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

thou art blind; for thing that we see all That it is stone, that men may well espyen, That ilke stone a god thou wilt it call. very, selfsame I rede thee let thine hand upon it fall, advise And taste it well, and stone thou shalt it find; *examine, test Since that thou see’st not with thine eyen blind.

 

“It is a shame that the people shall

So scorne thee, and laugh at thy folly; For commonly men *wot it well over all, know it everywhere*

That mighty God is in his heaven high; And these images, well may’st thou espy, To thee nor to themselves may not profite, For in effect they be not worth a mite.”

 

These wordes and such others saide she, And he wax’d wroth, and bade men should her lead Home to her house; “And in her house,” quoth he, “Burn her right in a bath, with flames red.”

And as he bade, right so was done the deed; For in a bath they gan her faste shetten, shut, confine And night and day great fire they under betten. kindled, applied The longe night, and eke a day also,

For all the fire, and eke the bathe’s heat, She sat all cold, and felt of it no woe, It made her not one droppe for to sweat; But in that bath her life she must lete. leave For he, Almachius, with full wick’ intent, To slay her in the bath his sonde* sent. *message, order Three strokes in the neck he smote her tho, there The tormentor,* but for no manner chance *executioner He might not smite her faire neck in two: And, for there was that time an ordinance That no man should do man such penance, severity, torture The fourthe stroke to smite, soft or sore, This tormentor he durste do no more;

 

But half dead, with her necke carven* there *gashed He let her lie, and on his way is went.

The Christian folk, which that about her were, With sheetes have the blood full fair y-hent; *taken up Three dayes lived she in this torment, And never ceased them the faith to teach, That she had foster’d them, she gan to preach.

 

And them she gave her mebles* and her thing, goods And to the Pope Urban betook them tho;* commended **then And said, “I aske this of heaven’s king, To have respite three dayes and no mo’, To recommend to you, ere that I go,

These soules, lo; and that *I might do wirch cause to be made*

Here of mine house perpetually a church.”

 

Saint Urban, with his deacons, privily The body fetch’d, and buried it by night Among his other saintes honestly;

Her house the church of Saint Cecilie hight; is called Saint Urban hallow’d it, as he well might; In which unto this day, in noble wise, Men do to Christ and to his saint service.

 

Notes to the Nun’s Priest’s Tale

 

1. This Tale was originally composed by Chaucer as a separate work, and as such it is mentioned in the “Legend of Good Women” under the title of “The Life of Saint Cecile”. Tyrwhitt quotes the line in which the author calls himself an “unworthy son of Eve,” and that in which he says, “Yet pray I you, that reade what I write”, as internal evidence that the insertion of the poem in the Canterbury Tales was the result of an afterthought; while the whole tenor of the introduction confirms the belief that Chaucer composed it as a writer or translator — not, dramatically, as a speaker. The story is almost literally translated from the Life of St Cecilia in the “Legenda Aurea.”

 

2. Leas: leash, snare; the same as “las,” oftener used by Chaucer.

 

3. The nativity and assumption of the Virgin Mary formed the themes of some of St Bernard’s most eloquent sermons.

 

4. Compare with this stanza the fourth stanza of the Prioress’s Tale, the substance of which is the same.

 

5. “But he answered and said, it is not meet to take the children’s bread, and cast it to dogs. And she said, Truth, Lord: yet the dogs eat of the crumbs which fall from their master’s table.” — Matthew xv. 26, 27.

 

6. See note 1.

 

7. These are Latin puns: Heaven’s lily - “Coeli lilium”; The way of blind - “Caeci via”; Heaven and Lia - from “Coeli”, heaven, and “Ligo,” to bind; Heaven and Leos - from Coeli and “Laos,”

(Ionian Greek) or “Leos” (Attic Greek), the people. Such punning derivations of proper names were very much in favour in the Middle Ages. The explanations of St Cecilia’s name are literally taken from the prologue to the Latin legend.

 

8. This passage suggests Horace’s description of the wise man, who, among other things, is “in se ipse totus, teres, atque rotundus.” (“complete in himself, polished and rounded”) —

Satires, 2, vii. 80.

 

9. Louting: lingering, or lying concealed; the Latin original has “Inter sepulchra martyrum latiantem” (“hiding among the tombs of martyrs”)

 

10. The fourteen lines within brackets are supposed to have been originally an interpolation in the Latin legend, from which they are literally translated. They awkwardly interrupt the flow of the narration.

 

11. Engine: wit; the devising or constructive faculty; Latin, “ingenium.”

 

12. Cold: wretched, distressful; see note 22 to the Nun’s Priest’s Tale.

 

13. Corniculere: The secretary or registrar who was charged with publishing the acts, decrees and orders of the prefect.

 

14. “I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith: Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness” — 2 Tim. iv. 7, 8.

 

15. Did him to-beat: Caused him to be cruelly or fatally beaten; the force of the “to” is intensive.

 

THE CANON’S YEOMAN’S TALE. <1>

 

THE PROLOGUE.

 

WHEN ended was the life of Saint Cecile, Ere we had ridden fully five mile, <2>

At Boughton-under-Blee us gan o’ertake A man, that clothed was in clothes black, And underneath he wore a white surplice.

His hackenay,* which was all pomely-gris,* nag **dapple-gray So sweated, that it wonder was to see; It seem’d as he had pricked* miles three. spurred The horse eke that his yeoman rode upon So sweated, that unnethes might he gon.* hardly **go About the peytrel <3> stood the foam full high; He was of foam, as *flecked as a pie. spotted like a magpie*

A maile twyfold <4> on his crupper lay; It seemed that he carried little array; All light for summer rode this worthy man.

And in my heart to wonder I began

What that he was, till that I understood How that his cloak was sewed to his hood; For which, when I had long advised* me, *considered I deemed him some Canon for to be.

His hat hung at his back down by a lace, cord For he had ridden more than trot or pace; He hadde pricked like as he were wood. mad A clote-leaf* he had laid under his hood, * burdock-leaf For sweat, and for to keep his head from heat.

But it was joye for to see him sweat;

His forehead dropped as a stillatory still Were full of plantain or of paritory. wallflower And when that he was come, he gan to cry, “God save,” quoth he, “this jolly company.

Fast have I pricked,” quoth he, “for your sake, Because that I would you overtake,

To riden in this merry company.”

His Yeoman was eke full of courtesy,

And saide, “Sirs, now in the morning tide Out of your hostelry I saw you ride,

And warned here my lord and sovereign, Which that to ride with you is full fain, For his disport; he loveth dalliance.”

“Friend, for thy warning God give thee good chance,” fortune Said oure Host; “certain it woulde seem Thy lord were wise, and so I may well deem; He is full jocund also, dare I lay;

Can he aught tell a merry tale or tway, With which he gladden may this company?”

“Who, Sir? my lord? Yea, Sir, withoute lie, He can* of mirth and eke of jollity knows Not but* enough; also, Sir, truste me, not less than

An* ye him knew all so well as do I, *if Ye would wonder how well and craftily

He coulde work, and that in sundry wise.

He hath take on him many a great emprise, task, undertaking Which were full hard for any that is here To bring about, but* they of him it lear.* unless **learn As homely as he rides amonges you,

If ye him knew, it would be for your prow: advantage Ye woulde not forego his acquaintance

For muche good, I dare lay in balance

All that I have in my possession.

He is a man of high discretion.

I warn you well, he is a passing* man.” surpassing, extraordinary Well,” quoth our Host, “I pray thee tell me than, Is he a clerk, or no? Tell what he is.” *scholar, priest “Nay, he is greater than a clerk, y-wis,” certainly Saide this Yeoman; “and, in wordes few, Host, of his craft somewhat I will you shew, I say, my lord can* such a subtlety knows (But all his craft ye may not weet of me, *learn And somewhat help I yet to his working), That all the ground on which we be riding Till that we come to Canterbury town,

He could all cleane turnen up so down, And pave it all of silver and of gold.”

And when this Yeoman had this tale told Unto our Host, he said; “Ben’dicite!

This thing is wonder marvellous to me, Since that thy lord is of so high prudence, Because of which men should him reverence, That of his worship* recketh he so lite;* honour **little His overest slop it is not worth a mite upper garment

As in effect to him, so may I go;

It is all baudy* and to-tore also. *slovenly Why is thy lord so sluttish, I thee pray, And is of power better clothes to bey, buy If that his deed accordeth with thy speech?

Telle me that, and that I thee beseech.”

 

“Why?” quoth this Yeoman, “whereto ask ye me?

God help me so, for he shall never the thrive (But I will not avowe* that I say, *admit And therefore keep it secret, I you pray); He is too wise, in faith, as I believe.

Thing that is overdone, it will not preve stand the test Aright, as clerkes say; it is a vice;

Wherefore in that I hold him *lewd and nice.” ignorant and foolish*

For when a man hath over great a wit,

Full oft him happens to misusen it;

So doth my lord, and that me grieveth sore.

God it amend; I can say now no more.”

 

“Thereof no force, good Yeoman, “quoth our Host; no matter

“Since of the conning* of thy lord, thou know’st, *knowledge Tell how he doth, I pray thee heartily, Since that be is so crafty and so sly. wise Where dwelle ye, if it to telle be?”

“In the suburbes of a town,” quoth he, “Lurking in hernes* and in lanes blind, *corners Where as these robbers and these thieves by kind nature Holde their privy fearful residence,

As they that dare not show their presence, So fare we, if I shall say the soothe.” truth “Yet,” quoth our Hoste, “let me talke to thee; Why art thou so discolour’d of thy face?”

“Peter!” quoth he, “God