The Canterbury Tales, and Other Poems Part 88

and, by an unfrequented path in a pleasant grove, to arrive at an arbour. Beside the arbour stands a medlar-tree, in which a Goldfinch sings pa.s.sing sweetly; and the Nightingale answers from a green laurel tree, with so merry and ravis.h.i.+ng a note, that the lady resolves to proceed no farther, but sit down on the gra.s.s to listen. Suddenly the sound of many voices singing surprises her; and she sees "a world of ladies" emerge from a grove, clad in white, and wearing garlands of laurel, of agnus castus, and woodbind. One, who wears a crown and bears a branch of agnus castus in her hand, begins a roundel, in honour of the Leaf, which all the others take up, dancing and singing in the meadow before the arbour. Soon, to the sound of thundering trumps, and attended by a splendid and warlike retinue, enter nine knights, in white, crowned like the ladies; and after they have jousted an hour and more, they alight and advance to the ladies. Each dame takes a knight by the hand; and all incline reverently to the laurel tree, which they encompa.s.s, singing of love, and dancing. Soon, preceded by a band of minstrels, out of the open field comes a l.u.s.ty company of knights and ladies in green, crowned with chaplets of flowers; and they do reverence to a tuft of flowers in the middle of the meadow, while one of their number sings a bergerette in praise of the daisy. But now it is high noon; the sun waxes fervently hot; the flowers lose their beauty, and wither with the heat; the ladies in green are scorched, the knights faint for lack of shade. Then a strong wind beats down all the flowers, save such as are protected by the leaves of hedges and groves; and a mighty storm of rain and hail drenches the ladies and knights, shelterless in the now flowerless meadow. The storm overpast, the company in white, whom the laurel-tree has safely s.h.i.+elded from heat and storm, advance to the relief of the others; and when their clothes have been dried, and their wounds from sun and storm healed, all go together to sup with the Queen in white -- on whose hand, as they pa.s.s by the arbour, the Nightingale perches, while the Goldfinch flies to the Lady of the Flower. The pageant gone, the gentlewoman quits the arbour, and meets a lady in white, who, at her request, unfolds the hidden meaning of all that she has seen; "which," says Speght quaintly, "is this: They which honour the Flower, a thing fading with every blast, are such as look after beauty and worldly pleasure. But they that honour the Leaf, which abideth with the root, notwithstanding the frosts and winter storms, are they which follow Virtue and during qualities, without regard of worldly respects." Mr Bell, in his edition, has properly noticed that there is no explanation of the emblematical import of the medlar-tree, the goldfinch, and the nightingale. "But," he says, "as the fruit of the medlar, to use Chaucer's own expression (see Prologue to the Reeve's Tale), is rotten before it is ripe, it may be the emblem of sensual pleasure, which palls before it confers real enjoyment. The goldfinch is remarkable for the beauty of its plumage, the sprightliness of its movements, and its gay, tinkling song, and may be supposed to represent the showy and unsubstantial character of frivolous pleasures. The nightingale's sober outward appearance and impa.s.sioned song denote greater depth of feeling." The poem throughout is marked by the purest and loftiest moral tone; and it amply deserved Dryden's special recommendation, "both for the invention and the moral." It is given without abridgement.]

(Transcriber's note: Modern scholars believe that Chaucer was not the author of this poem)

WHEN that Phoebus his car of gold so high Had whirled up the starry sky aloft, And in the Bull <1> enter'd certainly; When showers sweet of rain descended soft, Causing the grounde, fele* times and oft, *many Up for to give many a wholesome air, And every plain was y-clothed fair

With newe green, and maketh smalle flow'rs To springe here and there in field and mead; So very good and wholesome be the show'rs, That they renewe what was old and dead In winter time; and out of ev'ry seed Springeth the herbe, so that ev'ry wight Of thilke* season waxeth glad and light. *this

And I, so glad of thilke season sweet, Was *happed thus* upon a certain night, *thus circ.u.mstanced*

As I lay in my bed, sleep full unmeet* *unfit, uncompliant Was unto me; but why that I not might Rest, I not wist; for there n'as* earthly wight, *was not As I suppose, had more hearte's ease Than I, for I n'had* sickness nor disease.** *had not **distress

Wherefore I marvel greatly of myself, That I so long withoute sleepe lay; And up I rose three houres after twelf, About the springing of the [gladsome] day; And on I put my gear* and mine array, *garments And to a pleasant grove I gan to pa.s.s, Long ere the brighte sun uprisen was;

In which were oakes great, straight as a line, Under the which the gra.s.s, so fresh of hue, Was newly sprung; and an eight foot or nine Every tree well from his fellow grew, With branches broad, laden with leaves new, That sprangen out against the sunne sheen; Some very red;<2> and some a glad light green;

Which, as me thought, was right a pleasant sight.

And eke the birdes' songes for to hear Would have rejoiced any earthly wight; And I, that could not yet, in no mannere, Heare the nightingale of* all the year,<3> *during Full busy hearkened with heart and ear, If I her voice perceive could anywhere.

And at the last a path of little brede* *breadth I found, that greatly had not used be; For it forgrowen* was with gra.s.s and weed, *overgrown That well unneth* a wight mighte see: *scarcely Thought I, "This path some whither goes, pardie!"* *of a surety And so I follow'd [it], till it me brought To a right pleasant arbour, well y-wrought,

That benched was, and [all] with turfes new Freshly y-turf'd, <4> whereof the greene gra.s.s, So small, so thick, so short, so fresh of hue, That most like to green wool, I wot, it was; The hedge also, that *yeden in compa.s.s,* *went all around <5>*

And closed in all the greene herbere,* *arbour With sycamore was set and eglatere,* *eglantine, sweet-briar

Wreathed *in fere* so well and cunningly, *together*

That ev'ry branch and leaf grew *by measure,* *regularly*

Plain as a board, of *a height by and by:* *the same height side I saw never a thing, I you ensure, by side*

So well y-done; for he that took the cure* *pains, care To maken it, I trow did all his pain To make it pa.s.s all those that men have seen.

And shapen was this arbour, roof and all, As is a pretty parlour; and also The hedge as thick was as a castle wall, That whoso list without to stand or go, Though he would all day pryen to and fro, He should not see if there were any wight Within or no; but one within well might

Perceive all those that wente there without Into the field, that was on ev'ry side Cover'd with corn and gra.s.s; that out of doubt, Though one would seeken all the worlde wide, So rich a fielde could not be espied Upon no coast, *as of the quant.i.ty;* *for its abundance For of all goode thing there was plenty. or fertility*

And I, that all this pleasant sight [did] see, Thought suddenly I felt so sweet an air Of the eglentere, that certainly There is no heart, I deem, in such despair, Nor yet with thoughtes froward and contrair So overlaid, but it should soon have boot,* *remedy, relief*

If it had ones felt this *savour swoot.* *sweet smell*

And as I stood, and cast aside mine eye, I was ware of the fairest medlar tree That ever yet in all my life I seye,* *saw As full of blossoms as it mighte be; Therein a goldfinch leaping prettily From bough to bough; and as him list he eat Here and there of the buds and flowers sweet.

And to the arbour side was adjoining This fairest tree, of which I have you told; And at the last the bird began to sing (When he had eaten what he eate wo'ld) So pa.s.sing sweetly, that by many fold It was more pleasant than I could devise;* *tell, describe And, when his song was ended in this wise,

The nightingale with so merry a note Answered him, that all the woode rung, So suddenly, that, *as it were a sote,* *like a fool <6>*

I stood astound'; so was I with the song Thorough ravished, that, *till late and long,* *for a long time*

I wist not in what place I was, nor where; Again, me thought, she sung e'en by mine ear.

Wherefore I waited about busily On ev'ry side, if that I might her see; And at the last I gan full well espy Where she sat in a fresh green laurel tree, On the further side, even right by me, That gave so pa.s.sing a delicious smell, *According to* the eglantere full well. *blending with*

Whereof I had so inly great pleasure, That, as me thought, I surely ravish'd was Into Paradise, where [as] my desire Was for to be, and no farther to pa.s.s, As for that day; and on the sweete gra.s.s I sat me down; for, *as for mine intent,* *to my mind*

The birde's song was more *convenient,* *appropriate to my humour*

And more pleasant to me, by many fold, Than meat, or drink, or any other thing; Thereto the arbour was so fresh and cold, The wholesome savours eke so comforting, That, as I deemed, since the beginning Of the world was [there] never seen *ere than* *before then*

So pleasant a ground of none earthly man.

And as I sat, the birdes heark'ning thus, Me thought that I heard voices suddenly, The most sweetest and most delicious That ever any wight, I *trow truely,* *verily believe*

Heard in their life; for the harmony And sweet accord was in so good musike, That the voices to angels' most were like.

At the last, out of a grove even by, That was right goodly, and pleasant to sight, I saw where there came, singing l.u.s.tily, A world of ladies; but to tell aright Their greate beauty, lies not in my might, Nor their array; nevertheless I shall Tell you a part, though I speak not of all.

In surcoats* white, of velvet well fitting, *upper robes They were clad, and the seames each one, As it were a mannere [of] garnis.h.i.+ng, Was set with emeraldes, one and one, *By and by;* but many a riche stone *in a row*

Was set upon the purfles,* out of doubt, *embroidered edges Of collars, sleeves, and traines round about;

As greate pearles, round and orient,* *brilliant And diamondes fine, and rubies red, And many another stone, of which I went* *cannot recall The names now; and ev'reach on her head [Had] a rich fret* of gold, which, without dread,** *band **doubt Was full of stately* riche stones set; *valuable, n.o.ble And ev'ry lady had a chapelet

Upon her head of branches fresh and green, <7> So well y-wrought, and so marvellously, That it was a right n.o.ble sight to see'n; Some of laurel, and some full pleasantly Had chapelets of woodbine; and sadly,* *sedately Some of agnus castus <8> wearen also Chapelets fresh; but there were many of tho'* *those

That danced and eke sung full soberly; And all they went *in manner of compa.s.s;* *in a circle*

But one there went, in mid the company, Sole by herself; but all follow'd the pace That she kept, whose heavenly figur'd face So pleasant was, and her well shap'd person, That in beauty she pa.s.s'd them ev'ry one.

And more richly beseen, by many fold, She was also in ev'ry manner thing: Upon her head, full pleasant to behold, A crown of golde, rich for any king; A branch of agnus castus eke bearing In her hand, and to my sight truely She Lady was of all that company.

And she began a roundell <9> l.u.s.tily, That "Suse le foyle, devers moi," men call, "Siene et mon joly coeur est endormy;" <10> And then the company answered all, With voices sweet entuned, and so small,* *fine That me thought it the sweetest melody That ever I heard in my life, soothly.* *truly

And thus they came, dancing and singing, Into the middest of the mead each one, Before the arbour where I was sitting; And, G.o.d wot, me thought I was well-begone,* *fortunate For then I might advise* them one by one, *consider Who fairest was, who best could dance or sing, Or who most womanly was in all thing.

They had not danced but a *little throw,* *short time*

When that I hearde far off, suddenly, So great a noise of thund'ring trumpets blow, As though it should departed* have the sky; *rent, divide And after that, within a while, I sigh,* *saw From the same grove, where the ladies came out, Of men of armes coming such a rout,* *company

As* all the men on earth had been a.s.sembled *as if Unto that place, well horsed for the nonce* *occasion Stirring so fast, that all the earthe trembled But for to speak of riches, and of stones, And men and horse, I trow the large ones* *i.e. jewels Of Prester John, <11> nor all his treasury, Might not unneth* have bought the tenth party** *hardly **part

Of their array: whoso list heare more, I shall rehea.r.s.e so as I can a lite.* *little Out of the grove, that I spake of before, I saw come first, all in their cloakes white, A company, that wore, for their delight, Chapelets fresh of oake cerrial, <12> Newly y-sprung; and trumpets* were they all. *trumpeters

On ev'ry trump hanging a broad bannere Of fine tartarium <13> was, full richly beat;* *embroidered with gold Every trumpet his lord's armes bare; About their necks, with greate pearles set, [Were] collars broad; for cost they would not let,* *be hindered by As it would seem, for their scutcheons each one Were set about with many a precious stone.

Their horses' harness was all white also.

And after them next, in one company, Came kinges at armes and no mo', In cloakes of white cloth with gold richly; Chaplets of green upon their heads on high; The crownes that they on their scutcheons bare Were set with pearl, and ruby, and sapphire,

And eke great diamondes many one: But all their horse harness, and other gear, Was in a suit according, ev'ry one, As ye have heard the foresaid trumpets were; And, by seeming, they *were nothing to lear,* *had nothing to learn*

And their guiding they did all mannerly.* *perfectly And after them came a great company

Of heraldes and pursuivantes eke, Arrayed in clothes of white velvet; And, hardily,* they were no thing to seek, a.s.suredly How they on them shoulde the harness set: And ev'ry man had on a chapelet; Scutcheones and eke harness, indeed, They had *in suit of* them that 'fore them yede.* *corresponding with*

*went Next after them in came, in armour bright, All save their heades, seemly knightes nine, And ev'ry clasp and nail, as to my sight, Of their harness was of red golde fine; With cloth of gold, and furred with ermine, Were the trappures* of their steedes strong, *trappings Both wide and large, that to the grounde hung.

And ev'ry boss of bridle and paytrel* *horse's breastplate That they had on, was worth, as I would ween, A thousand pound; and on their heades, well Dressed, were crownes of the laurel green, The beste made that ever I had seen; And ev'ry knight had after him riding Three henchemen* upon him awaiting. *pages

Of which ev'ry [first], on a short truncheon,* *staff His lorde's helmet bare, so richly dight,* *adorned That the worst of them was worthy the ranson* *ransom Of any king; the second a s.h.i.+elde bright Bare at his back; the thirde bare upright A mighty spear, full sharp y-ground and keen; And ev'ry childe* ware of leaves green *page

A freshe chaplet on his haires bright; And cloakes white of fine velvet they ware Their steedes trapped and arrayed right, Without difference, as their lordes' were; And after them, on many a fresh courser, There came of armed knightes such a rout,* *company, crowd That they bespread the large field about.

And all they waren, after their degrees, Chapelets newe made of laurel green, Some of the oak, and some of other trees; Some in their handes bare boughes sheen,* *bright Some of laurel, and some of oakes keen, Some of hawthorn, and some of the woodbind, And many more which I had not in mind.

And so they came, their horses fresh stirring With b.l.o.o.d.y soundes of their trumpets loud; There saw I many an *uncouth disguising* *strange manoeuvring*

In the array of these knightes proud; And at the last, as evenly as they could, They took their place in middest of the mead, And ev'ry knight turned his horse's head