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

[SOME difference of opinion exists as to the date at which Chaucer wrote “The Legend of Good Women.” Those who would fix that date at a period not long before the poet’s death — who would place the poem, indeed, among his closing labours — support their opinion by the fact that the Prologue recites most of Chaucer’s principal works, and glances, besides, at a long array of other productions, too many to be fully catalogued.

But, on the other hand, it is objected that the “Legend” makes no mention of “The Canterbury Tales” as such; while two of those Tales — the Knight’s and the Second Nun’s — are enumerated by the titles which they bore as separate compositions, before they were incorporated in the great collection: “The Love of Palamon and Arcite,” and “The Life of Saint Cecile” (see note 1

to the Second Nun’s tale). Tyrwhitt seems perfectly justified in placing the composition of the poem immediately before that of Chaucer’s magnum opus, and after the marriage of Richard II to his first queen, Anne of Bohemia. That event took place in 1382; and since it is to Anne that the poet refers when he makes Alcestis bid him give his poem to the queen “at Eltham or at Sheen,” the “Legend” could not have been written earlier. The old editions tell us that “several ladies in the Court took offence at Chaucer’s large speeches against the untruth of women; therefore the queen enjoin’d him to compile this book in the commendation of sundry maidens and wives, who show’d themselves faithful to faithless men. This seems to have been written after The Flower and the Leaf.” Evidently it was, for distinct references to that poem are to be found in the Prologue; but more interesting is the indication which it furnishes, that “Troilus and Cressida” was the work, not of the poet’s youth, but of his maturer age. We could hardly expect the queen — whether of Love or of England — to demand seriously from Chaucer a retractation of sentiments which he had expressed a full generation before, and for which he had made atonement by the splendid praises of true love sung in “The Court of Love,” “The Cuckoo and the Nightingale,” and other poems of youth and middle life. But “Troilus and Cressida” is coupled with “The Romance of the Rose,” as one of the poems which had given offence to the servants and the God of Love; therefore we may suppose it to have more prominently engaged courtly notice at a later period of the poet’s life, than even its undoubted popularity could explain. At whatever date, or in whatever circumstances, undertaken, “The Legend of Good Women” is a fragment. There are several signs that it was designed to contain the stories of twenty-five ladies, although the number of the good women is in the poem itself set down at nineteen; but nine legends only were actually composed, or have come down to us. They are, those of Cleopatra Queen of Egypt (126 lines), Thisbe of Babylon (218), Dido Queen of Carthage (442), Hypsipyle and Medea (312), Lucrece of Rome (206), Ariadne of Athens (340), Phiomela (167), Phyllis (168), and Hypermnestra (162).

Prefixed to these stories, which are translated or imitated from Ovid, is a Prologue containing 579

lines — the only part of the “Legend” given in the present edition. It is by far the most original, the strongest, and most pleasing part of the poem; the description of spring, and of his enjoyment of that season, are in Chaucer’s best manner; and the political philosophy by which Alcestis mitigates the wrath of Cupid, adds another to the abounding proofs that, for his knowledge of the world, Chaucer fairly merits the epithet of “many-sided”

which Shakespeare has won by his knowledge of man.]

A THOUSAND times I have hearde tell,

That there is joy in heav’n, and pain in hell; And I accord* it well that it is so; grant, agree But, natheless, yet wot I well also, *know That there is none dwelling in this country That either hath in heav’n or hell y-be; been Nor may of it no other wayes witten know But as he hath heard said, or found it written; For by assay* there may no man it preve.* practical trial **prove, test But God forbid but that men should believe Well more thing than men have seen with eye!

Men shall not weenen ev’ry thing a lie But if himself it seeth, or else do’th; *unless For, God wot, thing is never the less sooth, true Though ev’ry wighte may it not y-see.

Bernard, the Monke, saw not all, pardie! <1>

Then muste we to bookes that we find

(Through which that olde thinges be in mind), And to the doctrine of these olde wise, Give credence, in ev’ry skilful* wise, reasonable That tellen of these old approved stories, Of holiness, of regnes, of victories, *reigns, kingdoms Of love, of hate, and other sundry things Of which I may not make rehearsings;

And if that olde bookes were away,

Y-lorn were of all remembrance the key.

Well ought we, then, to honour and believe These bookes, where we have none other preve. proof And as for me, though that I know but lite, little On bookes for to read I me delight,

And to them give I faith and good credence, And in my heart have them in reverence, So heartily, that there is *game none* <2> no amusement

That from my bookes maketh me to go’n, But it be seldom on the holyday;

Save, certainly, when that the month of May Is comen, and I hear the fowles sing,

And that the flowers ginnen for to spring, Farewell my book and my devotion!

Now have I then such a condition,

That, above all the flowers in the mead, Then love I most these flowers white and red, Such that men calle Day’s-eyes in our town; To them have I so great affectioun,

As I said erst, when comen is the May, That in my bed there dawneth me no day That I n’am* up, and walking in the mead, *am not To see this flow’r against the sunne spread, When it upriseth early by the morrow;

That blissful sight softeneth all my sorrow, So glad am I, when that I have presence Of it, to do it alle reverence,

As she that is of alle flowers flow’r, Fulfilled of all virtue and honour,

And ever alike fair, and fresh of hue; As well in winter, as in summer new,

This love I ever, and shall until I die; All* swear I not, of this I will not lie, *although There loved no wight hotter in his life.

And when that it is eve, I runne blife, quickly, eagerly As soon as ever the sun begins to west, decline westward To see this flow’r, how it will go to rest, For fear of night, so hateth she darkness!

Her cheer* is plainly spread in the brightness *countenance Of the sunne, for there it will unclose.

Alas! that I had English, rhyme or prose, Sufficient this flow’r to praise aright!

But help me, ye that have *cunning or might; skill or power*

Ye lovers, that can make of sentiment, In this case ought ye to be diligent

To further me somewhat in my labour,

Whether ye be with the Leaf or the Flow’r; <3>

For well I wot, that ye have herebefore Of making ropen,* and led away the corn; <4> *reaped And I come after, gleaning here and there, And am full glad if I may find an ear

Of any goodly word that you have left.

And though it hap me to rehearsen eft again What ye have in your freshe songes said, Forbeare me, and be not *evil apaid, displeased*

Since that ye see I do it in th’honour Of love, and eke in service of the flow’r Whom that I serve as I have wit or might. <5>

She is the clearness, and the very* light, true That in this darke world me winds and leads; *turns, guides The heart within my sorrowful breast you dreads, And loves so sore, that ye be, verily, The mistress of my wit, and nothing I.

My word, my works, are knit so in your bond, That, as a harp obeyeth to the hand,

That makes it sound after his fingering, Right so may ye out of my hearte bring Such voice, right as you list, to laugh or plain; complain, mourn Be ye my guide, and lady sovereign.

As to mine earthly god, to you I call, Both in this work, and in my sorrows all.

But wherefore that I spake to give credence To old stories, and do them reverence, And that men muste more things believe Than they may see at eye, or elles preve, prove That shall I say, when that I see my time; I may not all at ones speak in rhyme.

My busy ghost,* that thirsteth always new *spirit To see this flow’r so young, so fresh of hue, Constrained me with so greedy desire,

That in my heart I feele yet the fire, That made me to rise ere it were day, —

And this was now the first morrow of May, —

With dreadful heart, and glad devotion, For to be at the resurrection

Of this flower, when that it should unclose Against the sun, that rose as red as rose, That in the breast was of the beast* that day *the sign of the Bull That Agenore’s daughter led away. <6>

And down on knees anon right I me set, And as I could this freshe flow’r I gret, greeted Kneeling alway, till it unclosed was,

Upon the smalle, softe, sweete grass,

That was with flowers sweet embroider’d all, Of such sweetness and such odour *o’er all,* everywhere

That, for to speak of gum, or herb, or tree, Comparison may none y-maked be;

For it surmounteth plainly all odours, And for rich beauty the most gay of flow’rs.

Forgotten had the earth his poor estate Of winter, that him naked made and mate, dejected, lifeless And with his sword of cold so sore grieved; Now hath th’attemper* sun all that releaved* temperate **furnished That naked was, and clad it new again. anew with leaves The smalle fowles, of the season fain, glad That of the panter* and the net be scap’d, *draw-net Upon the fowler, that them made awhap’d terrified, confounded In winter, and destroyed had their brood, In his despite them thought it did them good To sing of him, and in their song despise The foule churl, that, for his covetise, greed Had them betrayed with his sophistry deceptions This was their song: “The fowler we defy, And all his craft:” and some sunge clear Layes of love, that joy it was to hear, In worshipping* and praising of their make;* honouring **mate And for the blissful newe summer’s sake, Upon the branches full of blossoms soft, In their delight they turned them full oft, And sunge, “Blessed be Saint Valentine! <7>

For on his day I chose you to be mine, Withoute repenting, my hearte sweet.”

And therewithal their heals began to meet, Yielding honour, and humble obeisances, To love, and did their other observances That longen unto Love and to Nature;

Construe that as you list, I *do no cure. care nothing*

And those that hadde *done unkindeness, committed offence As doth the tidife, <8> for newfangleness, against natural laws*

Besoughte mercy for their trespassing

And humblely sange their repenting,

And swore upon the blossoms to be true; So that their mates would upon them