Canterbury Tales and Other Poems by Geoffrey Chaucer (best summer reads .TXT) 📕

claim for it a date considerably later than that adopted by those who assign its composition to Chaucer’s youth: and the literary allusions and proverbial expressions with which it abounds, give ample evidence that, if Chaucer really wrote it at an early age, his youth must have been precocious beyond all actual record. Throughout the poem there are repeated references to the old authors of Trojan histories who are named in “The House of Fame”; but Chaucer especially mentions one Lollius as the author from whom he takes the groundwork of the poem. Lydgate is responsible for the assertion that Lollius meant Boccaccio; and though there is no authority for supposing that the English really meant to designate the Italian poet under that name, there is abundant internal proof that the poem was really founded on the “Filostrato” of Boccaccio. But the tone of Chaucer’s work is much higher than that of his Italian “auctour;” and while in some passages the imitation is very close, in all that is characteristic in “Troilus and Cressida,” Chaucer has fairly thrust his models out of sight. In the present edition, it has been possible to give no more than about one-fourth of the poem —

274 out of the 1178 seven-line stanzas that compose it; but pains have been taken to convey, in the connecting prose passages, a faithful idea of what is perforce omitted.]

 

THE FIRST BOOK.

 

THE double sorrow <1> of Troilus to tell, That was the King Priamus’ son of Troy, In loving how his adventures* fell fortunes From woe to weal, and after out of joy, *afterwards My purpose is, ere I you parte froy. from Tisiphone,<2> thou help me to indite

These woeful words, that weep as I do write.

 

To thee I call, thou goddess of torment!

Thou cruel wight, that sorrowest ever in pain; Help me, that am the sorry instrument

That helpeth lovers, as I can, to plain. complain For well it sits,* the soothe for to sayn, *befits Unto a woeful wight a dreary fere, companion And to a sorry tale a sorry cheer. countenance For I, that God of Love’s servants serve, Nor dare to love for mine unlikeliness,* <3> unsuitableness Praye for speed, although I shoulde sterve,* success **die So far I am from his help in darkness; But natheless, might I do yet gladness To any lover, or any love avail, advance Have thou the thank, and mine be the travail.

 

But ye lovers that bathen in gladness, If any drop of pity in you be,

Remember you for old past heaviness,

For Godde’s love, and on adversity

That others suffer; think how sometime ye Founde how Love durste you displease;

Or elles ye have won it with great ease.

 

And pray for them that been in the case Of Troilus, as ye may after hear,

That Love them bring in heaven to solace; delight, comfort And for me pray also, that God so dear May give me might to show, in some mannere, Such pain or woe as Love’s folk endure, In Troilus’ *unseely adventure unhappy fortune*

 

And pray for them that eke be despair’d In love, that never will recover’d be; And eke for them that falsely be appair’d slandered Through wicked tongues, be it he or she: Or thus bid* God, for his benignity, *pray To grant them soon out of this world to pace, pass, go That be despaired of their love’s grace.

 

And bid also for them that be at ease

In love, that God them grant perseverance, And send them might their loves so to please, That it to them be *worship and pleasance; honour and pleasure*

For so hope I my soul best to advance, To pray for them that Love’s servants be, And write their woe, and live in charity; And for to have of them compassion,

As though I were their owen brother dear.

Now listen all with good entention, attention For I will now go straight to my mattere, In which ye shall the double sorrow hear Of Troilus, in loving of Cresside,

And how that she forsook him ere she died.

 

In Troy, during the siege, dwelt “a lord of great authority, a great divine,” named Calchas; who, through the oracle of Apollo, knew that Troy should be destroyed. He stole away secretly to the Greek camp, where he was gladly received, and honoured for his skill in divining, of which the besiegers hoped to make use. Within the city there was great anger at the treason of Calchas; and the people declared that he and all his kin were worthy to be burnt. His daughter, whom he had left in the city, a widow and alone, was in great fear for her life.

 

Cressida was this lady’s name aright;

As to my doom, in alle Troy city in my judgment

So fair was none, for over ev’ry wight So angelic was her native beauty,

That like a thing immortal seemed she, As sooth a perfect heav’nly creature,

That down seem’d sent in scorning of Nature.

 

In her distress, “well nigh out of her wit for pure fear,” she appealed for protection to Hector; who, “piteous of nature,”

and touched by her sorrow and her beauty, assured her of safety, so long as she pleased to dwell in Troy. The siege went on; but they of Troy did not neglect the honour and worship of their deities; most of all of “the relic hight Palladion, <4> that was their trust aboven ev’ry one.” In April, “when clothed is the mead with newe green, of jolly Ver [Spring] the prime,” the Trojans went to hold the festival of Palladion — crowding to the temple, “in all their beste guise,” lusty knights, fresh ladies, and maidens bright.

 

Among the which was this Cresseida,

In widow’s habit black; but natheless, Right as our firste letter is now A,

In beauty first so stood she makeless; matchless Her goodly looking gladded all the press; crowd Was never seen thing to be praised derre, dearer, more worthy Nor under blacke cloud so bright a sterre, star As she was, as they saiden, ev’ry one

That her behelden in her blacke weed; garment And yet she stood, full low and still, alone, Behind all other folk, *in little brede, inconspicuously*

And nigh the door, ay *under shame’s drede; for dread of shame*

Simple of bearing, debonair* of cheer, gracious With a full sure looking and mannere. *assured Dan Troilus, as he was wont to guide

His younge knightes, led them up and down In that large temple upon ev’ry side,

Beholding ay the ladies of the town;

Now here, now there, for no devotioun

Had he to none, to *reave him* his rest, deprive him of

But gan to *praise and lacke whom him lest; praise and disparage whom he pleased*

And in his walk full fast he gan to wait watch, observe If knight or squier of his company

Gan for to sigh, or let his eyen bait feed On any woman that he could espy;

Then he would smile, and hold it a folly, And say him thus: “Ah, Lord, she sleepeth soft For love of thee, when as thou turnest oft.

 

“I have heard told, pardie, of your living, Ye lovers, and your lewed* observance, *ignorant, foolish And what a labour folk have in winning Of love, and in it keeping with doubtance; doubt And when your prey is lost, woe and penance; suffering Oh, very fooles! may ye no thing see?

Can none of you aware by other be?”

 

But the God of Love vowed vengeance on Troilus for that despite, and, showing that his bow was not broken, “hit him at the full.”

 

Within the temple went he forth playing, This Troilus, with ev’ry wight about,

On this lady and now on that looking,

Whether she were of town, or *of without; from beyond the walls*

And upon cas befell, that through the rout by chance crowd His eye pierced, and so deep it went,

Till on Cresside it smote, and there it stent; stayed And suddenly wax’d wonder sore astoned, amazed And gan her bet* behold in busy wise: *better “Oh, very god!” <5> thought he; “where hast thou woned dwelt That art so fair and goodly to devise? describe Therewith his heart began to spread and rise; And soft he sighed, lest men might him hear, And caught again his former *playing cheer. jesting demeanour*

 

*She was not with the least of her stature, she was tall*

But all her limbes so well answering

Were to womanhood, that creature

Was never lesse mannish in seeming.

And eke *the pure wise of her moving by very the way She showed well, that men might in her guess she moved*

Honour, estate,* and womanly nobless. *dignity Then Troilus right wonder well withal

Began to like her moving and her cheer, countenance Which somedeal dainous* was, for she let fall disdainful Her look a little aside, in such mannere Ascaunce “What! may I not stande here?” *as if to say <6>

And after that *her looking gan she light, her expression became That never thought him see so good a sight. more pleasant*

 

And of her look in him there gan to quicken So great desire, and strong affection, That in his hearte’s bottom gan to sticken Of her the fix’d and deep impression;

And though he erst* had pored** up and down, previously *looked Then was he glad his hornes in to shrink; Unnethes* wist he how to look or wink. *scarcely Lo! he that held himselfe so cunning,

And scorned them that Love’s paines drien, suffer Was full unware that love had his dwelling Within the subtile streames* of her eyen; *rays, glances That suddenly he thought he felte dien, Right with her look, the spirit in his heart; Blessed be Love, that thus can folk convert!

 

She thus, in black, looking to Troilus, Over all things he stoode to behold;

But his desire, nor wherefore he stood thus, He neither *cheere made,* nor worde told; showed by his countenance

But from afar, *his manner for to hold, to observe due courtesy*

On other things sometimes his look he cast, And eft* <7> on her, while that the service last.* again **lasted And after this, not fully all awhaped, daunted Out of the temple all easily be went,

Repenting him that ever he had japed jested Of Love’s folk, lest fully the descent Of scorn fell on himself; but what he meant, Lest it were wist on any manner side,

His woe he gan dissemble and eke hide.

 

Returning to his palace, he begins hypocritically to smile and jest at Love’s servants and their pains; but by and by he has to dismiss his attendants, feigning “other busy needs.” Then, alone in his chamber, he begins to groan and sigh, and call up again Cressida’s form as he saw her in the temple — “making a mirror of his mind, in which he saw all wholly her figure.” He thinks no travail or sorrow too high a price for the love of such a goodly woman; and, “full unadvised of his woe coming,”

 

Thus took he purpose Love’s craft to sue, follow And thought that he would work all privily, First for to hide his desire all *in mew in a cage, secretly From every wight y-born, all utterly,

*But he might aught recover’d be thereby; unless he gained by it*

Rememb’ring him, that love *too wide