The Canterbury Tales, and Other Poems
A wight may speak, it were as good be still.
“I am a seed-fowl, one th’unworthiest,
That know I well, and the least of cunning;
But better is, that a wight’s tongue rest,
Than *entremette him of* such doing *meddle with* <41>
Of which he neither rede* can nor sing; *counsel
And who it doth, full foul himself accloyeth,* *embarrasseth
For office uncommanded oft annoyeth.”
Nature, which that alway had an ear
To murmur of the lewedness behind,
With facond* voice said, “Hold your tongues there, *eloquent, fluent
And I shall soon, I hope, a counsel find,
You to deliver, and from this noise unbind;
I charge of ev’ry flock* ye shall one call, *class of fowl
To say the verdict of you fowles all.”
The tercelet* said then in this mannere; *male hawk
“Full hard it were to prove it by reason,
Who loveth best this gentle formel here;
For ev’reach hath such replication,* *reply
That by skilles* may none be brought adown; *arguments
I cannot see that arguments avail;
Then seemeth it that there must be battaile.”
“All ready!” quoth those eagle tercels tho;* *then
“Nay, Sirs!” quoth he; “if that I durst it say,
Ye do me wrong, my tale is not y-do,* *done
For, Sirs, — and *take it not agrief,* I pray, — *be not offended*
It may not be as ye would, in this way:
Ours is the voice that have the charge in hand,
And *to the judges’ doom ye muste stand.* *ye must abide by the
judges’ decision*
“And therefore ‘Peace!’ I say; as to my wit,
Me woulde think, how that the worthiest
Of knighthood, and had longest used it,
Most of estate, of blood the gentilest,
Were fitting most for her, *if that her lest;* *if she pleased*
And, of these three she knows herself, I trow,* *am sure
Which that he be; for it is light* to know.” *easy
The water-fowles have their heades laid
Together, and *of short advisement,* *after brief deliberation*
When evereach his verdict had y-said
They saide soothly all by one assent,
How that “The goose with the *facond gent,* *refined eloquence*
That so desired to pronounce our need,* business
Shall tell our tale;” and prayed God her speed.
And for those water-fowles then began
The goose to speak. and in her cackeling
She saide, “Peace, now! take keep* ev’ry man, *heed
And hearken what reason I shall forth bring;
My wit is sharp, I love no tarrying;
I say I rede him, though he were my brother,
But* she will love him, let him love another!” *unless
“Lo! here a perfect reason of a goose!”
Quoth the sperhawke. “Never may she the!* *thrive
Lo such a thing ’tis t’have a tongue loose!
Now, pardie: fool, yet were it bet* for thee *better
Have held thy peace, than show’d thy nicety;* *foolishness
It lies not in his wit, nor in his will,
But sooth is said, a fool cannot be still.”
The laughter rose of gentle fowles all;
And right anon the seed-fowls chosen had
The turtle true, and gan her to them call,
And prayed her to say the *soothe sad* *serious truth*
Of this mattere, and asked what she rad;* *counselled
And she answer’d, that plainly her intent
She woulde show, and soothly what she meant.
“Nay! God forbid a lover shoulde change!”
The turtle said, and wax’d for shame all red:
“Though that his lady evermore be strange,* *disdainful
Yet let him serve her ay, till he be dead;
For, sooth, I praise not the goose’s rede* *counsel
For, though she died, I would none other make;* *mate
I will be hers till that the death me take.”
*“Well bourded!”* quoth the ducke, “by my hat! *a pretty joke!*
That men should loven alway causeless,
Who can a reason find, or wit, in that?
Danceth he merry, that is mirtheless?
Who shoulde *reck of that is reckeless?* *care for one who has
Yea! queke yet,” quoth the duck, “full well and fair! no care for him*
There be more starres, God wot, than a pair!” <42>
“Now fy, churl!” quoth the gentle tercelet,
“Out of the dunghill came that word aright;
Thou canst not see which thing is well beset;
Thou far’st by love, as owles do by light,—
The day them blinds, full well they see by night;
Thy kind is of so low a wretchedness,
That what love is, thou caust not see nor guess.”
Then gan the cuckoo put him forth in press,* *in the crowd
For fowl that eateth worm, and said belive:* *quickly
“So I,” quoth he, “may have my mate in peace,
I recke not how longe that they strive.
Let each of them be solain* all their life; *single <43>
This is my rede,* since they may not accord; *counsel
This shorte lesson needeth not record.”
“Yea, have the glutton fill’d enough his paunch,
Then are we well!” saide the emerlon;* *merlin
“Thou murd’rer of the heggsugg,* on the branch *hedge-sparrow
That brought thee forth, thou most rueful glutton, <44>
Live thou solain, worme’s corruption!
*For no force is to lack of thy nature;* *the loss of a bird of your
Go! lewed be thou, while the world may dare!” depraved nature is no
matter of regret.*
“Now peace,” quoth Nature, “I commande here;
For I have heard all your opinion,
And in effect yet be we ne’er the nere.* *nearer
But, finally, this is my conclusion, —
That she herself shall have her election
Of whom her list, whoso be *wroth or blith;* *angry or glad*
Him that she chooseth, he shall her have as swith.* *quickly
“For since it may not here discussed be
Who loves her best, as said the tercelet,
Then will I do this favour t’ her, that she
Shall have right him on whom her heart is set,
And he her, that his heart hath on her knit:
This judge I, Nature, for* I may not lie *because
To none estate; I *have none other eye.* *can see the matter in
no other light*
“But as for counsel for to choose a make,
If I were Reason, [certes] then would I
Counsaile you the royal tercel take,
As saith the tercelet full skilfully,* *reasonably
As for the gentilest, and most worthy,
Which I have wrought so well to my pleasance,
That to you it ought be *a suffisance.”* *to your satisfaction*
With dreadful* voice the formel her answer’d: *frightened
“My rightful lady, goddess of Nature,
Sooth is, that I am ever under your yerd,* *rod, or government
As is every other creature,
And must be yours, while that my life may dure;
And therefore grante me my firste boon,* *favour
And mine intent you will I say right soon.”
“I grant it you,” said she; and right anon
This formel eagle spake in this degree:* *manner
“Almighty queen, until this year be done
I aske respite to advise me;
And after that to have my choice all free;
This is all and some that I would speak and say;
Ye get no more, although ye *do me dey.* *slay me*
“I will not serve Venus, nor Cupide,
For sooth as yet, by no manner [of] way.”
“Now since it may none other ways betide,”* *happen
Quoth Dame Nature, “there is no more to say;
Then would I that these fowles were away,
Each with his mate, for longer tarrying here.”
And said them thus, as ye shall after hear.
“To you speak I, ye tercels,” quoth Nature;
“Be of good heart, and serve her alle three;
A year is not so longe to endure;
And each of you *pain him* in his degree *strive*
For to do well, for, God wot, quit is she
From you this year, what after so befall;
This *entremess is dressed* for you all.” *dish is prepared*
And when this work y-brought was to an end,
To ev’ry fowle Nature gave his make,
By *even accord,* and on their way they wend: *fair agreement*
And, Lord! the bliss and joye that they make!
For each of them gan other in his wings take,
And with their neckes each gan other wind,* *enfold, caress
Thanking alway the noble goddess of Kind.
But first were chosen fowles for to sing,—
As year by year was alway their usance,* — *custom
To sing a roundel at their departing,
To do to Nature honour and pleasance;
The note, I trowe, maked was in France;
The wordes were such as ye may here find
The nexte verse, as I have now in mind:
Qui bien aime, tard oublie. <45>
“Now welcome summer, with thy sunnes soft,
That hast these winter weathers overshake * *dispersed, overcome
Saint Valentine, thou art full high on loft,
Which driv’st away the longe nightes blake;* *black
Thus singe smalle fowles for thy sake:
Well have they cause for to gladden* oft, *be glad, make mirth
Since each of them recover’d hath his make;* *mate
Full blissful may they sing when they awake.”
And with the shouting, when their song was do,* *done
That the fowls maden at their flight away,
I woke, and other bookes took me to,
To read upon; and yet I read alway.
I hope, y-wis, to reade so some day,
That I shall meete something for to fare
The bet;* and thus to read I will not spare. *better
Explicit.* *the end
Notes to The Assembly of Fowls
1. “The Dream of Scipio” — “Somnium Scipionis” — occupies
most of the sixth book of Cicero’s “Republic;” which, indeed, as
it has come down to us, is otherwise imperfect. Scipio
Africanus Minor is represented as relating a dream which he had
when, in B.C. 149, he went to Africa as military tribune to the
fourth legion. He had talked long and earnestly of his adoptive
grandfather with Massinissa, King of Numidia, the intimate
friend of the great Scipio; and at night his illustrious ancestor
appeared to him in a vision, foretold the overthrow of Carthage
and all his other triumphs, exhorted him to virtue and patriotism
by the assurance of rewards in the next world, and discoursed
to him concerning the future state and the immortality of the
soul. Macrobius, about AD. 500, wrote a Commentary upon the
“Somnium Scipionis,” which was a favourite book in the Middle
Ages. See note 17 to The Nun’s Priest’s Tale.
2. Y-nome: taken; past participle of “nime,” from Anglo-Saxon,
“niman,” to take.
3. His grace: the favour which the gods would show him, in
delivering Carthage into his hands.
4. “Vestra vero, quae dicitur, vita mors est.” (“Truly, as is said,
your life is a death”)
5. The nine spheres are God, or the highest heaven, constraining
and containing all the others; the Earth, around which the
planets and the highest heaven revolve; and the seven planets:
the revolution of all producing the “music of the spheres.”
6. Clear: illustrious, noble; Latin, “clarus.”
7. The sicke mette he drinketh of the tun: The sick man dreams
that he drinks wine, as one in health.
8. The significance of the poet’s looking to the NNW is not
plain; his window may have faced that way.
9. The idea of the twin gates, leading to the Paradise and the
Hell of lovers, may have been taken from the description of the
gates of dreams in the Odyssey and the Aeneid; but the iteration
of “Through me men go” far more directly suggests the legend
on Dante’s gate of Hell:—