Canterbury Tales (Barnes & Noble Classics Series)

by Geoffrey Chaucer

  Er any foot he mighte on erthe goon;

  Ne confort in this tyme hadde he noon,

  Save of his brother, which that was a clerk;

  He knew of al this wo and al this werk.

  For to non other creature certeyn

  Of this matere he dorste no word seyn.

  Under his brest he bar it more secree

  Than ever dide Pamphilus for Galathee.

  His brest was hool, with-oute for to sene,

  But in his herte ay was the arwe kene.

  And wel ye knowe that of a sursanure

  In surgerye is perilous the cure,

  But men mighte touche the arwe, or come therby

  His brother weep and wayled prively,

  Til atte laste him fil in remembraunce,

  That whyl he was at Orliens in Fraunce,

  As yonge clerkes, that been likerous

  To reden artes that been curious,

  Seken in every halke and every herne

  Particuler sciences for to lerne,

  He him remembered that, upon a day,

  At Orliens in studie a book he say

  Of magik naturel, which his felawe,

  That was that tyme bacheler of lawe,

  Al were he ther to lerne another craft,

  Had prively upon his desk y-laft;

  Which book spak muche of the operaciouns,

  Touchinge the eighte and twenty mansiouns

  That longen to the mone, and swich folye,

  Who loves you as his own heart’s life.

  He had not the slightest imagining

  That any person had spoken, while he was away,

  To her of love; he had no fear of it.

  He paid no attention to such a thing,

  But danced, jousted, made her good cheer;

  And thus in joy and bliss I let him dwell,

  And of the sick Aurelius will I tell.

  In sickness and in torment furious

  Two years or more lay wretched Aurelius,

  Before he could walk any step on earth.

  No comfort in this time had he,

  Save of his brother, who was a scholar:

  He knew of all this woe and this affair,

  For to no other creature, certainly,

  Of this matter dare he a word say.

  Within his breast he bore it more secretly

  Than ever did Pamphilus for Galatea.4

  His breast was whole from without seen,

  But in his heart ever was the arrow keen;

  And well you know that to cure an infection deep

  By surgery is perilous,

  In case men might touch the arrow, or come near it.

  His brother wept and wailed secretly,

  Until at last he recalled,

  That while he was. at Orleans in France,5

  Because young scholars desiring

  To read arts that be recondite

  Seek in every corner and nook

  Abstruse sciences for to learn—

  He remembered that, upon a day,

  At Orleans in study a book he saw

  Of magic astronomical, that his colleague,

  Who was at that time a bachelor of law—

  Although he was there to learn another craft—

  Had secretly left it upon his desk:

  Which book spoke much of the operations

  Touching the eight and twenty mansions

  That belong to the moon6—and such folly

  As in our dayes is nat worth a flye;

  For holy chirches feith in our bileve

  Ne suffreth noon illusion us to greve.

  And whan this book was in his remembraunce,

  Anon for joye his herte gan to daunce,

  And to him-self he seyde prively:

  “My brother shal be warisshed hastily;

  For I am siker that ther be sciences,

  By whiche men make diverse apparences

  Swiche as thise subtile tregetoures pleye.

  For ofte at festes have I wel herd seye,

  That tregetours, with-inne an halle large,

  Have maad come in a water and a barge,

  And in the halle rowen up and doun.

  Somtyme hath semed come a grim leoun;

  And somtyme floures springe as in a mede;

  Somtyme a vyne, and grapes whyte and rede;

  Somtyme a castel, al of lym and stoon;

  And whan hem lyked, voyded it anoon.

  Thus semed it to every mannes sighte.

  Now than conclude I thus, that if I mighte

  At Orliens som old felawe y-finde,

  That hadde this mones mansions in minde,

  Or other magik naturel above,

  He sholde wel make my brother han his love.

  For with an apparence a clerk may make

  To mannes sighte, that alle the rokkes blake

  Of Britaigne weren y-voyded everichon,

  And shippes by the brinke comen and gon,

  And in swich forme endure a day or two;

  Than were my brother warisshed of his wo.

  Than moste she nedes holden hir biheste,

  Or elles he shal shame hir atte leste.”

  What sholde I make a lenger tale of this?

  Un-to his brotheres bed he comen is,

  And swich confort he yaf him for to gon

  To Orliens, that he up stirte anon,

  And on his wey forthward thanne is he fare,

  In hope for to ben lissed of his care.

  As in our days is not worth a fly;

  For our faith in holy church’s belief

  Permits no such illusions to make us grieve.

  And when this book was in his remembrance,

  Anon for joy his heart began to dance,

  And to himself he said secretly:

  “My brother shall be cured hastily;

  For I am sure that there be sciences

  By which men make diverse illusions

  Such as are made by these subtle magicians.

  For often at feasts have I well heard said

  That magicians within a hall large

  Have conjured up water and a barge,

  And in the hall rowed up and down;

  Sometimes a grim lion has appeared;

  And sometimes flowers spring as in a meadow;

  Sometimes a vine, and grapes white and red;

  Sometimes a castle, all of lime and stone—

  And when they liked, vanished it anon.

  Thus it seemed to every man’s sight.

  Now then conclude I thus, that if I might

  At Orleans some old companion find

  Who had this moon’s mansions in mind,

  Or other magic even higher,

  Should well make my brother have his love.

  For with an illusion a scholar may make

  It appear that all the black rocks

  Of Brittany were removed every one,

  And ships by the coast come and go,

  And in such form endure a week or two.

  Then were my brother cured of his woe;

  Then she needs must keep her promise,

  Or else he shall blame her at the least.”

  Why should I make a longer tale of this?

  Unto his brother’s bed he went,

  And comforted with advice to go

  To Orleans, that he leapt up anon,

  And set off to travel there,

  In hope for to be eased of his care.

  Whan they were come almost to that citee,

  But-if it were a two furlong or three,

  A yong clerk rominge by him-self they mette,

  Which that in Latin thriftily hem grette,

  And after that he seyde a wonder thing:

  “I knowe,” quod he, “the cause of your coming”;

  And er they ferther any fote wente,

  He told hem al that was in hir entente.

  This Briton clerk him asked of felawes

  The
whiche that he had knowe in olde dawes;

  And he answerde him that they dede were,

  For which he weep ful ofte many a tere.

  Doun of his hors Aurelius lighte anon,

  And forth with this magicien is he gon

  Hoom to his hous, and made hem wel at ese.

  Hem lakked no vitaille that mighte hem plese;

  So wel arrayed hous as ther was oon

  Aurelius in his lyf saugh never noon.

  He shewed him, er he wente to sopeer,

  Forestes, parkes ful of wilde deer;

  Ther saugh he hertes with hir hornes hye,

  The gretteste that ever were seyn with ye.

  He saugh of hem an hondred slayn with houndes,

  And somme with arwes blede of bittre woundes.

  He saugh, whan voided were thise wilde deer

  Thise fauconers upon a fair river,

  That with hir haukes han the heron slayn.

  Tho saugh he knightes justing in a playn;

  And after this, he dide him swich plesaunce,

  That he him shewed his lady on a daunce

  On which him-self he daunced, as him thoughte.

  And whan this maister, that this magik wroughte,

  Saugh it was tyme, he clapte his handes two,

  And farewel! al our revel was ago.

  And yet remoeved they never out of the hous,

  Whyl they saugh al this sighte merveillous,

  But in his studie, ther-as his bookes be,

  They seten stille, and no wight but they three

  To him this maister called his squyer,

  When they were come almost to that city,

  All but a furlong or two or three,

  A young scholar roaming by himself they met,

  Who suitably greeted them in Latin,

  And after that he said a wondrous thing:

  “I know,” said he, “the cause of your coming.”

  And before they a step further went,

  He told them all that was in their intent.

  This Breton scholar asked him about colleagues

  Whom he had known in the old days;

  And he answered him that they dead were,

  For which he wept full often many a tear.

  Down from his horse Aurelius alighted anon,

  And forth with this magician he did go

  Home to his house, and made themselves at ease.

  They lacked no food that might them please;

  So well furnished a house was it that

  Aurelius had never seen one better.

  He showed him, before he went to supper,

  Forests, parks full of wild deer:

  There saw he harts with their horns high,

  The greatest that ever were seen with eyes;

  He saw of them a hundred slain with hounds,

  And some of arrows bled from bitter wounds.

  He saw, when departed were these wild deer,

  These falconers upon a river fair,

  Who with their hawks had the heron slain.

  Then saw he knights jousting on a plain;

  And after this he did him such pleasure

  That he showed him his lady in a dance

  In which he himself danced, or so it seemed.

  And when this master who this magic wrought

  Saw it was time, he clapped his hands two,

  And farewell! all our revel was gone.

  And yet moved they never out of the house

  While they saw all this sight marvelous,

  But in his study, there where his books were,

  They sat still, and no person but they three.

  This master called his squire,

  And seyde him thus: “is redy our soper?

  Almost an houre it is, I undertake,

  Sith I yow bad our soper for to make,

  Whan that thise worthy men wenten with me

  In-to my studie, ther-as my bookes be.”

  “Sire,” quod this squyer, “whan it lyketh yow,

  It is al redy, though ye wol right now.”

  “Go we than soupe,” quod he, “as for the beste;

  This amorous folk som-tyme mote han reste.”

  At-after soper fille they in tretee,

  What somme sholde this maistres guerdon be,

  To remoeven alle the rokkes of Britayne,

  And eek from Gerounde to the mouth of Sayne.

  He made it straunge, and swoor, so god him save,

  Lasse than a thousand pound he wolde nat have,

  Ne gladly for that somme he wolde nat goon.

  Aurelius, with blisful herte anoon,

  Answerde thus, “fy on a thousand pound!

  This wyde world, which that men seye is round,

  I wolde it yeve, if I were lord of it.

  This bargayn is ful drive, for we ben knit.

  Ye shal be payed trewely, by my trouthe!

  But loketh now, for no necligence or slouthe,

  Ye tarie us heer no lenger than to-morwe.”

  “Nay,” quod this clerk, “have heer my feith to borwe.”

  To bedde is goon Aurelius whan him leste,

  And wel ny al that night he hadde his reste;

  What for his labour and his hope of blisse,

  His woful herte of penaunce hadde a lisse.

  Upon the morwe, whan that it was day,

  To Britaigne toke they the righte way,

  Aurelius, and this magicien bisyde,

  And been descended ther they wolde abyde;

  And this was, as the bokes me remembre,

  The colde frosty seson of Decembre.

  Phebus wax old, and hewed lyk latoun,

  That in his hote declinacioun

  Shoon as the burned gold with stremes brighte;

  But now in Capricorn adoun he lighte,

  And said this, “Is ready our supper?

  Almost an hour it is, I declare,

  Since I bade you our supper for to make,

  When these worthy men went with me

  Into my study, there as my books be.”

  “Sire,” said this squire, “when it pleases you,

  It is all ready, should you want it right now.”

  “Go we for supper,” said he, “as for the best:

  These amorous folk must sometimes have rest.”

  At after-supper fell they into negotiations

  What sum should the master’s reward be,

  To remove all the rocks of Brittany,

  And also from the Gironde to the mouth of the Seine.

  He made it difficult, and swore, so God him save,

  Less than a thousand pounds he would not have,

  And not gladly for that sum would he go.

  Aurelius with blissful heart anon

  Answered thus, “Fie on a thousand pounds!

  This wide world, which that men say is round,

  I would give, if I were lord of it.

  This bargain is concluded, for we be agreed.

  You shall be paid truly, by my troth!

  But look now, for no negligence or sloth,

  Should you delay us here, no longer than tomorrow.”

  “Nay,” said the scholar, “have here my faith as pledge.”

  To bed went Aurelius when he wished,

  And well nigh all that night he had his rest:

  What with his labor and his hope of bliss,

  His woeful heart from suffering had relief.

  Upon the morrow, when it was day,

  To Brittany took they the right way,

  Aurelius and this magician beside,

  And dismounted there where they would stay;

  And this was, as these books remind me,

  The cold frosty season of December.

  Phoebus waxed old,7 and colored like brass,

  That in his hot declination

  Shone as burnished gold with beams bright;

  But now in Capricorn down he alighted,

  Wher-as he sho
on ful pale, I dar wel seyn.

  The bittre frostes, with the sleet and reyn,

  Destroyed hath the grene in every yerd.

  Janus sit by the fyr, with double berd,

  And drinketh of his bugle-horn the wyn.

  Biforn him stant braun of the tusked swyn,

  And “Nowel” cryeth every lusty man.

  Aurelius, in al that ever he can,

  Doth to his maister chere and reverence,

  And preyeth him to doon his diligence

  To bringen him out of his peynes smerte,

  Or with a swerd that he wolde slitte his herte.

  This subtil clerk swich routhe had of this man,

  That night and day he spedde him that he can,

  To wayte a tyme of his conclusioun;

  This is to seye, to make illusioun,

  By swich an apparence or jogelrye,

  I ne can no termes of astrologye,

  That she and every wight sholde wene and seye,

  That of Britaigne the rokkes were aweye,

  Or elles they were sonken under grounde.

  So atte laste he hath his tyme y-founde

  To maken his japes and his wrecchednesse

  Of swich a supersticious cursednesse.

  His tables Toletanes forth he broght,

  Ful wel corrected, ne ther lakked noght,

  Neither his collect ne his expans yeres,

  Ne his rotes ne his othere geres,

  As been his centres and his arguments,

  And his proporcionels convenients

  For his equacions in every thing.

  And, by his eighte spere in his wirking,

  He knew ful wel how fer Alnath was shove

  Fro the heed of thilke fixe Aries above

  That in the ninthe speere considered is;

  Ful subtilly he calculed al this.

  Whan he had founde his firste mansioun,

  He knew the remenant by proporcioun;

  And knew the arysing of his mone weel,

  Where he shone pale, I dare well say.

  The bitter frosts, with the sleet and rain,

  Destroyed hath the green in every garden.

  Janus sat by the fire with double beard,

  And drank of his ox-horn goblet the wine;

  Before him stood meat of the tusked swine,

  And “Noel” cried every lusty man.

  Aurelius, in all that ever he could,

  Made to this master good cheer and reverence,

  And prayed him to do his diligence

  To bring him out of his pains sharp,

  Or with a sword would he slit his heart.

  This subtle scholar such compassion had for this man

  That night and day he worked as fast as he could,

  To watch for a time this matter to conclude;

  This is to say, to make illusion,

  By such an apparition of magic—

  I do not know terms of astrology—

  That she and every person should suppose and say

  That of Brittany the rocks were away,