The Canterbury Tales and Faerie Queene; with Other Poems of Chaucer and Spenser

And at the last there then began anon
A lady for to sing right womanlý,
A bargaret,1 in praising the daisy.
For, as me thought, among her notës sweet,
She saidë: "Si douce est la margarete."2

Then allë they answered her in fere 3
So passingly well, and so pleasantly,
That it was a [most] blissful noise to hear.
But, I n'ot how, it happen'd suddenly
As about noon the sun so fervently
Wax'd hotë, that the pretty tender flow'rs
Had lost the beauty of their fresh colours,
Forshrunk with heat; the ladies eke to-
brent,

That they knew not where they might them bestow;

The knightës swelt, for lack of shade nigh shent ; 8

And after that, within a little throw,
The wind began so sturdily to blow,
That down went all the flowers ev'ry one,
So that in all the mead there left not one;
Save such as succour'd were among the leaves
From ev'ry storm that mightë them assail,
Growing under the hedges and thick greves;1
And after that there came a storm of hail
And rain in fere,3 so that withoutë fail
The ladies nor the knights had not one thread
Dry on them, so dropping was [all] their weed.11
And when the storm was passed clean away,
Those in the white, that stood under the tree,
They felt no thing of all the great affray
That they in green without had in y-be: 12
To them they went for ruth, and for pitý,
Them to comfort after their great disease;
So fain 14 they were the helpless for to ease.
Then I was ware how one of them in green
Had on a crownë, rich and well sitting; 15
Wherefore I deemed well she was a queen,
And those in green on her were awaiting. 16
The ladies then in white that were coming
Toward them, and the knightës eke in fere,
Began to comfort them, and make them cheer.
The queen in white, that was of great beauty,
Took by the hand the queen that was in green,
And saide: " Sister, I have great pitý

She was, with storm and heat, I you behight; 18 And ev'ry lady then anon aright,

▲ Bergerette, or pastoral song.

2So sweet is the daisy" ("la marguérite").

3 Together.

5 Shrivelled up.

7 Fainted.

9 Remained.

11 Clothing.

13 Trouble.

15 Becoming.

17 Injury, grief.

4 Know not.

6 Thoroughly scorched. 8 Destroyed.

18 I promise you, I assure you.

10 Groves, boughs.

12 Had been in.

14 Glad, eager.

16 In attendance.

That were in white, one of them took in green By the hand; which when that the knights had seen,

In like mannére each of them took a knight Y-clad in green, and forth with them they fare Unto a hedge, where that they anon right, To make their joustës, 19 they would not spare Boughës to hewë down, and eke trees square, Wherewith they made them stately fires great, To dry their clothes, that were wringing wet.

And after that, of herbës that there grew, They made, for blisters of 20 the sun's burning, Ointmentës very good, wholesome, and new, Wherewith they went the sick fast anointing; And after that they went about gath'ring Pleasant saládës, which they made them eat, For to refresh their great unkindly heat.

The Lady of the Leaf then gan to pray Her of the Flower (for so, to my seeming, They should be called, as by their array), To sup with her; and eke, for anything, That she should with her all her people bring; And she again in right goodly mannére Thanked her fast of her most friendly cheer;

Saying plainëly, that she would obey,
With all her heart, all her commandement :
And then anon, without longer delay,
The Lady of the Leaf hath one y-sent
To bring a palfrey, after her intent, 21
Arrayed well in fair harness of gold;
For nothing lack'd, that to him longë sho'ld.22
And, after that, to all her company

She made to purvey 23 horse and ev'rything
That they needed; and then full lustily,
Ev'n by the arbour where I was sitting,
They passed all, so merrily singing,
That it would have comfórted any wight.
But then I saw a passing wondrous sight;

For then the nightingale, that all the day
Had in the laurel sat, and did her might
The whole servíce to sing longing to May,
All suddenly began to take her flight;
And to the Lady of the Leaf forthright
She flew, and set her on her hand softly;
Which was a thing I marvell'd at greatly.

The goldfinch eke, that from the medlar tree
Was fled for heat into the bushes cold,
Unto the Lady of the Flower gan flee,

And on her hand he set him as he wo'ld,
And pleasantly his wingës gan to fold;
And for to sing they pain'd them 24 both, as sore
As they had done of all 25 the day before.

And so these ladies rode forth a great pace, 26 And all the rout of knightës eke in fere;

19 The meaning is not very obvious; but in The Knight's Tale "jousts and array" are in some editions made part of the adornment of the Temple of Venus; and as the word "jousts" would there carry the general meaning of "preparations" to entertain or please a lover, in the present case it may have a similar force. 20 Of the wounds made by. 21 According to her wish.

22 That should belong to him.

24 Made their utmost exertions. 25 During.

23 Provide.

26 Rapidly.

And I, that had seen all this wonder case,1
Thought that I would assay in some mannére
To know fully the truth of this mattére,
And what they were that rode so pleasantly;
And when they were the arbour passed by,
I dress'd me forth,2 and happ'd to meet anon
A right fair lady, I do you ensure ; 3
And she came riding by herself alone,
All in white; [then] with semblance full demure
I her salued, and bade good adventúre 5
Might her befall, as I could most humblý;
And she answer'd: "My daughter, gramercy!"
"Madame," quoth I, "if that I durst enquére
Of you, I would fain, of that company,
Wit what they be that pass'd by this herbére?"
And she again answered right friendly:
"My faire daughter, all that pass'd hereby
In white clothing, be servants ev'ry one
Unto the Leaf; and I myself am one.

"See ye not her that crowned is," quoth she, "[Clad] all in white?"-"Madame," then quoth I, "yes:"

"That is Dian', goddess of chastity;
And for because that she a maiden is,
In her hande the branch she beareth this,
That agnus castus men call properly;
And all the ladies in her company,

"Which ye see of that herbë chaplets wear,
Be such as have kept alway maidenhead:
And all they that of laurel chaplets bear,
Be such as hardy were in manly deed,-
Victorious name which never may be dead!
And all they were so worthy of their hand
In their time, that no one might them withstand.
"And those that weare chaplets on their head
Of fresh woodbind, be such as never were
To love untrue in word, in thought, nor deed,
But ay steadfást; nor for pleasánce, nor fear,
Though that they should their heartës all to-tear,
Would never flit,10 but ever were steadfast,
Till that their lives there asunder brast." 11
"Now fair Madáme," quoth I, "yet would I

9 Rend in pieces.

11 Burst, broke; till they died. 12 Gentle, courteous.

8 So valiant in fight. 10 Change, swerve.

"With right good will, my daughter fair," quoth she,

"Since your desire is good and debonair; 12
The nine crowned be very exemplair 13
Of all honour longing to chivalrý;

And those certain be call'd The Nine Worthý,14

"Which ye may see now riding all before, That in their time did many a noble deed, And for their worthiness full oft have bore The crown of laurel leaves upon their head, As ye may in your oldě bookës read; And how that he that was a conqueroúr Had by laurél alway his most honour. "And those that bearë boughës in their hand Of the precious laurel so notable, Be such as were, I will ye understand, Most noble Knightës of the Roundë Table,15 And eke the Doucëperës honourable; Which they bear in sign of victory, As witness of their deedës mightily.

"Eke there be knightës old 17 of the Gartér,
That in their timë did right worthily;
And the honour they did to the laurér 18
Is for 19 by it they have their laud wholly,
Their triumph eke, and martial glory;
Which unto them is more perfect richéss
Than any wight imagine can, or guess.

"For one leaf given of that noble tree
To any wight that hath done worthily,
An' 20 it be done so as it ought to be,
Is more honour than any thing earthly;
Witness of Rome, that founder was truly
Of alle knighthood and deeds marvellous;
Record I take of Titus Livius. 21

"And as for her that crowned is in green,
And all that here on her awaiting be'n,
It is Flora, of these flowers goddess;

It are such folk that loved idleness,

And not delighted in no business,

But for to hunt and hawk, and play in meads, And many other such-like idle deeds.

"And for the great delight and the pleasance They have to the flow'r, and so rev'rently They unto it do such obéisánce

As ye may see." "Now, fair Madáme," quoth I, "If I durst ask, what is the cause, and why, That knightës have the ensign 22 of honour Rather by the leaf than by the flow'r?"

"Soothly, daughter," quoth she, "this is the troth:

17 Chaucer speaks as if, at least for the purposes of his poetry, he believed that Edward III. did not estab lish a new, but only revived an old, chivalric institu tion, when he founded the Order of the Garter. 18 Laurel-tree; French, "laurier."

19 Because.

20 IL

21 The meaning is: "Witness the practice of Rome, that was the founder of all knighthood and marvellous deeds; and I refer for corroboration to Titus Livius"

13 The true examples. 14 The Nine Worthies, who at our day survive in the Seven Champions of Christendom. The Worthies were favourite subjects for representation at popular festi--who, in several passages, has mentioned the laurel vals or in masquerades.

15 The famous Knights of King Arthur, who, being all esteemed equal in valour and noble qualities, sat at a round table, so that none should seem to have precedence over the rest.

16 The twelve peers of Charlemagne (les douze pairs), chief among whom were Roland and Oliver.

crown as the highest military honour. For instance, in 1. vii, c. 13, Sextus Tullius, remonstrating for the army against the inaction in which it is kept, tells the Dictator Sulpicius, "Duce te vincere cupimus; tibi lauream insignem deferre; tecum triumphantes urbem inire."

22 Insignia, badge.

For knights should ever be persévering,
To seek honour, without feintise1 or sloth,
From well to better in all manner thing:
In sign of which, with leaves aye lasting
They be rewarded after their degree,
Whose lusty green may not appaired 2 be,

"But ay keeping their beauty fresh

and

green; For there is no storm that may them deface, Nor hail nor snow, nor wind nor frostës keen; Wherefore they have this property and grace: And for the flow'r, within a little space, Wolle be lost, so simple of natúre They be, that they no grievance may endure; "And ev'ry storm will blow them soon away, Nor they lastë not but for a seasón; That is the cause, the very truth to say, That they may not, by no way of reason, Be put to no such occupatión." "Madáme," quoth I, "with all my whole service I thank you now, in my most humble wise; "For now I am ascértain'd thoroughly Of ev'ry thing that I desir'd to know." "I am right glad that I have said, soothly, Aught to your pleasure, if ye will me trow,"5 Quoth she again; "but to whom do ye owe

Your service? and which wollë 3 ye honour,
Tell me, I pray, this year, the Leaf or the
Flow'r?"

"Madame," quoth I, "though I be least worthy,
Unto the Leaf I owe mine óbservánce :"
"That is,"quoth she, "right well done, certainly;
And I pray God, to honour you advance,
And keep you from the wicked remembránce
Of Malebouche," and all his cruelty;
And all that good and well-condition'd be.
"For here may I no longer now abide ;
I must follow the greate company,
That ye may see yonder before you ride."
And forthwith, as I couldë, most humbly
I took my leave of her, and she gan hie?
After them as fast as she ever might;
And I drew homeward, for it was nigh night,

And put all that I had seen in writing,
Under support 8 of them that list it read.
O little book! thou art so uncunning,
How dar'st thou put thyself in press," for dread?
It is wonder that thou waxest not red!
Since that thou know'st full lite 10 who shall
behold

Thy rude language, full boistously unfold."1
Explicit.

THE HOUSE OF FAME.

[THANKS partly to Pope's brief and elegant paraphrase, in his "Temple of Fame," and partly to the familiar force of the style and the satirical significance of the allegory, "The House of Fame" is among the best known and relished of Chaucer's minor poems. The octosyllabic measure in which it is written-the same which the author of "Hudibras" used with such admirable effect-is excellently adapted for the vivid descriptions, the lively sallies of humour and sarcasm, with which the poem abounds; and when the poet actually does get to his subject, he treats it with a zest, and a corresponding interest on the part of the reader, which are scarcely surpassed by the best of The Canterbury Tales. The poet, however, tarries long on the way to the House of Fame; as Pope says in his advertisement, the reader who would compare his with Chaucer's poem, "may begin with [Chaucer's] third Book of Fame, there being nothing in the two first books that answers to their title." The first book opens with a kind of prologue (actually so marked and called in earlier editions) in which the author speculates on the causes of dreams; avers that never any man had such a dream as he had on the tenth of December; and prays the God of Sleep to help him to interpret the dream, and the Mover of all things to reward or afflict those readers who take the dream well or ill. Then he relates that, having fallen asleep, he fancied himself within a temple of glass-the abode of Venus-the walls of which were painted with the story of Æneas. The paintings are described at length; and then the poet tells us that, coming out of the temple, he found himself on a vast sandy plain, and saw high in heaven an eagle, that began to descend towards him.

1 Dissimulation. 2 Impaired, decayed. 3 Will.
Injury, hardship.
5 Believe.

6 Slander, personified under the title of Evil-mouth
-Italian, "Malbocca ;" French, "Malebouche."
7 Haste.

8 Encouragement or patience; the phrase meanstrusting to the goodwill of my reader.

With the prologue, the first book numbers

9 Into a crowd, into the press of competitors for favour; not, it need hardly be said, "into the press" in the modern sense-printing was not invented for a century after this was written,

10 Little.

11 Unfolded, set forth, in homely and unpolished fashion.

508 lines; of which 192 only-more than are actually concerned with or directly lead towards the real subject of the poem-are given here. The second book, containing 582 lines, of which 176 will be found in this edition, is wholly devoted to the voyage from the Temple of Venus to the House of Fame, which the dreamer accomplishes in the eagle's claws. The bird has been sent by Jove to do the poet some "solace" in reward of his labours for the cause of Love; and during the transit through the air the messenger discourses obligingly and learnedly with his human burden on the theory of sound, by which all that is spoken must needs reach the House of Fame; and on other matters suggested by their errand and their observations by the way. The third book (of 1080 lines, only a score of which, just at the outset, have been omitted) brings us to the real pith of the poem. It finds the poet close to the House of Fame, built on a rock of ice engraved with names, many of which are half-melted away. Entering the gorgeous palace, he finds all manner of minstrels and historians; harpers, pipers, and trumpeters of fame; magicians, jugglers, sorcerers, and many others. On a throne of ruby sits the goddess, seeming at one moment of but a cubit's stature, at the next touching heaven; and at either hand, on pillars, stand the great authors who "bear up the name" of ancient nations. Crowds of people enter the hall from all regions of earth, praying the goddess to give them good or evil fame, with and without their own deserts; and they receive answers favourable, negative, or contrary, according to the caprice of Fame. Pursuing his researches further, out of the region of reputation or fame proper into that of tidings or rumours, the poet is led, by a man who has entered into conversation with him, to a vast whirling house of twigs, ever open to the arrival of tidings, ever full of murmurings, whisperings, and clatterings, coming from the vast crowds that fill it for every rumour, every piece of news, every false report, appears there in the shape of the person who utters it, or passes it on, down in earth. Out at the windows innumerable, the tidings pass to Fame, who gives to each report its name and duration; and in the house travellers, pilgrims, pardoners, couriers, lovers, &c., make a huge clamour. But here the poet meets with a man “of great authority,” and, half afraid, awakes; skilfully --whether by intention, fatigue, or accident-leaving the reader disappointed by the nonfulfilment of what seemed to be promises of further disclosures. The poem, not least in the passages the omission of which has been dictated by the exigencies of the present volume, is full of testimony to the vast acquaintance of Chaucer with learning ancient and modern; Ovid, Virgil, Statius, are equally at his command to illustrate his narrative or to furnish the ground-work of his descriptions; while architecture, the Arabic numeration, the theory of sound, and the effects of gunpowder, are only a few among the topics of his own time of which the poet treats with the ease of proficient knowledge. Not least interesting are the vivid touches in which (page 235) Chaucer sketches the routine of his laborious and almost recluse daily life; while the strength, individuality, and humour that mark the didactic portion of the poem prove that "The House of Fame" was one of the poet's riper productions.]

GOD turn us ev'ry dream to good!
For it is wonder thing, by the Rood,1
To my witte, what causeth swevens,
Either on morrows or on evens;
And why th' effect followeth of some,
And of some it shall never come;
Why this is an avisión

And this a revelatión;

Why this a dream, why that a sweven,

And not to ev'ry man like even ;3

Why this a phantom, why these oracles,5
I n'ot; but whoso of these miracles
The causes knoweth bet than I,
Divine he; for I certainly

Ne can them not, nor ever think
To busy my wit for to swink 8
To know of their significance
The genders, neither the distance
Of times of them, nor the causes

For why that this more than that cause is;

1 The cross; Anglo-Saxon, "rode." 2 Dreams.

4 False or fantistic imagination,

Truthful foreshadowings of the future.

3 Alike.

Or if folke's complexións

Make them dream of reflectións;
Or ellës thus, as others sayn,

For too great feebleness of the brain
By abstinence, or by sicknéss,
By prison, strife, or great distress,

Or elles by disordinance

Of natural accustomance; 9
That some men be too curious

In study, or melancholious,
Or thus, so inly full of dread,

That no man may them bootë bede; 10
Or ellës that devotión

Of some, and contemplatión,
Causeth to them such dreamës oft;
Or that the cruel life unsoft
Of them that unkind lovës lead,
That often hopë much or dread,
That purely their impressións
Cause them to have visións;

Or if that spirits have the might To make folk to dream a-night; Or if the soul, of proper kind,1 Be so perfect as men find,

That it forewot 2 what is to come, And that it warneth all and some Of ev'reach of their adventúres, By visións, or by figúres,

But that our fleshë hath no might
To understanden it aright,
For it is warned too darklý;
But why the cause is, not wot I.
Well worth of this thing greate clerks,3
That treat of this and other works;

For I of none opinión

Will as now makë mentión;
But only that the holy Rood
Turn us every dream to good.
For never since that I was born,
Nor no man ellës me beforn,
Mette, as I trowe steadfastly,
So wonderful a dream as I,

The tenthe day now of December;
The which, as I can it remember,
I will you tellen ev'ry deal.5

But at my beginning, trustë weel,6
I will make invocatión,
With speciál devotión,

Unto the god of Sleep anon,
That dwelleth in a cave of stone,7
Upon a stream that comes from Lete,
That is a flood of hell unsweet,
Beside a folk men call Cimmerie ;
There sleepeth ay this god unmerry,
With his sleepy thousand sonës,

That alway for to sleep their won is;
And to this god, that I of read,9
Pray I, that he will me speed
My sweven for to tell aright,
If ev'ry dream stands in his might.
And he that Mover is of all
That is, and was, and ever shall,
So give them joyë that it hear,
Of alle that they dream to-year;
And for to standen all in grace
Of their lovës, or in what place
That them were liefest 12 for to stand,
And shield them from povért' and shand,13
And from ev'ry unhap and disease,
And send them all that may them please,
That take it well, and scorn it not,
Nor it misdeemen 14 in their thought,

1 Of its own nature.

10 11

2 Foreknows. 3 Great scholars set much worth upon this thingthat is, devote much labour, attach much importance, to the subject of dreams. 4 Dreamed. 6 Well.

3 Every part or whit. 7 The poet briefly refers to the description of the House of Somnus, in Ovid's "Metamorphoses," 1. xi. 592, et seqq.; where the cave of Somnus is said to be prope Cimmerios," and to have a stream of Lethe's water issuing from the base of the rock :

Through malicious intentión;
And whoso, through presumptión,
Or hate, or scorn, or through envý,
Despite, or jape, 15 or villainý,16
Misdeem it, pray I Jesus God,
That dream he barefoot, dream he shod,
That ev'ry harm that any man
Hath had since that the world began,
Befall him thereof, ere he sterve,17
And grant that he may it deserve, 18
Lo! with such a conclusión

As had of his avisión

Croesus, that was the king of Lyde,19
That high upon a gibbet died;
This prayer shall he have of me;
I am no bet in charity.20

Now hearken, as I have you said,
What that I mette ere I abraid,21
Of December the tenthë day;
When it was night to sleep I lay,
Right as I was wont for to do'n,
And fell asleepë wonder soon,
As he that weary was for go
On pilgrimagë milës two
To the corsaint 23 Leonard,

To make lithe that erst was hard.
But, as I slept, me mette I was.
Within a temple made of glass;
In which there were more imáges
Of gold, standing in sundry stages,
And more richë tabernácles,
And with pierrie 24 more pinnacles,
And more curious portraitures,
And quaintë manner 25 of figúres
Of golde work, than I saw ever.
But, certainly, I wistë 26 never
Where that it was, but well wist I
It was of Venus readily,

This temple; for in portraiture
I saw anon right her figúre
Naked floating in a sea,27
And also on her head, pardie,
Her rose garland white and red,
And her comb to comb her head,
Her doves, and Dan Cupido,
Her blinde son, and Vulcano, 2
That in his face was full brown.

233

As he "roamed up and down," the dreamer saw on the wall a tablet of brass inscribed with the opening lines of the Eneid; while the whole story of Eneas was told in the "portraitures 17 Die. 18 Earn, obtain. 19 See the account of his vision in The Monk's Tale, page 163.

20 No better in charity-no more charitable. 21 Awoke.

22 Was weary through having gone. The meaning of the allusion is not clear; but the story of the pilgrims and the peas is perhaps suggested by the third line following" to make lithe [soft] what erst was hard." St Leonard was the patron of captives.

23 The corpus sanctum"-the holy body, or relics, preserved in the shrine.

24 Gems, precious stones.

25 Strange kinds.

26 Knew.

27 So, in the Temple of Venus described in The Knight's Tale, the Goddess is represented as "naked floating in the large sea" (page 36).

28 Vulcan, the husband of Venus.

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