The Canterbury Tales [138]
it no keep;* *notice She hearde not what thing he to her said: She far'd as she had start out of a sleep, Till she out of her mazedness abraid.* *awoke "Griseld'," quoth he, "by God that for us died, Thou art my wife, none other I have, Nor ever had, as God my soule save.
"This is thy daughter, which thou hast suppos'd To be my wife; that other faithfully Shall be mine heir, as I have aye dispos'd; Thou bare them of thy body truely: At Bologna kept I them privily: Take them again, for now may'st thou not say That thou hast lorn* none of thy children tway. *lost
"And folk, that otherwise have said of me, I warn them well, that I have done this deed For no malice, nor for no cruelty, But to assay in thee thy womanhead: And not to slay my children (God forbid), But for to keep them privily and still, Till I thy purpose knew, and all thy will."
When she this heard, in swoon adown she falleth For piteous joy; and after her swooning, She both her younge children to her calleth, And in her armes piteously weeping Embraced them, and tenderly kissing, Full like a mother, with her salte tears She bathed both their visage and their hairs.
O, what a piteous thing it was to see Her swooning, and her humble voice to hear! "Grand mercy, Lord, God thank it you," quoth she, That ye have saved me my children dear; Now reck* I never to be dead right here; *care Since I stand in your love, and in your grace, No *force of* death, nor when my spirit pace.* *no matter for* *pass
"O tender, O dear, O young children mine, Your woeful mother *weened steadfastly* *believed firmly* That cruel houndes, or some foul vermine, Had eaten you; but God of his mercy, And your benigne father tenderly Have *done you keep:"* and in that same stound* *caused you to All suddenly she swapt** down to the ground. be preserved* *hour **fell And in her swoon so sadly* holdeth she *firmly Her children two, when she gan them embrace, That with great sleight* and great difficulty *art The children from her arm they can arace,* *pull away O! many a tear on many a piteous face Down ran of them that stoode her beside, Unneth'* aboute her might they abide. *scarcely
Walter her gladdeth, and her sorrow slaketh:* *assuages She riseth up abashed* from her trance, *astonished And every wight her joy and feaste maketh, Till she hath caught again her countenance. Walter her doth so faithfully pleasance, That it was dainty for to see the cheer Betwixt them two, since they be met in fere.* *together
The ladies, when that they their time sey,* *saw Have taken her, and into chamber gone, And stripped her out of her rude array, And in a cloth of gold that brightly shone, And with a crown of many a riche stone Upon her head, they into hall her brought: And there she was honoured as her ought.
Thus had this piteous day a blissful end; For every man and woman did his might This day in mirth and revel to dispend, Till on the welkin* shone the starres bright: *firmament For more solemn in every mannes sight This feaste was, and greater of costage,* *expense Than was the revel of her marriage.
Full many a year in high prosperity Lived these two in concord and in rest; And richely his daughter married he Unto a lord, one of the worthiest Of all Itale; and then in peace and rest His wife's father in his court he kept, Till that the soul out of his body crept.
His son succeeded in his heritage, In rest and peace, after his father's day: And fortunate was eke in marriage, All* he put not his wife in great assay: *although This world is not so strong, it *is no nay,* *not to be denied* As it hath been in olde times yore; And hearken
"This is thy daughter, which thou hast suppos'd To be my wife; that other faithfully Shall be mine heir, as I have aye dispos'd; Thou bare them of thy body truely: At Bologna kept I them privily: Take them again, for now may'st thou not say That thou hast lorn* none of thy children tway. *lost
"And folk, that otherwise have said of me, I warn them well, that I have done this deed For no malice, nor for no cruelty, But to assay in thee thy womanhead: And not to slay my children (God forbid), But for to keep them privily and still, Till I thy purpose knew, and all thy will."
When she this heard, in swoon adown she falleth For piteous joy; and after her swooning, She both her younge children to her calleth, And in her armes piteously weeping Embraced them, and tenderly kissing, Full like a mother, with her salte tears She bathed both their visage and their hairs.
O, what a piteous thing it was to see Her swooning, and her humble voice to hear! "Grand mercy, Lord, God thank it you," quoth she, That ye have saved me my children dear; Now reck* I never to be dead right here; *care Since I stand in your love, and in your grace, No *force of* death, nor when my spirit pace.* *no matter for* *pass
"O tender, O dear, O young children mine, Your woeful mother *weened steadfastly* *believed firmly* That cruel houndes, or some foul vermine, Had eaten you; but God of his mercy, And your benigne father tenderly Have *done you keep:"* and in that same stound* *caused you to All suddenly she swapt** down to the ground. be preserved* *hour **fell And in her swoon so sadly* holdeth she *firmly Her children two, when she gan them embrace, That with great sleight* and great difficulty *art The children from her arm they can arace,* *pull away O! many a tear on many a piteous face Down ran of them that stoode her beside, Unneth'* aboute her might they abide. *scarcely
Walter her gladdeth, and her sorrow slaketh:* *assuages She riseth up abashed* from her trance, *astonished And every wight her joy and feaste maketh, Till she hath caught again her countenance. Walter her doth so faithfully pleasance, That it was dainty for to see the cheer Betwixt them two, since they be met in fere.* *together
The ladies, when that they their time sey,* *saw Have taken her, and into chamber gone, And stripped her out of her rude array, And in a cloth of gold that brightly shone, And with a crown of many a riche stone Upon her head, they into hall her brought: And there she was honoured as her ought.
Thus had this piteous day a blissful end; For every man and woman did his might This day in mirth and revel to dispend, Till on the welkin* shone the starres bright: *firmament For more solemn in every mannes sight This feaste was, and greater of costage,* *expense Than was the revel of her marriage.
Full many a year in high prosperity Lived these two in concord and in rest; And richely his daughter married he Unto a lord, one of the worthiest Of all Itale; and then in peace and rest His wife's father in his court he kept, Till that the soul out of his body crept.
His son succeeded in his heritage, In rest and peace, after his father's day: And fortunate was eke in marriage, All* he put not his wife in great assay: *although This world is not so strong, it *is no nay,* *not to be denied* As it hath been in olde times yore; And hearken