The Canterbury Tales, and Other Poems
And full of torment and of *harde grace,* *evil fortune
That he should not him in this world delight.
Then told he him, in certain yeares’ space,
That ev’ry star should come into his place,
Where it was first; and all should *out of mind,* *perish from memory*
That in this world is done of all mankind.
Then pray’d him Scipio, to tell him all
The way to come into that Heaven’s bliss;
And he said: “First know thyself immortal,
And look aye busily that thou work and wiss* *guide affairs
To common profit, and thou shalt not miss
To come swiftly unto that place dear,
That full of bliss is, and of soules clear.* *noble <6>
“And breakers of the law, the sooth to sayn,
And likerous* folk, after that they be dead, *lecherous
Shall whirl about the world always in pain,
Till many a world be passed, *out of dread;* *without doubt*
And then, forgiven all their wicked deed,
They shalle come unto that blissful place,
To which to come God thee sende grace!”
The day gan failen, and the darke night,
That reaveth* beastes from their business, *taketh away
Berefte me my book for lack of light,
And to my bed I gan me for to dress,* *prepare
Full fill’d of thought and busy heaviness;
For both I hadde thing which that I n’old,* *would not
And eke I had not that thing that I wo’ld.
But, finally, my spirit at the last,
Forweary* of my labour all that day, *utterly wearied
Took rest, that made me to sleepe fast;
And in my sleep I mette,* as that I say, *dreamed
How Africane, right in the *self array* *same garb*
That Scipio him saw before that tide,* *time
Was come, and stood right at my bedde’s side.
The weary hunter, sleeping in his bed,
To wood again his mind goeth anon;
The judge dreameth how his pleas be sped;
The carter dreameth how his cartes go’n;
The rich of gold, the knight fights with his fone;* *foes
The sicke mette he drinketh of the tun; <7>
The lover mette he hath his lady won.
I cannot say, if that the cause were,
For* I had read of Africane beforn, *because
That made me to mette that he stood there;
But thus said he; “Thou hast thee so well borne
In looking of mine old book all to-torn,
Of which Macrobius *raught not a lite,* *recked not a little*
That *somedeal of thy labour would I quite.”* *I would reward you for
some of your labour*
Cytherea, thou blissful Lady sweet!
That with thy firebrand dauntest *when thee lest,* *when you please*
That madest me this sweven* for to mette, *dream
Be thou my help in this, for thou may’st best!
As wisly* as I saw the north-north-west, <8> *surely
When I began my sweven for to write,
So give me might to rhyme it and endite.* *write down
This foresaid Africane me hent* anon, *took
And forth with him unto a gate brought
Right of a park, walled with greene stone;
And o’er the gate, with letters large y-wrought,
There were verses written, as me thought,
On either half, of full great difference,
Of which I shall you say the plain sentence.* *meaning
“Through me men go into the blissful place <9>
Of hearte’s heal and deadly woundes’ cure;
Through me men go unto the well of grace;
Where green and lusty May shall ever dure;
This is the way to all good adventure;
Be glad, thou reader, and thy sorrow off cast;
All open am I; pass in and speed thee fast.”
“Through me men go,” thus spake the other side,
“Unto the mortal strokes of the spear,
Of which disdain and danger is the guide;
There never tree shall fruit nor leaves bear;
This stream you leadeth to the sorrowful weir,
Where as the fish in prison is all dry; <10>
Th’eschewing is the only remedy.”
These verses of gold and azure written were,
On which I gan astonish’d to behold;
For with that one increased all my fear,
And with that other gan my heart to bold;* *take courage
That one me het,* that other did me cold; *heated
No wit had I, for error,* for to choose *perplexity, confusion
To enter or fly, or me to save or lose.
Right as betwixten adamantes* two *magnets
Of even weight, a piece of iron set,
Ne hath no might to move to nor fro;
For what the one may hale,* the other let;** *attract **restrain
So far’d I, that *n’ist whether me was bet* *knew not whether it was
T’ enter or leave, till Africane, my guide, better for me*
Me hent* and shov’d in at the gates wide. *caught
And said, “It standeth written in thy face,
Thine error,* though thou tell it not to me; *perplexity, confusion
But dread thou not to come into this place;
For this writing *is nothing meant by* thee, *does not refer to*
Nor by none, but* he Love’s servant be; *unless
For thou of Love hast lost thy taste, I guess,
As sick man hath of sweet and bitterness.
“But natheless, although that thou be dull,
That thou canst not do, yet thou mayest see;
For many a man that may not stand a pull,
Yet likes it him at wrestling for to be,
And deeme* whether he doth bet,** or he; *judge **better
And, if thou haddest cunning* to endite, *skill
I shall thee showe matter *of to write.”* *to write about*
With that my hand in his he took anon,
Of which I comfort caught,* and went in fast. *took
But, Lord! so I was glad and well-begone!* *fortunate
For *over all,* where I my eyen cast, *everywhere*
Were trees y-clad with leaves that ay shall last,
Each in his kind, with colour fresh and green
As emerald, that joy it was to see’n.
The builder oak; and eke the hardy ash;
The pillar elm, the coffer unto carrain;
The box, pipe tree; the holm, to whippe’s lash
The sailing fir; the cypress death to plain;
The shooter yew; the aspe for shaftes plain;
Th’olive of peace, and eke the drunken vine;
The victor palm; the laurel, too, divine. <11>
A garden saw I, full of blossom’d boughes,
Upon a river, in a greene mead,
Where as sweetness evermore enow is,
With flowers white, blue, yellow, and red,
And colde welle* streames, nothing dead, *fountain
That swamme full of smalle fishes light,
With finnes red, and scales silver bright.
On ev’ry bough the birdes heard I sing,
With voice of angels in their harmony,
That busied them their birdes forth to bring;
The pretty conies* to their play gan hie; *rabbits **haste
And further all about I gan espy
The dreadful* roe, the buck, the hart, and hind, *timid
Squirrels, and beastes small, of gentle kind.* *nature
Of instruments of stringes in accord
Heard I so play a ravishing sweetness,
That God, that Maker is of all and Lord,
Ne hearde never better, as I guess:
Therewith a wind, unneth* it might be less, *scarcely
Made in the leaves green a noise soft,
Accordant* the fowles’ song on loft.** *in keeping with **above
Th’air of the place so attemper* was, *mild
That ne’er was there grievance* of hot nor cold; *annoyance
There was eke ev’ry wholesome spice and grass,
Nor no man may there waxe sick nor old:
Yet* was there more joy a thousand fold *moreover
Than I can tell, or ever could or might;
There ever is clear day, and never night.
Under a tree, beside a well, I sey* *saw
Cupid our lord his arrows forge and file;* *polish
And at his feet his bow all ready lay;
And well his daughter temper’d, all the while,
The heades in the well; and with her wile* *cleverness
She couch’d* them after, as they shoulde serve *arranged in order
Some for to slay, and some to wound and kerve.* *carve, cut
Then was I ware of Pleasance anon right,
And of Array, and Lust, and Courtesy,
And of the Craft, that can and hath the might
To do* by force a wight to do folly; *make
Disfigured* was she, I will not lie; *disguised
And by himself, under an oak, I guess,
Saw I Delight, that stood with Gentleness.
Then saw I Beauty, with a nice attire,
And Youthe, full of game and jollity,
Foolhardiness, Flattery, and Desire,
Messagerie, and Meed, and other three; <12>
Their names shall not here be told for me:
And upon pillars great of jasper long
I saw a temple of brass y-founded strong.
And [all] about the temple danc’d alway
Women enough, of whiche some there were
Fair of themselves, and some of them were gay
In kirtles* all dishevell’d went they there; *tunics
That was their office* ever, from year to year; *duty, occupation
And on the temple saw I, white and fair,
Of doves sitting many a thousand pair. <13>
Before the temple door, full soberly,
Dame Peace sat, a curtain in her hand;
And her beside, wonder discreetely,
Dame Patience sitting there I fand,* *found
With face pale, upon a hill of sand;
And althernext, within and eke without,
Behest,* and Art, and of their folk a rout.** *Promise **crowd
Within the temple, of sighes hot as fire
I heard a swough,* that gan aboute ren,** *murmur **run
Which sighes were engender’d with desire,
That made every hearte for to bren* *burn
Of newe flame; and well espied I then,
That all the cause of sorrows that they dree* *endure
Came of the bitter goddess Jealousy.
The God Priapus <14> saw I, as I went
Within the temple, in sov’reign place stand,
In such array, as when the ass him shent* <15> *ruined
With cry by night, and with sceptre in hand:
Full busily men gan assay and fand* *endeavour
Upon his head to set, of sundry hue,
Garlandes full of freshe flowers new.
And in a privy corner, in disport,
Found I Venus and her porter Richess,
That was full noble and hautain* of her port; *haughty <16>
Dark was that place, but afterward lightness
I saw a little, unneth* it might be less; *scarcely
And on a bed of gold she lay to rest,
Till that the hote sun began to west.* *decline towards the wesr
Her gilded haires with a golden thread
Y-bounden were, untressed,* as she lay; *loose
And naked from the breast unto the head
Men might her see; and, soothly for to say,
The remnant cover’d, welle to my pay,* *satisfaction <17>
Right with a little kerchief of Valence;<18>
There was no thicker clothe of defence.
The place gave a thousand savours swoot;* *sweet
And Bacchus, god of wine, sat her beside;
And Ceres next, that *doth of hunger boot;*<19> *relieves hunger*
And, as I said, amiddes* lay Cypride, <20> *in the midst
To whom on knees the younge folke cried
To be their help: but thus I let her lie,
And farther in the temple gan espy,
<See note 21 for the stories of the lovers in
the next two stanzas>
That, in despite of Diana the chaste,
Full many a bowe broke hung on the wall,
Of maidens, such as go their time to waste
In her service: and painted over all
Of many a story, of which I touche shall
A few, as of Calist’, and Atalant’,
And many a maid, of which the name I want.* *do not have