The Canterbury Tales [223]
would eftsoon,* *immediately To wreak his ire on it full cruelly But of his purpose was he let* full soon. *prevented
God for his menace him so sore smote, With invisible wound incurable, That in his guttes carf* it so and bote,** *cut **gnawed Till that his paines were importable;* *unendurable And certainly the wreche* was reasonable, *vengeance For many a manne's guttes did he pain; But from his purpose, curs'd* and damnable, *impious For all his smart he would him not restrain; But bade anon apparaile* his host. *prepare
And suddenly, ere he was of it ware, God daunted all his pride, and all his boast For he so sore fell out of his chare,* *chariot That it his limbes and his skin to-tare, So that he neither mighte go nor ride But in a chaire men about him bare, Alle forbruised bothe back and side.
The wreche* of God him smote so cruelly, *vengeance That through his body wicked wormes crept, And therewithal he stank so horribly That none of all his meinie* that him kept, *servants Whether so that he woke or elles slept, Ne mighte not of him the stink endure. In this mischief he wailed and eke wept, And knew God Lord of every creature.
To all his host, and to himself also, Full wlatsem* was the stink of his carrain;** *loathsome **body No manne might him beare to and fro. And in this stink, and this horrible pain, He starf* full wretchedly in a mountain. *dies Thus hath this robber, and this homicide, That many a manne made to weep and plain, Such guerdon* as belongeth unto pride. *reward
The story of ALEXANDER is so commune, That ev'ry wight that hath discretion Hath heard somewhat or all of his fortune. This wide world, as in conclusion, He won by strength; or, for his high renown, They were glad for peace to him to send. The pride and boast of man he laid adown, Whereso he came, unto the worlde's end.
Comparison yet never might be maked Between him and another conqueror; For all this world for dread of him had quaked He was of knighthood and of freedom flow'r: Fortune him made the heir of her honour. Save wine and women, nothing might assuage His high intent in arms and labour, So was he full of leonine courage.
What praise were it to him, though I you told Of Darius, and a hundred thousand mo', Of kinges, princes, dukes, and earles bold, Which he conquer'd, and brought them into woe? I say, as far as man may ride or go, The world was his, why should I more devise?* *tell For, though I wrote or told you evermo', Of his knighthood it mighte not suffice.
Twelve years he reigned, as saith Maccabee Philippe's son of Macedon he was, That first was king in Greece the country. O worthy gentle* Alexander, alas *noble That ever should thee falle such a case! Empoison'd of thine owen folk thou were; Thy six <22> fortune hath turn'd into an ace, And yet for thee she wepte never a tear.
Who shall me give teares to complain The death of gentiless, and of franchise,* *generosity That all this worlde had in his demaine,* *dominion And yet he thought it mighte not suffice, So full was his corage* of high emprise? *spirit Alas! who shall me helpe to indite False Fortune, and poison to despise? The whiche two of all this woe I wite.* *blame
By wisdom, manhood, and by great labour, From humbleness to royal majesty Up rose he, JULIUS the Conquerour, That won all th' Occident,* by land and sea, *West By strength of hand or elles by treaty, And unto Rome made them tributary; And since* of Rome the emperor was he, *afterwards Till that Fortune wax'd his adversary.
O mighty Caesar, that in Thessaly Against POMPEIUS, father thine in law, <23> That
God for his menace him so sore smote, With invisible wound incurable, That in his guttes carf* it so and bote,** *cut **gnawed Till that his paines were importable;* *unendurable And certainly the wreche* was reasonable, *vengeance For many a manne's guttes did he pain; But from his purpose, curs'd* and damnable, *impious For all his smart he would him not restrain; But bade anon apparaile* his host. *prepare
And suddenly, ere he was of it ware, God daunted all his pride, and all his boast For he so sore fell out of his chare,* *chariot That it his limbes and his skin to-tare, So that he neither mighte go nor ride But in a chaire men about him bare, Alle forbruised bothe back and side.
The wreche* of God him smote so cruelly, *vengeance That through his body wicked wormes crept, And therewithal he stank so horribly That none of all his meinie* that him kept, *servants Whether so that he woke or elles slept, Ne mighte not of him the stink endure. In this mischief he wailed and eke wept, And knew God Lord of every creature.
To all his host, and to himself also, Full wlatsem* was the stink of his carrain;** *loathsome **body No manne might him beare to and fro. And in this stink, and this horrible pain, He starf* full wretchedly in a mountain. *dies Thus hath this robber, and this homicide, That many a manne made to weep and plain, Such guerdon* as belongeth unto pride. *reward
The story of ALEXANDER is so commune, That ev'ry wight that hath discretion Hath heard somewhat or all of his fortune. This wide world, as in conclusion, He won by strength; or, for his high renown, They were glad for peace to him to send. The pride and boast of man he laid adown, Whereso he came, unto the worlde's end.
Comparison yet never might be maked Between him and another conqueror; For all this world for dread of him had quaked He was of knighthood and of freedom flow'r: Fortune him made the heir of her honour. Save wine and women, nothing might assuage His high intent in arms and labour, So was he full of leonine courage.
What praise were it to him, though I you told Of Darius, and a hundred thousand mo', Of kinges, princes, dukes, and earles bold, Which he conquer'd, and brought them into woe? I say, as far as man may ride or go, The world was his, why should I more devise?* *tell For, though I wrote or told you evermo', Of his knighthood it mighte not suffice.
Twelve years he reigned, as saith Maccabee Philippe's son of Macedon he was, That first was king in Greece the country. O worthy gentle* Alexander, alas *noble That ever should thee falle such a case! Empoison'd of thine owen folk thou were; Thy six <22> fortune hath turn'd into an ace, And yet for thee she wepte never a tear.
Who shall me give teares to complain The death of gentiless, and of franchise,* *generosity That all this worlde had in his demaine,* *dominion And yet he thought it mighte not suffice, So full was his corage* of high emprise? *spirit Alas! who shall me helpe to indite False Fortune, and poison to despise? The whiche two of all this woe I wite.* *blame
By wisdom, manhood, and by great labour, From humbleness to royal majesty Up rose he, JULIUS the Conquerour, That won all th' Occident,* by land and sea, *West By strength of hand or elles by treaty, And unto Rome made them tributary; And since* of Rome the emperor was he, *afterwards Till that Fortune wax'd his adversary.
O mighty Caesar, that in Thessaly Against POMPEIUS, father thine in law, <23> That