Six Centuries of English Poetry Part 49

You’re reading novel Six Centuries of English Poetry Part 49 online at LightNovelFree.com. Please use the follow button to get notification about the latest chapter next time when you visit LightNovelFree.com. Use F11 button to read novel in full-screen(PC only). Drop by anytime you want to read free – fast – latest novel. It’s great if you could leave a comment, share your opinion about the new chapters, new novel with others on the internet. We’ll do our best to bring you the finest, latest novel everyday. Enjoy!

But natheles, whil I have tyme and s.p.a.ce, Or{8} that I forther in this tale pace, Me thinketh it acordaunt to resoun, To telle yow al the condicioun{9} Of eche of hem, so as it semede me, And whiche they weren, and of what degre; And eek in what array that they were inne: And at a knight than wol I first bygynne.

A KNIGHT ther was, and that a worthy man, That from the tyme that he first bigan To ryden out, he lovede chyvalrye,{10} Trouthe and honour, fredom and curteisye.

Ful worthy was he in his lordes werre, And therto hadde he riden, noman ferre, As wel in Cristendom as in hethenesse,{11} And evere honoured for his worthinesse.

At Alisaundre{12} he was whan it was wonne, Ful ofte tyme he hadde the bord bygonne{13} Aboven alle naciouns in Pruce.{14} In Lettowe hadde he reysed and in Ruce, No cristen man so ofte of his degre.

In Gernade{15} atte siege hadde he be Of Algesir, and riden in Belmarie.



At Lieys was he, and at Satalie, Whan they were wonne; and in the Greete see{16} At many a n.o.ble arive hadde he be.

At mortal batailles hadde he ben fiftene, And foughten for our feith at Trama.s.sene In lystes thries, and ay slayn his foo.

This ilke worthy knight hadde ben also Somtyme with the lord of Palatye,{17} Ageyn another hethen in Turkye: And evermore he hadde a sovereyn prys.

And though that he was worthy, he was wys, And of his port as meke as is a mayde.

He nevere yit no vileinye ne sayde In al his lyf, unto no maner wight.{18} He was a verray perfight gentil knight.

But for to tellen you of his array, His hors was good, but he ne was nought gay.

Of fustyan he werede a gepoun Al bysmotered with his habergeoun.

For he was late ycome from his viage, And wente for to doon his pilgrimage.

With him ther was his sone, a yong SQUYER, A lovyere, and a l.u.s.ty bacheler,{19} With lokkes crulle as they were leyd in presse.

Of twenty yeer of age he was, I gesse.

Of his stature he was of even lengthe, And wonderly delyver, and gret of strengthe.

And he hadde ben somtyme in chivachye, In Flaundres, in Artoys, and Picardye, And born him wel, as of so litel s.p.a.ce, In hope to stonden in his lady grace.

Embrowded was he, as it were a mede Al ful of fresshe floures, white and reede.

Syngynge he was, or floytynge,{20} al the day; He was as fressh as is the moneth of May.

Schort was his goune, with sleeves longe and wyde.

Wel cowde he sitte on hors, and faire ryde.

He cowde songes make and wel endite, Juste and eek daunce, and wel purtreye and write.

So hote he lovede, that by nightertale He sleep nomore than doth a nightyngale.

Curteys he was, lowly, and servysable, And carf byforn his fader at the table.

A YEMAN hadde he,{21} and servaunts nomoo At that tyme, for him l.u.s.te ryde soo; And he was clad in coote and hood of grene.

A shef of poc.o.k arwes{22} brighte and kene Under his belte he bar ful thriftily.

Wel cowde he dresse his takel yemanly; His arwes drowpede nought with fetheres lowe.

And in his hond he bar a mighty bowe A not-heed hadde he with broun visage.

Of woode-craft wel cowde he al the usage.

Upon his arm he bar a gay bracer{23} And by his side a swerd and a bokeler, And on that other side a gay daggere, Harneysed wel, and scharp as poynt of spere; A Cristofre{24} on his brest of silver schene.

An horn he bar, the bawdrik was of grene; A forster was he sothly, as I gesse.

Ther was also a Nonne, a PRIORESSE, That of hire smylyng was ful symple and coy; Hire grettest ooth ne was but by seynt Loy{25}; And sche was cleped madame Eglentyne.

Ful wel sche sang the servise divyne, Entuned in hire nose ful semely; And Frensch sche spak ful faire and fetysly, After the scole of Stratford atte Bowe, For Frensch of Parys was to hire unknowe.

At mete wel i-taught was sche withalle; Sche leet no morsel from hire lippes falle, Ne wette hire fyngres in hire sauce deepe.

Wel cowde sche carie a morsel, and wel keepe, That no drope ne fille upon hire breste.

In curteisie was set ful moche hire leste.

Hire overlippe wypede sche so clene, That in hire cuppe was no ferthing sene Of grece, whan sche dronken hadde hire draughte.

Ful semely after hir mete sche raughte, And sikerly sche was of gret disport,{26} And ful plesaunt, and amyable of port, And peynede hir to countrefete cheere Of court, and ben estatlich of manere, And to ben holden digne of reverence.

But for to speken of hir conscience, Sche was so charitable and so pitous, Sche wolde weepe if that sche saw a mous Caught in a trappe, if it were deed or bledde.

Of smale houndes hadde sche, that sche fedde With rosted flessh, or mylk and wastel breed.

But sore weep sche if oon of hem were deed, Or if men{27} smot it with a yerde smerte: And al was conscience and tendre herte.

Ful semely hire wympel i-pynched was; Hir nose tretys; hir eyen greye as glas; Hir mouth ful smal, and therto softe and reed But sikerly sche hadde a fair forheed.

It was almost a spanne brood, I trowe; For hardily sche was not undergrowe.

Ful fetys was hir cloke, as I was war.

Of smal coral aboute hir arm sche bar A peire of bedes gauded al with grene; And theron heng a broch of gold ful schene, On which was first i-write a crowned A, And after, _Amor vincit omnia._{28} Another NONNE with hir hadde sche, That was hir chapeleyne,{29} and PRESTES thre.

A MONK ther was, a fair for the maistrye,{30} An out-rydere, that lovede venerye; A manly man, to ben an abbot able.

Ful many a deynte hors hadde he in stable: And whan he rood, men mighte his bridel heere Gynglen in a whistlyng wynd as cleere, And eek as lowde as doth the chapel belle.

Ther as this lord was kepere of the celle, The reule of seynt Maure or of seint Beneyt, Bycause that it was old and somdel streyt, This ilke monk leet olde thinges pace, And held after the newe world the s.p.a.ce.

He yaf nat of that text a pulled hen,{31} That seith, that hunters been noon holy men; Ne that a monk, whan he is reccheles Is likned to a fissch that is waterles{32}; This is to seyn, a monk out of his cloystre.

But thilke text held he not worth an oystre.

And I seide his opinioun was good.

What{33} schulde he studie, and make himselven wood,{34} Upon a book in cloystre alway to powre.

Or swynke with his handes, and laboure, As Austyn bit? How schal the world be served?

Lat Austyn have his swynk to him reserved.

Therfor he was a pricasour aright; Greyhoundes he hadde as swifte as fowel in flight; Of prikyng and of huntyng for the hare Was al his l.u.s.t, for no cost wolde he spare.{35} I saugh his sleves purfiled atte honde With grys, and that the fyneste of a londe.

And for to festne his hood under his chynne He hadde of gold y-wrought a curious pynne: A love-knot in the grettere ende ther was.

His heed was balled, that schon as eny glas, And eek his face, as he hadde ben anoynt.

He was a lord ful fat and in good poynt; His eyen steepe, and rollyng in his heede, That stemede as a forneys of a leede;{36} His bootes souple, his hors in gret estat.

Now certeinly he was a fair prelat; He was not pale as a for-pyned goost.

A fat swan lovede he best of eny roost.

His palfrey was as broun as is a berye.

A FRERE there was, a wantown and a merye, A lymytour,{37} a ful solempne man.

In alle the ordres foure{38} is noon that can So moche of daliaunce and fair langage.

He hadde i-mad ful many a mariage Of yonge wymmen, at his owen cost.

Unto his ordre he was a n.o.ble post.{39} Ful wel biloved and famulier was he With frankeleyns{40} over-al in his c.u.n.tre, And eek with worthy wommen of the toun: For he hadde power of confessioun, As seyde himself, more than a curat, For of his ordre he was licentiat.{41} Ful swetely herde he confessioun, And plesaunt was his absolucioun; He was an esy man to yeve penaunce Ther as he wiste han{42} a good pitaunce; For unto a poure ordre for to yive Is signe that a man is wel i-schrive.

For if he yaf, he dorste make avaunt, He wiste that a man was repentaunt.

For many a man so hard is of his herte, He may not wepe although him sore smerte.

Therfore in stede of wepyng and preyeres, Men{43} moot yive silver to the poure freres.

His typet was ay fa.r.s.ed ful of knyfes And pynnes, for to yive faire wyfes.

And certeynly he hadde a mery note; Wel couthe he synge and pleyen on a rote.

Of yeddynges he bar utterly the prys.

His nekke whit was as the flour-de-lys.

Therto he strong was as a champioun.

He knew the tavernes wel in every toun, And everych hostiler and tappestere, Bet then a lazer, or a beggestere, For unto such a worthy man as he Acorded not, as by his faculte, To han with sike lazars aqueyntaunce.

It is not honest, it may not avaunce, For to delen with no such poraille, But al with riche, and sellers of vitaille.{44} And overal, ther as profyt schulde arise, Curteys he was, and lowly of servyse.

Ther nas no man nowher so vertuous.

He was the beste beggere in his hous, For though a widewe hadde noght oo schoo, So plesaunt was his _In principio_,{45} Yet wolde he have a ferthing or he wente.

His purchas{46} was wel better than his rente.

And rage he couthe as it were right a whelpe, In love-dayes{47} couthe he mochel helpe.

For ther he was not lik a cloysterer, With a thredbare cope as is a poure scoler, But he was lik a maister or a pope.

Of double worsted was his semy-cope, That rounded as a belle out of the presse.

Somwhat he lipsede, for his wantownesse, To make his Englissch swete upon his tunge; And in his harpyng, whan that he hadde sunge His eyen twynkled in his heed aright, As don the sterres in the frosty night.

This worthy lymytour was cleped Huberd.

A MARCHAUNT was ther with a forked berd, In motteleye, and hign on hors he sat, Upon his heed a Flaundrisch bevere hat; His botes clapsed faire and fetysly.

His resons he spak ful solempnely, Sownynge alway the encres of his wynnynge.

He wolde the see were kept for{48} eny thinge Betwixe Middelburgh and Orewelle.

Wel couthe he in eschaunge scheeldes{49} selle.

This worthi man ful wel his wit bisette; Ther wiste no wight that he was in dette, So estatly was he of governaunce, With his bargayns, and with his chevysaunce For sothe he was a worthy man withalle, But soth to sayn, I not how men him calle.

A CLERK ther was of Oxenford{50} also, That unto logik hadde longe i-go.

As lene was his hors as is a rake, And he was not right{51} fat, I undertake; But lokede holwe, and therto soberly.

Ful thredbar was his overest courtepy.

For he hadde geten him yit no benefice, Ne was so worldly for to have office.

For him was levere have at his beddes heede Twenty bookes, clad in blak or reede, Of Aristotle and his philosophye, Then robes riche, or fithel, or gay sawtrye.{52} But al be that he was a philosophre, Yet hadde he but litel gold in cofre; But al that he mighte of his frendes hente, On bookes and on lernyng he it spente, And busily gan for the soules preye Of hem that yaf him wherwith to scoleye; Of studie took he most cure and most heede.

Not oo word spak he more than was neede, And that was seid in forme and reverence And schort and quyk, and ful of high sentence.

Sownynge{53} in moral vertu was his speche, And gladly wolde he lerne, and gladly teche.

GLOSSARY.

=ageyn=, against.

Six Centuries of English Poetry Part 49

You're reading novel Six Centuries of English Poetry Part 49 online at LightNovelFree.com. You can use the follow function to bookmark your favorite novel ( Only for registered users ). If you find any errors ( broken links, can't load photos, etc.. ), Please let us know so we can fix it as soon as possible. And when you start a conversation or debate about a certain topic with other people, please do not offend them just because you don't like their opinions.


Six Centuries of English Poetry Part 49 summary

You're reading Six Centuries of English Poetry Part 49. This novel has been translated by Updating. Author: James Baldwin already has 655 views.

It's great if you read and follow any novel on our website. We promise you that we'll bring you the latest, hottest novel everyday and FREE.

LightNovelFree.com is a most smartest website for reading novel online, it can automatic resize images to fit your pc screen, even on your mobile. Experience now by using your smartphone and access to LightNovelFree.com