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

“O blacke Night! as folk in bookes read That shapen* art by God, this world to hide, *appointed At certain times, with thy darke weed, robe That under it men might in rest abide, Well oughte beastes plain, and folke chide, That where as Day with labour would us brest, burst, overcome There thou right flee’st, and deignest* not us rest. grantest “Thou dost, alas! so shortly thine office, duty Thou rakel* Night! that God, maker of kind, *rash, hasty Thee for thy haste and thine unkinde vice, So fast ay to our hemisphere bind,

That never more under the ground thou wind; turn, revolve For through thy rakel hieing* out of Troy hasting Have I forgone thus hastily my joy!” *lost This Troilus, that with these wordes felt, As thought him then, for piteous distress, The bloody teares from his hearte melt, As he that never yet such heaviness

Assayed had out of so great gladness,

Gan therewithal Cresside, his lady dear, In armes strain, and said in this mannere: “O cruel Day! accuser of the joy

That Night and Love have stol’n, and *fast y-wrien! closely Accursed be thy coming into Troy! concealed*

For ev’ry bow’r* hath one of thy bright eyen: *chamber Envious Day! Why list thee to espyen?

What hast thou lost? Why seekest thou this place?

There God thy light so quenche, for his grace!

“Alas! what have these lovers thee aguilt? offended, sinned against Dispiteous* Day, thine be the pains of hell! *cruel, spiteful For many a lover hast thou slain, and wilt; Thy peering in will nowhere let them dwell: What! proff’rest thou thy light here for to sell?

Go sell it them that smalle seales grave! cut devices on We will thee not, us needs no day to have.”

And eke the Sunne, Titan, gan he chide, And said, “O fool! well may men thee despise!

That hast the Dawning <63> all night thee beside, And suff’rest her so soon up from thee rise, For to disease* us lovers in this wise! annoy What! hold thy bed, both thou, and eke thy Morrow! keep I bidde God so give you bothe sorrow!” *pray The lovers part with many sighs and protestations of unswerving and undying love; Cressida responding to the vows of Troilus with the assurance —

“That first shall Phoebus* falle from his sphere, *the sun And heaven’s eagle be the dove’s fere, And ev’ry rock out of his place start, Ere Troilus out of Cressida’s heart.”

When Pandarus visits Troilus in his palace later in the day, he warns him not to mar his bliss by any fault of his own: “For, of Fortune’s sharp adversity,

The worste kind of infortune is this,

A man to have been in prosperity,

And it remember when it passed is.<64>

Thou art wise enough; forthy,*” do not amiss; therefore Be not too rakel, though thou sitte warm; *rash, over-hasty For if thou be, certain it will thee harm.

“Thou art at ease, and hold thee well therein; For, all so sure as red is ev’ry fire, As great a craft is to keep weal as win; <65>

Bridle alway thy speech and thy desire, For worldly joy holds not but by a wire; That proveth well, it breaks all day so oft, Forthy need is to worke with it soft.”

Troilus sedulously observes the counsel; and the lovers have many renewals of their pleasure, and of their bitter chidings of the Day. The effects of love on Troilus are altogether refining and ennobling; as may be inferred from the song which he sung often to Pandarus:

The Second Song of Troilus.

“Love, that of Earth and Sea hath governance!

Love, that his hestes* hath in Heaven high! *commandments Love, that with a right wholesome alliance Holds people joined, as him list them guy! guide Love, that knitteth law and company,

And couples doth in virtue for to dwell, Bind this accord, that I have told, and tell!

“That the worlde, with faith which that is stable, Diverseth so, his *stoundes according; according to its seasons*

That elementes, that be discordable, discordant Holden a bond perpetually during;

That Phoebus may his rosy day forth bring; And that the Moon hath lordship o’er the night; —

All this doth Love, ay heried* be his might! praised “That the sea, which that greedy is to flowen, Constraineth to a certain ende so limit His floodes, that so fiercely they not growen To drenchen earth and all for evermo’; drown And if that Love aught let his bridle go, All that now loves asunder shoulde leap, And lost were all that Love holds now to heap. together <66>*

“So woulde God, that author is of kind, That with his bond Love of his virtue list To cherish heartes, and all fast to bind, That from his bond no wight the way out wist!

And heartes cold, them would I that he twist, turned To make them love; and that him list ay rue have pity On heartes sore, and keep them that be true.”

But Troilus’ love had higher fruits than singing: In alle needes for the towne’s werre war He was, and ay the first in armes dight, equipped, prepared And certainly, but if that bookes err, Save Hector, most y-dread* of any wight; dreaded And this increase of hardiness and might *courage Came him of love, his lady’s grace to win, That altered his spirit so within.

In time of truce, a-hawking would he ride, Or elles hunt the boare, bear, lioun;

The smalle beastes let he go beside;<67>

And when he came riding into the town, Full oft his lady, from her window down, As fresh as falcon coming out of mew, cage <68>

Full ready was him goodly to salue. salute And most of love and virtue was his speech, And *in despite he had all wretchedness he held in scorn all And doubtless no need was him to beseech despicable actions*

To honour them that hadde worthiness,

And ease them that weren in distress;

And glad was he, if any wight well far’d, That lover was, when he it wist or heard.

For he held every man lost unless he were in Love’s service; and, so did the power of Love work within him, that he was ay [always] humble and benign, and “pride, envy, ire, and avarice, he gan to flee, and ev’ry other vice.”

THE FOURTH BOOK

A BRIEF Proem to the Fourth Book prepares us for the treachery of Fortune to Troilus; from whom she turned away her bright face, and took of him no heed, “and cast him clean out of his lady’s grace, and on her wheel she set up Diomede.”

Then the narrative describes a skirmish in which the Trojans were worsted, and Antenor, with many of less note, remained in the hands of the Greeks. A truce was proclaimed for the exchange of prisoners; and as soon as Calchas heard the news, he came to the assembly of the Greeks, to “bid a boon.” Having gained audience, he reminded the besiegers how he had come from Troy to aid and encourage them in their enterprise; willing to lose all that he had in the city, except his daughter Cressida, whom he bitterly reproached himself for leaving behind. And now, with streaming tears and pitiful prayer, he besought them to exchange Antenor for Cressida; assuring them that the day was at hand when they should have both town and people. The soothsayer’s petition was granted; and the ambassadors charged to negotiate the exchange, entering the city, told their errand to King Priam and his parliament.

This Troilus was present in the place

When asked was for Antenor Cresside;

For which to change soon began his face, As he that with the wordes well nigh died; But natheless he no word to it seid; said Lest men should his affection espy,

With manne’s heart he gan his sorrows drie; endure And, full of anguish and of grisly dread, Abode what other lords would to it say, And if they woulde grant, — as God forbid! —

Th’exchange of her, then thought he thinges tway: two First, for to save her honour; and what way He mighte best th’exchange of her withstand; This cast he then how all this mighte stand.

Love made him alle *prest to do her bide, eager to make her stay*

And rather die than that she shoulde go; But Reason said him, on the other side, “Without th’assent of her, do thou not so, Lest for thy worke she would be thy foe; And say, that through thy meddling is y-blow divulged, blown abroad Your bothe love, where it was *erst unknow.” previously unknown*

For which he gan deliberate for the best, That though the lordes woulde that she went, He woulde suffer them grant what *them lest, they pleased*

And tell his lady first what that they meant; And, when that she had told him her intent, Thereafter would he worken all so blive, speedily Though all the world against it woulde strive.

Hector, which that full well the Greekes heard, For Antenor how they would have Cresseide, Gan it withstand, and soberly answer’d; “Sirs, she is no prisoner,” he said;

“I know not on you who this charge laid; But, for my part, ye may well soon him tell, We use* here no women for to sell.” are accustomed The noise of the people then upstart at once, As breme as blaze of straw y-set on fire violent, furious For Infortune woulde for the nonce *Misfortune They shoulde their confusion desire

“Hector,” quoth they, “what ghost* may you inspire spirit This woman thus to shield, and do us* lose cause us to

Dan Antenor? — a wrong way now ye choose, —

“That is so wise, and eke so bold baroun; And we have need of folk, as men may see He eke is one the greatest of this town; O Hector! lette such fantasies be!

O King Priam!” quoth they, “lo! thus say we, That all our will is to forego Cresseide;”

And to deliver Antenor they pray’d.

Though Hector often prayed them “nay,” it was resolved that Cressida should be given up for Antenor; then the parliament dispersed. Troilus hastened home to his chamber, shut himself up alone, and threw himself on his bed.

And as in winter leaves be bereft,

Each after other, till the tree be bare, So that there is but bark and branch y-left, Lay Troilus, bereft of each welfare,

Y-bounden in the blacke bark of care,

Disposed *wood out of his wit to braid, to go out of his senses*

So sore him sat the changing of Cresseide. so ill did he bear

He rose him up, and ev’ry door he shet, shut And window eke; and then this sorrowful man Upon his bedde’s side adown him set,

Full like a dead image, pale and wan,

And in his breast the heaped woe began Out burst, and he to worken in this wise, In his woodness,* as I shall you devise.* madness **relate Right as the wilde bull begins to spring, Now here, now there, y-darted* to the heart, *pierced with a dart And of his death roareth in complaining; Right so gan he about the chamber start, Smiting his breast aye with his fistes smart; painfully, cruelly His head to the wall, his body to the ground, Full oft he swapt,* himselfe to confound. *struck, dashed His eyen then, for pity of his