Delphi Poetry Anthology: The World's Greatest Poems (Delphi Poets Series Book 50)

by Homer

  I wol my-selven gladly with yow ryde,

  Right at myn owne cost, and be your gyde.

  And who-so wol my jugement withseye 805

  Shal paye al that we spenden by the weye.

  And if ye vouche-sauf that it be so,

  Tel me anon, with-outen wordes mo,

  And I wol erly shape me therfore.’

  This thing was graunted, and our othes swore 810

  With ful glad herte, and preyden him also

  That he wold vouche-sauf for to do so,

  And that he wolde been our governour,

  And of our tales juge and reportour,

  And sette a soper at a certeyn prys; 815

  And we wold reuled been at his devys,

  In heigh and lowe; and thus, by oon assent,

  We been acorded to his jugement.

  And ther-up-on the wyn was fet anoon;

  We dronken, and to reste wente echoon, 820

  With-outen any lenger taryinge.

  A-morwe, whan that day bigan to springe,

  Up roos our host, and was our aller cok,

  And gadrede us togidre, alle in a flok,

  And forth we riden, a litel more than pas, 825

  Unto the watering of seint Thomas.

  And there our host bigan his hors areste,

  And seyde; ‘Lordinges, herkneth if yow leste.

  Ye woot your forward, and I it yow recorde.

  If even-song and morwe-song acorde, 830

  Lat se now who shal telle the firste tale.

  As evere mote I drinke wyn or ale,

  Who-so be rebel to my jugement

  Shal paye for al that by the weye is spent.

  Now draweth cut, er that we ferrer twinne; 835

  He which that hath the shortest shal biginne.’

  ‘Sire knight,’ quod he, ‘my maister and my lord,

  Now draweth cut, for that is myn acord.

  Cometh neer,’ quod he, ‘my lady prioresse;

  And ye, sir clerk, lat be your shamfastnesse, 840

  Ne studieth noght; ley hond to, every man.’

  Anon to drawen every wight bigan,

  And shortly for to tellen, as it was,

  Were it by aventure, or sort, or cas,

  The sothe is this, the cut fil to the knight, 845

  Of which ful blythe and glad was every wight;

  And telle he moste his tale, as was resoun,

  By forward and by composicioun,

  As ye han herd; what nedeth wordes mo?

  And whan this goode man saugh it was so, 850

  As he that wys was and obedient

  To kepe his forward by his free assent,

  He seyde: ‘Sin I shal biginne the game,

  What, welcome be the cut, a Goddes name!

  Now lat us ryde, and herkneth what I seye.’ 855

  And with that word we riden forth our weye;

  And he bigan with right a mery chere

  His tale anon, and seyde in this manere.

  List of Poems in Alphabetical Order

  List of Poets in Alphabetical Order

  The Knight’s Tale

  Geoffrey Chaucer (1340–1400)

  WHILOM1, as olde stories tellen us, 1formerly

  There was a duke that highte1 Theseus. 1was called

  Of Athens he was lord and governor,

  And in his time such a conqueror

  That greater was there none under the sun.

  Full many a riche country had he won.

  What with his wisdom and his chivalry,

  He conquer’d all the regne of Feminie,

  That whilom was y-cleped Scythia;

  And weddede the Queen Hippolyta

  And brought her home with him to his country

  With muchel1 glory and great solemnity, 1great

  And eke her younge sister Emily,

  And thus with vict’ry and with melody

  Let I this worthy Duke to Athens ride,

  And all his host, in armes him beside.

  And certes, if it n’ere1 too long to hear, 1were not

  I would have told you fully the mannere,

  How wonnen1 was the regne of Feminie, 1won

  By Theseus, and by his chivalry;

  And of the greate battle for the nonce

  Betwixt Athenes and the Amazons;

  And how assieged was Hippolyta,

  The faire hardy queen of Scythia;

  And of the feast that was at her wedding

  And of the tempest at her homecoming.

  But all these things I must as now forbear.

  I have, God wot, a large field to ear1 1plough;

  And weake be the oxen in my plough;

  The remnant of my tale is long enow.

  I will not 1letten eke none of this rout1. 1hinder any of

  Let every fellow tell his tale about, this company1

  And let see now who shall the supper win.

  There 1as I left1, I will again begin. 1where I left off1

  This Duke, of whom I make mentioun,

  When he was come almost unto the town,

  In all his weal, and in his moste pride,

  He was ware, as he cast his eye aside,

  Where that there kneeled in the highe way

  A company of ladies, tway and tway,

  Each after other, clad in clothes black:

  But such a cry and such a woe they make,

  That in this world n’is creature living,

  That hearde such another waimenting1 1lamenting

  And of this crying would they never stenten1, 1desist

  Till they the reines of his bridle henten1. 1seize

  “What folk be ye that at mine homecoming

  Perturben so my feaste with crying?”

  Quoth Theseus; “Have ye so great envy

  Of mine honour, that thus complain and cry?

  Or who hath you misboden1, or offended? 1wronged

  Do telle me, if it may be amended;

  And why that ye be clad thus all in black?”

  The oldest lady of them all then spake,

  When she had swooned, with a deadly cheer1, 1countenance

  That it was ruthe1 for to see or hear. 1pity

  She saide; “Lord, to whom fortune hath given

  Vict’ry, and as a conqueror to liven,

  Nought grieveth us your glory and your honour;

  But we beseechen mercy and succour.

  Have mercy on our woe and our distress;

  Some drop of pity, through thy gentleness,

  Upon us wretched women let now fall.

  For certes, lord, there is none of us all

  That hath not been a duchess or a queen;

  Now be we caitives1, as it is well seen: 1captives

  Thanked be Fortune, and her false wheel,

  That 1none estate ensureth to be wele1. 1assures no continuance of

  And certes, lord, t’abiden your presence prosperous estate1

  Here in this temple of the goddess Clemence

  We have been waiting all this fortenight:

  Now help us, lord, since it lies in thy might.

  “I, wretched wight, that weep and waile thus,

  Was whilom wife to king Capaneus,

  That starf1 at Thebes, cursed be that day: 1died

  And alle we that be in this array,

  And maken all this lamentatioun,

  We losten all our husbands at that town,

  While that the siege thereabouten lay.

  And yet the olde Creon, wellaway!

  That lord is now of Thebes the city,

  Fulfilled of ire and of iniquity,

  He for despite, and for his tyranny,

  To do the deade bodies villainy1, 1insult

  Of all our lorde’s, which that been y-slaw, 1slain

  Hath all the bodies on an heap y-draw,

  And will not suffer them by none assent

  Neither to be y-buried, nor y-brent1, 1burnt

  But maketh houndes eat the
m in despite.”

  And with that word, withoute more respite

  They fallen groff,1 and cryden piteously; 1grovelling

  “Have on us wretched women some mercy,

  And let our sorrow sinken in thine heart.”

  This gentle Duke down from his courser start

  With hearte piteous, when he heard them speak.

  Him thoughte that his heart would all to-break,

  When he saw them so piteous and so mate1 1abased

  That whilom weren of so great estate.

  And in his armes he them all up hent1, 1raised, took

  And them comforted in full good intent,

  And swore his oath, as he was true knight,

  He woulde do 1so farforthly his might1 1as far as his power went1

  Upon the tyrant Creon them to wreak1, 1avenge

  That all the people of Greece shoulde speak,

  How Creon was of Theseus y-served,

  As he that had his death full well deserved.

  And right anon withoute more abode1 1delay

  His banner he display’d, and forth he rode

  To Thebes-ward, and all his, host beside:

  No ner1 Athenes would he go nor ride, 1nearer

  Nor take his ease fully half a day,

  But onward on his way that night he lay:

  And sent anon Hippolyta the queen,

  And Emily her younge sister sheen1 1bright, lovely

  Unto the town of Athens for to dwell:

  And forth he rit1; there is no more to tell. 1rode

  The red statue of Mars with spear and targe1 1shield

  So shineth in his white banner large

  That all the fieldes glitter up and down:

  And by his banner borne is his pennon

  Of gold full rich, in which there was y-beat1 1stamped

  The Minotaur which that he slew in Crete

  Thus rit this Duke, thus rit this conqueror

  And in his host of chivalry the flower,

  Till that he came to Thebes, and alight

  Fair in a field, there as he thought to fight.

  But shortly for to speaken of this thing,

  With Creon, which that was of Thebes king,

  He fought, and slew him manly as a knight

  In plain bataille, and put his folk to flight:

  And by assault he won the city after,

  And rent adown both wall, and spar, and rafter;

  And to the ladies he restored again

  The bodies of their husbands that were slain,

  To do obsequies, as was then the guise1. 1custom

  But it were all too long for to devise1 1describe

  The greate clamour, and the waimenting1, 1lamenting

  Which that the ladies made at the brenning1 1burning

  Of the bodies, and the great honour

  That Theseus the noble conqueror

  Did to the ladies, when they from him went:

  But shortly for to tell is mine intent.

  When that this worthy Duke, this Theseus,

  Had Creon slain, and wonnen Thebes thus,

  Still in the field he took all night his rest,

  And did with all the country as him lest1. 1pleased

  To ransack in the tas1 of bodies dead, 1heap

  Them for to strip of 1harness and of 2weed, 1armour 2clothes

  The pillers1 did their business and cure, 1pillagers

  After the battle and discomfiture.

  And so befell, that in the tas they found,

  Through girt with many a grievous bloody wound,

  Two younge knightes 1ligging by and by1 1lying side by side1

  Both in 1one armes1, wrought full richely: 1the same armour1

  Of whiche two, Arcita hight that one,

  And he that other highte Palamon.

  Not fully quick1, nor fully dead they were, 1alive

  But by their coat-armour, and by their gear,

  The heralds knew them well in special,

  As those that weren of the blood royal

  Of Thebes, and 1of sistren two y-born1. 1born of two sisters1

  Out of the tas the pillers have them torn,

  And have them carried soft unto the tent

  Of Theseus, and he full soon them sent

  To Athens, for to dwellen in prison

  Perpetually, he 1n’olde no ranson1. 1would take no ransom1

  And when this worthy Duke had thus y-done,

  He took his host, and home he rit anon

  With laurel crowned as a conquerour;

  And there he lived in joy and in honour

  Term of his life; what needeth wordes mo’?

  And in a tower, in anguish and in woe,

  Dwellen this Palamon, and eke Arcite,

  For evermore, there may no gold them quite1 1set free

  Thus passed year by year, and day by day,

  Till it fell ones in a morn of May

  That Emily, that fairer was to seen

  Than is the lily upon his stalke green,

  And fresher than the May with flowers new

  (For with the rose colour strove her hue;

  I n’ot1 which was the finer of them two), 1know not

  Ere it was day, as she was wont to do,

  She was arisen, and all ready dight1, 1dressed

  For May will have no sluggardy a-night;

  The season pricketh every gentle heart,

  And maketh him out of his sleep to start,

  And saith, “Arise, and do thine observance.”

  This maketh Emily have remembrance

  To do honour to May, and for to rise.

  Y-clothed was she fresh for to devise;

  Her yellow hair was braided in a tress,

  Behind her back, a yarde long I guess.

  And in the garden at 1the sun uprist1 1sunrise

  She walketh up and down where as her list.

  She gathereth flowers, party1 white and red, 1mingled

  To make a sotel1 garland for her head, 1subtle, well-arranged

  And as an angel heavenly she sung.

  The greate tower, that was so thick and strong,

  Which of the castle was the chief dungeon

  (Where as these knightes weren in prison,

  Of which I tolde you, and telle shall),

  Was even joinant1 to the garden wall, 1adjoining

  There as this Emily had her playing.

  Bright was the sun, and clear that morrowning,

  And Palamon, this woful prisoner,

  As was his wont, by leave of his gaoler,

  Was ris’n, and roamed in a chamber on high,

  In which he all the noble city sigh1, 1saw

  And eke the garden, full of branches green,

  There as this fresh Emelia the sheen

  Was in her walk, and roamed up and down.

  This sorrowful prisoner, this Palamon

  Went in his chamber roaming to and fro,

  And to himself complaining of his woe:

  That he was born, full oft he said, Alas!

  And so befell, by aventure or cas1, 1chance

  That through a window thick of many a bar

  Of iron great, and square as any spar,

  He cast his eyes upon Emelia,

  And therewithal he blent1 and cried, Ah! 1started aside

  As though he stungen were unto the heart.

  And with that cry Arcite anon up start,

  And saide, “Cousin mine, what aileth thee,

  That art so pale and deadly for to see?

  Why cried’st thou? who hath thee done offence?

  For Godde’s love, take all in patience

  Our prison1, for it may none other be. 1imprisonment

  Fortune hath giv’n us this adversity’.

  Some wick’1 aspect or disposition 1wicked

  Of Saturn, by some constellation,

  Hath giv’n us this, although we had it sworn,

  So stood the heaven when that we were born,
>
  We must endure; this is the short and plain.

  This Palamon answer’d, and said again:

  “Cousin, forsooth of this opinion

  Thou hast a vain imagination.

  This prison caused me not for to cry;

  But I was hurt right now thorough mine eye

  Into mine heart; that will my bane1 be. 1destruction

  The fairness of the lady that I see

  Yond in the garden roaming to and fro,

  Is cause of all my crying and my woe.

  I 1n’ot wher1 she be woman or goddess, 1know not whether1

  But Venus is it, soothly1 as I guess, 1truly

  And therewithal on knees adown he fill,

  And saide: “Venus, if it be your will

  You in this garden thus to transfigure

  Before me sorrowful wretched creature,

  Out of this prison help that we may scape.

  And if so be our destiny be shape

  By etern word to dien in prison,

  Of our lineage have some compassion,

  That is so low y-brought by tyranny.”

  And with that word Arcita 1gan espy1 1began to look forth1

  Where as this lady roamed to and fro

  And with that sight her beauty hurt him so,

  That if that Palamon was wounded sore,

  Arcite is hurt as much as he, or more.

  And with a sigh he saide piteously:

  “The freshe beauty slay’th me suddenly

  Of her that roameth yonder in the place.

  And but1 I have her mercy and her grace, 1unless

  That I may see her at the leaste way,

  I am but dead; there is no more to say.”

  This Palamon, when he these wordes heard,

  Dispiteously1 he looked, and answer’d: 1angrily

  “Whether say’st thou this in earnest or in play?”

  “Nay,” quoth Arcite, “in earnest, by my fay1. 1faith

  God help me so, 1me lust full ill to play1.” 1I am in no humour

  This Palamon gan knit his browes tway. for jesting1

  “It were,” quoth he, “to thee no great honour

  For to be false, nor for to be traitour

  To me, that am thy cousin and thy brother

  Y-sworn full deep, and each of us to other,

  That never for to dien in the pain ,

  Till that the death departen shall us twain,

  Neither of us in love to hinder other,

  Nor in none other case, my leve1 brother; 1dear

  But that thou shouldest truly farther me

  In every case, as I should farther thee.

  This was thine oath, and mine also certain;

  I wot it well, thou dar’st it not withsayn1, 1deny