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

worthy men.

Oh, blissful art thou now, thou Dorigen!

Thou hast thy lusty husband in thine arms, The freshe knight, the worthy man of arms, That loveth thee as his own hearte’s life: *Nothing list him to be imaginatif he cared not to fancy*

If any wight had spoke, while he was out, To her of love; he had of that no doubt; fear, suspicion He not intended* to no such mattere, *occupied himself with But danced, jousted, and made merry cheer.

And thus in joy and bliss I let them dwell, And of the sick Aurelius will I tell

In languor and in torment furious

Two year and more lay wretch’d Aurelius, Ere any foot on earth he mighte gon;

Nor comfort in this time had he none,

Save of his brother, which that was a clerk. scholar He knew of all this woe and all this work; For to none other creature certain

Of this matter he durst no worde sayn; Under his breast he bare it more secree Than e’er did Pamphilus for Galatee.<10>

His breast was whole withoute for to seen, But in his heart aye was the arrow keen, And well ye know that of a sursanure <11>

In surgery is perilous the cure,

But* men might touch the arrow or come thereby. *except His brother wept and wailed privily,

Till at the last him fell in remembrance, That while he was at Orleans <12> in France, —

As younge clerkes, that be likerous* — *eager To readen artes that be curious,

Seeken in every *halk and every hern nook and corner* <13>

Particular sciences for to learn,—

He him remember’d, that upon a day

At Orleans in study a book he say saw Of magic natural, which his fellaw,

That was that time a bachelor of law

All* were he there to learn another craft, *though Had privily upon his desk y-laft;

Which book spake much of operations

Touching the eight and-twenty mansions That longe to the Moon, and such folly As in our dayes is not worth a fly;

For holy church’s faith, in our believe, belief, creed Us suff’reth none illusion to grieve.

And when this book was in his remembrance Anon for joy his heart began to dance, And to himself he saide privily;

“My brother shall be warish’d* hastily cured For I am sicker that there be sciences, *certain By which men make divers apparences,

Such as these subtle tregetoures play. *tricksters <14>

For oft at feaste’s have I well heard say, That tregetours, within a halle large, Have made come in a water and a barge, And in the halle rowen up and down.

Sometimes hath seemed come a grim lioun, And sometimes flowers spring as in a mead; Sometimes a vine, and grapes white and red; Sometimes a castle all of lime and stone; And, when them liked, voided* it anon: *vanished Thus seemed it to every manne’s sight.

Now then conclude I thus; if that I might At Orleans some olde fellow find,

That hath these Moone’s mansions in mind, Or other magic natural above.

He should well make my brother have his love.

For with an appearance a clerk* may make, learned man To manne’s sight, that all the rockes blake Of Bretagne were voided every one, *removed And shippes by the brinke come and gon, And in such form endure a day or two;

Then were my brother warish’d* of his woe, cured Then must she needes holde her behest, keep her promise*

Or elles he shall shame her at the least.”

Why should I make a longer tale of this?

Unto his brother’s bed he comen is,

And such comfort he gave him, for to gon To Orleans, that he upstart anon,

And on his way forth-ward then is he fare, gone In hope for to be lissed* of his care. *eased of <15>

 

When they were come almost to that city, *But if it were* a two furlong or three, all but

A young clerk roaming by himself they met, Which that in Latin *thriftily them gret. greeted them And after that he said a wondrous thing; civilly*

I know,” quoth he, “the cause of your coming;”

Aud ere they farther any foote went,

He told them all that was in their intent.

The Breton clerk him asked of fellaws

The which he hadde known in olde daws, days And he answer’d him that they deade were, For which he wept full often many a tear.

Down off his horse Aurelius light anon, And forth with this magician is be gone Home to his house, and made him well at ease; Them lacked no vitail* that might them please. *victuals, food So well-array’d a house as there was one, Aurelius in his life saw never none.

He shewed him, ere they went to suppere, Forestes, parkes, full of wilde deer.

There saw he hartes with their hornes high, The greatest that were ever seen with eye.

He saw of them an hundred slain with hounds, And some with arrows bleed of bitter wounds.

He saw, when voided* were the wilde deer, *passed away These falconers upon a fair rivere,

That with their hawkes have the heron slain.

Then saw he knightes jousting in a plain.

And after this he did him such pleasance, That he him shew’d his lady on a dance, In which himselfe danced, as him thought.

And when this master, that this magic wrought, Saw it was time, he clapp’d his handes two, And farewell, all the revel is y-go. gone, removed And yet remov’d they never out of the house, While they saw all the sightes marvellous; But in his study, where his bookes be, They satte still, and no wight but they three.

To him this master called his squier,

 

And said him thus, “May we go to supper?

Almost an hour it is, I undertake,

Since I you bade our supper for to make, When that these worthy men wente with me Into my study, where my bookes be.”

“Sir,” quoth this squier, “when it liketh you.

It is all ready, though ye will right now.”

“Go we then sup,” quoth he, “as for the best; These amorous folk some time must have rest.”

At after supper fell they in treaty

What summe should this master’s guerdon* be, *reward To remove all the rockes of Bretagne,

And eke from Gironde <16> to the mouth of Seine.

He made it strange,* and swore, so God him save, a matter of Less than a thousand pound he would not have, difficulty

*Nor gladly for that sum he would not gon. see note <17>*

Aurelius with blissful heart anon

Answered thus; “Fie on a thousand pound!

This wide world, which that men say is round, I would it give, if I were lord of it.

This bargain is full-driv’n, for we be knit; agreed Ye shall be payed truly by my troth.

But looke, for no negligence or sloth, Ye tarry us here no longer than to-morrow.”

“Nay,” quoth the clerk, *“have here my faith to borrow.” I pledge my To bed is gone Aurelius when him lest, faith on it*

And wellnigh all that night he had his rest, What for his labour, and his hope of bliss, His woeful heart *of penance had a liss. had a respite from suffering*

Upon the morrow, when that it was day, Unto Bretagne they took the righte way, Aurelius and this magician beside,

And be descended where they would abide: And this was, as the bookes me remember, The colde frosty season of December.

Phoebus wax’d old, and hued like latoun, brass That in his hote declinatioun

Shone as the burned gold, with streames* bright; *beams But now in Capricorn adown he light,

Where as he shone full pale, I dare well sayn.

The bitter frostes, with the sleet and rain, Destroyed have the green in every yard. *courtyard, garden Janus sits by the fire with double beard, And drinketh of his bugle horn the wine: Before him stands the brawn of tusked swine And “nowel” crieth every lusty man Noel <18>

Aurelius, in all that ev’r he can,

Did to his master cheer and reverence, And prayed him to do his diligence

To bringe him out of his paines smart, Or with a sword that he would slit his heart.

This subtle clerk such ruth* had on this man, *pity That night and day he sped him, that he can, To wait a time of his conclusion;

This is to say, to make illusion,

By such an appearance of jugglery

(I know no termes of astrology),

That she and every wight should ween and say, That of Bretagne the rockes were away, Or else they were sunken under ground.

So at the last he hath a time found

To make his japes* and his wretchedness tricks Of such a superstitious cursedness. detestable villainy*

His tables Toletanes <19> forth he brought, Full well corrected, that there lacked nought, Neither his collect, nor his expanse years, Neither his rootes, nor his other gears, As be his centres, and his arguments,

And his proportional convenients

For his equations in everything.

And by his eighte spheres in his working, He knew full well how far Alnath <20> was shove From the head of that fix’d Aries above, That in the ninthe sphere consider’d is.

Full subtilly he calcul’d all this.

When he had found his firste mansion,

He knew the remnant by proportion;

And knew the rising of his moone well, And in whose face, and term, and every deal; And knew full well the moone’s mansion Accordant to his operation;

And knew also his other observances,

For such illusions and such meschances, wicked devices As heathen folk used in thilke days.

For which no longer made he delays;

But through his magic, for a day or tway, <21>

It seemed all the rockes were away.

 

Aurelius, which yet despaired is

Whe’er* he shall have his love, or fare amiss, whether Awaited night and day on this miracle: And when he knew that there was none obstacle, That voided were these rockes every one, *removed Down at his master’s feet he fell anon, And said; “I, woeful wretch’d Aurelius, Thank you, my Lord, and lady mine Venus, That me have holpen from my cares cold.”

And to the temple his way forth hath he hold, Where as he knew he should his lady see.

And when he saw his time, anon right he With dreadful* heart and with full humble cheer* fearful **mien Saluteth hath his sovereign lady dear.

“My rightful Lady,” quoth this woeful man, “Whom I most dread, and love as I best can, And lothest were of all this world displease, Were’t not that I for you have such disease, distress, affliction That I must die here at your foot anon, Nought would I tell how me is woebegone.

But certes either must I die or plain; bewail Ye slay me guilteless for very pain.

But of my death though that ye have no ruth, Advise you, ere that ye break your truth: Repente you, for thilke God above,

Ere ye me slay because that I you love.

For, Madame, well ye wot what ye have hight; promised Not that I challenge anything of right Of you, my sovereign lady, but of grace: But in a garden yond’, in such a place, Ye wot right well what ye behighte* me, *promised And in mine hand your trothe plighted ye, To love me best; God wot ye saide so,

Albeit that I unworthy am thereto;

Madame, I speak it for th’ honour of you, More than to save my hearte’s life right now; I have done so