For to wende with hem. to treuthes dwellyng place.

44

Nay, bi my soules helth," quod pieres. and gan forto swere, "I nolde fange a ferthynge. for seynt Thomas shryne ! Treuthe wolde loue me the lasse. a longe tyme there-after ! Ac if ye wilneth to wende wel. this is the weye thider, That I shal say to yow. and sette yow in the sothe.

GEOFFREY CHAUCER (I)

(1340-1400)

HIS DAYDREAM OF A HUNTING

ME thoughte thus :-that hit was May,
And in the dawning ther I lay,

Me mette thus, in my bed al naked :—
I loked forth, for I was waked
With smale foules a gret hepe,

That had affrayed me out of slepe

Through noyse and swetnesse of hir song;

And, as me mette, they sate among,

Upon my chambre-roof withoute,
Upon the tyles, al a-boute,

And songen, everich in his wyse,
The moste solempne servyse
By note, that ever man, I trowe,
Had herd; for som of hem song lowe,
Some hye, and al of oon accorde.
To telle shortly, at oo worde,

Was never y-herd so swete a steven,
But hit had be a thing of heven ;—
So mery a soun, so swete entunes,
That certes, for the toune of Tewnes,
I nolde but I had herd hem singe;
For al my chambre gan to ringe
Through singing of hir armonye.
For instrument nor melodye

I nolde fange = I would not take.

sothe right (way).

HIS DAYDREAM OF A HUNTING
Was nowher herd yet half so swete,
Nor of acorde half so mete;

For ther was noon of hem that feyned
To singe, for ech of hem him peyned
To finde out mery crafty notes;
They ne spared not hir throtes.
And, sooth to seyn, my chambre was
Ful wel depeynted, and with glas
Were al the windowes wel y-glased,
Ful clere, and nat an hole y-crased,
That to beholde hit was gret joye.
For hoolly al the storie of Troye
Was in the glasing y-wroght thus,
Of Ector and king Priamus,
Of Achilles and Lamedon,
Of Medea and of Jason,

Of Paris, Eleyne, and Lavyne.
And alle the walles with colours fyne
Were peynted, bothe texte and glose,
Of al the Romaunce of the Rose.
My windowes weren shet echon,
And through the glas the sunne shon
Upon my bed with brighte bemes,
With many glade gilden stremes ;
And eek the welken was so fair,
Blew, bright, clere was the air,
And ful atempre, for sothe, hit was;
For nother cold nor hoot hit nas,
Ne in al the welken was a cloude.

And as I lay thus, wonder loude
Me thoughte I herde an hunte blowe
T' assaye his horn, and for to knowe
Whether hit were clere or hors of soune.
I herde goinge, up and doune,

Men, hors, houndes, and other thing;
And al men speken of hunting,

How they wolde slee the hert with strengthe,

And how the hert had, upon lengthe,

So moche embosed, I not now what.

7

Anon-right, whan I herde that,
How that they wolde on hunting goon,
I was right glad, and up anoon;
I took my hors, and forth I wente
Out of my chambre; I never stente
Til I com to the feld withoute.
Ther overtook I a gret route
Of huntes and eek of foresteres,
With many relayes and lymeres,
And hyed hem to the forest faste,
And I with hem ;-so at the laste
I asked oon, ladde a lymere :-
"Say, felow, who shall hunten here?"
Quod I; and he answerde ageyn,
"Sir, th' emperour Octovien,"
Quod he," and is heer faste by."

"A goddes halfe, in good tyme," quod I,

Whan we came to the forest-syde,
Every man dide, right anoon,
As to hunting fil to doon.

The mayster-hunte anoon, fot-hoot,
With a gret horne blew three moot
At the uncoupling of his houndes.
Within a whyl the hert y-founde is,
Y-halowed, and rechased faste
Longe tyme; and at the laste,
This hert rused and stal away
Fro alle the houndes a prevy way.
The houndes had overshot hem alle,
And were on a defaute y-falle ;
Therwith the hunte wonder faste

Blew a forloyn at the laste.

The Book of the Duchesse.

TROILUS AND CRISEYDE

9

TROILUS AND CRISEYDE

BUT for to tellen forth in special
As of this kinges sone of which I tolde,
And leten other thing collateral,

Of him thenke I my tale for to holde,
Bothe of his joye, and of his cares colde;
And al his werk, as touching this matere,
For I it gan, I wil ther-to refere.

With-inne the temple he wente him forth pleyinge,
This Troilus, of every wight aboute,

On this lady and now on that lokinge,
Wher-so she were of toune, or of withoute:
And up-on cas bifel, that through a route
His eye perced, and so depe it wente,
Til on Criseyde it smoot, and ther it stente.

And sodeynly he wex ther-with astoned,
And gan hire bet biholde in thrifty wyse :
"O mercy, god!" thoughte he," wher hastow woned,
That art so fair and goodly to devyse?"
Ther-with his herte gan to sprede and ryse,
And softe sighed, lest men mighte him here,
And caughte a-yein his firste pleyinge chere.

She nas not with the leste of hir stature,
But alle hir limes so wel answeringe
Weren to womanhode, that creature
Was never lasse mannish in seminge.
And eek the pure wyse of here meninge
Shewede wel, that men might in hir gesse
Honour, estat, and wommanly noblesse.

To Troilus right wonder wel with-alle
Gan for to lyke hir mening and hir chere,
Which somdel deynous was, for she leet falle
Hir look a lite a-side, in swich manere,

Ascaunces," what! may I not stonden here?' And after that hir loking gan she lighte,

That never thoughte him seen so good a sighte.

And of hir look in him ther gan to quiken
So greet desir, and swich affeccioun,
That in his hertes botme gan to stiken
Of hir his fixe and depe impressioun :
And though he erst hadde poured up and doun,
He was tho glad his hornes in to shrinke;
Unnethes wiste he how to loke or winke.

Lo, he that leet him-selven so konninge,
And scorned hem that Loves peynes dryen,
Was ful unwar that Love hadde his dwellinge
With-inne the subtile stremes of hir
eyen ;
That sodeynly him thoughte he felte dyen,
Right with hir look, the spirit in his herte;
Blessed be Love, that thus can folk converte !

She, this in blak, lykinge to Troilus,
Over alle thing he stood for to biholde;
Ne his desir, ne wherfor he stood thus,
Ne neither chere made, ne worde tolde;
But from a-fer, his maner for to holde,
On other thing his look som-tyme he caste,
And eft on hir, whyl that servyse laste.

And after this, not fulliche al awhaped,
Out of the temple al esiliche he wente,
Repentinge him that he hadde ever y-japed
Of Loves folk, lest fully the descente

Of scorn fille on him-self; but, what he mente,
Lest it were wist on any maner syde,
His wo he gan dissimulen and hyde.

(Book I.

But as she sat allone and thoughte thus,
Th' ascry aroos at skarmish al with-oute,
And men cryde in the strete. " see, Troilus