EXTRACTS FROM THE POETRY OF CHAUCER. The Prologue to the Canterbury Tales from WHANNE that April with his shoures sote The droughte of March hath perced to the rote 5 Whan Zephirus eke with his sote brethe And smale foules maken melodie, 10 So priketh hem nature in hir corages; And specially, from every shires ende 15 Of Englelond, to Canterbury they wende, The holy blisful martyr for to seke, That hem hath holpen, whan that they were seke Befelle, that, in that seson on a day, In Southwerk at the Tabard as I lay, 20 25 In felawship, and pilgrimes were they alle, And shortly, whan the sonne was gon to reste, So hadde I spoken with hem everich on, And made forword erly for to rise, To take oure way ther as I you devise. 31 But natheles, while I have time and space, 35 Or that I forther in this tale pace, Me thinketh it accordant to reson, To tellen you alle the condition Of eche of hem, so as it semed me, And whiche they weren, and of what degre; 40 And eke in what araie that they were inne: And at a knight than wol I firste beginne. THE KNIGHT. A KNIGHT ther was, and that a worthy man, 45 Trouthe and honour, fredom and curtesie. 50 At Alisandre he was whan it was wonne. Ful often time he hadde the bord begonne Aboven alle nations in Pruce. In Lettowe hadde he reysed and in Ruce, 55 In Gernade at the siege eke hadde he be Of Algesir, and ridden in Belmarie. At Leyes was he, and at Satalie, Whan they were wonne; and in the Grete see In listes thries, and ay slain his fo. 60 This ilke worthy knight hadde ben also Somtime with the lord of Palatie, 65 Agen another hethen in Turkie: And evermore he hadde a sovereine pris. And though that he was worthy he was wise, He never yet no vilanie ne sayde 70 In alle his lif, unto no manere wight. But for to tellen you of his araie, His hors was good, but he ne was not gaie. Alle besmotred with his habergeon, For he was late ycome fro his viage, And wente for to don his pilgrimage. THE SQUIER. With him ther was his sone a yonge SQUIER, A lover, and a lusty bacheler, With lockes crull as they were laide in presse. 80 85 90 Embrouded was he, as it were a mede Alle ful of fresshe floures, white and rede. Singing he was, or floyting alle the day, He was as fresshe, as is the moneth of May. Short was his goune, with sleves long and wide. Wel coude he sitte on hors, and fayre ride. He coude songes make, and wel endite, Juste and eke dance, and wel pourtraie and write. 95 |