Canterbury Tales and Other Poems by Geoffrey Chaucer (always you kirsty moseley .txt) 📖

them list to go.

But then was that a parcel* of her woe, part For to herself full oft, “Alas!” said she, Is there no ship, of so many as I see, Will bringe home my lord? then were my heart All warish’d of this bitter paine’s smart.” *cured <6>

Another time would she sit and think,

And cast her eyen downward from the brink; But when she saw the grisly rockes blake, black For very fear so would her hearte quake, That on her feet she might her not sustene sustain Then would she sit adown upon the green, And piteously *into the sea behold, look out on the sea*

And say right thus, with careful sikes cold: painful sighs

“Eternal God! that through thy purveyance Leadest this world by certain governance, In idle, as men say, ye nothing make; idly, in vain

But, Lord, these grisly fiendly rockes blake, That seem rather a foul confusion

Of work, than any fair creation

Of such a perfect wise God and stable, Why have ye wrought this work unreasonable?

For by this work, north, south, or west, or east, There is not foster’d man, nor bird, nor beast: It doth no good, to my wit, but *annoyeth. works mischief* <7>

See ye not, Lord, how mankind it destroyeth?

A hundred thousand bodies of mankind

Have rockes slain, *all be they not in mind; though they are Which mankind is so fair part of thy work, forgotten*

Thou madest it like to thine owen mark. image Then seemed it ye had a great cherte love, affection Toward mankind; but how then may it be That ye such meanes make it to destroy?

Which meanes do no good, but ever annoy.

I wot well, clerkes will say as them lest, please By arguments, that all is for the best, Although I can the causes not y-know;

But thilke* God that made the wind to blow, *that As keep my lord, this is my conclusion: To clerks leave I all disputation:

But would to God that all these rockes blake Were sunken into helle for his sake

These rockes slay mine hearte for the fear.”

Thus would she say, with many a piteous tear.

 

Her friendes saw that it was no disport To roame by the sea, but discomfort,

And shope* them for to playe somewhere else. *arranged They leade her by rivers and by wells, And eke in other places delectables;

They dancen, and they play at chess and tables. backgammon So on a day, right in the morning-tide, Unto a garden that was there beside,

In which that they had made their ordinance provision, arrangement Of victual, and of other purveyance,

They go and play them all the longe day: And this was on the sixth morrow of May, Which May had painted with his softe showers This garden full of leaves and of flowers: And craft of manne’s hand so curiously Arrayed had this garden truely,

That never was there garden of such price, value, praise But if it were the very Paradise. unless

Th’odour of flowers, and the freshe sight, Would have maked any hearte light

That e’er was born, but if too great sickness unless

Or too great sorrow held it in distress; So full it was of beauty and pleasance.

And after dinner they began to dance

And sing also, save Dorigen alone

Who made alway her complaint and her moan, For she saw not him on the dance go

That was her husband, and her love also; But natheless she must a time abide

And with good hope let her sorrow slide.

 

Upon this dance, amonge other men,

Danced a squier before Dorigen

That fresher was, and jollier of array As to my doom, than is the month of May. in my judgment

He sang and danced, passing any man,

That is or was since that the world began; Therewith he was, if men should him descrive, One of the beste faring men alive, most accomplished

Young, strong, and virtuous, and rich, and wise, And well beloved, and holden in great price. esteem, value And, shortly if the sooth I telle shall, *Unweeting of* this Dorigen at all, unknown to

This lusty squier, servant to Venus,

Which that y-called was Aurelius,

Had lov’d her best of any creature

Two year and more, as was his aventure; fortune But never durst he tell her his grievance; Withoute cup he drank all his penance.

He was despaired, nothing durst he say, Save in his songes somewhat would he wray betray His woe, as in a general complaining;

He said, he lov’d, and was belov’d nothing.

Of suche matter made he many lays,

Songes, complaintes, roundels, virelays <8>

How that he durste not his sorrow tell, But languished, as doth a Fury in hell; And die he must, he said, as did Echo

For Narcissus, that durst not tell her woe.

In other manner than ye hear me say,

He durste not to her his woe bewray,

Save that paraventure sometimes at dances, Where younge folke keep their observances, It may well be he looked on her face

In such a wise, as man that asketh grace, But nothing wiste she of his intent.

Nath’less it happen’d, ere they thennes* went, thence (from the Because that he was her neighebour, garden)

And was a man of worship and honour,

And she had knowen him *of time yore, for a long time*

They fell in speech, and forth aye more and more Unto his purpose drew Aurelius;

And when he saw his time, he saide thus: Madam,” quoth he, “by God that this world made, So that I wist it might your hearte glade, gladden I would, that day that your Arviragus

Went over sea, that I, Aurelius,

Had gone where I should never come again; For well I wot my service is in vain.

My guerdon* is but bursting of mine heart. *reward Madame, rue upon my paine’s smart,

For with a word ye may me slay or save.

Here at your feet God would that I were grave.

I have now no leisure more to say:

Have mercy, sweet, or you will *do me dey.” cause me to die*

 

She gan to look upon Aurelius;

“Is this your will,” quoth she, “and say ye thus?

Ne’er erst,” quoth she, “I wiste what ye meant: before But now, Aurelius, I know your intent.

By thilke* God that gave me soul and life, *that Never shall I be an untrue wife

In word nor work, as far as I have wit; I will be his to whom that I am knit;

Take this for final answer as of me.”

But after that *in play* thus saide she. playfully, in jest

“Aurelius,” quoth she, “by high God above, Yet will I grante you to be your love

(Since I you see so piteously complain); Looke, what day that endelong* Bretagne from end to end of Ye remove all the rockes, stone by stone, That they not lette ship nor boat to gon, *prevent I say, when ye have made this coast so clean Of rockes, that there is no stone seen, Then will I love you best of any man;

Have here my troth, in all that ever I can; For well I wot that it shall ne’er betide.

Let such folly out of your hearte glide.

What dainty* should a man have in his life *value, pleasure For to go love another manne’s wife,

That hath her body when that ever him liketh?”

Aurelius full often sore siketh; sigheth Is there none other grace in you?” quoth he, “No, by that Lord,” quoth she, “that maked me.

Woe was Aurelius when that he this heard, And with a sorrowful heart he thus answer’d.

“Madame, quoth he, “this were an impossible.

Then must I die of sudden death horrible.”

And with that word he turned him anon.

 

Then came her other friends many a one, And in the alleys roamed up and down,

And nothing wist of this conclusion,

But suddenly began to revel new,

Till that the brighte sun had lost his hue, For th’ horizon had reft the sun his light (This is as much to say as it was night); And home they go in mirth and in solace; Save only wretch’d Aurelius, alas

He to his house is gone with sorrowful heart.

He said, he may not from his death astart. escape Him seemed, that he felt his hearte cold.

Up to the heav’n his handes gan he hold, And on his knees bare he set him down.

And in his raving said his orisoun. prayer For very woe out of his wit he braid; wandered He wist not what he spake, but thus he said; With piteous heart his plaint hath he begun Unto the gods, and first unto the Sun.

He said; “Apollo God and governour

Of every plante, herbe, tree, and flower, That giv’st, after thy declination,

To each of them his time and his season, As thine herberow* changeth low and high; *dwelling, situation Lord Phoebus: cast thy merciable eye

On wretched Aurelius, which that am but lorn. undone Lo, lord, my lady hath my death y-sworn, Withoute guilt, but* thy benignity *unless Upon my deadly heart have some pity.

For well I wot, Lord Phoebus, if you lest, please Ye may me helpe, save my lady, best.

Now vouchsafe, that I may you devise tell, explain How that I may be holp,* and in what wise. *helped Your blissful sister, Lucina the sheen, <9>

That of the sea is chief goddess and queen, —

Though Neptunus have deity in the sea, Yet emperess above him is she; —

Ye know well, lord, that, right as her desire Is to be quick’d* and lighted of your fire, *quickened For which she followeth you full busily, Right so the sea desireth naturally

To follow her, as she that is goddess

Both in the sea and rivers more and less.

Wherefore, Lord Phoebus, this is my request, Do this miracle, or *do mine hearte brest; cause my heart That flow, next at this opposition, to burst*

Which in the sign shall be of the Lion, As praye her so great a flood to bring, That five fathom at least it overspring The highest rock in Armoric Bretagne,

And let this flood endure yeares twain: Then certes to my lady may I say,

“Holde your hest,” the rockes be away.

Lord Phoebus, this miracle do for me,

Pray her she go no faster course than ye; I say this, pray your sister that she go No faster course than ye these yeares two: Then shall she be even at full alway,

And spring-flood laste bothe night and day.

And but she vouchesafe in such mannere if she do not

To grante me my sov’reign lady dear,

Pray her to sink every rock adown

Into her owen darke regioun

Under the ground, where Pluto dwelleth in Or nevermore shall I my lady win.

Thy temple in Delphos will I barefoot seek.

Lord Phoebus! see the teares on my cheek And on my pain have some compassioun.”

And with that word in sorrow he fell down, And longe time he lay forth in a trance.

His brother, which that knew of his penance, distress Up caught him, and to bed he hath him brought, Despaired in this torment and this thought Let I this woeful creature lie;

Choose he for me whe’er* he will live or die. *whether Arviragus with health and great honour (As he that was of chivalry the flow’r) Is come home, and other