The Canterbury Tales [385]
the queen and all the ladies of the isle had vowed neither to eat, nor drink, nor sleep, nor speak, nor cease weeping till all were dead. The queen had died the first; and half of the other ladies had already "under the earth ta'en lodging new." The woeful recorder of all these woes invites the prince to behold the queen's hearse:
"Come within, come see her hearse Where ye shall see the piteous sight That ever yet was shown to knight; For ye shall see ladies stand, Each with a greate rod in hand, Clad in black, with visage white, Ready each other for to smite, If any be that will not weep; Or who makes countenance to sleep. They be so beat, that all so blue They be as cloth that dy'd is new."
Scarcely has the lady ceased to speak, when the prince plucks forth a dagger, plunges it into his heart, and, drawing but one breath, expires.
For whiche cause the lusty host, Which [stood] in battle on the coast, At once for sorrow such a cry Gan rear, thorough* the company, *throughout That to the heav'n heard was the soun', And under th'earth as far adown, And wilde beastes for the fear So suddenly affrayed* were, *afraid That for the doubt, while they might dure,* *have a chance of safety They ran as of their lives unsure, From the woodes into the plain, And from valleys the high mountain They sought, and ran as beastes blind, That clean forgotten had their kind.* *nature
The lords of the laggard host ask the woebegone lady what should be done; she answers that nothing can now avail, but that for remembrance they should build in their land, open to public view, "in some notable old city," a chapel engraved with some memorial of the queen. And straightway, with a sigh, she also "pass'd her breath."
Then said the lordes of the host, And so concluded least and most, That they would ay in houses of thack* *thatch Their lives lead, <10> and wear but black, And forsake all their pleasances, And turn all joy to penances; And bare the dead prince to the barge, And named *them should* have the charge; *those who should* And to the hearse where lay the queen The remnant went, and down on kneen, Holding their hands on high, gan cry, "Mercy! mercy!" *evereach thry;* *each one thrice* And curs'd the time that ever sloth Should have such masterdom of troth. And to the barge, a longe mile, They bare her forth; and, in a while, All the ladies, one and one, By companies were brought each one. And pass'd the sea, and took the land, And in new hearses, on a sand, Put and brought were all anon, Unto a city clos'd with stone, Where it had been used ay The kinges of the land to lay, After they reigned in honours; And writ was which were conquerours; In an abbey of nunnes black, Which accustom'd were to wake, And of usage rise each a-night, To pray for ev'ry living wight. And so befell, as is the guise, Ordain'd and said was the service Of the prince and eke of the queen, So devoutly as mighte be'n; And, after that, about the hearses, Many orisons and verses, Withoute note* <11> full softely *music Said were, and that full heartily; That all the night, till it was day, The people in the church gan pray Unto the Holy Trinity, Of those soules to have pity.
And when the nighte past and run Was, and the newe day begun, -- The young morrow with rayes red, Which from the sun all o'er gan spread, Attemper'd* cleare was and fair, *clement, calm And made a time of wholesome air, -- Befell a wondrous case* and strange *chance, event Among the people, and gan change Soon the word, and ev'ry woe Unto a joy, and some to two.
A bird, all feather'd blue and green, With brighte rays like gold between, As small thread over ev'ry joint, All full of colour strange and coint,* *quaint Uncouth* and wonderful to sight, *unfamiliar Upon the queene's hearse gan light,
"Come within, come see her hearse Where ye shall see the piteous sight That ever yet was shown to knight; For ye shall see ladies stand, Each with a greate rod in hand, Clad in black, with visage white, Ready each other for to smite, If any be that will not weep; Or who makes countenance to sleep. They be so beat, that all so blue They be as cloth that dy'd is new."
Scarcely has the lady ceased to speak, when the prince plucks forth a dagger, plunges it into his heart, and, drawing but one breath, expires.
For whiche cause the lusty host, Which [stood] in battle on the coast, At once for sorrow such a cry Gan rear, thorough* the company, *throughout That to the heav'n heard was the soun', And under th'earth as far adown, And wilde beastes for the fear So suddenly affrayed* were, *afraid That for the doubt, while they might dure,* *have a chance of safety They ran as of their lives unsure, From the woodes into the plain, And from valleys the high mountain They sought, and ran as beastes blind, That clean forgotten had their kind.* *nature
The lords of the laggard host ask the woebegone lady what should be done; she answers that nothing can now avail, but that for remembrance they should build in their land, open to public view, "in some notable old city," a chapel engraved with some memorial of the queen. And straightway, with a sigh, she also "pass'd her breath."
Then said the lordes of the host, And so concluded least and most, That they would ay in houses of thack* *thatch Their lives lead, <10> and wear but black, And forsake all their pleasances, And turn all joy to penances; And bare the dead prince to the barge, And named *them should* have the charge; *those who should* And to the hearse where lay the queen The remnant went, and down on kneen, Holding their hands on high, gan cry, "Mercy! mercy!" *evereach thry;* *each one thrice* And curs'd the time that ever sloth Should have such masterdom of troth. And to the barge, a longe mile, They bare her forth; and, in a while, All the ladies, one and one, By companies were brought each one. And pass'd the sea, and took the land, And in new hearses, on a sand, Put and brought were all anon, Unto a city clos'd with stone, Where it had been used ay The kinges of the land to lay, After they reigned in honours; And writ was which were conquerours; In an abbey of nunnes black, Which accustom'd were to wake, And of usage rise each a-night, To pray for ev'ry living wight. And so befell, as is the guise, Ordain'd and said was the service Of the prince and eke of the queen, So devoutly as mighte be'n; And, after that, about the hearses, Many orisons and verses, Withoute note* <11> full softely *music Said were, and that full heartily; That all the night, till it was day, The people in the church gan pray Unto the Holy Trinity, Of those soules to have pity.
And when the nighte past and run Was, and the newe day begun, -- The young morrow with rayes red, Which from the sun all o'er gan spread, Attemper'd* cleare was and fair, *clement, calm And made a time of wholesome air, -- Befell a wondrous case* and strange *chance, event Among the people, and gan change Soon the word, and ev'ry woe Unto a joy, and some to two.
A bird, all feather'd blue and green, With brighte rays like gold between, As small thread over ev'ry joint, All full of colour strange and coint,* *quaint Uncouth* and wonderful to sight, *unfamiliar Upon the queene's hearse gan light,