Canterbury Tales (Barnes & Noble Classics Series)

by Geoffrey Chaucer

  And if you think this is well said,

  Say your opinion, and be content.

  This is your end and your conclusion.”

  Who looks lightly now but Palamon?

  Who springs up for joy but Arcita?

  Who could tell, or who could write,

  The joy that is made in the place

  When Theseus had done so fair a grace?

  But down on knees went every manner of person,

  And thanked him with all their heart and might,

  And especially the Thebans time and again.

  And thus with good hope and with hearts blithe

  They take their leave, and homeward did they ride

  To Thebes, with its old walls wide.

  Part Three

  I believe men would deem it negligence

  If I forget to tell the expenditure

  Of Theseus, who goes so busily

  To make up the battleground royally,

  That such a noble arena as it was

  I dare well say that in the world there was never.

  The circuit a mile was about,

  Walled of stone, and ditched all without.

  Round was the shape, in manner of a compass,

  Full of steps, the height of sixty paces,

  That when a man was set on any one step

  He hindered not his fellow’s view.

  Eastward there stood a gate of marble white,

  Westward right such another opposite.

  And shortly to conclude, such a place

  Was ere none built on earth, and in so little time;

  For in the lond ther nas no crafty man,

  That geometrie or ars-metrik can,

  Ne purtreyour, ne kerver of images,

  That Theseus ne yaf him mete and wages

  The theatre for to maken and devyse.

  And for to doon his ryte and sacrifyse,

  He est-ward hath, up-on the gate above,

  In worship of Venus, goddesse of love,

  Don make an auter and an oratorie;

  And west-ward, in the minde and in memorie

  Of Mars, he maked hath right swich another,

  That coste largely of gold a fother.

  And north-ward, in a touret on the wal,

  Of alabastre whyt and reed coral

  An oratorie riche for to see,

  In worship of Dyane of chastitee,

  Hath Theseus don wroght in noble wyse.

  But yet hadde I foryeten to devyse

  The noble kerving, and the portreitures,

  The shap, the countenaunce, and the figures,

  That weren in thise oratories three.

  First in the temple of Venus maystow see

  Wroght on the wal, ful pitous to biholde,

  The broken slepes, and the sykes colde;

  The sacred teres, and the waymenting;

  The fyry strokes of the desiring,

  That loves servaunts in this lyf enduren;

  The othes, that hir covenants assuren;

  Pleasaunce and hope, desyr, fool-hardinessee,

  Beautee and youthe, bauderie, richesse,

  Charmes and force, lesinges, flaterye,

  Dispense, bisynesse, and jelousye,

  That wered of yelwe goldes a gerland,

  And a cokkow sitting on hir hand;

  Festes, instruments, caroles, daunces,

  Lust and array, and alle the circumstaunces

  Of love, whiche that I rekne and rekne shal,

  By ordre weren peynted on the wal,

  And mo than I can make of mencioun.

  For in the land there was no craftsman

  Who knew geometry or arithmetic,

  Nor painter, nor carver of images,

  To whom Theseus did not give food and wages

  The arena to make and devise.

  And to do his rite and sacrifice,

  He eastward, upon the gate above,

  In worship of Venus, goddess of love,

  Had made an altar and an oratory;

  And on the gate westward, in memory

  Of Mars, he had made another,

  That cost a generous lading of gold.

  And northward, in a turret on the wall,

  Of alabaster white and red coral,

  An oratory rich to see,

  In worship of Diana of chastity,

  Had Theseus wrought in noble fashion.

  But yet had I forgotten to describe

  The noble carving and portraitures,

  The shape, the countenance, and the figures,

  That were in these oratories three.

  First in the temple of Venus you may see

  Wrought on the wall, full piteous to behold,

  The broken sleeps and chilling sighs cold,

  The sacred tears and the lamenting,

  The fiery strokes of the desiring

  That love’s servants in this life endure,

  The oaths that their vows ensure;

  Pleasure and Hope, Desire, Foolhardiness,

  Beauty and Youth, Bawdry, Riches,

  Charms and Force, Deceits, Flattery,

  Expense, Business and Jealousy,

  Who wore of yellow marigolds a garland,

  And a cuckoo sitting on her hand;11

  Feasts, instruments, songs and dances,

  Joy and fancy dress, and all the circumstances

  Of love, that I recounted and recount shall,

  By order were painted on the wall,

  And more than I can make of mention.

  For soothly, al the mount of Citheroun,

  Ther Venus hath hir principal dwelling,

  Was shewed on the wal in portreying,

  With al the gardin, and the lustinesse.

  Nat was foryeten the porter Ydelnesse,

  Ne Narcisus the faire of yore agon,

  Ne yet the folye of king Salamon,

  Ne yet the grete strengthe of Hercules—

  Th’ enchauntements of Medea and Circes—

  Ne of Turnus, with the hardy fiers corage,

  The riche Cresus, caytif in servage.

  Thus may ye seen that wisdom ne richesse,

  Beautee ne sleighte, strengthe, ne hardinesse,

  Ne may with Venus holde champartye;

  For as hir list the world than may she gye.

  Lo, alle thise folk so caught were in hir las,

  Til they for wo ful ofte seyde “allas!”

  Suffyceth heer ensamples oon or two,

  And though I coude rekne a thousand mo.

  The statue of Venus, glorious for to see,

  Was naked fleting in the large see,

  And fro the navele doun all covered was

  With wawes grene, and brighte as any glas.

  A citole in hir right hand hadde she,

  And on hir heed, ful semely for to see,

  A rose gerland, fresh and wel smellinge;

  Above hir heed hir dowves flikeringe.

  Biforn hir stood hir sone Cupido,

  Up-on his shuldres winges hadde he two;

  And blind he was, as it is ofte sene;

  A bowe he bar and arwes brighte and kene.

  Why sholde I noght as wel eek telle yow al

  The portreiture, that was up-on the wal

  With-inne the temple of mighty Mars the rede?

  Al peynted was the wal, in lengthe and brede,

  Lyk to the estres of the grisly place,

  That highte the grete temple of Mars in Trace,

  In thilke colde frosty regioun,

  Ther-as Mars hath his sovereyn mansioun.

  For truly, all the mount of Cythaeron,12

  Where Venus has her principal dwelling,

  Was shown on the wall in portraying,

  With all the garden and the lustiness.

  Not was forgotten the porter, Idleness,

  Nor Narcissus the fair of long ago,

  Nor yet the folly of King Solomon,

  Nor yet the great strength of H
ercules,

  The enchantments of Medea and Circe,13

  Nor of Turnus,14 with the bold fierce courage,

  The rich Croesus,15 wretched in bondage.

  Thus may you see that neither wisdom nor riches,

  Beauty nor cleverness, strength nor boldness,

  May with Venus hold equal force,

  For as she wishes the world so may she coerce.

  Lo, all these folk were so caught in her net,

  Till they full often said “Alas!”

  Suffice here examples one or two,

  Although I could recount a thousand more.

  The statue of Venus, glorious to see,

  Was naked floating in the large sea,

  And from the navel down all covered was

  With waves green, and bright as any glass.

  A cithara in her right hand had she,

  And on her head, full comely to see,

  A rose garland, fresh and sweet-smelling;

  Above her head her doves fluttering.

  Before her stood her son Cupid,

  Upon his shoulders wings had he two,

  And blind he was, as it is often seen.

  A bow he bore and arrows bright and keen.

  Why should I not also tell you all

  The portraiture that was upon the wall

  Within the temple of mighty Mars the red?

  All painted was the wall, in length and breadth,

  Like the inside of the grisly place

  That is called the great temple of Mars in Thrace,

  In that cold frosty region

  There where Mars has his sovereign mansion.

  First on the wal was peynted a foreste,

  In which ther dwelleth neither man ne beste,

  With knotty knarry bareyn trees olde

  Of stubbes sharpe and hidous to biholde;

  In which ther ran a rumbel and a swough,

  As though a storm sholde bresten every bough:

  And downward from an hille, under a bente,

  Ther stood the temple of Mars armipotente,

  Wroght al of burned steel, of which thentree

  Was long and streit, and gastly for to see.

  And ther-out cam a rage and such a vese,

  That it made al the gates for to rese.

  The northern light in at the dores shoon,

  For windowe on the wal ne was ther noon,

  Thurgh which men mighten any light discerne.

  The dores were alle of adamant eterne,

  Y-clenched overthwart and endelong

  With iren tough; and, for to make it strong,

  Every piler, the temple to sustene,

  Was tonne-greet, of iren bright and shene.

  Ther saugh I first the derke imagining

  Of felonye, and al the compassing;

  The cruel ire, reed as any glede;

  The pykepurs, and eek the pale drede;

  The smyler with the knyf under the cloke;

  The shepne brenning with the blake smoke;

  The treson of the mordring in the bedde;

  The open werre, with woundes al bibledde;

  Contek, with blody knyf and sharp manace;

  Al ful of chirking was that sory place.

  The sleere of him-self yet saugh I ther,

  His herte-blood hath bathed al his heer;

  The nayl y-driven in the shode a-night;

  The colde deeth, with mouth gaping upright.

  Amiddes of the temple sat meschaunce,

  With disconfort and sory contenaunce.

  Yet saugh I woodnesse laughing in his rage;

  Armed compleint, out-hees, and fiers outrage.

  The careyne in the bush, with throte y-corve:

  First on the wall was painted a forest,

  In which there dwelt neither man nor beast,

  With knotty gnarled barren trees old,

  Of shattered trunks hideous to behold,

  Through which there ran a rumble in a wind,

  As though a storm should break every bough,

  And downward from a hill, under a bluff,

  There stood the temple of Mars, strong in war,

  Wrought of burnished steel, of which the entrance

  Was long and straight, and ghastly to see.

  And therefrom came a wind roar and such a blast

  That it made all the gate to shudder.

  The northern light in the doors shone,

  For window on the wall there was none

  Through which men might any light discern.

  The door was all of adamant eternal

  Reinforced crosswise and endlong

  With iron tough; and to make it strong,

  Every pillar, the temple to sustain,

  Was barrel-thick, of iron bright and shining.

  There saw I first the dark imagining

  Of Crime, Treachery, and all the plotting;16

  The cruel Ire, red as any coal burning,

  The pickpocket, and also the pale Dread;

  The smiler with the knife under the cloak;

  The stable burning with the black smoke;

  The treason of the murdering in the bed;

  The open warfare, with the wounds all bled,

  Conflict, with bloody knife and sharp menace.

  All full of clamor was that sorry place.

  The suicide saw I there:

  His heart blood had bathed all his hair;

  The nail driven in the head at night;

  The cold death, with mouth gaping upright.

  At the temple center sat Mischance,

  With discouraged and sorry countenance.

  Yet saw I Madness laughing in his rage,

  Armed Grievance, Outcry and fierce Outrage;

  The corpse in the brush, with throat slashed;

  A thousand slayn, and nat of qualm y-storve;

  The tiraunt, with the prey by force y-raft;

  The toun destroyed, ther was no-thing laft.

  Yet saugh I brent the shippes hoppesteres;

  The hunte strangled with the wilde beres:

  The sowe freten the child right in the cradel;

  The cook y-scalded, for al his longe ladel.

  Noght was foryeten by th‘infortune of Marte;

  The carter over-riden with his carte,

  Under the wheel ful lowe he lay adoun.

  Ther were also, of Martes divisioun,

  The barbour, and the bocher, and the smith

  That forgeth sharpe swerdes on his stith.

  And al above, depeynted in a tour,

  Saw I conquest sittinge in greet honour,

  With the sharpe swerde over his heed

  Hanginge by a sotil twynes threed.

  Depeynted was the slaughtre of Julius,

  Of grete Nero, and of Antonius;

  Al be that thilke tyme they were unborn,

  Yet was hir deeth depeynted ther-biforn,

  By manasinge of Mars, right by figure;

  So was it shewed in that portreiture

  As is depeynted in the sterres above,

  Who shal be slayn or elles deed for love.

  Suffyceth oon ensample in stories olde,

  I may not rekne hem alle, thogh I wolde.

  The statue of Mars up-on a carte stood,

  Armed, and loked grim as he were wood;

  And over his heed ther shynen two figures

  Of sterres, that been cleped in scriptures,

  That oon Puella, that other Rubeus.

  This god of armes was arrayed thus:—

  A wolf ther stood biforn him at his feet

  With eyen rede, and of a man he eet;

  With sotil pencel was depeynt this storie,

  In redoutinge of Mars and of his glorie.

  Now to the temple of Diane the chaste

  As shortly as I can I wol me haste,

  A thousand slain, and of plague not dead;

  The tyrant, with the plunder by force seized;

  The town destro
yed, there was nothing left.

  Yet saw I burnt the ships as on the waves they danced,

  The hunter killed by the wild bears;

  The sow devouring the child right in the cradle;

  The cook scalded, for all his long ladle—

  Nought was forgotten by the evil of Mars—

  The carter run over by his cart,

  Under the wheel full low he lay down.

  There were also, of Mars’ cohort,

  The barber and the butcher and the blacksmith,

  Who forged sharp swords on his anvil.

  And all above, depicted in a tower,

  Saw I Conquest, sitting in great honor,

  With the sharp sword over his head

  Hanging by a twine’s thin thread.

  Depicted was the slaughter of Julius,

  Of great Nero, and of Antonius;

  Although they were at that time unborn,

  Yet were their deaths depicted there before

  By malignity of Mars prefigured.

  So it was shown in that portraiture,

  As depicted in the stars above

  Who shall be slain or else dead for love.

  Suffice one example in stories old:

  I may not recount them all, though I would.

  The statue of Mars upon a chariot stood

  Armed, and looked grim as if he were mad;

  And over his head there shone two figures

  Of stars, who had been called in books

  The one Puella, that other Rubeus:17

  This god of arms was displayed thus.

  A wolf there stood before him at his feet

  With eyes red, and of a man he ate.

  With subtle brush was depicted this story

  In reverence and fear of Mars and his glory.

  Now to the temple of Diana the chaste,

  As briefly as I can, I will make haste

  To telle yow al the descripcioun.

  Depeynted been the walles up and doun

  Of hunting and of shamfast chastitee.

  Ther saugh I how woful Calistopee,

  Whan that Diane agreved was with here,

  Was turned from a womman til a bere,

  And after was she maad the lode-sterre;

  Thus was it peynt, I can say yow no ferre;

  Hir sone is eek a sterre, as men may see.

  Ther saugh I Dane, y-turned til a tree,

  I mene nat the goddesse Diane,

  But Penneus doughter, which that highte Dane.

  Ther saugh I Attheon an hert y-maked,

  For vengeaunce that he saugh Diane al naked;

  I saugh how that his houndes have him caught,

  And freten him, for that they knewe him naught.

  Yet peynted was a litel forther-moor,

  How Atthalante hunted the wilde boor,

  And Meleagre, and many another mo,

  For which Diane wroghte him care and wo.

  Ther saugh I many another wonder storie,

  The whiche me list nat drawen to memorie.