Of worm or thing of which I tell no tale;
And water fowl sat lowest in the dale;
But fowls that live by seed sat on the green,
And that so fele1 that wonder was to seen.
There mightè men the royal Eagle find,
That with his sharpè look pierceth the sun,
And other eagles of a lower kind
Of which that clerkès2 well devisen con:
There was the Tyrant, with his feathers dun
And grey,-I mean the Gos-hawk, that doth pine
To birdès for his outrageous ravine.
The gentle Falcon, that with his feet distraineth3
The kingès hand; the hardy Spar-hawk eke,
The quailès foe; the Merlion, that paineth
Himself full oft the larkè for to seek :
There was the Dovè with her eyen meek;
The jealous Swan, against his death that singeth;
The Owl eke, that of death the bode-word bringeth ;
The Cranè giant, with his trompe's soun ;5
The thiefè Chough, and eke the jangling Pie;
The scorning Jay; the eelès foe, Heroun ;6
The falsè Lapwing, full of treacherie;
The Starling, that the counsel can bewrie ;7
The tamè Ruddock, and the coward Kite;
The Cock, that orloge is of thorpès lite ;9
The Sparrow, Venus' son; the Nightingale,
That clepeth10 forth the greenè leavès new;
The Swallow, murderer of the fliès small
That maken honey of flowers fresh of hue;
The wedded Turtle, with her heartè true;
The Peacock, with his angel feathers bright;
The Pheasant, scorner of the Cock by night;
The waker Goose; the Cuckoo most unkind;
The Popinjay, full of delicacy;
The Drake, destroyer of his owen kind;
The Stork, the wreaker of adultery ;
The hot Cormeraunt, full of gluttony;
The Raven wise; the Crow, with voice of care;
The Throstle old; the frosty Feldefare.
4 A species of hawk 8 Red-breast.
FROM THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE.1
Hard is his heart that loveth nought2
In May, when all this mirth is wrought;
When he may on these branches hear
The smalle birdès singen clear
Their blissful sweet song piteous.
And in this season delitous,3
When love affirmeth allè thing,
Me-thought one night, in my sleeping,
Right in my bed full readily,
That it was by the morrow early ;4
And up I rose and gan me clothe.
Anon I wesh my hondès both;
A silver needle forth I drew
Out of an aguiler3 quaint enew,
And gan this needle thread anon,—
For out of town me list to gon,
The sound of birdès for to hear
That on the buskès singen clear
In the sweet season that lefe is.
With a thread basting my sleevis,
Alone I went in my playing,
The small fowles' song hearkening,
That painèd them full many a pair
To sing on bowès blossomed fair.
Jolif and gay, full of gladness,
Toward a river gan I me dress,9
That I heard rennè fastè by.
For fairer playing none saw I
Than playen me by the rivère.
For, from an hill that stood there near,
Come down the stream full stiff and bold.
Clear was the water, and as cold
As any well is, sooth to sayn;
And somedeal less it was than Seine. ...
And with that water that ran so clear
1 The original poem, of which this was an English version, was entitled Roman de la Rose. It was begun about 1250 by Guillaume de Lorris, and finished about fifty years later by Jean de Meun, and was by far the most renowned of the great trouvère romances during the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. Recent doubts have arisen whether this translation is Chaucer's work, and the question is still being pursued.
Of worm or thing of which I tell no tale;
And water fowl sat lowest in the dale;
But fowls that live by seed sat on the green,
And that so fele1 that wonder was to seen.
There mightè men the royal Eagle find,
That with his sharpè look pierceth the sun,
And other eagles of a lower kind
Of which that clerkès2 well devisen con:
There was the Tyrant, with his feathers dun
And grey,-I mean the Gos-hawk, that doth pine
To birdès for his outrageous ravine.
The gentle Falcon, that with his feet distraineth3
The kingès hand; the hardy Spar-hawk eke,
The quailès foe; the Merlion,1 that paineth
Himself full oft the larkè for to seek :
There was the Dovè with her eyen meek;
The jealous Swan, against his death that singeth;
The Owl eke, that of death the bode-word bringeth;
The Crane giant, with his trompe's soun ;5
The thiefè Chough, and eke the jangling Pie;
The scorning Jay; the eelès foe, Heroun ;6
The falsè Lapwing, full of treacherie;
The Starling, that the counsel can bewrie ;7
The tame Ruddock, and the coward Kite;
The Cock, that orloge is of thorpès lite ;9
The Sparrow, Venus' son; the Nightingale,
That clepeth10 forth the greenè leavès new ;
The Swallow, murderer of the fliès small
That maken honey of flowers fresh of hue;
The wedded Turtle, with her heartè true;
The Peacock, with his angel feathers bright;
The Pheasant, scorner of the Cock by night;
The waker Goose; the Cuckoo most unkind;
The Popinjay, full of delicacy;
The Drake, destroyer of his owen kind;
The Stork, the wreaker of adultery;
The hot Cormeraunt, full of gluttony;
The Raven wise; the Crow, with voice of care;
The Throstle old; the frosty Feldefare.
4 A species of hawk 8 Red-breast.
FROM THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE.1
Hard is his heart that loveth nought2
In May, when all this mirth is wrought;
When he may on these branches hear
The smalle birdès singen clear
Their blissful sweet song piteous.
And in this season delitous,3
When love affirmeth allè thing,
Me-thought one night, in my sleeping,
Right in my bed full readily,
That it was by the morrow early ;1
I rose and gan me clothe.
Anon I wesh my hondès both;
A silver needle forth I drew
Out of an aguiler3 quaint enew,
And gan this needle thread anon,-
For out of town me list to gon,
The sound of birdès for to hear
That on the buskès singen clear
In the sweet season that lefe' is.
With a thread basting my sleevis,
Alone I went in my playing,
The small fowles' song hearkening,
That painèd them full many a pair
To sing on bowès blossomed fair.
Jolif and gay, full of gladness,
Toward a river gan I me dress,9
That I heard rennè fastè by.
For fairer playing none saw I
Than playen me by the rivère.
For, from an hill that stood there near,
Come down the stream full stiff and bold.
Clear was the water, and as cold
As any well is, sooth to sayn;
And somedeal less it was than Seine....
And with that water that ran so clear
1 The original poem, of which this was an English version, was entitled Roman de la Rose. It was begun about 1250 by Guillaume de Lorris, and finished about fifty years later by Jean de Meun, and was by far the most renowned of the great trouvère romances during the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. Recent doubts have arisen whether this translation is Chaucer's work, and the question is still being pursued.
My face I wesh; then saw I weel
The bottom pavèd everydeal
With gravel, full of stonès sheen.1
The meadows softè, sote,2 and green,
Beat right upon the water side;
Full clear was then the morrow-tide,
And full attemper3 out of drede.
Then gan I walken through the mead,
Downward aye in my playing
The river's sidè coösting.
And, when I had a while y-gone,
I saw a garden right anon
Full long and broad; and everydeal
Enclosed was, and wallèd weel
With highè wallès enbattailed,
Portrayed without, and well entailed
With many richè portraitures.
THE GARDEN OF NARCISSUS.
These trees were set, that I devise,
One from another in assise
Five fathom or six, I trowè so ;
But they were high and great also ;
And, for to keep out well the sun,
The croppès were so thick y-run,
And every branch in other knit,
And full of greenè leaves sit,
That sunnè might there none descend,
Lest the tender grasses shend."
There might men does and roes y-see,
And of squirrels full great plentee
From bough to bough alway leaping.
Conies there were also playing
That comen out of their clapers,8
Of sundry colours and maners,
And maden many a tourneying
Upon the freshè grass springing.
In places saw I wellès there
In which there no froggès were;
And fair in shadow was every well;
But I ne can the number tell
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