The Canterbury Tales, and Other Poems - LightNovelsOnl.com
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32. Pity runneth soon in gentle heart: the same is said of Theseus, in The Knight's Tale, and of Canace, by the falcon, in The Squire's Tale.
33. Stellify: a.s.sign to a place among the stars; as Jupiter did to Andromeda and Ca.s.siopeia.
34. Agathon: there was an Athenian dramatist of this name, who might have made the virtues and fortunes of Alcestis his theme; but the reference is too vague for the author to be identified with any confidence.
CHAUCER'S A. B. C. <1> CALLED LA PRIERE DE NOSTRE DAME <2>
A.
ALMIGHTY and all-merciable* Queen, *all-merciful To whom all this world fleeth for succour, To have release of sin, of sorrow, of teen!* *affliction Glorious Virgin! of all flowers flow'r, To thee I flee, confounded in errour!
Help and relieve, almighty debonair,* *gracious, gentle Have mercy of my perilous languour!
Vanquish'd me hath my cruel adversair.
B.
Bounty* so fix'd hath in thy heart his tent, *goodness, charity That well I wot thou wilt my succour be; Thou canst not *warne that* with good intent *refuse he who*
Asketh thy help, thy heart is ay so free!
Thou art largess* of plein** felicity, *liberal bestower **full Haven and refuge of quiet and rest!
Lo! how that thieves seven <3> chase me!
Help, Lady bright, ere that my s.h.i.+p to-brest!* *be broken to pieces
C.
Comfort is none, but in you, Lady dear!
For lo! my sin and my confusion, Which ought not in thy presence to appear, Have ta'en on me a grievous action,* *control Of very right and desperation!
And, as by right, they mighte well sustene That I were worthy my d.a.m.nation, Ne were it mercy of you, blissful Queen!
D.
Doubt is there none, Queen of misericorde,* *compa.s.sion That thou art cause of grace and mercy here; G.o.d vouchesaf'd, through thee, with us t'accord;* *to be reconciled For, certes, Christe's blissful mother dear!
Were now the bow y-bent, in such mannere As it was first, of justice and of ire, The rightful G.o.d would of no mercy hear; But through thee have we grace as we desire.
E.
Ever hath my hope of refuge in thee be'; For herebefore full oft in many a wise Unto mercy hast thou received me.
But mercy, Lady! at the great a.s.size, When we shall come before the high Justice!
So little fruit shall then in me be found, That,* thou ere that day correcte me, *unless Of very right my work will me confound.
F.
Flying, I flee for succour to thy tent, Me for to hide from tempest full of dread; Beseeching you, that ye you not absent, Though I be wick'. O help yet at this need!
All* have I been a beast in wit and deed, *although Yet, Lady! thou me close in with thy grace; *Thine enemy and mine,* -- Lady, take heed! -- *the devil*
Unto my death in point is me to chase.
G.
Gracious Maid and Mother! which that never Wert bitter nor in earthe nor in sea, <4> But full of sweetness and of mercy ever, Help, that my Father be not wroth with me!
Speak thou, for I ne dare Him not see; So have I done in earth, alas the while!
That, certes, but if thou my succour be, To sink etern He will my ghost exile.
H.
He vouchesaf'd, tell Him, as was His will, Become a man, *as for our alliance,* *to ally us with G.o.d*
And with His blood He wrote that blissful bill Upon the cross, as general acquittance To ev'ry penitent in full creance;* *belief And therefore, Lady bright! thou for us pray; Then shalt thou stenten* alle His grievance, *put an end to And make our foe to failen of his prey.
I.
I wote well thou wilt be our succour, Thou art so full of bounty in certain; For, when a soule falleth in errour, Thy pity go'th, and haleth* him again; *draweth Then makest thou his peace with his Sov'reign, And bringest him out of the crooked street: Whoso thee loveth shall not love in vain, That shall he find *as he the life shall lete.* *when he leaves life*
K.
*Kalendares illumined* be they *brilliant exemplars*
That in this world be lighted with thy name; And whoso goeth with thee the right way, Him shall not dread in soule to be lame; Now, Queen of comfort! since thou art the same To whom I seeke for my medicine, Let not my foe no more my wound entame;* *injure, molest My heal into thy hand all I resign.
L.
Lady, thy sorrow can I not portray Under that cross, nor his grievous penance; But, for your bothe's pain, I you do pray, Let not our *aller foe* make his boastance, *the foe of us all -- That he hath in his listes, with mischance, Satan*
*Convicte that* ye both have bought so dear; *ensnared that which*
As I said erst, thou ground of all substance!
Continue on us thy piteous eyen clear.
M.
Moses, that saw the bush of flames red Burning, of which then never a stick brenn'd,* *burned Was sign of thine unwemmed* maidenhead. *unblemished Thou art the bush, on which there gan descend The Holy Ghost, the which that Moses wend* *weened, supposed Had been on fire; and this was in figure. <5> Now, Lady! from the fire us do defend, Which that in h.e.l.l eternally shall dure.
N.
n.o.ble Princess! that never haddest peer; Certes if any comfort in us be, That cometh of thee, Christe's mother dear!
We have none other melody nor glee,* *pleasure Us to rejoice in our adversity; Nor advocate, that will and dare so pray For us, and for as little hire as ye, That helpe for an Ave-Mary or tway.
O.
O very light of eyen that be blind!
O very l.u.s.t* of labour and distress! *relief, pleasure O treasurer of bounty to mankind!
The whom G.o.d chose to mother for humbless!
From his ancill* <6> he made thee mistress *handmaid Of heav'n and earth, our *billes up to bede;* *offer up our pet.i.tions*
This world awaiteth ever on thy goodness; For thou ne failedst never wight at need.
P.
Purpose I have sometime for to enquere Wherefore and why the Holy Ghost thee sought, When Gabrielis voice came to thine ear; He not to war* us such a wonder wrought, *afflict But for to save us, that sithens us bought: Then needeth us no weapon us to save, But only, where we did not as we ought, Do penitence, and mercy ask and have.
Q.
Queen of comfort, right when I me bethink That I aguilt* have bothe Him and thee, *offended And that my soul is worthy for to sink, Alas! I, caitiff, whither shall I flee?
Who shall unto thy Son my meane* be? *medium of approach Who, but thyself, that art of pity well?* *fountain Thou hast more ruth on our adversity Than in this world might any tongue tell!
