For whan degrees fiftene were ascended, Thanne crew he, that it mighte nat ben amended.1
His comb was redder than the fyn coral,
And batailed, as it were a castel-wal.
His bile3 was blak, and as the Ieet1 it
shoon;
Lyk asur were his legges, and his toon;5
His nayles whytter than the lilie flour,
And lyk the burned gold was his colour.
This gentil cok hadde in his governaunce 45
Sevene hennes, for to doon al his plesaunce,
Whiche were his sustres and his para-
mours,
And wonder lyk to him, as of colours.
Of whiche the faireste hewed on hir
throte
Was cleped faire damoysele Pertelote. 50 Curteys she was, discreet, and debonaire, And compaignable, and bar hirself so faire,
Syn thilke day that she was seven night old,
That trewely she hath the herte in hold"
Of Chauntecleer lokens in every lith;9
He loved hir so, that wel was him ther-
with.
But such a Ioye was it to here hem singe, Whan that the brighte sonne gan to springe,
In swete accord, "My lief is faren10 in londe."
For thilke tyme, as I have understonde, 60 Bestes and briddes coude speke and singe.
And so bifel, that in a daweninge,11 As Chauntecleer among his wyves alle Sat on his perche, that was in the halle, And next him sat this faire Pertelote, This Chauntecleer gan gronen in his throte, As man that in his dreem is drecched12
Allas!" quod she, "for, by that god above,
Now han ye lost myn herte and al my love;
I can nat love a coward, by my feith.
For certes, what so any womman seith,
We alle desyren, if it might be,
To han housbondes hardy, wyse, and free,17
And secree, and no nigard, ne no fool,
Ne him that is agast of every tool,18
Ne noon avauntour, 19 by that god above!
How dorste ye seyn for shame unto your
love,
Swevenes engendren of20 replecciouns,
And ofte of fume, 21 and of complecciouns,2
Whan humours been to habundant in a
wight.
105
Certes this dreem, which ye han met to-
night,
Cometh of the grete superfluitee
Of youre rede23 colera,24 pardee,
Which causeth folk to dreden in here
dremes
Of arwes,25 and of fyr with rede lemes, 26
Of grete bestes, that they wol hem byte,
Of contek,27 and of whelpes grete and lyte;
On pilgrimage, in a full good intente;
And happed so, they come into a toun,
Wher as ther was swich congregacioun
Of peple, and eek so streit 16 of herber-
gage,
169
That they ne founde as muche as o18 cotage,
018
In which they bothe mighte y-logged be.
Wherfor thay mosten, of necessitee,
As for that night, departen compaignye;
And ech of hem goth to his hostelrye,
And took his logging as it wolde falle. 175
That oon of hem was logged in a stalle,
Fer in a yerd, with oxen of the plough;
That other man was logged wel y-nough,
As was his aventure,19 or his fortune,
That us governeth alle as in commune.20
And so bifel, that, long er it were day, This man mette21 in his bed, ther-as he lay,
How that his felawe gan up-on him calle,
And seyde, 'allas! for in an oxes stalle
This night I shal be mordred ther22 I lye.
Now help me, dere brother, er I dye;
In alle haste com to me,' he sayde.
This man out of his sleep for fere abrayde;23
But whan that he was wakned of his sleep,
He turned him, and took of this no keep;2
Him thought his dreem nas but a vanitee.
Thus twyes in his sleping dremed he.
And atte thridde tyme yet his felawe
Cam, as him thoughte, and seide 'I am now
slawe;25
Bihold my blody woundes, depe and wyde!
Arys up erly in the morwe-tyde,
pay no attention to. • profit.
10 berries of the gay-tree. 12 dominus, lord.
17 lodging.
20 commonly.
23 started.
And at the west gate of the toun,' quod That thay biknewell hir wikkednesse he,
The hostiler answered hym anon,
And seyde, 'sire, your felawe is agon,
As sone as day he wente out of the toun.'
This man gan fallen in suspecioun,
Remembring on his dremes that he mette,
And forth he goth, no lenger wolde he
lette,3
Unto the west gate of the toun, and fond
A dong-carte, as it were to donge lond, 216
That was arrayed in that same wyse
As ye han herd the dede man devyse;
And with an hardy herte he gan to crye
Vengeaunce and Iustice of this felonye:
'My felawe mordred is this same night, 221
And in this carte he lyth gapinge upright.
I crye out on the ministres,' quod he,
"That sholden kepe and reulen this citee; Harrow! allas! her lyth my felawe slayn!' What sholde I more unto this tale sayn?226 The peple out-sterte, and cast the cart to grounde,
And in the middel of the dong they founde The dede man that mordred was al newe. O blisful god, that art so Iust and trewe! Lo, how that thou biwreyest5 mordre alway! Mordre wol out, that se we day by day. Mordre is so wlatsomR and abhominable To god, that is so Iust and resonable, That he ne wol nat suffre it heled' be; Though it abyde a yeer, or two, or three, Mordre wol out, this my conclusioun. And right anoon, ministres of that toun "Han hent the carter, and so sore him pyned,9
And eek the hostiler so sore engyned,10
240 ' on his back. this is.
God wot it reweth me; and have good day.'
And thus he took his leve, and wente his way.
But er that he hadde halfe his cours y-seyled,
Lo Cresus, which that was of Lyde" king, Mette he nat that he sat upon a tree, Which signified he sholde anhanged be?320 Lo heer Andromacha, Ectores wyf, That day that Ector sholde lese18 his lyf, She dremed on the same night biforn,
Noot I nat why, ne what mischaunce it How that the lyf of Ector sholde be lorn, 19 eyled,
But casuelly2 the shippes botme rente,
And ship and man under the water wente
In sighte of othere shippes it byside,
That with hem seyled at the same tyde.
And therfor, faire Pertelote so dere,
By swiche ensamples olde maistow3 lere1
That no man sholde been to recchelees
Of dremes, for I sey thee, doutelees,
That many a dreem ful sore is for to drede.
Lo, in the lyf of seint Kenelm, I rede, 290 That was Kenulphus sone, the noble king Of Mercenrike, how Kenelm mette a thing;
A lyte er he was mordred, on a day,
His mordre in his avisioun he say.8
His norice him expouned every del
His sweven, and bad him for to kepe him wel
For10 traisoun; but he nas but seven yeer old,
And therfore litel tale11 hath he told12
Of any dreem, so holy was his herte.
By god, I hadde lever13 than my sherte 300
That ye had rad his legende, as have I.
Dame Pertelote, I sey yow trewely,
Macrobeus, that writ the avisioun
In Affrike of the worthy Cipioun,
Affermeth dremes, and seith that they
been
305
Warning of thinges that men after seen.
And forther-more, I pray yow loketh wel
In the olde testament, of Daniel,
If he held dremes any vanitee.
Reed eek of Ioseph, and ther shul ye see 310 Wher14 dremes ben somtyme (I sey nat alle)
Warning of thinges that shul after falle.
Loke of Egipt the king, daun Pharao,
His bakere and his boteler also,
Wher they ne felte noon effect in dremes.
Who so wol seken actes15 of sondry remes1
16
May rede of dremes many a wonder thing.
If thilke day he wente in-to bataille;
She warned him, but it mighte nat availle;
He wente for to fighte nathelees,
But he was slayn anoon of Achilles.
But thilke tale is al to long to telle,
And eek it is ny20 day, I may nat dwelle. 330
Shortly I seye, as for conclusioun,
That I shal han of this avisioun
Adversitee; and I seye forther-more,
That I ne telle of laxatyves no store,
For they ben venimous, I woot it wel; 335
I hem defye, I love hem never a del.2
Now let us speke of mirthe, and stinte23
al this;
Madame Pertelote, so have I blis, 24
Of o thing God hath sent me large grace;25
For whan I see the beautee of your face,
e,340
Ye ben so scarlet-reed about your yën,"
It maketh al my drede for to dyen;
For, also siker27
For, also siker as In principio,
Mulier est hominis confusio;
Madame, the sentence28 of this Latin is-
Womman is mannes Ioye and al his blis;346
Leve I this Chauntecleer in his pasture;365 And after wol I telle his aventure.
That in awayt liggen18 to mordre men. 405 O false mordrer, lurking in thy den!
Whan that the month in which the O newe Scariot, newe Genilon!
"The sonne," he sayde, "is clomben up on hevene
Fourty degrees and oon, and more, y-wis.5 Madame Pertelote, my worldes blis, 380 Herkneth thise blisful briddes how they singe,
And see the fresshe floures how they springe;
Ful is myn hert of revel and solas.'
But sodeinly him fil a sorweful cas;6
For ever the latter ende of Ioye is wo.
God woot that worldly Ioye is sone ago;7
And if a rethors coude faire endyte,
He in a chronique saufly mighte it write,
As for a sovereyn notabilitee. 10
Now every wys man, lat him herkne me;
This storie is al-so trewe, I undertake, 391
As is the book of Launcelot de Lake,
That wommen holde in ful gret reverence.
Now wol I torne agayn to my sentence.
A col-fox,11 ful of sly iniquitee,
That in the grove hadde woned 12 yeres
three,
By heigh imaginacioun forn-cast,13 The same night thurgh-out the hegges14 brast15
And made Adam fro paradys to go,
Ther as he was ful mery, and wel at ese.
But for I noot, to whom it mighte displese,
If I counseil of wommen wolde blame, 441
Passe over, for I seyde it in my game."
Rede auctours, 29 wher they trete of swich
matere,
And what thay seyn of wommen ye may here.
|