Canterbury Tales and Other Poems, Geoffrey Chaucer [good fiction books to read txt] 📗

soon,

And some she warned* well and fair, *refused And some she granted the contrair contrary Of their asking utterly;

But this I say you truely,

What that her cause was, I n’ist; wist not, know not For of these folk full well I wist,

They hadde good fame each deserved,

Although they were diversely served.

Right as her sister, Dame Fortune,

Is wont to serven *in commune. commonly, usually*

 

Now hearken how she gan to pay

Them that gan of her grace to pray;

And right, lo! all this company

Saide sooth,* and not a lie. *truth “Madame,” thus quoth they, “we be

Folk that here beseeche thee

That thou grant us now good fame,

And let our workes have good name

In full recompensatioun

Of good work, give us good renown

“I warn* it you,” quoth she anon; *refuse “Ye get of me good fame none,

By God! and therefore go your way.”

“Alas,” quoth they, “and wellaway!

Tell us what may your cause be.”

“For that it list* me not,” quoth she, *pleases No wight shall speak of you, y-wis,

Good nor harm, nor that nor this.”

 

And with that word she gan to call

Her messenger, that was in hall,

And bade that he should faste go’n,

Upon pain to be blind anon,

For Aeolus, the god of wind;

“In Thrace there ye shall him find,

And bid him bring his clarioun,

That is full diverse of his soun’,

And it is called Cleare Laud,

With which he wont is to heraud proclaim Them that me list y-praised be,

And also bid him how that he

Bring eke his other clarioun,

That hight* Slander in ev’ry town, *is called With which he wont is to diffame defame, disparage Them that me list, and do them shame.”

This messenger gan faste go’n,

And found where, in a cave of stone,

In a country that highte Thrace,

This Aeolus, *with harde grace, Evil favour attend him!*

Helde the windes in distress, constraint And gan them under him to press,

That they began as bears to roar,

He bound and pressed them so sore.

This messenger gan fast to cry,

“Rise up,” quoth he, “and fast thee hie, Until thou at my Lady be,

And take thy clarions eke with thee,

And speed thee forth.” And he anon

Took to him one that hight Triton, <70>

His clarions to beare tho, then And let a certain winde go,

That blew so hideously and high,

That it lefte not a sky cloud <71>

In all the welkin* long and broad. *sky This Aeolus nowhere abode delayed Till he was come to Fame’s feet,

And eke the man that Triton hete, is called And there he stood as still as stone.

 

And therewithal there came anon

Another huge company

Of goode folk, and gan to cry,

“Lady, grant us goode fame,

And let our workes have that name,

Now in honour of gentleness;

And all so God your soule bless;

For we have well deserved it,

Therefore is right we be well quit.” requited “As thrive I,” quoth she, “ye shall fail; Good workes shall you not avail

To have of me good fame as now;

But, wot ye what, I grante you.

That ye shall have a shrewde* fame, evil, cursed And wicked los, and worse name, *reputation <72>

Though ye good los have well deserv’d; Now go your way, for ye be serv’d.

And now, Dan Aeolus,” quoth she,

“Take forth thy trump anon, let see,

That is y-called Slander light,

And blow their los, that ev’ry wight

Speak of them harm and shrewedness, wickedness, malice Instead of good and worthiness;

For thou shalt trump all the contrair

Of that they have done, well and fair.”

Alas! thought I, what adventures (evil) fortunes Have these sorry creatures,

That they, amonges all the press,

Should thus be shamed guilteless?

But what! it muste needes be.

What did this Aeolus, but he

Took out his blacke trump of brass,

That fouler than the Devil was,

And gan this trumpet for to blow,

As all the world ‘t would overthrow.

Throughout every regioun

Went this foule trumpet’s soun’,

As swift as pellet out of gun

When fire is in the powder run.

And such a smoke gan out wend, go Out of this foule trumpet’s end,

Black, blue, greenish, swart,* and red, *black <73>

As doth when that men melt lead,

Lo! all on high from the tewell; chimney <74>

And thereto* one thing saw I well, *also That the farther that it ran,

The greater waxen it began,

As doth the river from a well, fountain And it stank as the pit of hell.

Alas! thus was their shame y-rung,

And guilteless, on ev’ry tongue.

 

Then came the thirde company,

And gan up to the dais to hie, hasten And down on knees they fell anon,

And saide, “We be ev’ry one

Folk that have full truely

Deserved fame right fully,

And pray you that it may be know

Right as it is, and forth y-blow.”

“I grante,” quoth she, “for me list

That now your goode works be wist; known And yet ye shall have better los,

In despite of all your foes,

Than worthy* is, and that anon. *merited Let now,” quoth she, “thy trumpet go’n, Thou Aeolus, that is so black,

And out thine other trumpet take,

That highte Laud, and blow it so

That through the world their fame may go, Easily and not too fast,

That it be knowen at the last.”

“Full gladly, Lady mine,” he said;

And out his trump of gold he braid pulled forth Anon, and set it to his mouth,

And blew it east, and west, and south, And north, as loud as any thunder,

That ev’ry wight had of it wonder,

So broad it ran ere that it stent. ceased And certes all the breath that went

Out of his trumpet’s mouthe smell’d

As* men a pot of balme held *as if Among a basket full of roses;

This favour did he to their loses. reputations And right with this I gan espy

Where came the fourthe company.

But certain they were wondrous few;

And gan to standen in a rew, row And saide, “Certes, Lady bright,

We have done well with all our might,

But we *not keep* to have fame; *care not Hide our workes and our name,

For Godde’s love! for certes we

Have surely done it for bounty, goodness, virtue And for no manner other thing.”

“I grante you all your asking,”

Quoth she; “let your workes be dead.”

 

With that I turn’d about my head,

And saw anon the fifthe rout, company That to this Lady gan to lout, bow down And down on knees anon to fall;

And to her then besoughten all

To hide their good workes eke,

And said, they gave* not a leek *cared For no fame, nor such renown;

For they for contemplatioun

And Godde’s love had y-wrought,

Nor of fame would they have aught.

“What!” quoth she, “and be ye wood?

And *weene ye* for to do good, do ye imagine

And for to have of that no fame?

Have ye despite to have my name? do ye despise

Nay, ye shall lie every one!

Blow thy trump, and that anon,”

Quoth she, “thou Aeolus, I hote, command And ring these folkes works by note,

That all the world may of it hear.”

And he gan blow their los* so clear *reputation Within his golden clarioun,

That through the worlde went the soun’, All so kindly, and so soft,

That their fame was blown aloft.

 

And then came the sixth company,

And gunnen* fast on Fame to cry; *began Right verily in this mannere

They saide; “Mercy, Lady dear!

To telle certain as it is,

We have done neither that nor this,

But idle all our life hath be; been But natheless yet praye we

That we may have as good a fame,

And great renown, and knowen* name, *well-known As they that have done noble gests, feats.

And have achieved all their quests, enterprises; desires As well of Love, as other thing;

All* was us never brooch, nor ring, *although Nor elles aught from women sent,

Nor ones in their hearte meant

To make us only friendly cheer,

But mighte *teem us upon bier; might lay us on our bier Yet let us to the people seem (by their adverse demeanour)*

Such as the world may of us deem, judge That women loven us for wood. madly It shall us do as muche good,

And to our heart as much avail,

The counterpoise,* ease, and travail, *compensation As we had won it with labour;

For that is deare bought honour,

*At the regard of* our great ease. in comparison with

And yet ye must us more please; in addition

Let us be holden eke thereto

Worthy, and wise, and good also,

And rich, and happy unto love,

For Godde’s love, that sits above;

Though we may not the body have

Of women, yet, so God you save,

Let men glue* on us the name; *fasten Sufficeth that we have the fame.”

“I grante,” quoth she, “by my troth;

Now Aeolus, withoute sloth,

Take out thy trump of gold,” quoth she, “And blow as they have asked me,

That ev’ry man ween* them at ease, believe Although they go in full bad leas.” sorry plight*

This Aeolus gan it so blow,

That through the world it was y-know.

 

Then came the seventh rout anon,

And fell on knees ev’ry one,

And saide, “Lady, grant us soon

The same thing, the same boon,

Which this next folk you have done.” the people just before us

“Fy on you,” quoth she, “ev’ry one!

Ye nasty swine, ye idle wretches,

Full fill’d of rotten slowe tetches! blemishes <75>

What? false thieves! ere ye would

*Be famous good,* and nothing n’ould have good fame

Deserve why, nor never raught, recked, cared (to do so) Men rather you to hangen ought.

For ye be like the sleepy cat,

That would have fish; but, know’st thou what?

He woulde no thing wet his claws.

Evil thrift come to your jaws,

And eke to mine, if I it grant,

Or do favour you to avaunt. boast your deeds Thou Aeolus, thou King of Thrace,

Go, blow this folk a *sorry grace,” disgrace Quoth she, “anon; and know’st thou how?

As I shall telle thee right now,

Say, these be they that would honour

Have, and do no kind of labour,

Nor do no good, and yet have laud,

And that men ween’d that Belle Isaude <76>

*Could them not of love wern; could not refuse them her love*

And yet she that grinds at the quern mill <77>

Is all too good to ease their heart.”

This Aeolus anon upstart,

And with his blacke clarioun

He gan to blazen out a soun’

As loud as bellows wind in hell;

And eke therewith, the sooth to tell,

This sounde was so full of japes, jests As ever were mows* in apes; *grimaces And that went all the world about,

That ev’ry wight gan on them shout,

And for to laugh as they were wood; mad *Such game found they in their hood.* <78> so were they ridiculed

 

Then came another company,

That hadde done the treachery,

The harm, and the great wickedness,

That any hearte coulde guess;

And prayed her to have good fame,

And that she would do them no shame,

But give them los and