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

courtesy; *literature, learning For of morality he was the flow’r,

As in his time, but if bookes lie. *unless And while this master had of him mast’ry, He made him so conning and so souple, subtle That longe time it was ere tyranny,

Or any vice, durst in him uncouple. be let loose This Seneca, of which that I devise, tell Because Nero had of him suche dread,

For he from vices would him aye chastise Discreetly, as by word, and not by deed; “Sir,” he would say, “an emperor must need Be virtuous, and hate tyranny.”

For which he made him in a bath to bleed On both his armes, till he muste die.

 

This Nero had eke of a custumance habit In youth against his master for to rise; stand in his presence Which afterward he thought a great grievance; Therefore he made him dien in this wise.

But natheless this Seneca the wise

Chose in a bath to die in this mannere, Rather than have another tormentise; torture And thus hath Nero slain his master dear.

 

Now fell it so, that Fortune list no longer The highe pride of Nero to cherice; cherish For though he were strong, yet was she stronger.

She thoughte thus; “By God, I am too nice foolish To set a man, that is full fill’d of vice, In high degree, and emperor him call!

By God, out of his seat I will him trice! thrust <18>

When he least weeneth,* soonest shall he fall.” *expecteth The people rose upon him on a night,

For his default; and when he it espied, Out of his doors anon he hath him dight betaken himself Alone, and where he ween’d t’have been allied, regarded with He knocked fast, and aye the more he cried friendship The faster shutte they their doores all; Then wist he well he had himself misgied, misled And went his way, no longer durst he call.

 

The people cried and rumbled up and down, That with his eares heard he how they said; “Where is this false tyrant, this Neroun?”

For fear almost out of his wit he braid, went And to his goddes piteously he pray’d

For succour, but it mighte not betide

For dread of this he thoughte that died, And ran into a garden him to hide.

 

And in this garden found he churles tway, That satte by a fire great and red;

And to these churles two he gan to pray To slay him, and to girdon* off his head, *strike That to his body, when that he were dead, Were no despite done for his defame. infamy Himself he slew, *he coud no better rede; he knew no better Of which Fortune laugh’d and hadde game. counsel*

 

Was never capitain under a king,

That regnes more put in subjectioun,

Nor stronger was in field of alle thing As in his time, nor greater of renown, Nor more pompous in high presumptioun, Than HOLOFERNES, whom Fortune aye kiss’d So lik’rously, and led him up and down, Till that his head was off *ere that he wist. before he knew it*

 

Not only that this world had of him awe, For losing of richess and liberty;

But he made every man *reny his law. renounce his religion <19>

Nabuchodonosor was God, said he;

None other Godde should honoured be.

Against his hest* there dare no wight trespace, *command Save in Bethulia, a strong city,

Where Eliachim priest was of that place.

 

But take keep* of the death of Holofern; *notice Amid his host he drunken lay at night

Within his tente, large as is a bern; barn And yet, for all his pomp and all his might, Judith, a woman, as he lay upright

Sleeping, his head off smote, and from his tent Full privily she stole from every wight, And with his head unto her town she went.

 

What needeth it of king ANTIOCHUS <20>

To tell his high and royal majesty,

His great pride, and his workes venomous?

For such another was there none as he; Reade what that he was in Maccabee.

And read the proude wordes that he said, And why he fell from his prosperity,

And in an hill how wretchedly he died.

 

Fortune him had enhanced so in pride,

That verily he ween’d he might attain

Unto the starres upon every side,

And in a balance weighen each mountain, And all the floodes of the sea restrain.

And Godde’s people had he most in hate Them would he slay in torment and in pain, Weening that God might not his pride abate.

 

And for that Nicanor and Timothee

With Jewes were vanquish’d mightily, <21>

Unto the Jewes such an hate had he,

That he bade *graith his car* full hastily, prepare his chariot

And swore and saide full dispiteously, Unto Jerusalem he 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 of th’ Orient had all the chivalry, As far as that the day begins to daw,

That through thy knighthood hast them take and slaw,* slain*

Save fewe folk that with Pompeius fled; Through which thou put all th’ Orient in awe; <24>

Thanke Fortune that so well thee sped.

 

But now a little while I will bewail

This Pompeius, this noble governor

Of Rome, which that fled at this battaile I say, one of his men, a false traitor, His head off smote, to winne him favor Of Julius, and him the head he brought; Alas! Pompey, of th’ Orient conqueror, That Fortune unto such a fine* thee brought! *end To Rome again repaired Julius,

With his triumphe laureate full high;

But on a time Brutus and Cassius,

That ever had of his estate envy,

Full privily have made conspiracy

Against this Julius in subtle wise

And cast* the place in which he shoulde die, arranged With bodekins, as I shall you devise.* daggers **tell This Julius to the Capitole went

Upon a day, as he was wont to gon;

And in the Capitol anon him hent seized This false Brutus, and his other fone, foes And sticked him with bodekins anon

With many a wound, and thus they let him lie.

But never groan’d he at no stroke but one, Or else at two, but if the story lie. *unless So manly was this Julius of heart,

And so well loved *estately honesty dignified propriety

That, though his deadly woundes sore smart, pained him His mantle o’er his hippes caste he,

That ne man shoulde see his privity

And as he lay a-dying in a trance,

And wiste verily that dead was he,

Of honesty yet had he remembrance.

 

Lucan, to thee this story I recommend, And to Sueton’, and Valerie also,

That of this story write *word and end the whole* <25>

How that to these great conquerores two Fortune was first a friend, and since* a foe. *afterwards No manne trust upon her favour long,

But *have her in await for evermo’; ever be watchful against her*

Witness on all these conquerores strong.

 

The riche CROESUS, <26> whilom king of Lyde, —

Of which Croesus Cyrus him sore drad,* — dreaded Yet was he caught amiddes all his pride, And to be burnt men to the fire him lad; But such a rain down from the welkin shad, poured from the sky*

That slew the fire, and made him to escape: But to beware no grace yet he had,

Till fortune on the gallows made him gape.

 

When he escaped was, he could not stint refrain For to begin a newe war again;

He weened well, for that Fortune him sent Such hap, that he escaped through the rain, That of his foes he