by Homer
Look of Egypt the king, Dan Pharaoh,
His baker and his buteler also,
Whether they felte none effect1 in dreams. 1significance
Whoso will seek the acts of sundry remes1 1realms
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,1 1lost
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 1tell of laxatives no store,1 1hold laxatives
For they be venomous, I wot it well; of no value1
I them defy,1 I love them never a del.2 1distrust 2whit
“But let us speak of mirth, and stint1 all this; 1cease
Madame Partelote, so have I bliss,
Of one thing God hath sent me large1 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 sicker1 as In principio, 1certain
Mulier est hominis confusio.
Madam, the sentence1 of of this Latin is, 1meaning
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,1 1delight
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,1 and by none other lore,2 1nature 2learning
That it was prime, and crew with blissful steven.1 1voice
“The sun,” he said, “is clomben up in heaven
Twenty degrees and one, and more y-wis.1 1assuredly
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;1 1casualty
For ever the latter end of joy is woe:
God wot that worldly joy is soon y-go:
And, if a rhetor1 coulde fair indite, 1orator
He in a chronicle might it safely write,
As for 1a sov’reign notability1 1a thing supremely notable1
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 wonned1 yeares three, 1dwelt
By high imagination forecast,
The same night thorough the hedges brast1 1burst
Into the yard, where Chanticleer the fair
Was wont, and eke his wives, to repair;
And in a bed of wortes1 still he lay, 1cabbages
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! Rouking1 in thy den! 1crouching, 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;1 1rafters
Thou wert full well y-warned by thy dreams
That thilke day was perilous to thee.
But what that God forewot1 must needes be, 1foreknows
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 1boult it to the bren,1 1examine it thoroughly 1
As can the holy doctor Augustine,
Or Boece, or the bishop Bradwardine,
Whether that Godde’s worthy foreweeting1 1foreknowledge
1Straineth me needly1 for to do a thing 1forces me1
(Needly call I simple necessity),
Or elles if free choice be granted me
To do that same thing, or do it not,
Though God forewot1 it ere that it was wrought; 1knew in advance
Or if 1his weeting straineth never a deal,1 1his knowing constrains
But by necessity conditionel. not at all1
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;1 1mischievous, 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’ot1 to whom I might displease 1know not
If I counsel of women woulde blame,
Pass over, for I said it in my game.1 1jest
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.1 1conjecture, imagine
Fair in the sand, to bathe1 her merrily, 1bask
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,1 1certainly
How that they singe well and merrily.
And so befell that, as he cast his eye
Among the wortes,1 on a butterfly, 1cabbages
He was ware of this fox that lay full low.
Nothing 1ne list him thenne1 for to crow, 1he had no inclination1
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,1 if be may it see, 1enemy
Though he 1ne’er erst1 had soon it with his eye 1never before1
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,1 1voice
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:1 1satisfaction
And certes, Sir, full fain would I you please.
But, for men speak of singing, I will say,
So may I brooke1 well mine eyen tway, 1enjoy, 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 1so pain him,1 that with both his eyen 1make such an exertion1
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, for1 a prieste’s son gave him a knock 1because
Upon his leg, while he was young and nice,1 1foolish
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 flattour1 1flatterer
Is in your court, and many a losengeour, 1 1deceiver
That please you well more, by my faith,
Than he that soothfastness1 unto you saith. 1truth
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 1by the gorge hente1 Chanticleer, 1seized by the throat1
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!1 1escaped
Alas, that Chanticleer flew from the beams!
Alas, his wife raughte1 nought of dreams! 1regarded
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 plain1 1lament
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 hent1 king Priam by the beard, 1seized
And slain him (as saith us Eneidos1), 1The Aeneid
As maden all the hennes in the close,1 1yard
When they had seen of Chanticleer the sight.
But sov’reignly1 Dame Partelote shright,2 1above all others
Full louder than did Hasdrubale’s wife, 2shrieked
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 sely1 widow, and her daughters two, 1simple, 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;1 1kill, 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,1 1followers
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 beames1 and of box, 1trumpets
Of horn and bone, in which they blew and pooped,1 2tooted
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 wisly1 God help me), 1surely
‘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,1 1nimbly
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,1 1offence
Inasmuch as I maked you afear’d,
Whe
n I you hent,1 and brought out of your yard; 1took
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 shrew1 us both the two, 1curse
And first I shrew myself, both blood and bones,
If thou beguile me oftener than once.
Thou shalt no more through thy flattery
Do1 me to sing and winke with mine eye; 1cause
For he that winketh when he shoulde see,
All wilfully, God let him never the.”1 1thrive
“Nay,” quoth the fox; “but God give him mischance
That is so indiscreet of governance,
That jangleth1 when that he should hold his peace.” 1chatters
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,
1To our doctrine it written is y-wis.1 1is surely written for
Take the fruit, and let the chaff be still. our instruction1
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.
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,1 1a layman
Thou wouldest be a treadefowl1 aright; 1cock
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 brawnes1 hath this gentle priest, 1muscles, 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.
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
Troilus and Criseyde: Opening of Book II
Owt of thise blake wawes for to saylle,
O wynd, o wynd, the weder gynneth clere;
For in this see the boot hath swych travaylle,
Of my connyng, that unneth I it steere.
This see clepe I the tempestous matere
