0, soth is seid, that heled for to be
As of a fevere, or other gret siknésse,
Men moste drinke, as men may alday see,
Ful bittré drinke; and for to han gladnésse,
Men drinken ofté peyne and gret distresse :
I mene it here, as for this áventure

That thorugh a peyne hath founden al his cure.

And now swetnéssé semeth more swete
That bitternesse assayed was biforn;
For out of wo in blissé now they flete;
Non swich they felten sin they were born.
Now is this bet than bothe two be lorn!
For love of God, take every womman hede
To werken thus, whan it com'th to the nede!

Criseyde, al quit from every drede and tene,
As she that justé cause had him to triste,
Made him swich feste, it joyé was to sene,
Whan she his trouthe and clene entente wiste;
And as aboute a tree with many a twiste
Bitrent and wryth the swote wodébinde,
Gan ech of hem in armés other winde.

float

since better

sorrow

trust

I

abashed stops herdsman talk hedges-stirring

And as the newe abayséd nightingale
That stinteth first whan she biginneth singe,
Whan that she hereth any herdé tale,
Or in the hegges any wight steringe,
And after siker doth her vois out-ringe; in sure tones
Right so Criseydá, whan her drede stente,
Opned her herte, and tolde al her entente.

And right as he that saw his deth y-shapen,
And deyen moste, in aught that he may gesse,
And sodeinly rescous doth him escapen,
And from his deth is brought in sikernesse ;
For al this world, in swich presént gladnésse
Is Troilus, and hath his lady swete.--
With worse hap God lat us neverė mete!

ceased

(Troilus and Cressida, Bk. v. ll. 1828-1848.) 1 Died. 2 Sitteth.

The Troilus, which has this solemn end, is a tragedy,' but it is a tragedy as full of light as of shade; in it we first find Chaucer's humour in its perfection, and to suit this humour he attunes his verse to another key with masterly ease. Here is a passage from an earlier part of the poem describing a call paid (in the interest of Troilus) by Sir Pandarus on his niece, then in the stage of widowhood in which thoughts of consolation may be trifled with :

Whan he was come unto his neces place,
'Wher is my lady?' to her folk quod he;
And they him tolde, and he forth in gan pace,
And fond two othrẻ ladies sete and she
Withinne a paved parlour; and they three
Herden a mayden reden hem the geste
Of al the sege of Thebes, whil hem leste.
Quod Pandarus, Madáme, God you see,
With al your book and al the companýe!'.
'Ey, uncle, now welcome y-wis!' quod she;
And up she ros, and by the hond in hye
She took him faste, and seydé, 'This night thrye
To goodé mote it torne !-of you I mette.'
And with that word she doun on bench him sette.

'Ye, necé, ye shal faré wel the bet,

must

If God wile, al this yer!' quod Pandarus;

2

'But I am sory that I have you let

safety

passed

seated

story

surely hastily thrice

dreamt

better will hindered

teach

Uncle!' quod she, 'your maistresse is not here!'

With that they gonnen laughe; and tho she seyde,
'This rómaunce is of Thebes, that we rede;
And we han herd how that King Laius deyde
Thorugh Edippus his sone, and all that dede;
And here we stinten at thise lettres rede,
How that the bisshop, as the book can telle,
Amphiorax, fil thorugh the grounde to helle.'
Quod Pandarus, Al this knowe I my-selve,
And a th' assege of Thebes, and the care;
For herof ben ther maked bookės twelve.
But lat be this, and tel me how ye fare.

The absolute ease of this passage is in striking contrast to Chaucer's early use of the stanza in the story of St Cecyle, and has perhaps never been Το equalled in the same form save by Byron. accompany these quotations from the Troilus, we may take the 'Knightes Tale' out of its place in the Canterbury series, in order to show how Chaucer treats chivalry under arms, as in the Troilus he treats of chivalry in love. The cousins Palamon and Arcite both love the fair Emily, sister to their enemy, Theseus, ‘Duke' of Athens. Arcite overhears Palamon speaking of his love when in hiding from Theseus, and, as his cousin is weaponless, rides off to fetch him armour and weapons that they may fight out their quarrel. The quotation describes how they arm each other and then fight furiously till Theseus interrupts them. It is the more noteworthy because, while Chaucer is translating the Teseide of Boccaccio, all the vivid and dramatic touches are his own :

furiously

For thider was the hert wont have his flight,—
And over a brook, and so forth in his weye.
The Duc wol han a cours at hym, or tweye,
With houndés, swiche as that hym list commaundė.
And whan the Duc was come unto the launde
Under the sonne he looketh, and anon
He was war of Arcite and Palamon
That foughten breme, as it were bores two.
The brighté swerdes wenten to and fro
So hidously, that with the leeste strook
It semed as it wolde fille an ook ;
But what they were no thyng he ne woot.
This duc his courser with his sporės smoot,
And at a stert he was bitwix hem two,
And pulled out a swerd, and cride, Hoo!
Namoore, up peyne of lesynge of youre heed!
By myghty Mars, he shal anon be deed
That smyteth any strook, that I may seen.
But telleth me what mystiers men ye been,
That been so hardy for to fighten heere
Withouten juge, or oother officere,
As it were in a lystės roially?'

1, 2

fight out

haved.

appointed

Arcite is riden anon unto the toun, And on the morwe, er it were dayės light, Ful privély two harneys hath he dight, Bothe suffisaunt and metė to darreyne The bataille in the feeld betwix hem tweyne ; And on his hors, allone as he was born, He carieth al the harneys hym biforn: And in the grove, at tyme and place y-set, This Arcite and this Palamon ben met. To chaungen gan the colour in hir face, Right as the hunters, in the regne of Trace, That stondeth at the gappe with a spere, Whan hunted is the leoun or the bere, And hereth hym come russhyng in the greves, And breketh both bowės and the leves, And thynketh, Heere cometh my mortal enemy, With-outé faile he moot be deed or I; For outher I moot sleen hym at the gappe, Or he moot sleen me, if that me myshappe': So ferden they in chaungyng of hir hewe, As fer as everich of hem oother knewe,

Ther nas no 'Good day,' ne no saluyng, But streight, withouten word or rehersyng, Everich of hem heelpe for to armen oother, As frendly as he were his owene brother; And after that, with sharpė sperės stronge, They foynen ech at other wonder longe. Thou myghtest wené that this Palamoun, In his fightyng were a wood leoun,

3

groves

must be dead either

4. 5

fence

mad

fell

upon

what kind of

('Knightes Tale,' Canterbury Tales, A. II. 1628-1662, 1683-1713.)

1 Suits of armour. 2 Got ready. 3 Kingdom of Thrace. Their colour.

4 Be

After the Troilus came the Hous of Fame, and from this, did space permit, we should quote Chaucer's autobiographical colloquy with the Golden Eagle, and some of the prayers of Fame's suitors and their answers. But we must hasten to the Legende of Good Women, and choose from this a characteristic passage on Chaucer's favourite season, Spring, not unlike that at the end of the Parlement of Foules, but written with more freedom:

Forgeten had the erthe his pore estate
Of wyntir, that him naked made and mate,
And with his swerd of colde so sore greved;
Now hath the atempré sonne al that releved
That naked was, and clad it new agayne.
The smalé foulés, of the sesoun fayne,
That of the panter and the nette ben scaped,
Upon the foweler, that hem made a-whaped
In wynter, and distroyed hadde hire broode,
In his dispite hem thoghte it did hem goode
To synge of hym, and in hir songe dispise
The foulé cherle, that, for his coveytise,

forlorn

temperate

a bag-net scared

Had hem betrayed with his sophistrye.

This was hir songe, 'The foweler we deffye, And al his crafte.' And some songen clere Layes of love, that joye it was to here,

In worshipynge and in preysing of hir make;
And, for the newė blisful somers sake,
Upon the braunches ful of blosmés softe,
In hire delyt, they turned hem ful ofte,

And songen, Blessed be Seynt Valentyne !
For on his day I chees you to be myne,
Withouten repentyng myne herté swete !'
And therewithal hire bekės gonnen meete,
Yeldyng honour and humble obeysaunces
To love, and diden hire othere observaunces
That longeth onto love, and to nature;
Construeth that as yow lyst, I do no cure.
And tho that hadde don unkyndénesse,—
As doth the tydif, for newfangelnesse,-
Besoghte mercy of hir trespassynge,
And humblely songen hir répentynge,
And sworen on the blosmės to be trewe,
So that hire makes wolde upon hem rewe,
And at the lastė maden hir acorde.

mate

(Legende of Good Women, II. 125-159.)

All the Prologue to the Legende, whence this is taken, is in Chaucer's happiest vein, both in its earlier and in this later form; and as in the last quotation it was hard to have to stop before Theseus' speech in which he first condemns and then chaffs the lovers, so here it would be pleasant to quote all the talk with Cupid and Alcestis which follows on our extract. From the legends themselves we can only take these few lines as an example of how vigorously Chaucer could describe a sea-fight of the ancient kind :

aware

counsel

host

stayed

I

furiously

Antonius was war, and wol nat fayle To meten with thise Romaynes, if he may, Took eke his rede, and both upon a day, His wyf and he, and al his ost, forthe wente To shippe anon, no lenger they ne stente, And in the see hit happed hem to mete. Up goth the trumpe, and for to shoute and shete, shoot And paynen hem to sette on with the sonne; With grisly soune out goth the gretė gonne, And heterly they hurtelen al at ones, And fro the top doun cometh the greté stones. In gooth the grapénel so ful of crokes, Amonge the ropes, and the sheryng hokes; In with the polax preseth he and he; Byhynde the maste begyneth he to fle, And out agayn, and dryveth hem over borde; He stynteth hem upon his speres orde; He rent the sayle with hokes lyke a sithe; He bryngeth the cuppe, and biddeth hem be blithe; He poureth pesen upon the hacches slidre;

this one and that

With pottés ful of lyme, they goon togidre;

And thus the longé day in fight they spende,

Til at the last, as every thing hath ende,

3

rendeth

We come now to the Canterbury Tales, and as from the portrait-gallery of the Prologue we can only take two examples, two have been chosen which show in effective contrast the good and bad sides of religion in Chaucer's day. Here is the good Parson :

A good man was ther of religioun,
And was a POURĖ PERSOUN OF A TOUN;
But riche he was of hooly thoght and werk;
He was also a lerned man, a clerk,
That Cristės Gospel trewely wolde preche :
His parisshens devoutly wolde he teche.
Benygne he was, and wonder diligent,
And in adversitee ful pacient;

And swich he was y-preved ofté sithes.

Ful looth were hym to cursen for his tithes,
But rather wolde he yeven, out of doute,

Unto his pouré parisshens aboute,

times

give

In siknesse nor in meschief to visíte
The ferreste in his parisshe, much and lite, rich and poor
Upon his feet, and in his hand a staf.

This noble ensample to his sheepe he yaf
That firste he wroghte and afterward he taughte.
Out of the gospel he tho wordés caughte,
And this figure he added eek therto,
That if gold rustė what shal iren doo?
For if a preest be foul, on whom we truste,
No wonder is a lewed man to ruste;
And shame it is, if a prest takė keepe,
A shiten shepherde and a clené sheepe.
Wel oghte a preest ensample for to yive

gave

4

Antony is shent, and put hym to the flyghte; discomfited And al his folke to-go, that best go myghte.

(Legende of Good Women, II. 629-653.)

That is, Antony and Octavian. 2 That is, so that the sun might be in the enemy's face. 3 Stops them on his spear's-end. 4 Dried peas, to prevent the enemy getting a firm footing.

hair

hank of flax

Ful loude he soong Com hider, lové, to me!
This Somonour bar to hym a stif burdoun, accompaniment
Was never trompe of half so greet a soun.
This Pardoner hadde heer as yelow as wex
But smothe it heng as doth a strike of flex;
By ounces henge his lokkes that he hadde, In small pieces
And therwith he his shuldres overspradde.
But thynne it lay by colpons oon and oon;
But hood, for jolitee, ne wered he noon,
For it was trussed up in his walet,

Hym thought he rood al of the newė jet ;
Dischevelee, save his cappe, he rood al bare.
Swiche glarynge eyen hadde he as an hare,
A vernycle hadde he sowed upon his cappe;
His walet lay biforn hym in his lappe
Bret-ful of pardon, come from Rome al hoot.
A voys he hadde as smal as hath a goot.

But of his craft, fro Berwyk unto Ware

Ne was ther swich another pardoner,

2

fashion

3

4

Brimful

cross of brass

That Seïnt Peter hadde, whan that he wente
Upon the see, til Jhesu Crist hym hente.
He hadde a croys of latoun, ful of stones,
And in a glas he hadde piggés bones.
But with thise relikės, whan that he fond
A pouré person dwellynge upon lond,
Upon a day he gat hym moore moneye
Than that the person gat in monthes tweye;
And thus with feyned flaterye and japes
He made the person and the peple his
But, trewely to tellen atté laste,
He was in chirche a noble ecclesiaste;
Wel koude he rede a lessoun or a storie,
But alderbest he song an Offertorie;
For wel he wistė, whan that song was songe,
He mosté preche, and wel affile his tonge
To wynné silver, as he ful wel koude;
Therefore he song the murierly and loude.

apes.

found

best of all

polish

more merrily (Canterbury Tales, Prologue, ll. 669-714.)

1 That is, with the Summoner. In shreds, lock by lock. * Dishevelled, with his hair loose. 4 Copy of the supposed imprint of Christ's face on the handkerchief of St Veronica, which the Pardoner might have seen at Rome.

From the Tales themselves we have already quoted an example of Chaucer's chivalrous style; our second extract exhibits him where he is perhaps at his strongest of all—as the teller of tales of low life, tales of which he can only have received from others the mere outline, while his expansions of them are full of humour and individuality. As to the stories of this class, Chaucer himself advised some of his readers to choose another page,' and the folk-story of the Fox and Hen' assigned to the Nonnes Prest is the only one of them which can be recommended virginibus puerisque; but this incident from the 'Reeves Tale,' of how a knavish miller frustrated the device of the two Cambridge clerks to prevent him from stealing their corn, stands by itself, and is altogether delightful. The clerks, it should be said, are northerners, and speak in the northern dialect. Symond is the miller :

'Symond,' quod John, by God, nede has na peer, Hym boes serve hymself that has na swayn, Or elles he is a fool, as clerkes sayn.

I

expect 3, 4, 5, 6 therefore

Our manciple I hope he will be deed
Swa werkes ay the wanges in his heed;
And forthy is I come and eek Alayn.
To grynde oure corn and carie it ham agayn.
I pray yow spede us heythen that ye may.'
'It shall be doon,' quod Symkyn, by my fay!
What wol ye doon, whil that it is in hande?'
'By God, right by the hopur wil I stande,'
Quod John, and se how that the corn gas in.
Yet saugh I never, by my fader kyn,
How that the hopur waggés til and fra.’

Aleyn answérdé, John, and wiltow swa?
Thanne wil I be bynethé, by my croun !
And se how that the melė fallès doun
Into the trough,—that sal be my disport ;
For, John, y-faith, I may been of youre sort,
I is as ille a millere as are ye.'

home

hence

hopper

goes

to and fro

foolishness

7

This millere smyled of hir nycétee,
And thoghte, Al this nys doon but for a wyle;
They wene that no man may hem bigile;
But by my thrift yet shal I blere hir eye,
For al the sleighte in hir philosophye.
The moré queyntė crekės that they make, cunning devices
The more wol I stelé whan I take.

In stide of flour yet wol I yeve hem bren;
The gretteste clerkės been noght wisest men,
As whilom to the wolf thus spak the mare;
Of al hir art ne counte I noght a tare.'

Out at the dore he gooth ful pryvély, Whan that he saugh his tyme softėly. He looketh up and doun til he hath founde The clerkés hors, ther as it stood y-bounde. Bihynde the mille, under a levėsel, And to the hors he goth hym faire and wel; He strepeth of the brydel right anon, And whan the hors was laus, he gynneth gon Toward the fen, ther wilde marės renne,— Forth with Wehee!' thurgh thikke and thurgh thenne. This millere goth agayn, no word he seyde, But doth his note and with the clerkés pleyde, business Til that hir corn was faire and wel y-grounde; And whan the mele is sakked and y-bounde, This John goth out, and fynt his hors away, And gan to crie, Harrow!' and, 'Weyl-away! Oure hors is lorn; Alayn, for Goddės banes Stepe on thy feet; com out, man, al atanes ! Allas, our wardeyn has his palfrey lorn !' This Aleyn al forgat bothe mele and corn; Al was out of his mynde his housbondrie. 'What, whilk way is he geen?' he gan to crie. The wyf cam lepynge inward with a ren; She seyde, Allas, youre hors goth to the fen With wilde mares, as faste as he may go; Unthank come on his hand that boond hym so, And he that bettré sholde han knyt the reyne!' 'Allas,' quod John, Aleyn, for Cristės peyne, Lay doun thy swerd, and I wil myn alswa.

Lastly, as a contrast to these broad humours, here from the 'Prioresses Tale' is a return to Chaucer's earlier manner of tenderness and devotion, no less graceful and pleasing than of yore, and written with far greater mastery. The legend is one of many which good men-Heaven forgive them all over Europe sincerely believed, of a little Christian boy wantonly murdered by the Jews:

A litel scole of cristen folk ther stood Doun at the ferther ende, in which ther were

Children an heepe, y-comen of Cristen blood,

That lerned in that scolé yeer by yere Swich manere doctrine as men used