The Canterbury Tales, and Other Poems Part 66

Murder is so wlatsom* and abominable *loathsome To G.o.d, that is so just and reasonable, That he will not suffer it heled* be; *concealed <14> Though it abide a year, or two, or three, Murder will out, this is my conclusioun, And right anon, the ministers of the town Have hent* the carter, and so sore him pined,** *seized **tortured And eke the hostelere so sore engined,* *racked That they beknew* their wickedness anon, *confessed And were hanged by the necke bone.

"Here may ye see that dreames be to dread.

And certes in the same book I read, Right in the nexte chapter after this (I gabbe* not, so have I joy and bliss), *talk idly Two men that would, have pa.s.sed over sea, For certain cause, into a far country, If that the wind not hadde been contrary, That made them in a city for to tarry, That stood full merry upon an haven side; But on a day, against the even-tide, The wind gan change, and blew right *as them lest.* *as they wished*

Jolly and glad they wente to their rest, And caste* them full early for to sail. *resolved But to the one man fell a great marvail That one of them, in sleeping as he lay, He mette* a wondrous dream, against the day: *dreamed He thought a man stood by his bedde's side, And him commanded that he should abide; And said him thus; 'If thou to-morrow wend, Thou shalt be drown'd; my tale is at an end.'

He woke, and told his follow what he mette, And prayed him his voyage for to let;* *delay As for that day, he pray'd him to abide.

His fellow, that lay by his bedde's side, Gan for to laugh, and scorned him full fast.

'No dream,' quoth he,'may so my heart aghast,* *frighten That I will lette* for to do my things.* *delay I sette not a straw by thy dreamings, For swevens* be but vanities and j.a.pes.** *dreams **jokes,deceits Men dream all day of owles and of apes, And eke of many a maze* therewithal; *wild imagining Men dream of thing that never was, nor shall.

But since I see, that thou wilt here abide, And thus forslothe* wilfully thy tide,** *idle away **time G.o.d wot, *it rueth me;* and have good day.' *I am sorry for it*

And thus he took his leave, and went his way.

But, ere that he had half his course sail'd, I know not why, nor what mischance it ail'd, But casually* the s.h.i.+p's bottom rent, *by accident And s.h.i.+p and man under the water went, In sight of other s.h.i.+ppes there beside That with him sailed at the same tide.

"And therefore, faire Partelote so dear, By such examples olde may'st thou lear,* *learn That no man shoulde be too reckeless Of dreames, for I say thee doubteless, That many a dream full sore is for to dread.

Lo, in the life of Saint Kenelm <15> I read, That was Kenulphus' son, the n.o.ble king Of Mercenrike, <16> how Kenelm mette a thing.

A little ere he was murder'd on a day, His murder in his vision he say.* *saw His norice* him expounded every deal** *nurse **part His sweven, and bade him to keep* him well *guard For treason; but he was but seven years old, And therefore *little tale hath he told* *he attached little Of any dream, so holy was his heart. significance to*

By G.o.d, I hadde lever than my s.h.i.+rt That ye had read his legend, as have I.

Dame Partelote, I say you truely, Macrobius, that wrote the vision In Afric' of the worthy Scipion, <17> Affirmeth dreames, and saith that they be 'Warnings of thinges that men after see.

And furthermore, I pray you looke well In the Old Testament, of Daniel, If he held dreames any vanity.

Read eke of Joseph, and there shall ye see Whether dreams be sometimes (I say not all) Warnings of thinges that shall after fall.

Look of Egypt the king, Dan Pharaoh, His baker and his buteler also, Whether they felte none effect* in dreams. *significance Whoso will seek the acts of sundry remes* *realms May read of dreames many a wondrous thing.

Lo Croesus, which that was of Lydia king, Mette he not that he sat upon a tree, Which signified he shoulde hanged be? <18> Lo here, Andromache, Hectore's wife, <19> That day that Hector shoulde lose his life, She dreamed on the same night beforn, How that the life of Hector should be lorn,* *lost If thilke day he went into battaile; She warned him, but it might not avail; He wente forth to fighte natheless, And was y-slain anon of Achilles.

But thilke tale is all too long to tell; And eke it is nigh day, I may not dwell.

Shortly I say, as for conclusion, That I shall have of this avision Adversity; and I say furthermore, That I ne *tell of laxatives no store,* *hold laxatives For they be venomous, I wot it well; of no value*

I them defy,* I love them never a del.** *distrust **whit

"But let us speak of mirth, and stint* all this; *cease Madame Partelote, so have I bliss, Of one thing G.o.d hath sent me large* grace; liberal For when I see the beauty of your face, Ye be so scarlet-hued about your eyen, I maketh all my dreade for to dien, For, all so sicker* as In principio,<20> *certain Mulier est hominis confusio.<21> Madam, the sentence* of of this Latin is, *meaning Woman is manne's joy and manne's bliss.

For when I feel at night your softe side, -- Albeit that I may not on you ride, For that our perch is made so narrow, Alas!

I am so full of joy and of solas,* *delight That I defy both sweven and eke dream."

And with that word he flew down from the beam, For it was day, and eke his hennes all; And with a chuck he gan them for to call, For he had found a corn, lay in the yard.

Royal he was, he was no more afear'd; He feather'd Partelote twenty time, And as oft trode her, ere that it was prime.

He looked as it were a grim lion, And on his toes he roamed up and down; He deigned not to set his feet to ground; He chucked, when he had a corn y-found, And to him ranne then his wives all.

Thus royal, as a prince is in his hall, Leave I this Chanticleer in his pasture; And after will I tell his aventure.

When that the month in which the world began, That highte March, when G.o.d first maked man, Was complete, and y-pa.s.sed were also, Since March ended, thirty days and two, Befell that Chanticleer in all his pride, His seven wives walking him beside, Cast up his eyen to the brighte sun, That in the sign of Taurus had y-run Twenty degrees and one, and somewhat more; He knew by kind,* and by none other lore,** *nature **learning That it was prime, and crew with blissful steven.* *voice "The sun," he said, "is clomben up in heaven Twenty degrees and one, and more y-wis.* *a.s.suredly Madame Partelote, my worlde's bliss, Hearken these blissful birdes how they sing, And see the freshe flowers how they spring; Full is mine heart of revel and solace."

But suddenly him fell a sorrowful case;* *casualty For ever the latter end of joy is woe: G.o.d wot that worldly joy is soon y-go: And, if a rhetor* coulde fair indite, *orator He in a chronicle might it safely write, As for *a sov'reign notability* *a thing supremely notable*

Now every wise man, let him hearken me; This story is all as true, I undertake, As is the book of Launcelot du Lake, That women hold in full great reverence.

Now will I turn again to my sentence.

A col-fox, <22> full of sly iniquity, That in the grove had wonned* yeares three, *dwelt By high imagination forecast, The same night thorough the hedges brast* *burst Into the yard, where Chanticleer the fair Was wont, and eke his wives, to repair; And in a bed of wortes* still he lay, *cabbages Till it was pa.s.sed undern <23> of the day, Waiting his time on Chanticleer to fall: As gladly do these homicides all, That in awaite lie to murder men.

O false murd'rer! Rouking* in thy den! *crouching, lurking O new Iscariot, new Ganilion! <24> O false dissimuler, O Greek Sinon,<25> That broughtest Troy all utterly to sorrow!

O Chanticleer! accursed be the morrow That thou into thy yard flew from the beams;* *rafters Thou wert full well y-warned by thy dreams That thilke day was perilous to thee.

But what that G.o.d forewot* must needes be, *foreknows After th' opinion of certain clerkes.

Witness on him that any perfect clerk is, That in school is great altercation In this matter, and great disputation, And hath been of an hundred thousand men.

But I ne cannot *boult it to the bren,* *examine it thoroughly <26>*

As can the holy doctor Augustine, Or Boece, or the bishop Bradwardine,<27> Whether that G.o.dde's worthy foreweeting* *foreknowledge *Straineth me needly* for to do a thing *forces me*

(Needly call I simple necessity), Or elles if free choice be granted me To do that same thing, or do it not, Though G.o.d forewot* it ere that it was wrought; *knew in advance Or if *his weeting straineth never a deal,* *his knowing constrains But by necessity conditionel. not at all*

I will not have to do of such mattere; My tale is of a c.o.c.k, as ye may hear, That took his counsel of his wife, with sorrow, To walken in the yard upon the morrow That he had mette the dream, as I you told.

Womane's counsels be full often cold;* *mischievous, unwise Womane's counsel brought us first to woe, And made Adam from Paradise to go, There as he was full merry and well at case.

But, for I n'ot* to whom I might displease *know not If I counsel of women woulde blame, Pa.s.s over, for I said it in my game.* *jest Read authors, where they treat of such mattere And what they say of women ye may hear.

These be the c.o.c.ke's wordes, and not mine; I can no harm of no woman divine.* *conjecture, imagine Fair in the sand, to bathe* her merrily, *bask Lies Partelote, and all her sisters by, Against the sun, and Chanticleer so free Sang merrier than the mermaid in the sea; For Physiologus saith sickerly,* *certainly How that they singe well and merrily. <28> And so befell that, as he cast his eye Among the wortes,* on a b.u.t.terfly, *cabbages He was ware of this fox that lay full low.

Nothing *ne list him thenne* for to crow, *he had no inclination*

But cried anon "c.o.c.k! c.o.c.k!" and up he start, As man that was affrayed in his heart.

For naturally a beast desireth flee From his contrary,* if be may it see, *enemy Though he *ne'er erst* had soon it with his eye *never before*

This Chanticleer, when he gan him espy, He would have fled, but that the fox anon Said, "Gentle Sir, alas! why will ye gon?

Be ye afraid of me that am your friend?

Now, certes, I were worse than any fiend, If I to you would harm or villainy.

I am not come your counsel to espy.

But truely the cause of my coming Was only for to hearken how ye sing; For truely ye have as merry a steven,* *voice As any angel hath that is in heaven; Therewith ye have of music more feeling, Than had Boece, or any that can sing.

My lord your father (G.o.d his soule bless) And eke your mother of her gentleness, Have in mnine house been, to my great ease:* *satisfaction And certes, Sir, full fain would I you please.

But, for men speak of singing, I will say, So may I brooke* well mine eyen tway, *enjoy, possess, or use Save you, I hearde never man so sing As did your father in the morrowning.

Certes it was of heart all that he sung.

And, for to make his voice the more strong, He would *so pain him,* that with both his eyen *make such an exertion*

He muste wink, so loud he woulde cryen, And standen on his tiptoes therewithal, And stretche forth his necke long and small.

And eke he was of such discretion, That there was no man, in no region, That him in song or wisdom mighte pa.s.s.

I have well read in Dan Burnel the a.s.s, <29> Among his verse, how that there was a c.o.c.k That, for* a prieste's son gave him a knock *because Upon his leg, while he was young and nice,* *foolish He made him for to lose his benefice.

But certain there is no comparison Betwixt the wisdom and discretion Of youre father, and his subtilty.

Now singe, Sir, for sainte charity, Let see, can ye your father counterfeit?"

This Chanticleer his wings began to beat, As man that could not his treason espy, So was he ravish'd with his flattery.

Alas! ye lordes, many a false flattour* *flatterer <30> Is in your court, and many a losengeour, * *deceiver <31> That please you well more, by my faith, Than he that soothfastness* unto you saith. *truth Read in Ecclesiast' of flattery; Beware, ye lordes, of their treachery.

This Chanticleer stood high upon his toes, Stretching his neck, and held his eyen close, And gan to crowe loude for the nonce And Dan Russel <32> the fox start up at once, And *by the gorge hente* Chanticleer, *seized by the throat*

And on his back toward the wood him bare.

For yet was there no man that him pursu'd.

O destiny, that may'st not be eschew'd!* *escaped Alas, that Chanticleer flew from the beams!

Alas, his wife raughte* nought of dreams! *regarded And on a Friday fell all this mischance.

O Venus, that art G.o.ddess of pleasance, Since that thy servant was this Chanticleer And in thy service did all his powere, More for delight, than the world to multiply, Why wilt thou suffer him on thy day to die?

O Gaufrid, deare master sovereign, <33> That, when thy worthy king Richard was slain With shot, complainedest his death so sore, Why n'had I now thy sentence and thy lore, The Friday for to chiden, as did ye?

(For on a Friday, soothly, slain was he), Then would I shew you how that I could plain* *lament For Chanticleere's dread, and for his pain.

Certes such cry nor lamentation Was ne'er of ladies made, when Ilion Was won, and Pyrrhus with his straighte sword, When he had hent* king Priam by the beard, *seized And slain him (as saith us Eneidos*),<34> *The Aeneid As maden all the hennes in the close,* *yard When they had seen of Chanticleer the sight.

But sov'reignly* Dame Partelote shright,** *above all others Full louder than did Hasdrubale's wife, **shrieked When that her husband hadde lost his life, And that the Romans had y-burnt Carthage; She was so full of torment and of rage, That wilfully into the fire she start, And burnt herselfe with a steadfast heart.

O woeful hennes! right so cried ye, As, when that Nero burned the city Of Rome, cried the senatores' wives, For that their husbands losten all their lives; Withoute guilt this Nero hath them slain.

Now will I turn unto my tale again;

The sely* widow, and her daughters two, *simple, honest Hearde these hennes cry and make woe, And at the doors out started they anon, And saw the fox toward the wood is gone, And bare upon his back the c.o.c.k away: They cried, "Out! harow! and well-away!

Aha! the fox!" and after him they ran, And eke with staves many another man Ran Coll our dog, and Talbot, and Garland; And Malkin, with her distaff in her hand Ran cow and calf, and eke the very hogges So fear'd they were for barking of the dogges, And shouting of the men and women eke.

They ranne so, them thought their hearts would break.

They yelled as the fiendes do in h.e.l.l; The duckes cried as men would them quell;* *kill, destroy The geese for feare flewen o'er the trees, Out of the hive came the swarm of bees, So hideous was the noise, ben'dicite!

Certes he, Jacke Straw,<35> and his meinie,* *followers Ne made never shoutes half so shrill When that they woulden any Fleming kill, As thilke day was made upon the fox.

Of bra.s.s they broughte beames* and of box, *trumpets <36> Of horn and bone, in which they blew and p.o.o.ped,* **tooted And therewithal they shrieked and they hooped; It seemed as the heaven shoulde fall

Now, goode men, I pray you hearken all; Lo, how Fortune turneth suddenly The hope and pride eke of her enemy.

This c.o.c.k, that lay upon the fox's back, In all his dread unto the fox he spake, And saide, "Sir, if that I were as ye, Yet would I say (as wisly* G.o.d help me), *surely 'Turn ye again, ye proude churles all; A very pestilence upon you fall.

Now am I come unto the woode's side, Maugre your head, the c.o.c.k shall here abide; I will him eat, in faith, and that anon.'"

The fox answer'd, "In faith it shall be done:"

And, as he spake the word, all suddenly The c.o.c.k brake from his mouth deliverly,* *nimbly And high upon a tree he flew anon.

And when the fox saw that the c.o.c.k was gone, "Alas!" quoth he, "O Chanticleer, alas!

I have," quoth he, "y-done to you trespa.s.s,* *offence Inasmuch as I maked you afear'd, When I you hent,* and brought out of your yard; *took But, Sir, I did it in no wick' intent; Come down, and I shall tell you what I meant.

I shall say sooth to you, G.o.d help me so."

"Nay then," quoth he, "I shrew* us both the two, *curse And first I shrew myself, both blood and bones, If thou beguile me oftener than once.