He slew the cruel tyrant Busirus. And made his horse to fret* him flesh and bone; *devour He slew the fiery serpent venomous; Of Achelous' two hornes brake he one. And he slew Cacus in a cave of stone; He slew the giant Antaeus the strong; He slew the grisly boar, and that anon; And bare the heav'n upon his necke long.

Was never wight, since that the world began, That slew so many monsters as did he; Throughout the wide world his name ran, What for his strength, and for his high bounte; And every realme went he for to see; He was so strong that no man might him let;* *withstand At both the worlde's ends, as saith Trophee, Instead of boundes he a pillar set.

A leman had this noble champion, That highte Dejanira, fresh as May; And, as these clerkes make mention, She hath him sent a shirte fresh and gay; Alas! this shirt, alas and well-away! Envenomed was subtilly withal, That ere that he had worn it half a day, It made his flesh all from his bones fall.

But natheless some clerkes her excuse By one, that highte Nessus, that it maked; Be as he may, I will not her accuse; But on his back this shirt he wore all naked, Till that his flesh was for the venom blaked.* *blackened And when he saw none other remedy, In hote coals he hath himselfe raked, For with no venom deigned he to die.

Thus sterf* this worthy mighty Hercules. *died Lo, who may trust on Fortune *any throw?* *for a moment* For him that followeth all this world of pres,* *near Ere he be ware, is often laid full low; Full wise is he that can himselfe know. Beware, for when that Fortune list to glose Then waiteth she her man to overthrow, By such a way as he would least suppose.

The mighty throne, the precious treasor, The glorious sceptre, and royal majesty, That had the king NABUCHODONOSOR With tongue unnethes* may described be. *scarcely He twice won Jerusalem the city, The vessels of the temple he with him lad;* *took away At Babylone was his sov'reign see,* *seat In which his glory and delight he had.

The fairest children of the blood royal Of Israel he *did do geld* anon, *caused to be castrated* And maked each of them to be his thrall.* *slave Amonges others Daniel was one, That was the wisest child of every one; For he the dreames of the king expounded, Where in Chaldaea clerkes was there none That wiste to what fine* his dreames sounded. *end

This proude king let make a statue of gold Sixty cubites long, and seven in bread', To which image hathe young and old Commanded he to lout,* and have in dread, *bow down to Or in a furnace, full of flames red, He should be burnt that woulde not obey: But never would assente to that deed Daniel, nor his younge fellows tway.

This king of kinges proud was and elate;* *lofty He ween'd* that God, that sits in majesty, *thought Mighte him not bereave of his estate; But suddenly he lost his dignity, And like a beast he seemed for to be, And ate hay as an ox, and lay thereout In rain, with wilde beastes walked he, Till certain time was y-come about.

And like an eagle's feathers wax'd his hairs, His nailes like a birde's clawes were, Till God released him at certain years, And gave him wit; and then with many a tear He thanked God, and ever his life in fear Was he to do amiss, or more trespace: And till that time he laid was on his bier, He knew that God was full of might and grace.

His sone, which that highte BALTHASAR, That *held the regne* after his father's day, *possessed the kingdom* He by his father coulde not beware, For proud he was of heart and of array; And eke an idolaster was he aye. His high estate assured* him in pride; *confirmed But Fortune cast him down, and there he lay, And suddenly his regne gan divide.

A feast he made unto his lordes all Upon a time, and made them blithe be, And then his officeres gan he call; "Go, bringe forth the vessels," saide he, "Which that my father in his prosperity Out of the temple of Jerusalem reft, And to our highe goddes thanks we Of honour, that our elders* with us left." *forefathers

His wife, his lordes, and his concubines Aye dranke, while their appetites did last, Out of these noble vessels sundry wines. And on a wall this king his eyen cast, And saw an hand, armless, that wrote full fast; For fear of which he quaked, and sighed sore. This hand, that Balthasar so sore aghast,* *dismayed Wrote Mane, tekel, phares, and no more.

In all that land magician was there none That could expounde what this letter meant. But Daniel expounded it anon, And said, "O King, God to thy father lent Glory and honour, regne, treasure, rent;* *revenue And he was proud, and nothing God he drad;* *dreaded And therefore God great wreche* upon him sent, *vengeance And him bereft the regne that he had.

"He was cast out of manne's company; With asses was his habitation And ate hay, as a beast, in wet and dry, Till that he knew by grace and by reason That God of heaven hath domination O'er every regne, and every creature; And then had God of him compassion, And him restor'd his regne and his figure.

"Eke thou, that art his son, art proud also, And knowest all these thinges verily; And art rebel to God, and art his foe. Thou drankest of his vessels boldely; Thy wife eke, and thy wenches, sinfully Drank of the same vessels sundry wines, And heried* false goddes cursedly; *praised Therefore *to thee y-shapen full great pine is.* *great punishment is prepared for thee* "This hand was sent from God, that on the wall Wrote Mane, tekel, phares, truste me; Thy reign is done; thou weighest naught at all; Divided is thy regne, and it shall be To Medes and to Persians giv'n," quoth he. And thilke same night this king was slaw* *slain And Darius occupied his degree, Though he thereto had neither right nor law.

Lordings, example hereby may ye take, How that in lordship is no sickerness;* *security For when that Fortune will a man forsake, She bears away his regne and his richess, And eke his friendes bothe more and less, For what man that hath friendes through fortune, Mishap will make them enemies, I guess; This proverb is full sooth, and full commune.

ZENOBIA, of Palmyrie the queen, As write Persians of her nobless, So worthy was in armes, and so keen, That no wight passed her in hardiness, Nor in lineage, nor other gentleness.* *noble qualities Of the king's blood of Perse* is she descended; *Persia I say not that she hadde most fairness, But of her shape she might not he amended.

From her childhood I finde that she fled Office of woman, and to woods she went, And many a wilde harte's blood she shed With arrows broad that she against them sent; She was so swift, that she anon them hent.* *caught And when that she was older, she would kill Lions, leopards, and beares all to-rent,* *torn to pieces And in her armes wield them at her will.

She durst the wilde beastes' dennes seek, And runnen in the mountains all the night, And sleep under a bush; and she could eke Wrestle by very force and very might With any young man, were he ne'er so wight;* *active, nimble There mighte nothing in her armes stond. She kept her maidenhood from every wight, To no man deigned she for to be bond.

But at the last her friendes have her married To Odenate, a prince of that country; All were it so, that she them longe tarried. And ye shall understande how that he Hadde such fantasies as hadde she; But natheless, when they were knit in fere,* *together They liv'd in joy, and in felicity, For each of them had other lefe* and dear. *loved

Save one thing, that she never would assent, By no way, that he shoulde by her lie But ones, for it was her plain intent To have a child, the world to multiply; And all so soon as that she might espy That she was not with childe by that deed, Then would she suffer him do his fantasy Eftsoon,* and not but ones, *out of dread.* *again *without doubt*

And if she were with child at thilke* cast, *that No more should he playe thilke game Till fully forty dayes were past; Then would she once suffer him do the same. All* were this Odenatus wild or tame, *whether He got no more of her; for thus she said, It was to wives lechery and shame In other case* if that men with them play'd. on other terms

Two sones, by this Odenate had she, The which she kept in virtue and lettrure.* *learning But now unto our tale turne we; I say, so worshipful a creature, And wise therewith, and large* with measure,** *bountiful **moderation So penible* in the war, and courteous eke, *laborious Nor more labour might in war endure, Was none, though all this worlde men should seek.

Her rich array it mighte not be told, As well in vessel as in her clothing: She was all clad in pierrie* and in gold, *jewellery And eke she *lefte not,* for no hunting, *did not neglect* To have of sundry tongues full knowing, When that she leisure had, and for t'intend* *apply To learne bookes was all her liking, How she in virtue might her life dispend.

And, shortly of this story for to treat, So doughty was her husband and eke she, That they conquered many regnes great In th'Orient, with many a fair city Appertinent unto the majesty Of Rome, and with strong hande held them fast, Nor ever might their foemen do* them flee, *make Aye while that Odenatus' dayes last'.

Her battles, whoso list them for to read, Against Sapor the king, and other mo', And how that all this process fell in deed, Why she conquer'd, and what title thereto, And after of her mischief* and her woe, *misfortune How that she was besieged and y-take, Let him unto my master Petrarch go, That writes enough of this, I undertake.

When Odenate was dead, she mightily The regne held, and with her proper hand Against her foes she fought so cruelly, That there n'as* king nor prince in all that land, *was not That was not glad, if be that grace fand That she would not upon his land warray;* *make war With her they maden alliance by bond, To be in peace, and let her ride and play.

The emperor of Rome, Claudius, Nor, him before, the Roman Gallien, Durste never be so courageous, Nor no Armenian, nor Egyptien, Nor Syrian, nor no Arabien, Within the fielde durste with her fight, Lest that she would them with her handes slen,* *slay Or with her meinie* putte them to flight. *troops

In kinges' habit went her sones two, As heires of their father's regnes all; And Heremanno and Timolao Their names were, as Persians them call But aye Fortune hath in her honey gall; This mighty queene may no while endure; Fortune out of her regne made her fall To wretchedness and to misadventure.

Aurelian, when that the governance Of Rome came into his handes tway, He shope* upon this queen to do vengeance; *prepared And with his legions he took his way Toward Zenobie, and, shortly for to say, He made her flee, and at the last her hent,* *took And fetter'd her, and eke her children tway, And won the land, and home to Rome he went.

Amonges other thinges that he wan, Her car, that was with gold wrought and pierrie,* *jewels This greate Roman, this Aurelian Hath with him led, for that men should it see. Before in his triumphe walked she With gilte chains upon her neck hanging; Crowned she was, as after* her degree, *according to And full of pierrie her clothing.

Alas, Fortune! she that whilom was Dreadful to kinges and to emperours, Now galeth* all the people on her, alas! *yelleth And she that *helmed was in starke stowres,* *wore a helmet in And won by force townes strong and tow'rs, obstinate battles* Shall on her head now wear a vitremite; And she that bare the sceptre full of flow'rs Shall bear a distaff, *her cost for to quite.* * to make her living*

Although that NERO were so vicious As any fiend that lies full low adown, Yet he, as telleth us Suetonius, This wide world had in subjectioun, Both East and West, South and Septentrioun. Of rubies, sapphires, and of pearles white Were all his clothes embroider'd up and down, For he in gemmes greatly gan delight.

More delicate, more pompous of array, More proud, was never emperor than he; That *ilke cloth* that he had worn one day, *same robe* After that time he would it never see; Nettes of gold thread had he great plenty, To fish in Tiber, when him list to play; His lustes* were as law, in his degree, *pleasures For Fortune as his friend would him obey.

He Rome burnt for his delicacy;* *pleasure The senators he slew upon a day, To heare how that men would weep and cry; And slew his brother, and by his sister lay. His mother made he in piteous array; For he her wombe slitte, to behold Where he conceived was; so well-away! That he so little of his mother told.* *valued

No tear out of his eyen for that sight Came; but he said, a fair woman was she. Great wonder is, how that he could or might Be doomesman* of her deade beauty: *judge The wine to bringe him commanded he, And drank anon; none other woe he made, When might is joined unto cruelty, Alas! too deepe will the venom wade.

In youth a master had this emperour, To teache him lettrure* and courtesy; *literature, learning For of morality he was the flow'r, As in his time, *but if* bookes lie. *unless And while this master had of him mast'ry, He made him so conning and so souple,* *subtle That longe time it was ere tyranny, Or any vice, durst in him uncouple.* *be let loose

This Seneca, of which that I devise,* *tell Because Nero had of him suche dread, For he from vices would him aye chastise Discreetly, as by word, and not by deed; "Sir," he would say, "an emperor must need Be virtuous, and hate tyranny." For which he made him in a bath to bleed On both his armes, till he muste die.

This Nero had eke of a custumance* *habit In youth against his master for to rise;* *stand in his presence Which afterward he thought a great grievance; Therefore he made him dien in this wise. But natheless this Seneca the wise Chose in a bath to die in this mannere, Rather than have another tormentise;* *torture And thus hath Nero slain his master dear.

Now fell it so, that Fortune list no longer The highe pride of Nero to cherice;* *cherish For though he were strong, yet was she stronger. She thoughte thus; "By God, I am too nice* *foolish To set a man, that is full fill'd of vice, In high degree, and emperor him call! By God, out of his seat I will him trice!* *thrust When he least weeneth,* soonest shall he fall." *expecteth

The people rose upon him on a night, For his default; and when he it espied, Out of his doors anon he hath him dight* *betaken himself Alone, and where he ween'd t'have been allied,* *regarded with He knocked fast, and aye the more he cried friendship The faster shutte they their doores all; Then wist he well he had himself misgied,* *misled And went his way, no longer durst he call.

The people cried and rumbled up and down, That with his eares heard he how they said; "Where is this false tyrant, this Neroun?" For fear almost out of his wit he braid,* *went And to his goddes piteously he pray'd For succour, but it mighte not betide For dread of this he thoughte that died, And ran into a garden him to hide.

And in this garden found he churles tway, That satte by a fire great and red; And to these churles two he gan to pray To slay him, and to girdon* off his head, *strike That to his body, when that he were dead, Were no despite done for his defame.* *infamy Himself he slew, *he coud no better rede;* *he knew no better Of which Fortune laugh'd and hadde game. counsel*

Was never capitain under a king, That regnes more put in subjectioun, Nor stronger was in field of alle thing As in his time, nor greater of renown, Nor more pompous in high presumptioun, Than HOLOFERNES, whom Fortune aye kiss'd So lik'rously, and led him up and down, Till that his head was off *ere that he wist.* *before he knew it*

Not only that this world had of him awe, For losing of richess and liberty; But he made every man *reny his law.* *renounce his religion Nabuchodonosor was God, said he; None other Godde should honoured be. Against his hest* there dare no wight trespace, *command Save in Bethulia, a strong city, Where Eliachim priest was of that place.

But take keep* of the death of Holofern; *notice Amid his host he drunken lay at night Within his tente, large as is a bern;* *barn And yet, for all his pomp and all his might, Judith, a woman, as he lay upright Sleeping, his head off smote, and from his tent Full privily she stole from every wight, And with his head unto her town she went.

What needeth it of king ANTIOCHUS To tell his high and royal majesty, His great pride, and his workes venomous? For such another was there none as he; Reade what that he was in Maccabee. And read the proude wordes that he said, And why he fell from his prosperity, And in an hill how wretchedly he died.

Fortune him had enhanced so in pride, That verily he ween'd he might attain Unto the starres upon every side, And in a balance weighen each mountain, And all the floodes of the sea restrain. And Godde's people had he most in hate Them would he slay in torment and in pain, Weening that God might not his pride abate.

And for that Nicanor and Timothee With Jewes were vanquish'd mightily, Unto the Jewes such an hate had he, That he bade *graith his car* full hastily, *prepare his chariot* And swore and saide full dispiteously, Unto Jerusalem he would eftsoon,* *immediately To wreak his ire on it full cruelly But of his purpose was he let* full soon. *prevented

God for his menace him so sore smote, With invisible wound incurable, That in his guttes carf* it so and bote,** *cut **gnawed Till that his paines were importable;* *unendurable And certainly the wreche* was reasonable, *vengeance For many a manne's guttes did he pain; But from his purpose, curs'd* and damnable, *impious For all his smart he would him not restrain; But bade anon apparaile* his host. *prepare

And suddenly, ere he was of it ware, God daunted all his pride, and all his boast For he so sore fell out of his chare,* *chariot That it his limbes and his skin to-tare, So that he neither mighte go nor ride But in a chaire men about him bare, Alle forbruised bothe back and side.

The wreche* of God him smote so cruelly, *vengeance That through his body wicked wormes crept, And therewithal he stank so horribly That none of all his meinie* that him kept, *servants Whether so that he woke or elles slept, Ne mighte not of him the stink endure. In this mischief he wailed and eke wept, And knew God Lord of every creature.

To all his host, and to himself also, Full wlatsem* was the stink of his carrain;** *loathsome **body No manne might him beare to and fro. And in this stink, and this horrible pain, He starf* full wretchedly in a mountain. *dies Thus hath this robber, and this homicide, That many a manne made to weep and plain, Such guerdon* as belongeth unto pride. *reward

The story of ALEXANDER is so commune, That ev'ry wight that hath discretion Hath heard somewhat or all of his fortune. This wide world, as in conclusion, He won by strength; or, for his high renown, They were glad for peace to him to send. The pride and boast of man he laid adown, Whereso he came, unto the worlde's end.

Comparison yet never might be maked Between him and another conqueror; For all this world for dread of him had quaked He was of knighthood and of freedom flow'r: Fortune him made the heir of her honour. Save wine and women, nothing might assuage His high intent in arms and labour, So was he full of leonine courage.

What praise were it to him, though I you told Of Darius, and a hundred thousand mo', Of kinges, princes, dukes, and earles bold, Which he conquer'd, and brought them into woe? I say, as far as man may ride or go, The world was his, why should I more devise?* *tell For, though I wrote or told you evermo', Of his knighthood it mighte not suffice.

Twelve years he reigned, as saith Maccabee Philippe's son of Macedon he was, That first was king in Greece the country. O worthy gentle* Alexander, alas *noble That ever should thee falle such a case! Empoison'd of thine owen folk thou were; Thy six fortune hath turn'd into an ace, And yet for thee she wepte never a tear.

Who shall me give teares to complain The death of gentiless, and of franchise,* *generosity That all this worlde had in his demaine,* *dominion And yet he thought it mighte not suffice, So full was his corage* of high emprise? *spirit Alas! who shall me helpe to indite False Fortune, and poison to despise? The whiche two of all this woe I wite.* *blame

By wisdom, manhood, and by great labour, From humbleness to royal majesty Up rose he, JULIUS the Conquerour, That won all th' Occident,* by land and sea, *West By strength of hand or elles by treaty, And unto Rome made them tributary; And since* of Rome the emperor was he, *afterwards Till that Fortune wax'd his adversary.

O mighty Caesar, that in Thessaly Against POMPEIUS, father thine in law, That of th' Orient had all the chivalry, As far as that the day begins to daw, That through thy knighthood hast them take and slaw,* slain* Save fewe folk that with Pompeius fled; Through which thou put all th' Orient in awe; Thanke Fortune that so well thee sped.

But now a little while I will bewail This Pompeius, this noble governor Of Rome, which that fled at this battaile I say, one of his men, a false traitor, His head off smote, to winne him favor Of Julius, and him the head he brought; Alas! Pompey, of th' Orient conqueror, That Fortune unto such a fine* thee brought! *end

To Rome again repaired Julius, With his triumphe laureate full high; But on a time Brutus and Cassius, That ever had of his estate envy, Full privily have made conspiracy Against this Julius in subtle wise And cast* the place in which he shoulde die, *arranged With bodekins,* as I shall you devise.** *daggers **tell

This Julius to the Capitole went Upon a day, as he was wont to gon; And in the Capitol anon him hent* *seized This false Brutus, and his other fone,* *foes And sticked him with bodekins anon With many a wound, and thus they let him lie. But never groan'd he at no stroke but one, Or else at two, *but if* the story lie. *unless

So manly was this Julius of heart, And so well loved *estately honesty *dignified propriety* That, though his deadly woundes sore smart,* *pained him His mantle o'er his hippes caste he, That ne man shoulde see his privity And as he lay a-dying in a trance, And wiste verily that dead was he, Of honesty yet had he remembrance.

Lucan, to thee this story I recommend, And to Sueton', and Valerie also, That of this story write *word and end* *the whole* How that to these great conquerores two Fortune was first a friend, and since* a foe. *afterwards No manne trust upon her favour long, But *have her in await for evermo';* *ever be watchful against her* Witness on all these conquerores strong.

The riche CROESUS, whilom king of Lyde, — Of which Croesus Cyrus him sore drad,* — *dreaded Yet was he caught amiddes all his pride, And to be burnt men to the fire him lad; But such a rain down *from the welkin shad,* *poured from the sky* That slew the fire, and made him to escape: But to beware no grace yet he had, Till fortune on the gallows made him gape.

When he escaped was, he could not stint* *refrain For to begin a newe war again; He weened well, for that Fortune him sent Such hap, that he escaped through the rain, That of his foes he mighte not be slain. And eke a sweven* on a night he mette,** *dream **dreamed Of which he was so proud, and eke so fain,* *glad That he in vengeance all his hearte set.

Upon a tree he was set, as he thought, Where Jupiter him wash'd, both back and side, And Phoebus eke a fair towel him brought To dry him with; and therefore wax'd his pride. And to his daughter that stood him beside, Which he knew in high science to abound, He bade her tell him what it signified; And she his dream began right thus expound.

"The tree," quoth she, "the gallows is to mean, And Jupiter betokens snow and rain, And Phoebus, with his towel clear and clean, These be the sunne's streames* sooth to sayn; *rays Thou shalt y-hangeth be, father, certain; Rain shall thee wash, and sunne shall thee dry." Thus warned him full plat and eke full plain His daughter, which that called was Phanie.

And hanged was Croesus the proude king; His royal throne might him not avail. Tragedy is none other manner thing, Nor can in singing crien nor bewail, But for that Fortune all day will assail With unware stroke the regnes* that be proud: *kingdoms For when men truste her, then will she fail, And cover her bright face with a cloud.

O noble, O worthy PEDRO, glory OF SPAIN, Whem Fortune held so high in majesty, Well oughte men thy piteous death complain. Out of thy land thy brother made thee flee, And after, at a siege, by subtlety, Thou wert betray'd, and led unto his tent, Where as he with his owen hand slew thee, Succeeding in thy regne* and in thy rent.** *kingdom *revenues

The field of snow, with th' eagle of black therein, Caught with the lion, red-colour'd as the glede,* *burning coal He brew'd this cursedness,* and all this sin; *wickedness, villainy The wicked nest was worker of this deed; Not Charles' Oliver, that took aye heed Of truth and honour, but of Armorike Ganilien Oliver, corrupt for meed,* *reward, bribe Broughte this worthy king in such a brike.* *breach, ruin

O worthy PETRO, King of CYPRE also, That Alexandre won by high mast'ry, Full many a heathnen wroughtest thou full woe, Of which thine owen lieges had envy; And, for no thing but for thy chivalry, They in thy bed have slain thee by the morrow; Thus can Fortune her wheel govern and gie,* *guide And out of joy bringe men into sorrow.

Of Milan greate BARNABO VISCOUNT, God of delight, and scourge of Lombardy, Why should I not thine clomben* wert so high? *climbed Thy brother's son, that was thy double ally, For he thy nephew was and son-in-law, Within his prison made thee to die, But why, nor how, *n'ot I* that thou were slaw.* *I know not* *slain*

Of th' Earl HUGOLIN OF PISE the languour* *agony There may no tongue telle for pity. But little out of Pisa stands a tow'r, In whiche tow'r in prison put was he, Aud with him be his little children three; The eldest scarcely five years was of age; Alas! Fortune, it was great cruelty Such birdes for to put in such a cage.

Damned was he to die in that prison; For Roger, which that bishop was of Pise, Had on him made a false suggestion, Through which the people gan upon him rise, And put him in prison, in such a wise As ye have heard; and meat and drink he had So small, that well unneth* it might suffice, *scarcely And therewithal it was full poor and bad.

And on a day befell, that in that hour When that his meate wont was to be brought, The jailor shut the doores of the tow'r; He heard it right well, but he spake nought. And in his heart anon there fell a thought, That they for hunger woulde *do him dien;* *cause him to die* "Alas!" quoth he, "alas that I was wrought!"* *made, born Therewith the teares fell from his eyen.

His youngest son, that three years was of age, Unto him said, "Father, why do ye weep? When will the jailor bringen our pottage? Is there no morsel bread that ye do keep? I am so hungry, that I may not sleep. Now woulde God that I might sleepen ever! Then should not hunger in my wombe* creep; *stomach There is no thing, save bread, that one were lever."* *dearer

Thus day by day this child begun to cry, Till in his father's barme* adown he lay, *lap And saide, "Farewell, father, I must die;" And kiss'd his father, and died the same day. And when the woeful father did it sey,* *see For woe his armes two he gan to bite, And said, "Alas! Fortune, and well-away! To thy false wheel my woe all may I wite."* *blame

His children ween'd that it for hunger was That he his armes gnaw'd, and not for woe, And saide, "Father, do not so, alas! But rather eat the flesh upon us two. Our flesh thou gave us, our flesh take us fro', And eat enough;" right thus they to him said. And after that, within a day or two, They laid them in his lap adown, and died.

Himself, despaired, eke for hunger starf.* *died Thus ended is this Earl of Pise; From high estate Fortune away him carf.* *cut off Of this tragedy it ought enough suffice Whoso will hear it *in a longer wise,* *at greater length* Reade the greate poet of ltale, That Dante hight, for he can it devise From point to point, not one word will he fail.

Notes to the Monk's Tale

1. The Monk's Tale is founded in its main features on Bocccacio's work, "De Casibus Virorum Illustrium;" ("Stories of Illustrious Men") but Chaucer has taken the separate stories of which it is composed from different authors, and dealt with them after his own fashion.

2. Boccaccio opens his book with Adam, whose story is told at much greater length than here. Lydgate, in his translation from Boccaccio, speaks of Adam and Eve as made "of slime of the erth in Damascene the felde."

3. Judges xiii. 3. Boccaccio also tells the story of Samson; but Chaucer seems, by his quotation a few lines below, to have taken his version direct from the sacred book.

4. Oliveres: olive trees; French, "oliviers."

5. "Liber Judicum," the Book of Judges; chap. xv.

6. Querne: mill; from Anglo-Saxon, "cyrran," to turn, "cweorn," a mill,

7.Harpies: the Stymphalian Birds, which fed on human flesh.

8. Busiris, king of Egypt, was wont to sacrifice all foreigners coming to his dominions. Hercules was seized, bound, and led to the altar by his orders, but the hero broke his bonds and slew the tyrant.

9. The feats of Hercules here recorded are not all these known as the "twelve labours;" for instance, the cleansing of the Augean stables, and the capture of Hippolyte's girdle are not in this list — other and less famous deeds of the hero taking their place. For this, however, we must accuse not Chaucer, but Boethius, whom he has almost literally translated, though with some change of order.

10. Trophee: One of the manuscripts has a marginal reference to "Tropheus vates Chaldaeorum" ("Tropheus the prophet of the Chaldees"); but it is not known what author Chaucer meant — unless the reference is to a passage in the "Filostrato" of Boccaccio, on which Chaucer founded his "Troilus and Cressida," and which Lydgate mentions, under the name of "Trophe," as having been translated by Chaucer.

11. Pres: near; French, "pres;" the meaning seems to be, this nearer, lower world.

12 Chaucer has taken the story of Zenobia from Boccaccio's work "De Claris Mulieribus." ("Of Illustrious Women")

13. Odenatus, who, for his services to the Romans, received from Gallienus the title of "Augustus;" he was assassinated in A.D. 266 — not, it was believed, without the connivance of Zenobia, who succeeded him on the throne.

14. Sapor was king of Persia, who made the Emperor Valerian prisoner, conquered Syria, and was pressing triumphantly westward when he was met and defeated by Odenatus and Zenobia.

15. Aurelain became Emperor in A.D. 270.

16. Vitremite: The signification of this word, which is spelled in several ways, is not known. Skinner's explanation, "another attire," founded on the spelling "autremite," is obviously insufficient.

17. Great part of this "tragedy" of Nero is really borrowed, however, from the "Romance of the Rose."

18. Trice: thrust; from Anglo-Saxon, "thriccan."

19. So, in the Man of Law's Tale, the Sultaness promises her son that she will "reny her lay."

20. As the "tragedy" of Holofernes is founded on the book of Judith, so is that of Antiochus on the Second Book of the Maccabees, chap. ix.

21. By the insurgents under the leadership of Judas Maccabeus; 2 Macc. chap. viii.

22. Six: the highest cast on a dicing-cube; here representing the highest favour of fortune.

23. Pompey had married his daughter Julia to Caesar; but she died six years before Pompey's final overthrow.

24. At the battle of Pharsalia, B.C. 48.

25. Word and end: apparently a corruption of the Anglo-Saxon phrase, "ord and end," meaning the whole, the beginning and the end.

26. At the opening of the story of Croesus, Chaucer has copied from his own translation of Boethius; but the story is mainly taken from the "Romance of the Rose"

27. "This reflection," says Tyrwhttt, "seems to have been suggested by one which follows soon after the mention of Croesus in the passage just cited from Boethius. 'What other thing bewail the cryings of tragedies but only the deeds of fortune, that with an awkward stroke, overturneth the realms of great nobley?'" — in some manuscripts the four "tragedies" that follow are placed between those of Zenobia and Nero; but although the general reflection with which the "tragedy" of Croesus closes might most appropriately wind up the whole series, the general chronological arrangement which is observed in the other cases recommends the order followed in the text. Besides, since, like several other Tales, the Monk's tragedies were cut short by the impatience of the auditors, it is more natural that the Tale should close abruptly, than by such a rhetorical finish as these lines afford.

28. Pedro the Cruel, King of Aragon, against whom his brother Henry rebelled. He was by false pretences inveigled into his brother's tent, and treacherously slain. Mr Wright has remarked that "the cause of Pedro, though he was no better than a cruel and reckless tyrant, was popular in England from the very circumstance that Prince Edward (the Black Prince) had embarked in it."

29. Not the Oliver of Charlemagne — but a traitorous Oliver of Armorica, corrupted by a bribe. Ganilion was the betrayer of the Christian army at Roncevalles (see note 9 to the Shipman's Tale); and his name appears to have been for a long time used in France to denote a traitor. Duguesclin, who betrayed Pedro into his brother's tent, seems to be intended by the term "Ganilion Oliver," but if so, Chaucer has mistaken his name, which was Bertrand — perhaps confounding him, as Tyrwhttt suggests, with Oliver du Clisson, another illustrious Breton of those times, who was also Constable of France, after Duguesclin. The arms of the latter are supposed to be described a little above

30. Pierre de Lusignan, King of Cyprus, who captured Alexandria in 1363 (see note 6 to the Prologue to the Tales). He was assassinated in 1369.

31. Bernabo Visconti, Duke of Milan, was deposed and imprisoned by his nephew, and died a captive in 1385. His death is the latest historical fact mentioned in the Tales; and thus it throws the date of their composition to about the sixtieth year of Chaucer's age.

32. The story of Ugolino is told in the 33rd Canto of the "Inferno."



THE NUN'S PRIEST'S TALE.

THE PROLOGUE.

"Ho!" quoth the Knight, "good sir, no more of this; That ye have said is right enough, y-wis,* *of a surety And muche more; for little heaviness Is right enough to muche folk, I guess. I say for me, it is a great disease,* *source of distress, annoyance Where as men have been in great wealth and ease, To hearen of their sudden fall, alas! And the contrary is joy and great solas,* *delight, comfort As when a man hath been in poor estate, And climbeth up, and waxeth fortunate, And there abideth in prosperity; Such thing is gladsome, as it thinketh me, And of such thing were goodly for to tell."

"Yea," quoth our Hoste, "by Saint Paule's bell. Ye say right sooth; this monk hath clapped* loud; *talked He spake how Fortune cover'd with a cloud I wot not what, and als' of a tragedy Right now ye heard: and pardie no remedy It is for to bewaile, nor complain That that is done, and also it is pain, As ye have said, to hear of heaviness. Sir Monk, no more of this, so God you bless; Your tale annoyeth all this company; Such talking is not worth a butterfly, For therein is there no sport nor game; Therefore, Sir Monke, Dan Piers by your name, I pray you heart'ly, tell us somewhat else, For sickerly, n'ere* clinking of your bells, *were it not for the That on your bridle hang on every side, By heaven's king, that for us alle died, I should ere this have fallen down for sleep, Although the slough had been never so deep; Then had your tale been all told in vain. For certainly, as these clerkes sayn, Where as a man may have no audience, Nought helpeth it to telle his sentence. And well I wot the substance is in me, If anything shall well reported be. Sir, say somewhat of hunting, I you pray."

"Nay," quoth the Monk, "I have *no lust to play;* *no fondness for Now let another tell, as I have told." jesting* Then spake our Host with rude speech and bold, And said unto the Nunne's Priest anon, "Come near, thou Priest, come hither, thou Sir John, Tell us such thing as may our heartes glade.* *gladden Be blithe, although thou ride upon a jade. What though thine horse be bothe foul and lean? If he will serve thee, reck thou not a bean; Look that thine heart be merry evermo'."

"Yes, Host," quoth he, "so may I ride or go, But* I be merry, y-wis I will be blamed." *unless And right anon his tale he hath attamed* *commenced And thus he said unto us every one, This sweete priest, this goodly man, Sir John.

Notes to the Prologue to the Nun's Priest's Tale

1. The request is justified by the description of Monk in the Prologue as "an out-rider, that loved venery."

2. On this Tyrwhitt remarks; "I know not how it has happened, that in the principal modern languages, John, or its equivalent, is a name of contempt or at least of slight. So the Italians use 'Gianni,' from whence 'Zani;' the Spaniards 'Juan,' as 'Bobo Juan,' a foolish John; the French 'Jean,' with various additions; and in English, when we call a man 'a John,' we do not mean it as a title of honour." The title of "Sir" was usually given by courtesy to priests.

3. Attamed: commenced, broached. Compare French, "entamer", to cut the first piece off a joint; thence to begin.

THE TALE.

A poor widow, *somedeal y-stept* in age, *somewhat advanced* Was whilom dwelling in a poor cottage, Beside a grove, standing in a dale. This widow, of which I telle you my tale, Since thilke day that she was last a wife, In patience led a full simple life, For little was *her chattel and her rent.* *her goods and her income* By husbandry* of such as God her sent, *thrifty management She found* herself, and eke her daughters two. *maintained Three large sowes had she, and no mo'; Three kine, and eke a sheep that highte Mall. Full sooty was her bow'r,* and eke her hall, *chamber In which she ate full many a slender meal. Of poignant sauce knew she never a deal.* *whit No dainty morsel passed through her throat; Her diet was *accordant to her cote.* *in keeping with her cottage* Repletion her made never sick; Attemper* diet was all her physic, *moderate And exercise, and *hearte's suffisance.* *contentment of heart* The goute *let her nothing for to dance,* *did not prevent her Nor apoplexy shente* not her head. from dancing* *hurt No wine drank she, neither white nor red: Her board was served most with white and black, Milk and brown bread, in which she found no lack, Seind* bacon, and sometimes an egg or tway; *singed For she was as it were *a manner dey.* *kind of day labourer* A yard she had, enclosed all about With stickes, and a drye ditch without, In which she had a cock, hight Chanticleer; In all the land of crowing *n'as his peer.* *was not his equal* His voice was merrier than the merry orgon,* *organ On masse days that in the churches gon. Well sickerer* was his crowing in his lodge, *more punctual* Than is a clock, or an abbay horloge.* *clock By nature he knew each ascension Of th' equinoctial in thilke town; For when degrees fiftene were ascended, Then crew he, that it might not be amended. His comb was redder than the fine coral, Embattell'd as it were a castle wall. His bill was black, and as the jet it shone; Like azure were his legges and his tone;* *toes His nailes whiter than the lily flow'r, And like the burnish'd gold was his colour, This gentle cock had in his governance Sev'n hennes, for to do all his pleasance, Which were his sisters and his paramours, And wondrous like to him as of colours. Of which the fairest-hued in the throat Was called Damoselle Partelote, Courteous she was, discreet, and debonair, And companiable,* and bare herself so fair, *sociable Since the day that she sev'n night was old, That truely she had the heart in hold Of Chanticleer, locked in every lith;* *limb He lov'd her so, that well was him therewith, But such a joy it was to hear them sing, When that the brighte sunne gan to spring, In sweet accord, *"My lefe is fare in land."* *my love is For, at that time, as I have understand, gone abroad* Beastes and birdes coulde speak and sing.

And so befell, that in a dawening, As Chanticleer among his wives all Sat on his perche, that was in the hall, And next him sat this faire Partelote, This Chanticleer gan groanen in his throat, As man that in his dream is dretched* sore, *oppressed And when that Partelote thus heard him roar, She was aghast,* and saide, "Hearte dear, *afraid What aileth you to groan in this mannere? Ye be a very sleeper, fy for shame!" And he answer'd and saide thus; "Madame, I pray you that ye take it not agrief;* *amiss, in umbrage By God, *me mette* I was in such mischief,** *I dreamed* **trouble Right now, that yet mine heart is sore affright'. Now God," quoth he, "my sweven* read aright *dream, vision. And keep my body out of foul prisoun. *Me mette,* how that I roamed up and down *I dreamed* Within our yard, where as I saw a beast Was like an hound, and would have *made arrest* *siezed* Upon my body, and would have had me dead. His colour was betwixt yellow and red; And tipped was his tail, and both his ears, With black, unlike the remnant of his hairs. His snout was small, with glowing eyen tway; Yet of his look almost for fear I dey;* *died This caused me my groaning, doubteless."

"Away," quoth she, "fy on you, hearteless!* *coward Alas!" quoth she, "for, by that God above! Now have ye lost my heart and all my love; I cannot love a coward, by my faith. For certes, what so any woman saith, We all desiren, if it mighte be, To have husbandes hardy, wise, and free, And secret,* and no niggard nor no fool, *discreet Nor him that is aghast* of every tool,** *afraid **rag, trifle Nor no avantour,* by that God above! *braggart How durste ye for shame say to your love That anything might make you afear'd? Have ye no manne's heart, and have a beard? Alas! and can ye be aghast of swevenes?* *dreams Nothing but vanity, God wot, in sweven is, Swevens *engender of repletions,* *are caused by over-eating* And oft of fume,* and of complexions, *drunkenness When humours be too abundant in a wight. Certes this dream, which ye have mette tonight, Cometh of the great supefluity Of youre rede cholera,* pardie, *bile Which causeth folk to dreaden in their dreams Of arrows, and of fire with redde beams, Of redde beastes, that they will them bite, Of conteke,* and of whelpes great and lite;** *contention **little Right as the humour of melancholy Causeth full many a man in sleep to cry, For fear of bulles, or of beares blake, Or elles that black devils will them take, Of other humours could I tell also, That worke many a man in sleep much woe; That I will pass as lightly as I can. Lo, Cato, which that was so wise a man, Said he not thus, *'Ne do no force of* dreams,' *attach no weight to* Now, Sir," quoth she, "when we fly from these beams, For Godde's love, as take some laxatife; On peril of my soul, and of my life, I counsel you the best, I will not lie, That both of choler, and melancholy, Ye purge you; and, for ye shall not tarry, Though in this town is no apothecary, I shall myself two herbes teache you, That shall be for your health, and for your prow;* *profit And in our yard the herbes shall I find, The which have of their property by kind* *nature To purge you beneath, and eke above. Sire, forget not this for Godde's love; Ye be full choleric of complexion; Ware that the sun, in his ascension, You finde not replete of humours hot; And if it do, I dare well lay a groat, That ye shall have a fever tertiane, Or else an ague, that may be your bane, A day or two ye shall have digestives Of wormes, ere ye take your laxatives, Of laurel, centaury, and fumeterere, Or else of elder-berry, that groweth there, Of catapuce, or of the gaitre-berries, Or herb ivy growing in our yard, that merry is: Pick them right as they grow, and eat them in, Be merry, husband, for your father's kin; Dreade no dream; I can say you no more."

"Madame," quoth he, "grand mercy of your lore, But natheless, as touching *Dan Catoun,* *Cato That hath of wisdom such a great renown, Though that he bade no dreames for to dread, By God, men may in olde bookes read Of many a man more of authority Than ever Cato was, so may I the,* *thrive That all the reverse say of his sentence,* *opinion And have well founden by experience That dreames be significations As well of joy, as tribulations That folk enduren in this life present. There needeth make of this no argument; The very preve* sheweth it indeed. *trial, experience One of the greatest authors that men read Saith thus, that whilom two fellowes went On pilgrimage in a full good intent; And happen'd so, they came into a town Where there was such a congregatioun Of people, and eke so *strait of herbergage,* *without lodging* That they found not as much as one cottage In which they bothe might y-lodged be: Wherefore they musten of necessity, As for that night, departe company; And each of them went to his hostelry,* *inn And took his lodging as it woulde fall. The one of them was lodged in a stall, Far in a yard, with oxen of the plough; That other man was lodged well enow, As was his aventure, or his fortune, That us governeth all, as in commune. And so befell, that, long ere it were day, This man mette* in his bed, there: as he lay, *dreamed How that his fellow gan upon him call, And said, 'Alas! for in an ox's stall This night shall I be murder'd, where I lie Now help me, deare brother, or I die; In alle haste come to me,' he said. This man out of his sleep for fear abraid;* *started But when that he was wak'd out of his sleep, He turned him, and *took of this no keep;* *paid this no attention* He thought his dream was but a vanity. Thus twies* in his sleeping dreamed he, *twice And at the thirde time yet his fellaw again Came, as he thought, and said, 'I am now slaw;* *slain Behold my bloody woundes, deep and wide. Arise up early, in the morning, tide, And at the west gate of the town,' quoth he, 'A carte full of dung there shalt: thou see, In which my body is hid privily. Do thilke cart arroste* boldely. *stop My gold caused my murder, sooth to sayn.' And told him every point how he was slain, With a full piteous face, and pale of hue.

"And, truste well, his dream he found full true; For on the morrow, as soon as it was day, To his fellowes inn he took his way; And when that he came to this ox's stall, After his fellow he began to call. The hostelere answered him anon, And saide, 'Sir, your fellow is y-gone, As soon as day he went out of the town.' This man gan fallen in suspicioun, Rememb'ring on his dreames that he mette,* *dreamed And forth he went, no longer would he let,* *delay Unto the west gate of the town, and fand* *found A dung cart, as it went for to dung land, That was arrayed in the same wise As ye have heard the deade man devise;* *describe And with an hardy heart he gan to cry, 'Vengeance and justice of this felony: My fellow murder'd in this same night And in this cart he lies, gaping upright. I cry out on the ministers,' quoth he. 'That shoulde keep and rule this city; Harow! alas! here lies my fellow slain.' What should I more unto this tale sayn? The people out start, and cast the cart to ground And in the middle of the dung they found The deade man, that murder'd was all new. O blissful God! that art so good and true, Lo, how that thou bewray'st murder alway. Murder will out, that see we day by day. Murder is so wlatsom* and abominable *loathsome To God, that is so just and reasonable, That he will not suffer it heled* be; *concealed 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 passed 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 japes.** *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 God 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 ship's bottom rent, *by accident And ship and man under the water went, In sight of other shippes 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 I read, That was Kenulphus' son, the noble king Of Mercenrike, 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 God, I hadde lever than my shirt 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, 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? Lo here, Andromache, Hectore's wife, 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 God 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, *certain Mulier est hominis confusio. 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 God first maked man, Was complete, and y-passed 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.* *assuredly 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: God 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, 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 passed undern 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! O false dissimuler, O Greek Sinon, 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 God 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 * As can the holy doctor Augustine, Or Boece, or the bishop Bradwardine, Whether that Godde'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 God 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 cock, 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, Pass 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 cocke'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. And so befell that, as he cast his eye Among the wortes,* on a butterfly, *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 "Cock! cock!" 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 (God 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 pass. I have well read in Dan Burnel the Ass, Among his verse, how that there was a cock 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 Is in your court, and many a losengeour, * *deceiver 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 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 goddess 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, 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*), *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 cock 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 hell; 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, 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 brass they broughte beames* and of box, *trumpets Of horn and bone, in which they blew and pooped,* **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 cock, 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* God 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 cock 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 cock brake from his mouth deliverly,* *nimbly And high upon a tree he flew anon. And when the fox saw that the cock was gone, "Alas!" quoth he, "O Chanticleer, alas! I have," quoth he, "y-done to you trespass,* *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, God 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. Thou shalt no more through thy flattery Do* me to sing and winke with mine eye; *cause For he that winketh when he shoulde see, All wilfully, God let him never the."* *thrive "Nay," quoth the fox; "but God give him mischance That is so indiscreet of governance, That jangleth* when that he should hold his peace." *chatters

Lo, what it is for to be reckeless And negligent, and trust on flattery. But ye that holde this tale a folly, As of a fox, or of a cock or hen, Take the morality thereof, good men. For Saint Paul saith, That all that written is, *To our doctrine it written is y-wis.* *is surely written for Take the fruit, and let the chaff be still. our instruction*

Now goode God, if that it be thy will, As saith my Lord, so make us all good men; And bring us all to thy high bliss. Amen.

Notes to the Nun's Priest's Tale

1. The Tale of the Nun's Priest is founded on the fifth chapter of an old French metrical "Romance of Renard;" the same story forming one of the fables of Marie, the translator of the Breton Lays. (See note 2 to the Prologue to the Franklin's Tale.) Although Dryden was in error when he ascribed the Tale to Chaucer's own invention, still the materials on which he had to operate were out of cornparison more trivial than the result.

2. Tyrwhitt quotes two statutes of Edward III, in which "deys" are included among the servants employed in agricultural pursuits; the name seems to have originally meant a servant who gave his labour by the day, but afterwards to have been appropriated exclusively to one who superintended or worked in a dairy.

3. Orgon: here licentiously used for the plural, "organs" or "orgons," corresponding to the plural verb "gon" in the next line.

4. Horloge: French, "clock."

5. Embattell'd: indented on the upper edge like the battlements of a castle.

6. My lefe is fare in land: This seems to have been the refrain of some old song, and its precise meaning is uncertain. It corresponds in cadence with the morning salutation of the cock; and may be taken as a greeting to the sun, which is beloved of Chanticleer, and has just come upon the earth — or in the sense of a more local boast, as vaunting the fairness of his favourite hen above all others in the country round.

Transcriber's note: Later commentators explain "fare in land" as "gone abroad" and have identified the song:

My lefe is fare in lond Alas! Why is she so? And I am so sore bound I may not come her to. She hath my heart in hold Where ever she ride or go With true love a thousand-fold.

(Printed in The Athenaeum, 1896, Vol II, p. 566).

7. "Avoi!" is the word here rendered "away!" It was frequently used in the French fabliaux, and the Italians employ the word "via!" in the same sense.

8. "Ne do no force of dreams:" "Somnia ne cares;" — Cato "De Moribus," 1 ii, dist. 32

9. Centaury: the herb so called because by its virtue the centaur Chiron was healed when the poisoned arrow of Hercules had accidentally wounded his foot.

10. Fumetere: the herb "fumitory."

11. Catapuce: spurge; a plant of purgative qualities. To its name in the text correspond the Italian "catapuzza," and French "catapuce" — words the origin of which is connected with the effects of the plant.

12. Gaitre-berries: dog-wood berries.

13. One of the greatest authors that men read: Cicero, who in his book "De Divinatione" tells this and the following story, though in contrary order and with many differences.

14. Haled or hylled; from Anglo-Saxon "helan" hid, concealed

15. Kenelm succeeded his father as king of the Saxon realm of Mercia in 811, at the age of seven years; but he was slain by his ambitious aunt Quendrada. The place of his burial was miraculously discovered, and he was subsequently elevated to the rank of a saint and martyr. His life is in the English "Golden Legend."

16. Mercenrike: the kingdom of Mercia; Anglo-Saxon, Myrcnarice. Compare the second member of the compound in the German, "Frankreich," France; "Oesterreich," Austria.

17. Cicero ("De Republica," lib. vi.) wrote the Dream of Scipio, in which the Younger relates the appearance of the Elder Africanus, and the counsels and exhortations which the shade addressed to the sleeper. Macrobius wrote an elaborate "Commentary on the Dream of Scipio," — a philosophical treatise much studied and relished during the Middle Ages.

18. See the Monk's Tale for this story.

19. Andromache's dream will not be found in Homer; It is related in the book of the fictitious Dares Phrygius, the most popular authority during the Middle Ages for the history of the Trojan War.

20. In principio: In the beginning; the first words of Genesis and of the Gospel of John.

21. Mulier est hominis confusio: This line is taken from the same fabulous conference between the Emperor Adrian and the philosopher Secundus, whence Chaucer derived some of the arguments in praise of poverty employed in the Wife of Bath's Tale proper. See note 14 to the Wife of Bath's tale. The passage transferred to the text is the commencement of a description of woman. "Quid est mulier? hominis confusio," &c. ("What is Woman? A union with man", &c.)

22. Col-fox: a blackish fox, so called because of its likeness to coal, according to Skinner; though more probably the prefix has a reproachful meaning, and is in some way connected with the word "cold" as, some forty lines below, it is applied to the prejudicial counsel of women, and as frequently it is used to describe "sighs" and other tokens of grief, and "cares" or "anxieties."

23. Undern: In this case, the meaning of "evening" or "afternoon" can hardly be applied to the word, which must be taken to signify some early hour of the forenoon. See also note 4 to the Wife of Bath's tale and note 5 to the Clerk's Tale.

24. Ganilion: a traitor. See note 9 to the Shipman's Tale and note 28 to the Monk's Tale.

25. Greek Sinon: The inventor of the Trojan Horse. See note 14 to the Squire's Tale

26. Boult it from the bren: Examine the matter thoroughly; a metaphor taken from the sifting of meal, to divide the fine flour from the bran.

27. Thomas Bradwardine, Archbishop of Canterbury in the thirteenth century, who wrote a book, "De Causa Dei," in controversy with Pelagius; and also numerous other treatises, among them some on predestination.

28. In a popular mediaveal Latin treatise by one Theobaldus, entitled "Physiologus de Naturis XII. Animalium" ("A description of the nature of twelve animals"), sirens or mermaids are described as skilled in song, and drawing unwary mariners to destruction by the sweetness of their voices.

29. "Nigellus Wireker," says Urry's Glossary, "a monk and precentor of Canterbury, wrote a Latin poem intituled 'Speculum Speculorum,' ('The mirror of mirrors') dedicated to William Longchamp, Bishop of Ely, and Lord Chancellor; wherein, under the fable of an Ass (which he calls 'Burnellus') that desired a longer tail, is represented the folly of such as are not content with their own condition. There is introduced a tale of a cock, who having his leg broke by a priest's son (called Gundulfus) watched an opportunity to be revenged; which at last presented itself on this occasion: A day was appointed for Gundulfus's being admitted into holy orders at a place remote from his father's habitation; he therefore orders the servants to call him at first cock-crowing, which the cock overhearing did not crow at all that morning. So Gundulfus overslept himself, and was thereby disappointed of his ordination, the office being quite finished before he came to the place." Wireker's satire was among the most celebrated and popular Latin poems of the Middle Ages. The Ass was probably as Tyrwhitt suggests, called "Burnel" or "Brunel," from his brown colour; as, a little below, a reddish fox is called "Russel."

30. Flattour: flatterer; French, "flatteur."

31. Losengeour: deceiver, cozener; the word had analogues in the French "losengier," and the Spanish "lisongero." It is probably connected with "leasing," falsehood; which has been derived from Anglo-Saxon "hlisan," to celebrate — as if it meant the spreading of a false renown

32. Dan Russel: Master Russet; a name given to the fox, from his reddish colour.

33. Geoffrey de Vinsauf was the author of a well-known mediaeval treatise on composition in various poetical styles of which he gave examples. Chaucer's irony is therefore directed against some grandiose and affected lines on the death of Richard I., intended to illustrate the pathetic style, in which Friday is addressed as "O Veneris lachrymosa dies" ("O tearful day of Venus").

34. "Priamum altaria ad ipsa trementem Traxit, et in multo lapsantem sanguine nati Implicuitque comam laeva, dextraque coruscum Extulit, ac lateri capulo tenus abdidit ensem. Haec finis Priami fatorum." ("He dragged Priam trembling to his own altar, slipping on the blood of his child; He took his hair in his left hand, and with the right drew the flashing sword, and hid it to the hilt [in his body]. Thus an end was made of Priam") — Virgil, Aeneid. ii. 550.

35. Jack Straw: The leader of a Kentish rising, in the reign of Richard II, in 1381, by which the Flemish merchants in London were great sufferers.

36. Beams: trumpets; Anglo-Saxon, "bema."

37. "All scripture is given by inspiration of God, and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness: that the man of God may be perfect, throughly furnished unto all good works." — 2 Tim. iii. 16.

THE EPILOGUE

"Sir Nunne's Priest," our hoste said anon, "Y-blessed be thy breech, and every stone; This was a merry tale of Chanticleer. But by my truth, if thou wert seculere,* *a layman Thou wouldest be a treadefowl* aright; *cock For if thou have courage as thou hast might, Thee were need of hennes, as I ween, Yea more than seven times seventeen. See, whate brawnes* hath this gentle priest, *muscles, sinews So great a neck, and such a large breast He looketh as a sperhawk with his eyen Him needeth not his colour for to dyen With Brazil, nor with grain of Portugale. But, Sir, faire fall you for your tale'." And, after that, he with full merry cheer Said to another, as ye shall hear.

Notes to the Epilogue to the Nun's Priest's Tale

1. The sixteen lines appended to the Tale of the Nun's Priest seem, as Tyrwhitt observes, to commence the prologue to the succeeding Tale — but the difficulty is to determine which that Tale should be. In earlier editions, the lines formed the opening of the prologue to the Manciple's Tale; but most of the manuscripts acknowledge themselves defective in this part, and give the Nun's Tale after that of the Nun's Priest. In the Harleian manuscript, followed by Mr Wright, the second Nun's Tale, and the Canon's Yeoman's Tale, are placed after the Franklin's tale; and the sixteen lines above are not found — the Manciple's prologue coming immediately after the "Amen" of the Nun's Priest. In two manuscripts, the last line of the sixteen runs thus: "Said unto the Nun as ye shall hear;" and six lines more evidently forged, are given to introduce the Nun's Tale. All this confusion and doubt only strengthen the certainty, and deepen the regret, that "The Canterbury Tales" were left at Chaucer's, death not merely very imperfect as a whole, but destitute of many finishing touches that would have made them complete so far as the conception had actually been carried into performance.



THE SECOND NUN'S TALE

The minister and norice* unto vices, *nurse Which that men call in English idleness, The porter at the gate is of delices;* *delights T'eschew, and by her contrar' her oppress, — That is to say, by lawful business,* — *occupation, activity Well oughte we to *do our all intent* *apply ourselves* Lest that the fiend through idleness us hent.* *seize

For he, that with his thousand cordes sly Continually us waiteth to beclap,* *entangle, bind When he may man in idleness espy, He can so lightly catch him in his trap, Till that a man be hent* right by the lappe,** *seize **hem He is not ware the fiend hath him in hand; Well ought we work, and idleness withstand.

And though men dreaded never for to die, Yet see men well by reason, doubteless, That idleness is root of sluggardy, Of which there cometh never good increase; And see that sloth them holdeth in a leas,* *leash Only to sleep, and for to eat and drink, And to devouren all that others swink.* *labour

And, for to put us from such idleness, That cause is of so great confusion, I have here done my faithful business, After the Legend, in translation Right of thy glorious life and passion, — Thou with thy garland wrought of rose and lily, Thee mean I, maid and martyr, Saint Cecilie.

And thou, thou art the flow'r of virgins all, Of whom that Bernard list so well to write, To thee at my beginning first I call; Thou comfort of us wretches, do me indite Thy maiden's death, that won through her merite Th' eternal life, and o'er the fiend victory, As man may after readen in her story.

Thou maid and mother, daughter of thy Son, Thou well of mercy, sinful soules' cure, In whom that God of bounte chose to won;* *dwell Thou humble and high o'er every creature, Thou nobilest, *so far forth our nature,* *as far as our nature admits* That no disdain the Maker had of kind,* *nature His Son in blood and flesh to clothe and wind.* *wrap

Within the cloister of thy blissful sides Took manne's shape th' eternal love and peace, That of *the trine compass* Lord and guide is *the trinity* Whom earth, and sea, and heav'n, *out of release,* *unceasingly *Aye hery;* and thou, Virgin wemmeless,* *forever praise* *immaculate Bare of thy body, and dweltest maiden pure, The Creator of every creature.

Assembled is in thee magnificence With mercy, goodness, and with such pity, That thou, that art the sun of excellence, Not only helpest them that pray to thee, But oftentime, of thy benignity, Full freely, ere that men thine help beseech, Thou go'st before, and art their lives' leech.* *healer, saviour.

Now help, thou meek and blissful faire maid, Me, flemed* wretch, in this desert of gall; *banished, outcast Think on the woman Cananee that said That whelpes eat some of the crumbes all That from their Lorde's table be y-fall; And though that I, unworthy son of Eve, Be sinful, yet accepte my believe.* *faith

And, for that faith is dead withoute werkes, For to worke give me wit and space, That I be *quit from thennes that most derk is;* *freed from the most O thou, that art so fair and full of grace, dark place (Hell)* Be thou mine advocate in that high place, Where as withouten end is sung Osanne, Thou Christe's mother, daughter dear of Anne.

And of thy light my soul in prison light, That troubled is by the contagion Of my body, and also by the weight Of earthly lust and false affection; O hav'n of refuge, O salvation Of them that be in sorrow and distress, Now help, for to my work I will me dress.

Yet pray I you, that reade what I write, Forgive me that I do no diligence This ilke* story subtilly t' indite. *same For both have I the wordes and sentence Of him that at the sainte's reverence The story wrote, and follow her legend; And pray you that you will my work amend.

First will I you the name of Saint Cecilie Expound, as men may in her story see. It is to say in English, Heaven's lily, For pure chasteness of virginity; Or, for she whiteness had of honesty,* *purity And green of conscience, and of good fame The sweete savour, Lilie was her name.

Or Cecilie is to say, the way of blind; For she example was by good teaching; Or else Cecilie, as I written find, Is joined by a manner conjoining Of heaven and Lia, and herein figuring The heaven is set for thought of holiness, And Lia for her lasting business.

Cecilie may eke be said in this mannere, Wanting of blindness, for her greate light Of sapience, and for her thewes* clear. *qualities Or elles, lo, this maiden's name bright Of heaven and Leos comes, for which by right Men might her well the heaven of people call, Example of good and wise workes all;

For Leos people in English is to say; And right as men may in the heaven see The sun and moon, and starres every way, Right so men ghostly,* in this maiden free, *spiritually Sawen of faith the magnanimity, And eke the clearness whole of sapience, And sundry workes bright of excellence.

And right so as these philosophers write, That heav'n is swift and round, and eke burning, Right so was faire Cecilie the white Full swift and busy in every good working, And round and whole in good persevering, And burning ever in charity full bright; Now have I you declared *what she hight.* *why she had her name*

This maiden bright Cecile, as her life saith, Was come of Romans, and of noble kind, And from her cradle foster'd in the faith Of Christ, and bare his Gospel in her mind: She never ceased, as I written find, Of her prayere, and God to love and dread, Beseeching him to keep her maidenhead.

And when this maiden should unto a man Y-wedded be, that was full young of age, Which that y-called was Valerian, And come was the day of marriage, She, full devout and humble in her corage,* *heart Under her robe of gold, that sat full fair, Had next her flesh y-clad her in an hair.* *garment of hair-cloth

And while the organs made melody, To God alone thus in her heart sang she; "O Lord, my soul and eke my body gie* *guide Unwemmed,* lest that I confounded be." *unblemished And, for his love that died upon the tree, Every second or third day she fast', Aye bidding* in her orisons full fast. *praying

The night came, and to bedde must she gon With her husband, as it is the mannere; And privily she said to him anon; "O sweet and well-beloved spouse dear, There is a counsel,* an'** ye will it hear, *secret **if Which that right fain I would unto you say, So that ye swear ye will it not bewray."* *betray

Valerian gan fast unto her swear That for no case nor thing that mighte be, He never should to none bewrayen her; And then at erst* thus to him saide she; *for the first time "I have an angel which that loveth me, That with great love, whether I wake or sleep, Is ready aye my body for to keep;

"And if that he may feelen, *out of dread,* *without doubt* That ye me touch or love in villainy, He right anon will slay you with the deed, And in your youthe thus ye shoulde die. And if that ye in cleane love me gie,"* *guide He will you love as me, for your cleanness, And shew to you his joy and his brightness."

Valerian, corrected as God wo'ld, Answer'd again, "If I shall truste thee, Let me that angel see, and him behold; And if that it a very angel be, Then will I do as thou hast prayed me; And if thou love another man, forsooth Right with this sword then will I slay you both."

Cecile answer'd anon right in this wise; "If that you list, the angel shall ye see, So that ye trow* Of Christ, and you baptise; *know Go forth to Via Appia," quoth she, That from this towne stands but miles three, And to the poore folkes that there dwell Say them right thus, as that I shall you tell,

"Tell them, that I, Cecile, you to them sent To shewe you the good Urban the old, For secret needes,* and for good intent; *business And when that ye Saint Urban have behold, Tell him the wordes which I to you told And when that he hath purged you from sin, Then shall ye see that angel ere ye twin* *depart

Valerian is to the place gone; And, right as he was taught by her learning He found this holy old Urban anon Among the saintes' burials louting;* *lying concealed And he anon, withoute tarrying, Did his message, and when that he it told, Urban for joy his handes gan uphold.

The teares from his eyen let he fall; "Almighty Lord, O Jesus Christ," Quoth he, "Sower of chaste counsel, herd* of us all; *shepherd The fruit of thilke* seed of chastity *that That thou hast sown in Cecile, take to thee Lo, like a busy bee, withoute guile, Thee serveth aye thine owen thrall* Cicile, *servant

"For thilke spouse, that she took *but now,* *lately* Full like a fierce lion, she sendeth here, As meek as e'er was any lamb to owe." And with that word anon there gan appear An old man, clad in white clothes clear, That had a book with letters of gold in hand, And gan before Valerian to stand.

Valerian, as dead, fell down for dread, When he him saw; and he up hent* him tho,** *took **there And on his book right thus he gan to read; "One Lord, one faith, one God withoute mo', One Christendom, one Father of all also, Aboven all, and over all everywhere." These wordes all with gold y-written were.

When this was read, then said this olde man, "Believ'st thou this or no? say yea or nay." "I believe all this," quoth Valerian, "For soother* thing than this, I dare well say, *truer Under the Heaven no wight thinke may." Then vanish'd the old man, he wist not where And Pope Urban him christened right there.

Valerian went home, and found Cecilie Within his chamber with an angel stand; This angel had of roses and of lily Corones* two, the which he bare in hand, *crowns And first to Cecile, as I understand, He gave the one, and after gan he take The other to Valerian her make.* *mate, husband

"With body clean, and with unwemmed* thought, *unspotted, blameless Keep aye well these corones two," quoth he; "From Paradise to you I have them brought, Nor ever more shall they rotten be, Nor lose their sweet savour, truste me, Nor ever wight shall see them with his eye, But he be chaste, and hate villainy.

"And thou, Valerian, for thou so soon Assented hast to good counsel, also Say what thee list,* and thou shalt have thy boon."** *wish **desire "I have a brother," quoth Valerian tho,* *then "That in this world I love no man so; I pray you that my brother may have grace To know the truth, as I do in this place."

The angel said, "God liketh thy request, And bothe, with the palm of martyrdom, Ye shalle come unto this blissful rest." And, with that word, Tiburce his brother came. And when that he the savour undernome* *perceived Which that the roses and the lilies cast, Within his heart he gan to wonder fast;

And said; "I wonder, this time of the year, Whence that sweete savour cometh so Of rose and lilies, that I smelle here; For though I had them in mine handes two, The savour might in me no deeper go; The sweete smell, that in my heart I find, Hath changed me all in another kind."

Valerian said, "Two crownes here have we, Snow-white and rose-red, that shine clear, Which that thine eyen have no might to see; And, as thou smellest them through my prayere, So shalt thou see them, leve* brother dear, *beloved If it so be thou wilt withoute sloth Believe aright, and know the very troth. "

Tiburce answered, "Say'st thou this to me In soothness, or in dreame hear I this?" "In dreames," quoth Valorian, "have we be Unto this time, brother mine, y-wis But now *at erst* in truth our dwelling is." *for the first time* How know'st thou this," quoth Tiburce; "in what wise?" Quoth Valerian, "That shall I thee devise* *describe

"The angel of God hath me the truth y-taught, Which thou shalt see, if that thou wilt reny* *renounce The idols, and be clean, and elles nought." [And of the miracle of these crownes tway Saint Ambrose in his preface list to say; Solemnely this noble doctor dear Commendeth it, and saith in this mannere

"The palm of martyrdom for to receive, Saint Cecilie, full filled of God's gift, The world and eke her chamber gan to weive;* *forsake Witness Tiburce's and Cecilie's shrift,* *confession To which God of his bounty woulde shift Corones two, of flowers well smelling, And made his angel them the crownes bring.

"The maid hath brought these men to bliss above; The world hath wist what it is worth, certain, Devotion of chastity to love."] Then showed him Cecilie all open and plain, That idols all are but a thing in vain, For they be dumb, and thereto* they be deave;** *therefore **deaf And charged him his idols for to leave.

"Whoso that troweth* not this, a beast he is," *believeth Quoth this Tiburce, "if that I shall not lie." And she gan kiss his breast when she heard this, And was full glad he could the truth espy: "This day I take thee for mine ally."* *chosen friend Saide this blissful faire maiden dear; And after that she said as ye may hear.

"Lo, right so as the love of Christ," quoth she, "Made me thy brother's wife, right in that wise Anon for mine ally here take I thee, Since that thou wilt thine idoles despise. Go with thy brother now and thee baptise, And make thee clean, so that thou may'st behold The angel's face, of which thy brother told."

Tiburce answer'd, and saide, "Brother dear, First tell me whither I shall, and to what man?" "To whom?" quoth he, "come forth with goode cheer, I will thee lead unto the Pope Urban." "To Urban? brother mine Valerian," Quoth then Tiburce; "wilt thou me thither lead? Me thinketh that it were a wondrous deed.

"Meanest thou not that Urban," quoth he tho,* *then "That is so often damned to be dead, And wons* in halkes** always to and fro, *dwells **corners And dare not ones putte forth his head? Men should him brennen* in a fire so red, *burn If he were found, or if men might him spy: And us also, to bear him company.

"And while we seeke that Divinity That is y-hid in heaven privily, Algate* burnt in this world should we be." *nevertheless To whom Cecilie answer'd boldely; "Men mighte dreade well and skilfully* *reasonably This life to lose, mine owen deare brother, If this were living only, and none other.

"But there is better life in other place, That never shall be loste, dread thee nought; Which Godde's Son us tolde through his grace That Father's Son which alle thinges wrought; And all that wrought is with a skilful* thought, *reasonable The Ghost,* that from the Father gan proceed, *Holy Spirit Hath souled* them, withouten any drede.** *endowed them with a soul **doubt By word and by miracle, high God's Son, When he was in this world, declared here. That there is other life where men may won."* *dwell To whom answer'd Tiburce, "O sister dear, Saidest thou not right now in this mannere, There was but one God, Lord in soothfastness,* *truth And now of three how may'st thou bear witness?"

"That shall I tell," quoth she, "ere that I go. Right as a man hath sapiences* three, *mental faculties Memory, engine,* and intellect also, *wit So in one being of divinity Three persones there maye right well be." Then gan she him full busily to preach Of Christe's coming, and his paines teach,

And many pointes of his passion; How Godde's Son in this world was withhold* *employed To do mankinde plein* remission, *full That was y-bound in sin and cares cold.* *wretched All this thing she unto Tiburce told, And after that Tiburce, in good intent, With Valerian to Pope Urban he went.

That thanked God, and with glad heart and light He christen'd him, and made him in that place Perfect in his learning, and Godde's knight. And after this Tiburce got such grace, That every day he saw in time and space Th' angel of God, and every manner boon* *request, favour That be God asked, it was sped* full anon. *granted, successful

It were full hard by order for to sayn How many wonders Jesus for them wrought, But at the last, to telle short and plain, The sergeants of the town of Rome them sought, And them before Almach the Prefect brought, Which them apposed,* and knew all their intent, *questioned And to th'image of Jupiter them sent.

And said, "Whoso will not do sacrifice, Swap* off his head, this is my sentence here." *strike Anon these martyrs, *that I you devise,* *of whom I tell you* One Maximus, that was an officere Of the prefect's, and his corniculere Them hent,* and when he forth the saintes lad,** *seized **led Himself he wept for pity that he had.

When Maximus had heard the saintes lore,* *doctrine, teaching He got him of the tormentores* leave, *torturers And led them to his house withoute more; And with their preaching, ere that it were eve, They gonnen* from the tormentors to reave,** *began **wrest, root out And from Maxim', and from his folk each one, The false faith, to trow* in God alone. *believe

Cecilia came, when it was waxen night, With priestes, that them christen'd *all in fere;* *in a company* And afterward, when day was waxen light, Cecile them said with a full steadfast cheer,* *mien "Now, Christe's owen knightes lefe* and dear, *beloved Cast all away the workes of darkness, And arme you in armour of brightness.

Ye have forsooth y-done a great battaile, Your course is done, your faith have ye conserved; O to the crown of life that may not fail; The rightful Judge, which that ye have served Shall give it you, as ye have it deserved." And when this thing was said, as I devise,* relate Men led them forth to do the sacrifice.