The Canterbury Tales [202]
Prologue to Chaucer's Tale of Sir Thopas
1. This prologue is interesting, for the picture which it gives of Chaucer himself; riding apart from and indifferent to the rest of the pilgrims, with eyes fixed on the ground, and an "elvish", morose, or rather self-absorbed air; portly, if not actually stout, in body; and evidently a man out of the common, as the closing words of the Host imply.
2. Referring to the poet's corpulency.
THE TALE <1>
The First Fit* *part
Listen, lordings, in good intent, And I will tell you verrament* *truly Of mirth and of solas,* *delight, solace All of a knight was fair and gent,* *gentle In battle and in tournament, His name was Sir Thopas.
Y-born he was in far country, In Flanders, all beyond the sea, At Popering <2> in the place; His father was a man full free, And lord he was of that country, As it was Godde's grace. <3>
Sir Thopas was a doughty swain, White was his face as paindemain, <4> His lippes red as rose. His rode* is like scarlet in grain, *complexion And I you tell in good certain He had a seemly nose.
His hair, his beard, was like saffroun, That to his girdle reach'd adown, His shoes of cordewane:<5> Of Bruges were his hosen brown; His robe was of ciclatoun,<6> That coste many a jane.<7>
He coulde hunt at the wild deer, And ride on hawking *for rivere* *by the river* With gray goshawk on hand: <8> Thereto he was a good archere, Of wrestling was there none his peer, Where any ram <9> should stand.
Full many a maiden bright in bow'r They mourned for him par amour, When them were better sleep; But he was chaste, and no lechour, And sweet as is the bramble flow'r That beareth the red heep.* *hip
And so it fell upon a day, For sooth as I you telle may, Sir Thopas would out ride; He worth* upon his steede gray, *mounted And in his hand a launcegay,* *spear <10> A long sword by his side.
He pricked through a fair forest, Wherein is many a wilde beast, Yea, bothe buck and hare; And as he pricked north and east, I tell it you, him had almest *almost Betid* a sorry care. *befallen
There sprange herbes great and small, The liquorice and the setewall,* *valerian And many a clove-gilofre, <12> And nutemeg to put in ale, Whether it be moist* or stale, *new Or for to lay in coffer.
The birdes sang, it is no nay, The sperhawk* and the popinjay,** *sparrowhawk **parrot <13> That joy it was to hear; The throstle-cock made eke his lay, The woode-dove upon the spray She sang full loud and clear.
Sir Thopas fell in love-longing All when he heard the throstle sing, And *prick'd as he were wood;* *rode as if he His faire steed in his pricking were mad* So sweated, that men might him wring, His sides were all blood.
Sir Thopas eke so weary was For pricking on the softe grass, So fierce was his corage,* *inclination, spirit That down he laid him in that place, To make his steed some solace, And gave him good forage.
"Ah, Saint Mary, ben'dicite, What aileth thilke* love at me *this To binde me so sore? Me dreamed all this night, pardie, An elf-queen shall my leman* be, *mistress And sleep under my gore.* *shirt
An elf-queen will I love, y-wis,* *assuredly For in this world no woman is Worthy to be my make* *mate In town; All other women I forsake, And to an elf-queen I me take By dale and eke by down." <14>
Into his saddle he clomb anon, And
1. This prologue is interesting, for the picture which it gives of Chaucer himself; riding apart from and indifferent to the rest of the pilgrims, with eyes fixed on the ground, and an "elvish", morose, or rather self-absorbed air; portly, if not actually stout, in body; and evidently a man out of the common, as the closing words of the Host imply.
2. Referring to the poet's corpulency.
THE TALE <1>
The First Fit* *part
Listen, lordings, in good intent, And I will tell you verrament* *truly Of mirth and of solas,* *delight, solace All of a knight was fair and gent,* *gentle In battle and in tournament, His name was Sir Thopas.
Y-born he was in far country, In Flanders, all beyond the sea, At Popering <2> in the place; His father was a man full free, And lord he was of that country, As it was Godde's grace. <3>
Sir Thopas was a doughty swain, White was his face as paindemain, <4> His lippes red as rose. His rode* is like scarlet in grain, *complexion And I you tell in good certain He had a seemly nose.
His hair, his beard, was like saffroun, That to his girdle reach'd adown, His shoes of cordewane:<5> Of Bruges were his hosen brown; His robe was of ciclatoun,<6> That coste many a jane.<7>
He coulde hunt at the wild deer, And ride on hawking *for rivere* *by the river* With gray goshawk on hand: <8> Thereto he was a good archere, Of wrestling was there none his peer, Where any ram <9> should stand.
Full many a maiden bright in bow'r They mourned for him par amour, When them were better sleep; But he was chaste, and no lechour, And sweet as is the bramble flow'r That beareth the red heep.* *hip
And so it fell upon a day, For sooth as I you telle may, Sir Thopas would out ride; He worth* upon his steede gray, *mounted And in his hand a launcegay,* *spear <10> A long sword by his side.
He pricked through a fair forest, Wherein is many a wilde beast, Yea, bothe buck and hare; And as he pricked north and east, I tell it you, him had almest *almost Betid* a sorry care. *befallen
There sprange herbes great and small, The liquorice and the setewall,* *valerian And many a clove-gilofre, <12> And nutemeg to put in ale, Whether it be moist* or stale, *new Or for to lay in coffer.
The birdes sang, it is no nay, The sperhawk* and the popinjay,** *sparrowhawk **parrot <13> That joy it was to hear; The throstle-cock made eke his lay, The woode-dove upon the spray She sang full loud and clear.
Sir Thopas fell in love-longing All when he heard the throstle sing, And *prick'd as he were wood;* *rode as if he His faire steed in his pricking were mad* So sweated, that men might him wring, His sides were all blood.
Sir Thopas eke so weary was For pricking on the softe grass, So fierce was his corage,* *inclination, spirit That down he laid him in that place, To make his steed some solace, And gave him good forage.
"Ah, Saint Mary, ben'dicite, What aileth thilke* love at me *this To binde me so sore? Me dreamed all this night, pardie, An elf-queen shall my leman* be, *mistress And sleep under my gore.* *shirt
An elf-queen will I love, y-wis,* *assuredly For in this world no woman is Worthy to be my make* *mate In town; All other women I forsake, And to an elf-queen I me take By dale and eke by down." <14>
Into his saddle he clomb anon, And