For whan degrees fiftene were ascended, Thanne crew he, that it mighte nat ben amended.1
His comb was redder than the fyn coral,
And batailed, as it were a castel-wal.
His bile3 was blak, and as the Ieet1 it
shoon;
Lyk asur were his legges, and his toon;5
His nayles whytter than the lilie flour,
And lyk the burned gold was his colour.
This gentil cok hadde in his governaunce 45
Sevene hennes, for to doon al his plesaunce,
Whiche were his sustres and his para-
mours,
And wonder lyk to him, as of colours.
Of whiche the faireste hewed on hir
throte
Was cleped faire damoysele Pertelote. 50 Curteys she was, discreet, and debonaire, And compaignable, and bar hirself so faire,
Syn thilke day that she was seven night old,
That trewely she hath the herte in hold?
Of Chauntecleer lokens in every lith;9
He loved hir so, that wel was him ther-
with.
But such a Ioye was it to here hem singe, Whan that the brighte sonne gan to springe,
In swete accord, "My lief is faren10 in londe."
For thilke tyme, as I have understonde, 60 Bestes and briddes coude speke and singe.
And so bifel, that in a daweninge,11 As Chauntecleer among his wyves alle Sat on his perche, that was in the halle, And next him sat this faire Pertelote, This Chauntecleer gan gronen in his throte, As man that in his dreem is drecched12
Allas!" quod she, "for, by that god above,
Now han ye lost myn herte and al my love;
I can nat love a coward, by my feith.
For certes, what so any womman seith,
We alle desyren, if it might be,
To han housbondes hardy, wyse, and free,17
And secree, and no nigard, ne no fool,
Ne him that is agast of every tool,"
Ne noon avauntour,19 by that god above!
How dorste ye seyn for shame unto your
love,
Swevenes engendren of20 replecciouns, And ofte of fume,21 and of complecciouns, 22 Whan humours been to habundant in a wight. 105
Certes this dreem, which ye han met tonight,
Cometh of the grete superfluitee
Of youre rede23 colera,24 pardee,
Which causeth folk to dreden in here
dremes
Of arwes,25 and of fyr with rede lemes, 26
Of grete bestes, that they wol hem byte,
Of contek, 27 and of whelpes grete and lyte;
15 dream. 16 explain. 19 boaster.
22 temperaments.
25 arrows.
That they ne founde as muche as o18 cotage,
In which they bothe mighte y-logged be.
Wherfor thay mosten, of necessitee,
As for that night, departen compaignye;
And ech of hem goth to his hostelrye,
And took his logging as it wolde falle. 175
That oon of hem was logged in a stalle,
Fer in a yerd, with oxen of the plough;
That other man was logged wel y-nough,
As was his aventure,19 or his fortune,
That us governeth alle as in commune.20180
And so bifel, that, long er it were day, This man mette21 in his bed, ther-as he lay,
How that his felawe gan up-on him calle,
And seyde, 'allas! for in an oxes stalle
This night I shal be mordred ther22 I lye.
Now help me, dere brother, er I dye;
In alle haste com to me,' he sayde.
This man out of his sleep for fere abrayde;23
But whan that he was wakned of his sleep,
He turned him, and took of this no keep;24
Him thought his dreem nas but a vanitee.
Thus twyes in his sleping dremed he.
And atte thridde tyme yet his felawe
Cam, as him thoughte, and seide 'I am now
slawe;25
pay no attention to. 6 profit.
10 berries of the gay-tree. 12 dominus, lord.
21 dreamed.
24 thought, care.
And at the west gate of the toun,' quod That thay biknewell hir wikkednesse he,
Unto the west gate of the toun, and fond
A dong-carte, as it were to donge lond, 216
That was arrayed in that same wyse
As ye han herd the dede man devyse;
And with an hardy herte he gan to crye
Vengeaunce and Iustice of this felonye:-
'My felawe mordred is this same night, 221
And in this carte he lyth gapinge upright.
I crye out on the ministres,' quod he,
"That sholden kepe and reulen this citee;
Harrow! allas! her lyth my felawe slayn!
What sholde I more unto this tale sayn?226
The peple out-sterte, and cast the cart to
grounde,
And in the middel of the dong they founde
The dede man that mordred was al newe.
O blisful god, that art so Iust and trewe!
Lo, how that thou biwreyest5 mordre
alway!
Mordre wol out, that se we day by day.
Mordre is so wlatsom6 and abhominable
To god, that is so Iust and resonable,
That he ne wol nat suffre it heled' be;
Though it abyde a yeer, or two, or three,
Mordre wol out, this my conclusioun.
And right anoon, ministres of that toun
Han hent the carter, and so sore him
pyned,9
And eek the hostiler so sore engyned,"
Lo Cresus, which that was of Lyde" king, Mette he nat that he sat upon a tree, Which signified he sholde anhanged be?320 Lo heer Andromacha, Ectores wyf, That day that Ector sholde lese18 his lyf, She dremed on the same night biforn, How that the lyf of Ector sholde be lorn,1 If thilke day he wente in-to bataille; She warned him, but it mighte nat availle; He wente for to fighte nathelees, But he was slayn anoon of Achilles. But thilke tale is al to long to telle,
And eek it is ny20 day, I may nat dwelle. 330
Shortly I seye, as for conclusioun,
That I shal han of this avisioun
Adversitee; and I seye forther-more,
That I ne telle of laxatyves no store,
For they ben venimous, I woot it wel; 335
I hem defye, I love hem never a del.2
Now let us speke of mirthe, and stinte23
al this;
And knew by kynde,' and by noon other lore,2
That it was pryme,3 and crew with blisful stevene.1
"The sonne," he sayde, "is clomben up on hevene
Fourty degrees and oon, and more, y-wis.5 Madame Pertelote, my worldes blis, 380 Herkneth thise blisful briddes how they singe,
And see the fresshe floures how they springe;
Ful is myn hert of revel and solas."
But sodeinly him fil a sorweful cas;6
For ever the latter ende of Ioye is wo.
God woot that worldly Ioye is sone ago;?
And if a rethors coude faire endyte,
He in a chronique saufly mighte it write,
As for a sovereyn notabilitee.10
Now every wys man, lat him herkne me;
This storie is al-so trewe, I undertake, 391
As is the book of Launcelot de Lake,
That wommen holde in ful gret reverence.
Now wol I torne agayn to my sentence.
A col-fox, ful of sly iniquitee,
That in the grove hadde woned 12
three,
By heigh imaginacioun forn-cast,13 The same night thurgh-out the hegges14 brast 15
That in awayt liggen18 to mordre men. 405
O false mordrer, lurking in thy den!
O newe Scariot, newe Genilon!
False dissimilour, 19 O Greek Sinon,
That broghtest Troye al outrely20 to sorwe!
O Chauntecleer, acursed be that morwe,410
That thou into that yerd flough fro the
bemes!
Thou were ful wel y-warned by thy dremes,
That thilke day was perilous to thee.
But what that god forwot21 mot nedes22
be,
After the opinioun of certeyn clerkis.
Witnesse on him23 that any perfit clerk is,
That in scole is gret altercacioun
In this matere, and greet disputisoun,
And hath ben of an hundred thousand
And made Adam fro paradys to go,
Ther as he was ful mery, and wel at ese.
But for I noot, to whom it mighte displese,
If I counseil of wommen wolde blame, 441
Passe over, for I seyde it in my game."
Rede auctours, ,29 wher they trete of swich
And what thay seyn of wommen ye may here.
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