianuarie; God bless us and his moder Seinte Marie! Here is ended the Marchantes Tale of Ianuarie.

‘Ey! goddes mercy!’ seyde our Hoste tho, 2420 ‘Now swich a wyf I pray god kepe me fro! Lo, whiche sleightes and subtilitees In wommen been! for ay as bisy as bees Ben they, us sely men for to deceyve, And from a sothe ever wol they weyve; 2425 By this Marchauntes Tale it preveth weel. But doutelees, as trewe as any steel I have a wyf, though that she povre be; (10) But of hir tonge a labbing shrewe is she, And yet she hath an heep of vyces mo; 2430 Ther-of no fors, lat alle swiche thinges go. But, wite ye what? in conseil be it seyd, Me reweth sore I am un-to hir teyd. For, and I sholde rekenen every vyce Which that she hath, y-wis, I were to nyce, 2435 And cause why; it sholde reported be And told to hir of somme of this meynee; Of whom, it nedeth nat for to declare, (20) Sin wommen connen outen swich chaffare; And eek my wit suffyseth nat ther-to 2440 To tellen al; wherfor my tale is do.’

[The Squire’s Prologue.] ‘Squier, com neer, if it your wille be, And sey somwhat of love; for, certes, ye Connen ther-on as muche as any man.’ ‘Nay, sir,’ quod he, ‘but I wol seye as I can 5 With hertly wille; for I wol nat rebelle Agayn your lust; a tale wol I telle. Have me excused if I speke amis, My wil is good; and lo, my tale is this. Here biginneth the Squieres Tale. (1) At Sarray, in the land of Tartarye, 10 Ther dwelte a king, that werreyed Russye, Thurgh which ther deyde many a doughty man. This noble king was cleped Cambinskan, Which in his tyme was of so greet renoun That ther nas no-wher in no regioun 15 So excellent a lord in alle thing; Him lakked noght that longeth to a king. As of the secte of which that he was born (10) He kepte his lay, to which that he was sworn; And ther-to be was hardy, wys, and riche, 20 Pitous and Iust, and ever-more y-liche Sooth of his word, benigne and honurable, Of his corage as any centre stable; Yong, fresh, and strong, in armes desirous As any bacheler of al his hous. 25 A fair persone he was and fortunat, And kepte alwey so wel royal estat, That ther was nowher swich another man. (20) This noble king, this Tartre Cambinskan Hadde two sones on Elpheta his wyf, 30 Of whiche the eldeste highte Algarsyf, That other sone was cleped Cambalo. A doghter hadde this worthy king also, That yongest was, and highte Canacee. But for to telle yow al hir beautee, 35 It lyth nat in my tonge, nin my conning; I dar nat undertake so heigh a thing. Myn English eek is insufficient; (30) It moste been a rethor excellent, That coude his colours longing for that art, 40 If he sholde hir discryven every part. I am non swich, I moot speke as I can.

And so bifel that, whan this Cambinskan Hath twenty winter born his diademe, As he was wont fro yeer to yeer, I deme, 45 He leet the feste of his nativitee Don cryen thurghout Sarray his citee, The last Idus of March, after the yeer. (40) Phebus the sonne ful Iory was and cleer; For he was neigh his exaltacioun 50 In Martes face, and in his mansioun In Aries, the colerik hote signe. Ful lusty was the weder and benigne, For which the foules, agayn the sonne shene, What for the seson and the yonge grene, 55 Ful loude songen hir affecciouns; Him semed han geten hem protecciouns Agayn the swerd of winter kene and cold.

(50) This Cambinskan, of which I have yow told, In royal vestiment sit on his deys, 60 With diademe, ful heighe in his paleys, And halt his feste, so solempne and so riche That in this world ne was ther noon it liche. Of which if I shal tellen al tharray, Than wolde it occupye a someres day; 65 And eek it nedeth nat for to devyse At every cours the ordre of hir servyse. I wol nat tellen of hir strange sewes, (60) Ne of hir swannes, ne of hir heronsewes. Eek in that lond, as tellen knightes olde, 70 Ther is som mete that is ful deyntee holde, That in this lond men recche of it but smal; Ther nis no man that may reporten al. I wol nat tarien yow, for it is pryme, And for it is no fruit but los of tyme; 75 Un-to my firste I wol have my recours.

And so bifel that, after the thridde cours, Whyl that this king sit thus in his nobleye, (70) Herkninge his minstralles hir thinges pleye Biforn him at the bord deliciously, 80 In at the halle-dore al sodeynly Ther cam a knight up-on a stede of bras, And in his hand a brood mirour of glas. Upon his thombe he hadde of gold a ring, And by his syde a naked swerd hanging; 85 And up he rydeth to the heighe bord. In al the halle ne was ther spoke a word For merveille of this knight; him to biholde (80) Ful bisily ther wayten yonge and olde.

This strange knight, that cam thus sodeynly, 90 Al armed save his heed ful richely, Saluëth king and queen, and lordes alle, By ordre, as they seten in the halle, With so heigh reverence and obeisaunce As wel in speche as in contenaunce, 95 That Gawain, with his olde curteisye, Though he were come ageyn out of Fairye, Ne coude him nat amende with a word. (90) And after this, biforn the heighe bord, He with a manly voys seith his message, 100 After the forme used in his langage, With-outen vyce of sillable or of lettre; And, for his tale sholde seme the bettre, Accordant to his wordes was his chere, As techeth art of speche hem that it lere; 105 Al-be-it that I can nat soune his style, Ne can nat climben over so heigh a style, Yet seye I this, as to commune entente, (100) Thus muche amounteth al that ever he mente, If it so be that I have it in minde.

110 He seyde, ‘the king of Arabie and of Inde, My lige lord, on this solempne day Saluëth yow as he best can and may, And sendeth yow, in honour of your feste, By me, that am al redy at your heste, 115 This stede of bras, that esily and wel Can, in the space of o day naturel, This is to seyn, in foure and twenty houres, (110) Wher-so yow list, in droghte or elles shoures, Beren your body in-to every place 120 To which your herte wilneth for to pace With-outen wem of yow, thurgh foul or fair; Or, if yow list to fleen as hye in the air As doth an egle, whan him list to sore, This same stede shal bere yow ever-more 125 With-outen harm, til ye be ther yow leste, Though that ye slepen on his bak or reste; And turne ayeyn, with wrything of a pin. (120) He that it wroghte coude ful many a gin; He wayted many a constellacioun 130 Er he had doon this operacioun; And knew ful many a seel and many a bond.

This mirour eek, that I have in myn hond, Hath swich a might, that men may in it see Whan ther shal fallen any adversitee 135 Un-to your regne or to your-self also; And openly who is your freend or foo. And over al this, if any lady bright (130) Hath set hir herte on any maner wight, If he be fals, she shal his treson see, 140 His newe love and al his subtiltee So openly, that ther shal no-thing hyde. Wherfor, ageyn this lusty someres tyde, This mirour and this ring, that ye may see, He hath sent to my lady Canacee, 145 Your excellente doghter that is here.

The vertu of the ring, if ye wol here, Is this; that, if hir lust it for to were (140) Up-on hir thombe, or in hir purs it bere, Ther is no foul that fleeth under the hevene 150 That she ne shal wel understonde his stevene, And knowe his mening openly and pleyn, And answere him in his langage ageyn. And every gras that groweth up-on rote She shal eek knowe, and whom it wol do bote, 155 Al be his woundes never so depe and wyde. This naked swerd, that hangeth by my syde, Swich vertu hath, that what man so ye smyte, (150) Thurgh-out his armure it wol kerve and byte, Were it as thikke as is a branched ook; 160 And what man that is wounded with the strook Shal never be hool til that yow list, of grace, To stroke him with the platte in thilke place Ther he is hurt: this is as muche to seyn, Ye mote with the platte swerd ageyn 165 Stroke him in the wounde, and it wol close; This is a verray sooth, with-outen glose, It failleth nat whyl it is in your hold.’

(160) And whan this knight hath thus his tale told, He rydeth out of halle, and doun he lighte. 170 His stede, which that shoon as sonne brighte, Stant in the court, as stille as any stoon. This knight is to his chambre lad anon, And is unarmed and to mete y-set.

The presentes ben ful royally y-fet, 175 This is to seyn, the swerd and the mirour, And born anon in-to the heighe tour With certeine officers ordeyned therfore; (170) And un-to Canacee this ring was bore Solempnely, ther she sit at the table. 180 But sikerly, with-outen any fable, The hors of bras, that may nat be remewed, It stant as it were to the ground y-glewed. Ther may no man out of the place it dryve For noon engyn of windas or polyve; 185 And cause why, for they can nat the craft. And therefore in the place they han it laft Til that the knight hath taught hem the manere (180) To voyden him, as ye shal after here.

Greet was the prees, that swarmeth to and fro, 190 To gauren on this hors that stondeth so; For it so heigh was, and so brood and long, So wel proporcioned for to ben strong, Right as it were a stede of Lumbardye; Ther-with so horsly, and so quik of yë 195 As it a gentil Poileys courser were. For certes, fro his tayl un-to his ere, Nature ne art ne coude him nat amende (190) In no degree, as al the peple wende. But evermore hir moste wonder was, 200 How that it coude goon, and was of bras; It was of Fairye, as the peple semed. Diverse folk diversely they demed; As many hedes, as many wittes ther been. They murmureden as dooth a swarm of been, 205 And maden skiles after hir fantasyes, Rehersinge of thise olde poetryes, And seyden, it was lyk the Pegasee, (200) The hors that hadde winges for to flee; Or elles it was the Grekes hors Synon, 210 That broghte Troye to destruccion, As men may in thise olde gestes rede, ‘Myn herte,’ quod oon, ‘is evermore in drede; I trowe som men of armes been ther-inne, That shapen hem this citee for to winne. 215 It were right good that al swich thing were knowe.’ Another rowned to his felawe lowe, And seyde, ‘he lyeth, it is rather lyk (210) An apparence y-maad by som magyk, As Iogelours pleyen at thise festes grete.’ 220 Of sondry doutes thus they Iangle and trete, As lewed peple demeth comunly Of thinges that ben maad more subtilly Than they can in her lewednes comprehende; They demen gladly to the badder ende.

225 And somme of hem wondred on the mirour, That born was up in-to the maister-tour, How men mighte in it swiche thinges see. (220) Another answerde, and seyde it mighte wel be Naturelly, by composiciouns 230 Of angles and of slye reflexiouns, And seyden, that in Rome was swich oon. They speken of Alocen and Vitulon, And Aristotle, that writen in hir lyves Of queynte mirours and of prospectyves, 235 As knowen they that han hir bokes herd.

And othere folk han wondred on the swerd That wolde percen thurgh-out every-thing; (230) And fille in speche of Thelophus the king, And of Achilles with his queynte spere, 240 For he coude with it bothe hele and dere, Right in swich wyse as men may with the swerd Of which right now ye han your-selven herd. They speken of sondry harding of metal, And speke of medicynes ther-with-al, 245 And how, and whanne, it sholde y-harded be; Which is unknowe algates unto me.

Tho speke they of Canaceës ring, (240) And seyden alle, that swich a wonder thing Of craft of ringes herde they never non, 250 Save that he, Moyses, and king Salomon Hadde a name of konning in swich art. Thus seyn the peple, and drawen hem apart. But nathelees, somme seyden that it was Wonder to maken of fern-asshen glas, 255 And yet nis glas nat lyk asshen of fern; But for they han y-knowen it so fern, Therfore cesseth her Iangling and her wonder. (250) As sore wondren somme on cause of thonder, On ebbe, on flood, on gossomer, and on mist, 260 And alle thing, til that the cause is wist. Thus Iangle they and demen and devyse, Til that the king gan fro the bord aryse.

Phebus hath laft the angle meridional, And yet ascending was the beest royal, 265 The gentil Leon, with his Aldiran, Whan that this Tartre king, this Cambynskan, Roos fro his bord, ther that he sat ful hye. (260) Toforn him gooth the loude minstralcye, Til he cam to his chambre of parements, 270 Ther as they sownen diverse instruments, That it is lyk an heven for to here. Now dauncen lusty Venus children dere, For in the Fish hir lady sat ful hye, And loketh on hem with a freendly yë.

275 This noble king is set up in his trone. This strange knight is fet to him ful sone, And on the daunce he gooth with Canacee. (270) Heer is the revel and the Iolitee That is nat able a dul man to devyse. 280 He moste han knowen love and his servyse, And been a festlich man as fresh as May, That sholde yow devysen swich array.

Who coude telle yow the forme of daunces, So uncouthe and so fresshe contenaunces, 285 Swich subtil loking and dissimulinges For drede of Ialouse mennes aperceyvinges? No man but Launcelot, and he is deed. (280) Therefor I passe of al this lustiheed; I seye na-more, but in this Iolynesse 290 I lete hem, til men to the soper dresse.

The styward bit the spyces for to hye, And eek the wyn, in al this melodye. The usshers and the squyers ben y-goon; The spyces and the wyn is come anoon. 295 They ete and drinke; and whan this hadde an ende, Un-to the temple, as reson was, they wende.

The service doon, they soupen al by day. (290) What nedeth yow rehercen hir array? Ech man wot wel, that at a kinges feeste 300 Hath plentee, to the moste and to the leeste, And deyntees mo than been in my knowing. At-after soper gooth this noble king To seen this hors of bras, with al the route Of lordes and of ladyes him aboute.

305 Swich wondring was ther on this hors of bras That, sin the grete sege of Troye was, Ther-as men wondreden on an hors also, (300) Ne was ther swich a wondring as was tho. But fynally the king axeth this knight 310 The vertu of this courser and the might, And preyede him to telle his governaunce.

This hors anoon bigan to trippe and daunce, Whan that this knight leyde hand up-on his reyne, And seyde, ‘sir, ther is na-more to seyne, 315 But, whan yow list to ryden any-where, Ye moten trille a pin, stant in his ere, Which I shall telle yow bitwix vs two. (310) Ye mote nempne him to what place also Or to what contree that yow list to ryde. 320 And whan ye come ther as yow list abyde, Bidde him descende, and trille another pin, For ther-in lyth the effect of al the gin, And he wol doun descende and doon your wille; And in that place he wol abyde stille, 325 Though al the world the contrarie hadde y-swore; He shal nat thennes ben y-drawe ne y-bore. Or, if yow liste bidde him thennes goon, (320) Trille this pin, and he wol vanishe anoon Out of the sighte of every maner wight, 330 And come agayn, be it by day or night, When that yow list to clepen him ageyn In swich a gyse as I shal to yow seyn Bitwixe yow and me, and that ful sone. Ryde whan yow list, ther is na-more to done.’

335 Enformed whan the king was of that knight, And hath conceyved in his wit aright The maner and the forme of al this thing, (330) Thus glad and blythe, this noble doughty king Repeireth to his revel as biforn. 340 The brydel is un-to the tour y-born, And kept among his Iewels leve and dere. The hors vanisshed, I noot in what manere, Out of hir sighte; ye gete na-more of me. But thus I lete in lust and Iolitee 345 This Cambynskan his lordes festeyinge, Til wel ny the day bigan to springe.

Explicit prima pars. Sequitur pars secunda. The norice of digestioun, the slepe, (340) Gan on hem winke, and bad hem taken kepe, That muchel drink and labour wolde han reste; 350 And with a galping mouth hem alle he keste, And seyde, ‘it was tyme to lye adoun, For blood was in his dominacioun; Cherissheth blood, natures freend,’ quod he. They thanken him galpinge, by two, by three, 355 And every wight gan drawe him to his reste, As slepe hem bad; they toke it for the beste. Hir dremes shul nat been y-told for me; (350) Ful were hir hedes of fumositee, That causeth dreem, of which ther nis no charge. 360 They slepen til that it was pryme large, The moste part, but it were Canacee; She was ful mesurable, as wommen be. For of hir fader hadde she take leve To gon to reste, sone after it was eve; 365 Hir liste nat appalled for to be, Nor on the morwe unfestlich for to see; And slepte hir firste sleep, and thanne awook. (360) For swich a Ioye she in hir herte took Both of hir queynte ring and hir mirour, 370 That twenty tyme she changed hir colour; And in hir slepe, right for impressioun Of hir mirour, she hadde a visioun. Wherfore, er that the sonne gan up glyde, She cleped on hir maistresse hir bisyde, 375 And seyde, that hir liste for to ryse.

Thise olde wommen that been gladly wyse, As is hir maistresse, answerde hir anoon, (370) And seyde, ‘madame, whider wil ye goon Thus erly? for the folk ben alle on reste.’ 380 ‘I wol,’ quod she, ‘aryse, for me leste No lenger for to slepe, and walke aboute.’

Hir maistresse clepeth wommen a gret route, And up they rysen, wel a ten or twelve; Up ryseth fresshe Canacee hir-selve, 385 As rody and bright as dooth the yonge sonne, That in the Ram is four degrees up-ronne; Noon hyer was he, whan she redy was; (380) And forth she walketh esily a pas, Arrayed after the lusty seson sote 390 Lightly, for to pleye and walke on fote; Nat but with fyve or six of hir meynee; And in a trench, forth in the park, goth she. The vapour, which that fro the erthe glood, Made the sonne to seme rody and brood; 395 But nathelees, it was so fair a sighte That it made alle hir hertes for to lighte, What for the seson and the morweninge, (390) And for the foules that she herde singe; For right anon she wiste what they mente 400 Right by hir song, and knew al hir entente.

The knotte, why that every tale is told, If it be taried til that lust be cold Of hem that han it after herkned yore, The savour passeth ever lenger the more, 405 For fulsomnesse of his prolixitee. And by the same reson thinketh me, I sholde to the knotte condescende, (400) And maken of hir walking sone an ende. Amidde a tree fordrye, as whyt as chalk, 410 As Canacee was pleying in hir walk, Ther sat a faucon over hir heed ful hye, That with a pitous voys so gan to crye That all the wode resouned of hir cry. Y-beten hath she hir-self so pitously 415 With bothe hir winges, til the rede blood Ran endelong the tree ther-as she stood. And ever in oon she cryde alwey and shrighte, (410) And with hir beek hir-selven so she prighte, That ther nis tygre, ne noon so cruel beste, 420 That dwelleth either in wode or in foreste That nolde han wept, if that he wepe coude, For sorwe of hir, she shrighte alwey so loude. For ther nas never yet no man on lyve— If that I coude a faucon wel discryve— 425 That herde of swich another of fairnesse, As wel of plumage as of gentillesse Of shap, and al that mighte y-rekened be. (420) A faucon peregryn than semed she Of fremde land; and evermore, as she stood, 430 She swowneth now and now for lakke of blood, Til wel neigh is she fallen fro the tree.

This faire kinges doghter, Canacee, That on hir finger bar the queynte ring, Thurgh which she understood wel every thing 435 That any foul may in his ledene seyn, And coude answere him in his ledene ageyn, Hath understonde what this faucon seyde, (430) And wel neigh for the rewthe almost she deyde. And to the tree she gooth ful hastily, 440 And on this faucon loketh pitously, And heeld hir lappe abrood, for wel she wiste The faucon moste fallen fro the twiste, When that it swowned next, for lakke of blood. A longe while to wayten hir she stood 445 Till atte laste she spak in this manere Un-to the hauk, as ye shul after here.

‘What is the cause, if it be for to telle, (440) That ye be in this furial pyne of helle?’ Quod Canacee un-to this hauk above. 450 ‘Is this for sorwe of deeth or los of love? For, as I trowe, thise ben causes two That causen moost a gentil herte wo; Of other harm it nedeth nat to speke. For ye your-self upon your-self yow wreke, 455 Which proveth wel, that either love or drede Mot been encheson of your cruel dede, Sin that I see non other wight yow chace. (450) For love of god, as dooth your-selven grace Or what may ben your help; for west nor eest 460 Ne sey I never er now no brid ne beest That ferde with him-self so pitously. Ye sle me with your sorwe, verraily; I have of yow so gret compassioun. For goddes love, com fro the tree adoun; 465 And, as I am a kinges doghter trewe, If that I verraily the cause knewe Of your disese, if it lay in my might, (460) I wolde amende it, er that it were night, As wisly helpe me gret god of kinde! 470 And herbes shal I right y-nowe y-finde To hele with your hurtes hastily.’

Tho shrighte this faucon more pitously Than ever she dide, and fil to grounde anoon, And lyth aswowne, deed, and lyk a stoon, 475 Til Canacee hath in hir lappe hir take Un-to the tyme she gan of swough awake. And, after that she of hir swough gan breyde, (470) Right in hir haukes ledene thus she seyde:— ‘That pitee renneth sone in gentil herte, 480 Feling his similitude in peynes smerte, Is preved al-day, as men may it see, As wel by werk as by auctoritee; For gentil herte kytheth gentillesse. I see wel, that ye han of my distresse 485 Compassioun, my faire Canacee, Of verray wommanly benignitee That nature in your principles hath set. (480) But for non hope for to fare the bet, But for to obeye un-to your herte free, 490 And for to maken other be war by me, As by the whelp chasted is the leoun, Right for that cause and that conclusioun, Whyl that I have a leyser and a space, Myn harm I wol confessen, er I pace.’ 495 And ever, whyl that oon hir sorwe tolde, That other weep, as she to water wolde, Til that the faucon bad hir to be stille; (490) And, with a syk, right thus she seyde hir wille.

‘Ther I was bred (allas! that harde day!) 500 And fostred in a roche of marbul gray So tendrely, that nothing eyled me, I niste nat what was adversitee, Til I coude flee ful hye under the sky. Tho dwelte a tercelet me faste by, 505 That semed welle of alle gentillesse; Al were he ful of treson and falsnesse, It was so wrapped under humble chere, (500) And under hewe of trouthe in swich manere, Under plesance, and under bisy peyne, 510 That no wight coude han wend he coude feyne, So depe in greyn he dyed his coloures. Right as a serpent hit him under floures Til he may seen his tyme for to byte, Right so this god of love, this ypocryte, 515 Doth so his cerimonies and obeisaunces, And kepeth in semblant alle his observances That sowneth in-to gentillesse of love. (510) As in a toumbe is al the faire above, And under is the corps, swich as ye woot, 520 Swich was this ypocryte, bothe cold and hoot, And in this wyse he served his entente, That (save the feend) non wiste what he mente. Til he so longe had wopen and compleyned, And many a yeer his service to me feyned, 525 Til that myn herte, to pitous and to nyce, Al innocent of his crouned malice, For-fered of his deeth, as thoughte me, (520) Upon his othes and his seuretee, Graunted him love, on this condicioun, 530 That evermore myn honour and renoun Were saved, bothe privee and apert; This is to seyn, that, after his desert, I yaf him al myn herte and al my thoght— God woot and he, that otherwyse noght— 535 And took his herte in chaunge for myn for ay. But sooth is seyd, gon sithen many a day, “A trew wight and a theef thenken nat oon.” (530) And, whan he saugh the thing so fer y-goon, That I had graunted him fully my love, 540 In swich a gyse as I have seyd above, And yeven him my trewe herte, as free As he swoor he his herte yaf to me; Anon this tygre, ful of doublenesse, Fil on his knees with so devout humblesse, 545 With so heigh reverence, and, as by his chere, So lyk a gentil lovere of manere, So ravisshed, as it semed, for the Ioye, (540) That never Iason, ne Parys of Troye, Iason? certes, ne non other man, 550 Sin Lameth was, that alderfirst bigan To loven two, as writen folk biforn, Ne never, sin the firste man was born, Ne coude man, by twenty thousand part, Countrefete the sophimes of his art; 555 Ne were worthy unbokele his galoche, Ther doublenesse or feyning sholde approche, Ne so coude thanke a wight as he did me! (550) His maner was an heven for to see Til any womman, were she never so wys; 560 So peynted he and kembde at point-devys As wel his wordes as his contenaunce. And I so lovede him for his obeisaunce, And for the trouthe I demed in his herte, That, if so were that any thing him smerte, 565 Al were it never so lyte, and I it wiste, Me thoughte, I felte deeth myn herte twiste. And shortly, so ferforth this thing is went, (560) That my wil was his willes instrument; This is to seyn, my wil obeyed his wil 570 In alle thing, as fer as reson fil, Keping the boundes of my worship ever. Ne never hadde I thing so leef, ne lever, As him, god woot! ne never shal na-mo.

This lasteth lenger than a yeer or two, 575 That I supposed of him noght but good. But fynally, thus atte laste it stood, That fortune wolde that he moste twinne (570) Out of that place which that I was inne. Wher me was wo, that is no questioun; 580 I can nat make of it discripcioun; For o thing dar I tellen boldely, I knowe what is the peyne of deth ther-by; Swich harm I felte for he ne mighte bileve. So on a day of me he took his leve, 585 So sorwefully eek, that I wende verraily That he had felt as muche harm as I, Whan that I herde him speke, and saugh his hewe. (580) But nathelees, I thoughte he was so trewe, And eek that he repaire sholde ageyn 590 With-inne a litel whyle, sooth to seyn; And reson wolde eek that he moste go For his honour, as ofte it happeth so, That I made vertu of necessitee, And took it wel, sin that it moste be. 595 As I best mighte, I hidde fro him my sorwe, And took him by the hond, seint Iohn to borwe, And seyde him thus: “lo, I am youres al; (590) Beth swich as I to yow have been, and shal.” What he answerde, it nedeth noght reherce, 600 Who can sey bet than he, who can do werse? Whan he hath al wel seyd, thanne hath he doon. “Therfor bihoveth him a ful long spoon That shal ete with a feend,” thus herde I seye. So atte laste he moste forth his weye, 605 And forth he fleeth, til he cam ther him leste. Whan it cam him to purpos for to reste, I trowe he hadde thilke text in minde, (600) That “alle thing, repairing to his kinde, Gladeth him-self”; thus seyn men, as I gesse; 610 Men loven of propre kinde newfangelnesse, As briddes doon that men in cages fede. For though thou night and day take of hem hede, And strawe hir cage faire and softe as silk, And yeve hem sugre, hony, breed and milk, 615 Yet right anon, as that his dore is uppe, He with his feet wol spurne adoun his cuppe, And to the wode he wol and wormes ete; (610) So newefangel been they of hir mete, And loven novelryes of propre kinde; 620 No gentillesse of blood [ne] may hem binde. So ferde this tercelet, allas the day! Though he were gentil born, and fresh and gay, And goodly for to seen, and humble and free, He saugh up-on a tyme a kyte flee, 625 And sodeynly he loved this kyte so, That al his love is clene fro me ago, And hath his trouthe falsed in this wyse; (620) Thus hath the kyte my love in hir servyse, And I am lorn with-outen remedye!’ 630 And with that word this faucon gan to crye, And swowned eft in Canaceës barme.

Greet was the sorwe, for the haukes harme, That Canacee and alle hir wommen made; They niste how they mighte the faucon glade. 635 But Canacee hom bereth hir in hir lappe, And softely in plastres gan hir wrappe, Ther as she with hir beek had hurt hir-selve. (630) Now can nat Canacee but herbes delve Out of the grounde, and make salves newe 640 Of herbes precious, and fyne of hewe, To helen with this hauk; fro day to night She dooth hir bisinesse and al hir might. And by hir beddes heed she made a mewe, And covered it with veluëttes blewe, 645 In signe of trouthe that is in wommen sene. And al with-oute, the mewe is peynted grene, In which were peynted alle thise false foules, (640) As beth thise tidifs, tercelets, and oules, Right for despyt were peynted hem bisyde, 650 And pyes, on hem for to crye and chyde.

Thus lete I Canacee hir hauk keping; I wol na-more as now speke of hir ring, Til it come eft to purpos for to seyn How that this faucon gat hir love ageyn 655 Repentant, as the storie telleth us, By mediacioun of Cambalus, The kinges sone, of whiche I yow tolde. (650) But hennes-forth I wol my proces holde To speke of aventures and of batailles, 660 That never yet was herd so grete mervailles.

First wol I telle yow of Cambynskan, That in his tyme many a citee wan; And after wol I speke of Algarsyf, How that he wan Theodora to his wyf, 665 For whom ful ofte in greet peril he was, Ne hadde he ben holpen by the stede of bras; And after wol I speke of Cambalo, (660) That faught in listes with the bretheren two For Canacee, er that he mighte hir winne. 670 And ther I lefte I wol ageyn biginne.

Explicit secunda pars. Incipit pars tercia. [T. om. Appollo whirleth up his char so hye, [T. om. Til that the god Mercurius hous the slye— . . . . . .

Here folwen the wordes of the Frankelin to the Squier, and the wordes of the Host to the Frankelin. ‘In feith, Squier, thou hast thee wel y-quit, And gentilly I preise wel thy wit,’ 675 Quod the Frankeleyn, ‘considering thy youthe, So feelingly thou spekest, sir, I allow the! As to my doom, there is non that is here Of eloquence that shal be thy pere, If that thou live; god yeve thee good chaunce, 680 And in vertu sende thee continuaunce! For of thy speche I have greet deyntee. (10) I have a sone, and, by the Trinitee, I hadde lever than twenty pound worth lond, Though it right now were fallen in myn hond, 685 He were a man of swich discrecioun As that ye been! fy on possessioun But-if a man be vertuous with-al. I have my sone snibbed, and yet shal, For he to vertu listeth nat entende; 690 But for to pleye at dees, and to despende, And lese al that he hath, is his usage. (20) And he hath lever talken with a page Than to comune with any gentil wight Ther he mighte lerne gentillesse aright.’—

695 ‘Straw for your gentillesse,’ quod our host; ‘What, frankeleyn? pardee, sir, wel thou wost That eche of yow mot tellen atte leste A tale or two, or breken his biheste.’

‘That knowe I wel, sir,’ quod the frankeleyn; 700 ‘I prey yow, haveth me nat in desdeyn Though to this man I speke a word or two.’ (30) ‘Telle on thy tale with-outen wordes mo.’ ‘Gladly, sir host,’ quod he, ‘I wol obeye Un-to your wil; now herkneth what I seye. 705 I wol yow nat contrarien in no wyse As fer as that my wittes wol suffyse; I prey to god that it may plesen yow, Than woot I wel that it is good y-now.’ [The Frankleyn’s Prologue follows immediately; see p. 482.]

The Prologe of the Frankeleyns Tale. [This Prologue follows immediately after the Words on p. 481.] Thise olde gentil Britons in hir dayes 710 Of diverse aventures maden layes, Rymeyed in hir firste Briton tonge; (40) Which layes with hir instruments they songe, Or elles redden hem for hir plesaunce; And oon of hem have I in remembraunce, 715 Which I shal seyn with good wil as I can.

But, sires, by-cause I am a burel man, At my biginning first I yow biseche Have me excused of my rude speche; I lerned never rethoryk certeyn; 720 Thing that I speke, it moot be bare and pleyn. I sleep never on the mount of Pernaso, (50) Ne lerned Marcus Tullius Cithero. Colours ne knowe I none, with-outen drede, But swiche colours as growen in the mede, 725 Or elles swiche as men dye or peynte. Colours of rethoryk ben me to queynte; My spirit feleth noght of swich matere. But if yow list, my tale shul ye here.

Here biginneth the Frankeleyns Tale. In Armorik, that called is Britayne, 730 Ther was a knight that loved and dide his payne To serve a lady in his beste wyse; And many a labour, many a greet empryse He for his lady wroghte, er she were wonne. For she was oon, the faireste under sonne, 735 And eek therto come of so heigh kinrede, That wel unnethes dorste this knight, for drede, Telle hir his wo, his peyne, and his distresse. (10) But atte laste, she, for his worthinesse, And namely for his meke obeysaunce, 740 Hath swich a pitee caught of his penaunce, That prively she fil of his accord To take him for hir housbonde and hir lord, Of swich lordshipe as men han over hir wyves; And for to lede the more in blisse hir lyves, 745 Of his free wil he swoor hir as a knight, That never in al his lyf he, day ne night, Ne sholde up-on him take no maistrye (20) Agayn hir wil, ne kythe hir Ialousye, But hir obeye, and folwe hir wil in al 750 As any lovere to his lady shal; Save that the name of soveraynetee, That wolde he have for shame of his degree. She thanked him, and with ful greet humblesse She seyde, ‘sire, sith of your gentillesse 755 Ye profre me to have so large a reyne, Ne wolde never god bitwixe us tweyne, As in my gilt, were outher werre or stryf. (30) Sir, I wol be your humble trewe wyf, Have heer my trouthe, til that myn herte breste.’ 760 Thus been they bothe in quiete and in reste. For o thing, sires, saufly dar I seye, That frendes everich other moot obeye, If they wol longe holden companye. Love wol nat ben constreyned by maistrye; 765 Whan maistrie comth, the god of love anon Beteth hise winges, and farewel! he is gon! Love is a thing as any spirit free; (40) Wommen of kinde desiren libertee, And nat to ben constreyned as a thral; 770 And so don men, if I soth seyen shal. Loke who that is most pacient in love, He is at his avantage al above. Pacience is an heigh vertu certeyn; For it venquisseth, as thise clerkes seyn, 775 Thinges that rigour sholde never atteyne. For every word men may nat chyde or pleyne. Lerneth to suffre, or elles, so moot I goon, (50) Ye shul it lerne, wher-so ye wole or noon. For in this world, certein, ther no wight is, 780 That he ne dooth or seith som-tyme amis. Ire, siknesse, or constellacioun, Wyn, wo, or chaunginge of complexioun Causeth ful ofte to doon amis or speken. On every wrong a man may nat be wreken; 785 After the tyme, moste be temperaunce To every wight that can on governaunce. And therfore hath this wyse worthy knight, (60) To live in ese, suffrance hir bihight, And she to him ful wisly gan to swere 790 That never sholde ther be defaute in here.

Heer may men seen an humble wys accord; Thus hath she take hir servant and hir lord, Servant in love, and lord in mariage; Than was he bothe in lordship and servage; 795 Servage? nay, but in lordshipe above, Sith he hath bothe his lady and his love; His lady, certes, and his wyf also, (70) The which that lawe of love acordeth to. And whan he was in this prosperitee, 800 Hoom with his wyf he gooth to his contree, Nat fer fro Penmark, ther his dwelling was, Wher-as he liveth in blisse and in solas.

Who coude telle, but he had wedded be, The Ioye, the ese, and the prosperitee 805 That is bitwixe an housbonde and his wyf? A yeer and more lasted this blisful lyf, Til that the knight of which I speke of thus, (80) That of Kayrrud was cleped Arveragus, Shoop him to goon, and dwelle a yeer or tweyne 810 In Engelond, that cleped was eek Briteyne, To seke in armes worship and honour; For al his lust he sette in swich labour; And dwelled ther two yeer, the book seith thus.

Now wol I stinte of this Arveragus, 815 And speken I wole of Dorigene his wyf, That loveth hir housbonde as hir hertes lyf. For his absence wepeth she and syketh, (90) As doon thise noble wyves whan hem lyketh. She moorneth, waketh, wayleth, fasteth, pleyneth; 820 Desyr of his presence hir so distreyneth, That al this wyde world she sette at noght. Hir frendes, whiche that knewe hir hevy thoght, Conforten hir in al that ever they may; They prechen hir, they telle hir night and day, 825 That causelees she sleeth hir-self, allas! And every confort possible in this cas They doon to hir with al hir bisinesse, (100) Al for to make hir leve hir hevinesse.

By proces, as ye knowen everichoon, 830 Men may so longe graven in a stoon, Til som figure ther-inne emprented be. So longe han they conforted hir, til she Receyved hath, by hope and by resoun, The emprenting of hir consolacioun, 835 Thurgh which hir grete sorwe gan aswage; She may nat alwey duren in swich rage. And eek Arveragus, in al this care, (110) Hath sent hir lettres hoom of his welfare, And that he wol come hastily agayn; 840 Or elles hadde this sorwe hir herte slayn. Hir freendes sawe hir sorwe gan to slake, And preyede hir on knees, for goddes sake, To come and romen hir in companye, Awey to dryve hir derke fantasye. 845 And finally, she graunted that requeste; For wel she saugh that it was for the beste.

Now stood hir castel faste by the see, (120) And often with hir freendes walketh she Hir to disporte up-on the bank an heigh, 850 Wher-as she many a ship and barge seigh Seilinge hir cours, wher-as hem liste go; But than was that a parcel of hir wo. For to hir-self ful ofte ‘allas!’ seith she, ‘Is ther no ship, of so manye as I see, 855 Wol bringen hom my lord? than were myn herte Al warisshed of his bittre peynes smerte.’

Another tyme ther wolde she sitte and thinke, (130) And caste hir eyen dounward fro the brinke. But whan she saugh the grisly rokkes blake, 860 For verray fere so wolde hir herte quake, That on hir feet she mighte hir noght sustene. Than wolde she sitte adoun upon the grene, And pitously in-to the see biholde, And seyn right thus, with sorweful sykes colde:

865 ‘Eterne god, that thurgh thy purveyaunce Ledest the world by certein governaunce, In ydel, as men seyn, ye no-thing make; (140) But, lord, thise grisly feendly rokkes blake, That semen rather a foul confusioun 870 Of werk than any fair creacioun Of swich a parfit wys god and a stable, Why han ye wroght this werk unresonable? For by this werk, south, north, ne west, ne eest, Ther nis y-fostred man, ne brid, ne beest; 875 It dooth no good, to my wit, but anoyeth. See ye nat, lord, how mankinde it destroyeth? An hundred thousand bodies of mankinde (150) Han rokkes slayn, al be they nat in minde, Which mankinde is so fair part of thy werk 880 That thou it madest lyk to thyn owene merk. Than semed it ye hadde a greet chiertee Toward mankinde; but how than may it be That ye swiche menes make it to destroyen, Whiche menes do no good, but ever anoyen? 885 I wool wel clerkes wol seyn, as hem leste, By arguments, that al is for the beste, Though I ne can the causes nat y-knowe. (160) But thilke god, that made wind to blowe, As kepe my lord! this my conclusioun; 890 To clerkes lete I al disputisoun. But wolde god that alle thise rokkes blake Were sonken in-to helle for his sake! Thise rokkes sleen myn herte for the fere.’ Thus wolde she seyn, with many a pitous tere.

895 Hir freendes sawe that it was no disport To romen by the see, but disconfort; And shopen for to pleyen somwher elles. (170) They leden hir by riveres and by welles, And eek in othere places delitables; 900 They dauncen, and they pleyen at ches and tables. So on a day, right in the morwe-tyde, Un-to a gardin that was ther bisyde, In which that they had maad hir ordinaunce Of vitaille and of other purveyaunce, 905 They goon and pleye hem al the longe day. And this was on the sixte morwe of May, Which May had peynted with his softe shoures (180) This gardin ful of leves and of floures; And craft of mannes hand so curiously 910 Arrayed hadde this gardin, trewely, That never was ther gardin of swich prys, But-if it were the verray paradys. The odour of floures and the fresshe sighte Wolde han maad any herte for to lighte 915 That ever was born, but-if to gret siknesse, Or to gret sorwe helde it in distresse; So ful it was of beautee with plesaunce. (190) At-after diner gonne they to daunce, And singe also, save Dorigen allone, 920 Which made alwey hir compleint and hir mone; For she ne saugh him on the daunce go, That was hir housbonde and hir love also. But nathelees she moste a tyme abyde, And with good hope lete hir sorwe slyde.

925 Up-on this daunce, amonges othere men, Daunced a squyer biforen Dorigen, That fressher was and Iolyer of array, (200) As to my doom, than is the monthe of May. He singeth, daunceth, passinge any man 930 That is, or was, sith that the world bigan. Ther-with he was, if men sholde him discryve, Oon of the beste faringe man on-lyve; Yong, strong, right vertuous, and riche and wys, And wel biloved, and holden in gret prys. 935 And shortly, if the sothe I tellen shal, Unwiting of this Dorigen at al, This lusty squyer, servant to Venus, (210) Which that y-cleped was Aurelius, Had loved hir best of any creature 940 Two yeer and more, as was his aventure, But never dorste he telle hir his grevaunce; With-outen coppe he drank al his penaunce. He was despeyred, no-thing dorste he seye, Save in his songes somwhat wolde he wreye 945 His wo, as in a general compleyning; He seyde he lovede, and was biloved no-thing. Of swich matere made he manye layes, (220) Songes, compleintes, roundels, virelayes, How that he dorste nat his sorwe telle, 950 But languissheth, as a furie dooth in helle; And dye he moste, he seyde, as dide Ekko For Narcisus, that dorste nat telle hir wo. In other manere than ye here me seye, Ne dorste he nat to hir his wo biwreye; 955 Save that, paraventure, som-tyme at daunces, Ther yonge folk kepen hir observaunces, It may wel be he loked on hir face (230) In swich a wyse, as man that asketh grace; But no-thing wiste she of his entente. 960 Nathelees, it happed, er they thennes wente, By-cause that he was hir neighebour, And was a man of worship and honour, And hadde y-knowen him of tyme yore, They fille in speche; and forth more and more 965 Un-to his purpos drough Aurelius, And whan he saugh his tyme, he seyde thus:

‘Madame,’ quod he, ‘by god that this world made, (240) So that I wiste it mighte your herte glade, I wolde, that day that your Arveragus 970 Wente over the see, that I, Aurelius, Had went ther never I sholde have come agayn; For wel I woot my service is in vayn. My guerdon is but bresting of myn herte; Madame, reweth upon my peynes smerte; 975 For with a word ye may me sleen or save, Heer at your feet god wolde that I were grave! I ne have as now no leyser more to seye; (250) Have mercy, swete, or ye wol do me deye!’ She gan to loke up-on Aurelius: 980 ‘Is this your wil,’ quod she, ‘and sey ye thus? Never erst,’ quod she, ‘ne wiste I what ye mente. But now, Aurelie, I knowe your entente, By thilke god that yaf me soule and lyf, Ne shal I never been untrewe wyf 985 In word ne werk, as fer as I have wit: I wol ben his to whom that I am knit; Tak this for fynal answer as of me.’ (260) But after that in pley thus seyde she:

‘Aurelie,’ quod she, ‘by heighe god above, 990 Yet wolde I graunte yow to been your love, Sin I yow see so pitously complayne; Loke what day that, endelong Britayne, Ye remoeve alle the rokkes, stoon by stoon, That they ne lette ship ne boot to goon— 995 I seye, whan ye han maad the coost so clene Of rokkes, that ther nis no stoon y-sene, Than wol I love yow best of any man; (270) Have heer my trouthe in al that ever I can.’

‘Is ther non other grace in yow,’ quod he. 1000 ‘No, by that lord,’ quod she, ‘that maked me! For wel I woot that it shal never bityde. Lat swiche folies out of your herte slyde. What deyntee sholde a man han in his lyf For to go love another mannes wyf, 1005 That hath hir body whan so that him lyketh?’ Aurelius ful ofte sore syketh; Wo was Aurelie, whan that he this herde, (280) And with a sorweful herte he thus answerde: ‘Madame,’ quod he, ‘this were an inpossible! 1010 Than moot I dye of sodein deth horrible.’ And with that word he turned him anoon. Tho come hir othere freendes many oon, And in the aleyes romeden up and doun, And no-thing wiste of this conclusioun, 1015 But sodeinly bigonne revel newe Til that the brighte sonne loste his hewe; For thorisonte hath reft the sonne his light; (290) This is as muche to seye as it was night. And hoom they goon in Ioye and in solas, 1020 Save only wrecche Aurelius, allas! He to his hous is goon with sorweful herte; He seeth he may nat fro his deeth asterte. Him semed that he felte his herte colde; Up to the hevene his handes he gan holde, 1025 And on his knowes bare he sette him doun, And in his raving seyde his orisoun. For verray wo out of his wit he breyde. (300) He niste what he spak, but thus he seyde; With pitous herte his pleynt hath he bigonne 1030 Un-to the goddes, and first un-to the sonne:

He seyde, ‘Appollo, god and governour Of every plaunte, herbe, tree and flour, That yevest, after thy declinacioun, To ech of hem his tyme and his sesoun, 1035 As thyn herberwe chaungeth lowe or hye, Lord Phebus, cast thy merciable yë On wrecche Aurelie, which that am but lorn. (310) Lo, lord! my lady hath my deeth y-sworn With-oute gilt, but thy benignitee 1040 Upon my dedly herte have som pitee! For wel I woot, lord Phebus, if yow lest, Ye may me helpen, save my lady, best. Now voucheth sauf that I may yow devyse How that I may been holpe and in what wyse.