Canterbury Tales (Barnes & Noble Classics Series)

by Geoffrey Chaucer

This is the absolute truth, without gloss;

  It fails not while it is in your hold.”

  And when this knight had thus his tale told,

  He rode out of the hall and down he alighted.

  His steed, which shone sun-bright,

  Stood in the court, still as any stone.

  This knight to his chamber was led anon,

  And was unarmed, and for him food set.

  The presents were royally fetched—

  That is to say, the sword and the mirror—

  And borne anon into the high tower

  With certain officers ordained therefore;

  And unto Canacee this ring was borne

  Solemnly, where she sat at the table.

  But truly, without any fable,

  The horse of brass, that could not be removed,

  It stood as if it were to the ground glued.

  There could no man drive it out of the place

  Neither with pulley nor windlass;

  And why? Because they knew not the craft.

  And therefore in the place they have left it

  Til that the knight hath taught hem the manere

  To voyden him, as ye shal after here.

  Greet was the prees, that swarmeth to and fro,

  To gauren on this hors that stondeth so;

  For it so heigh was, and so brood and long,

  So wel proporcioned for to ben strong,

  Right as it were a stede of Lumbaryde;

  Ther-with so horsly, and so quik of yë

  As it a gentil Poileys courser were.

  For certes, fro his tayl un-to his ere,

  Nature ne art ne coude him nat amende

  In no degree, as al the peple wende.

  But evermore hir moste wonder was,

  How that it coude goon, and was of bras;

  It was of Fairye, as the peple semed.

  Diverse folk diversely they demed;

  As many hedes, as many wittes ther been.

  They murmureden as dooth a swarm of been,

  And maden skiles after hir fantasyes,

  Rehersinge of thise olde poetryes,

  And seyden, it was lyk the Pegasee,

  The hors that hadde winges for to flee;

  Or elles it was the Grekes hors Synon,

  That broghte Troye to destruccion,

  As men may in thise olde gestes rede.

  “Myn herte,” quod oon, “is evermore in drede;

  I trowe som men of armes been ther-inne,

  That shapen hem this citee for to winne.

  It were right good that al swich thing were knowe.”

  Another rowned to his felawe lowe,

  And seyde, “he lyeth, it is rather lyk

  An apparence y-maad by som magyk,

  As jogelours pleyen at thise festes grete.”

  Of sondry doutes thus they jangle and trete,

  As lewed peple demeth comunly

  Of thinges that ben maad more subtilly

  Than they can in her lewednes comprehende;

  They demen gladly to the badder ende.

  And somme of hem wondred on the mirour,

  Till the knight taught them the manner

  To move him, as you shall after hear.

  Great was the crowd that swarmed to and fro

  To gaze on this horse that stood so.

  For it so high was, and so broad and long,

  So well proportioned to be strong,

  Right as if it were a steed of Lombardy;

  A horsely horse, and so lively of eye,

  As if it were a gentle Apulian courser.

  For truly, from his tail unto his ear

  Neither nature nor art could him improve

  In any way, as all the people knew.

  But evermore their greatest wonder was

  How that it could go, and yet was of brass;

  It was an illusion, as the people imagined.

  Diverse folk diversely they deemed;5

  As many heads, as many were there ideas.

  They murmured as does a swarm of bees,

  And made reasons for their fantasies,

  Recalling the old poetry,

  And said it was like Pegasus,6

  The horse that had wings to fly;

  Or else it was the Greek horse of Synon,7

  That brought Troy to destruction,

  As in these old tales men read.

  “My heart,” said one, “is evermore in dread;

  I believe some men of arms be therein,

  Who intend this city to win.

  It were right good that all such things were known.”

  Another whispered to his fellow low,

  And said, “He lies, for it is rather like

  An illusion made by some magic,

  As conjurors play at these feasts great.”

  Of sundry guesses thus they chattered and debated,

  As unlearned people often pass judgement

  On things that be made more subtley

  Than they can in their ignorance comprehend;

  They judge usually to the badder end.

  And some of them wondered on the mirror,

  That born was up in-to the maister-tour,

  How men mighte in it swiche thinges see.

  Another answerde, and seyde it mighte wel be

  Naturelly, by composiciouns

  Of angles and of slye reflexiouns,

  And seyden, that in Rome was swich oon.

  They speken of Alocen and Vitulon,

  And Aristotle, that writen in hir lyves

  Of queynte mirours and of prospectyves,

  As knowen they that han hir bokes herd.

  And othere folk han wondred on the swerd

  That wolde percen thurgh-out every-thing;

  And fille in speche of Thelophus the king,

  And of Achilles with his queynte spere,

  For he coude with it bothe hele and dere,

  Right in swich wyse as men may with the swerd

  Of which right now ye han your-selven herd.

  They speken of sondry harding of metal,

  And speke of medicynes ther-with-al,

  And how, and whanne, it sholde y-harded be;

  Which is unknowe algates unto me.

  Tho speke they of Canacëes ring,

  And seyden alle, that swich a wonder thing

  Of craft of ringes herde they never non,

  Save that he, Moyses, and king Salomon

  Hadde a name of konning in swich art.

  Thus seyn the peple, and drawen hem apart.

  But nathelees, somme seyden that it was

  Wonder to maken of fern-asshen glas,

  And yet nis glas nat lyk asshen of fern;

  But for they han y-knowen it so fern,

  Therfore cesseth her jangling and her wonder.

  As sore wondren somme on cause of thonder,

  On ebbe, on flood, on gossomer, and on mist,

  And alle thing, til that the cause is wist.

  Thus jangle they and demen and devyse,

  Til that the king gan fro the bord aryse.

  Phebus hath laft the angle meridional,

  And yet ascending was the beest royal,

  That was borne up into the master-tower,

  How men might in it such things see.

  Another answered and said it might well be

  Naturally, by arrangements

  Of angels and of sly reflections,

  And said that in Rome there was such a one.

  They spoke of Alhazen, and Vitulon,8

  And Aristotle, who wrote in their lives

  Of ingenious mirrors and perspectives,

  As they know who have them heard.

  And other folk wondered on the sword

  That would pierce through every thing.

  And fell into talk of Telephus the king,9

  And of Achilles with his wondrous spear,

  For he could with it both harm and heal,

  Righ
t in such ways as men may with the sword

  Of which right now you have yourselves heard.

  They spoke of sundry tempering of metal,

  And spoke also of chemicals,

  And how and when it should hardened be,

  Which is unknown, at least unto me.

  They spoke of Canacee’s ring,

  And all said that such a wondrous thing

  In making rings they had never known,

  Save that Moses and King Solomon

  Had a name for cunning in such art.

  Thus said the people in groups scattered about.

  But nevertheless some of them said that it was

  Wondrous to make glass from fern ash,

  And yet glass is not like the ash of fern;

  But, because they had known of it before,

  They ceased their chattering and their wonder.

  As deeply wondered some on the cause of thunder,

  On ebb, on flood, on spider webs, and on mist,

  And all things, till that the cause is known.

  Thus chattered they, and judged, and described

  Till the king began from the table to arise.

  Phoebus had left the angle meridional,

  And yet ascending was the beast royal,

  The gentil Leon, with his Aldiran,

  Whan that this Tartre king, this Cambinskan,

  Roos fro his bord, ther that he sat ful hye.

  Toforn him gooth the loude minstralcye,

  Til he cam to his chambre of parements,

  Ther as they sownen diverse instruments,

  That it is lyk an heven for to here.

  Now dauncen lusty Venus children dere,

  For in the Fish hir lady sat ful hye,

  And loketh on hem with a freendly ye.

  This noble king is set up in his trone.

  This strange knight is fet to him ful sone,

  And on the daunce he gooth with Canacee.

  Heer is the revel and the jolitee

  That is nat able a dul man to devyse.

  He moste han knowen love and his servyse,

  And been a festlich man as fresh as May,

  That sholde yow devysen swich array.

  Who coude telle yow the forme of daunces,

  So uncouthe and so fresshe contenaunces,

  Swich subtil loking and dissimulinges

  For drede of jalouse mennes aperceyvinges?

  No man but Launcelot, and he is deed.

  Therefor I passe of al this lustiheed;

  I seye na-more, but in this jolynesse

  I lete hem, til men to the soper dresse.

  The styward bit the spyces for to hye,

  And eek the wyn, in al this melodye.

  The usshers and the squyers ben y-goon;

  The spyces and the wyn is come anoon.

  They ete and drinke; and whan this hadde an ende,

  Un-to the temple, as reson was, they wende.

  The service doon, they soupen al by day.

  What nedeth yow rehercen hir array?

  Ech man wot wel, that at a kinges feeste

  Hath plentee, to the moste and to the leeste,

  And deyntees mo than been in my knowing.

  At-after soper gooth this noble king

  To seen this hors of bras, with al the route

  The gentle Lion, with his Aldiran,10

  When this Tartar king, Genghis Khan,

  Rose from his table, there where he sat full high.

  Before him went the loud minstrelsy

  Until he came to his official chamber,

  There where they played diverse instruments

  That were like a heaven for to hear.

  Now danced Venus’ lusty children dear,11

  For in Pisces their lady sat full high,

  And looked on them with a friendly eye.

  This noble king set upon his throne.

  This strange knight was fetched to him full soon,

  And in the dance he went with Canacee.

  Here is the revelry and the jollity

  That a dull man is not able to describe.

  He must have known love and its service

  And been a convivial man as fresh as May,

  That you should imagine such a display.

  Who could tell you the form of dances

  So exotic, and such fresh countenances,

  Such subtle lookings and dissimulations

  For fear of jealous men’s interpretations?

  No man but Lancelot, and he is dead.

  Therefore I pass over all this lustihood,

  I say no more, but in this jollyness

  I leave them till men to supper go.

  The steward bid the spiced cakes be brought quickly,

  And also the wine, in all this melody.

  The ushers and the squires were gone,

  The spiced cakes and the wine were come anon.

  They ate and drank, and when this had an end,

  Unto the temple, as reason was, they wended.

  The service done, they breakfasted at daybreak.

  Who needs rehearse their scene?

  Each man knows well that a king’s feast

  Has plenty for the greatest and for the least,

  And dainties more than be in my knowing.

  At after-breakfast went this noble king

  To see this horse of brass, with all a crowd

  Of lordes and of ladyes him aboute.

  Swich wondring was ther on this hors of bras

  That, sin the grete sege of Troye was,

  Ther-as men wondreden on an hors also,

  Ne was ther swich a wondring as was tho.

  But fynally the king axeth this knight

  The vertu of this courser and the might,

  And preyede him to telle his governaunce.

  This hors anoon bigan to trippe and daunce,

  Whan that this knight leyde hand up-on his reyne,

  And seyde, “sir, ther is na-more to seyne,

  But, whan yow list to ryden any-where,

  Ye moten trille a pin, stant in his ere,

  Which I shall telle yow bitwix vs two.

  Ye mote nempne him to what place also

  Or to what contree that yow list to ryde.

  And whan ye come ther as yow list abyde,

  Bidde him descende, and trille another pin,

  For ther-in lyth the effect of al the gin,

  And he wol doun descende and doon your wille;

  And in that place he wol abyde stille,

  Though al the world the contrarie hadde y-swore;

  He shal nat thennes ben y-drawe n‘y-bore.

  Or, if yow liste bidde him thennes goon,

  Trille this pin, and he wol vanisshe anoon

  Out of the sighte of every maner wight,

  And come agayn, be it by day or night,

  When that yow list to clepen him ageyn

  In swich a gyse as I shal to yow seyn

  Bitwixe yow and me, and that ful sone.

  Ryde whan yow list, ther is na-more to done.”

  Enformed whan the king was of that knight,

  And hath conceyved in his wit aright

  The maner and the forme of al this thing,

  Thus glad and blythe, this noble doughty king

  Repeireth to his revel as biforn.

  The brydel is un-to the tour y-born,

  And kept among his jewels leve and dere.

  The hors vanisshed, I noot in what manere,

  Of lords and ladies him about.

  Such wondering was there about this horse of brass

  Not unlike at the great siege of Troy,

  There where men also wondered about a horse;

  Never since then was there a horse so astonishing.

  But finally the king asked this knight

  The virtue of this courser and the might,

  And prayed him to explain its governance.

  This horse anon began to trip and dance,
r />   When this knight laid hand upon the rein,

  And said, “Sire, there is no more to say,

  But when you wish to ride anywhere,

  You must turn a peg, standing in his ear,

  Which I shall tell you between us two.

  You must tell him to what place also,

  Or to what country, that you wish to ride.

  And when you come where you wish to abide,

  Bid him descend, and turn another peg,

  For within lies the guidance of all the contrivance,

  And he will descend and do your will,

  And in that place he will abide still.

  Though all the world contrary has sworn,

  He shall not be from there drawn or borne.

  Or, if you wish to bid him to go,

  Turn this peg, and he will vanish anon

  Out of the sight of everyone,

  And come again, be it day or night,

  When you wish to call him again

  In such a manner as I shall you say.

  Between you and me, and that full soon.

  Ride when you wish, there is no more to do.”

  Informed when the king was by that knight,

  And having conceived in his wit aright

  The manner and form of all these things,

  Full glad and blithe, this noble doughty king

  Repaired to his revel as before.

  The bridle was unto the tower borne

  And kept among the jewels and treasures dear.

  The horse vanished, I know not in what manner,

  Out of hir sighte; ye gete na-more of me.

  But thus I lete in lust and Iolitee

  This Cambynskan his lordes festeyinge,

  Til wel ny the day bigan to springe.

  PART TWO

  The norice of digestioun, the slepe,

  Gan on hem winke, and bad hem taken kepe,

  That muchel drink and labour wolde han reste;

  And with a galping mouth hem alle he keste,

  And seyde, “it was tyme to lye adoun,

  For blood was in his dominacioun;

  Cherissheth blood, natures freend,” quod he.

  They thanken him galpinge, by two, by three,

  And every wight gan drawe him to his reste,

  As slepe hem bad; they toke it for the beste.

  Hir dremes shul nat been y-told for me;

  Ful were hir hedes of fumositee,

  That causeth dreem, of which ther nis no charge.

  They slepen til that it was pryme large,

  The moste part, but it were Canacee;

  She was ful mesurable, as wommen be.

  For of hir fader hadde she take leve

  To gon to reste, sone after it was eve;

  Hir liste nat appalled for to be,

  Nor on the morwe unfestlich for to see;

  And slepte hir firste sleep, and thanne awook.

  For swiche a joye she in hir herte took

  Both of hir queynte ring and hir mirour,