The Canterbury Tales, and Other Poems Part 113

A BALLAD SENT TO KING RICHARD.

SOMETIME this world was so steadfast and stable, That man's word was held obligation; And now it is so false and deceivable,* *deceitful That word and work, as in conclusion, Be nothing one; for turned up so down Is all this world, through meed* and wilfulness, *bribery That all is lost for lack of steadfastness.

What makes this world to be so variable, But l.u.s.t* that folk have in dissension? *pleasure For now-a-days a man is held unable* *fit for nothing *But if* he can, by some collusion,** *unless* *fraud, trick Do his neighbour wrong or oppression.

What causeth this but wilful wretchedness, That all is lost for lack of steadfastness?

Truth is put down, reason is holden fable; Virtue hath now no domination; Pity exil'd, no wight is merciable; Through covetise is blent* discretion; *blinded The worlde hath made permutation From right to wrong, from truth to fickleness, That all is lost for lack of steadfastness.

L'Envoy.

O Prince! desire to be honourable; Cherish thy folk, and hate extortion; Suffer nothing that may be reprovable* *a subject of reproach To thine estate, done in thy region;* *kingdom Show forth the sword of castigation; Dread G.o.d, do law, love thorough worthiness, And wed thy folk again to steadfastness!

L'ENVOY OF CHAUCER TO BUKTON. <1>

My Master Bukton, when of Christ our King Was asked, What is truth or soothfastness?

He not a word answer'd to that asking, As who saith, no man is all true, I guess; And therefore, though I highte* to express *promised The sorrow and woe that is in marriage, I dare not write of it no wickedness, Lest I myself fall eft* in such dotage.** *again **folly

I will not say how that it is the chain Of Satanas, on which he gnaweth ever; But I dare say, were he out of his pain, As by his will he would be bounden never.

But thilke* doated fool that eft had lever *that Y-chained be, than out of prison creep, G.o.d let him never from his woe dissever, Nor no man him bewaile though he weep!

But yet, lest thou do worse, take a wife; Bet is to wed than burn in worse wise; <2> But thou shalt have sorrow on thy flesh *thy life,* *all thy life*

And be thy wife's thrall, as say these wise.

And if that Holy Writ may not suffice, Experience shall thee teache, so may hap, That thee were lever to be taken in Frise, <3> Than eft* to fall of wedding in the trap. *again

This little writ, proverbes, or figure, I sende you; take keep* of it, I read! *heed "Unwise is he that can no weal endure; If thou be sicker,* put thee not in dread."** *in security **danger The Wife of Bath I pray you that you read, Of this mattere which that we have on hand.

G.o.d grante you your life freely to lead In freedom, for full hard is to be bond.

Notes to L'Envoy of Chaucer to Bukton.

1. Tyrwhitt, founding on the reference to the Wife of Bath, places this among Chaucer's latest compositions; and states that one Peter de Bukton held the office of king's escheator for Yorkshire in 1397. In some of the old editions, the verses were made the Envoy to the Book of the d.u.c.h.ess Blanche -- in very bad taste, when we consider that the object of that poem was to console John of Gaunt under the loss of his wife.

2. "But if they cannot contain, let them marry: for it is better to marry than to burn." 1 Cor. vii. 9

3. Lever to be taken in Frise: better to be taken prisoner in Friesland -- where probably some conflict was raging at the time.

A BALLAD OF GENTLENESS.

THE firste stock-father of gentleness, <1> What man desireth gentle for to be, Must follow his trace, and all his wittes dress,* *apply Virtue to love, and vices for to flee; For unto virtue longeth dignity, And not the reverse, safely dare I deem, *All wear he* mitre, crown, or diademe. *whether he wear*

This firste stock was full of righteousness, True of his word, sober, pious, and free, *Clean of his ghost,* and loved business, *pure of spirit*

Against the vice of sloth, in honesty; And, but his heir love virtue as did he, He is not gentle, though he riche seem, All wear he mitre, crown, or diademe.

Vice may well be heir to old richess, But there may no man, as men may well see, Bequeath his heir his virtuous n.o.bless; That is appropried* to no degree, *specially reserved But to the first Father in majesty, Which makes his heire him that doth him queme,* *please All wear he mitre, crown, or diademe.

Notes to A Ballad of Gentleness

1. The firste stock-father of gentleness: Christ

THE COMPLAINT OF CHAUCER TO HIS PURSE.

To you, my purse, and to none other wight, Complain I, for ye be my lady dear!

I am sorry now that ye be so light, For certes ye now make me heavy cheer; Me were as lief be laid upon my bier.

For which unto your mercy thus I cry, Be heavy again, or elles must I die!

Now vouchesafe this day, ere it be night, That I of you the blissful sound may hear, Or see your colour like the sunne bright, That of yellowness hadde peer.

Ye be my life! Ye be my hearte's steer!* *rudder Queen of comfort and of good company!

Be heavy again, or elles must I die!

Now, purse! that art to me my life's light And savour, as down in this worlde here, Out of this towne help me through your might, Since that you will not be my treasurere; For I am shave as nigh as any frere. <1> But now I pray unto your courtesy, Be heavy again, or elles must I die!

Chaucer's Envoy to the King.

O conqueror of Brute's Albion, <2> Which by lineage and free election Be very king, this song to you I send; And ye which may all mine harm amend, Have mind upon my supplication!

Notes to The Complaint of Chaucer to his Purse

1. "I am shave as nigh as any frere" i.e. "I am as bare of coin as a friar's tonsure of hair."

2. Brute, or Brutus, was the legendary first king of Britain.

GOOD COUNSEL OF CHAUCER. <1>

FLEE from the press, and dwell with soothfastness; Suffice thee thy good, though it be small; For h.o.a.rd hath hate, and climbing tickleness,* *instability Press hath envy, and *weal is blent* o'er all, *prosperity is blinded*

Savour* no more than thee behove shall; *have a taste for Read* well thyself, that other folk canst read; *counsel And truth thee shall deliver, it is no dread.* *doubt

Paine thee not each crooked to redress, In trust of her that turneth as a ball; <2> Great rest standeth in little business: Beware also to spurn against a nail; <3> Strive not as doth a crocke* with a wall; *earthen pot Deeme* thyself that deemest others' deed, *judge And truth thee shall deliver, it is no dread.

What thee is sent, receive in buxomness;* *submission The wrestling of this world asketh a fall; Here is no home, here is but wilderness.

Forth, pilgrim! Forthe beast, out of thy stall!

Look up on high, and thank thy G.o.d of all!

*Weive thy l.u.s.t,* and let thy ghost* thee lead, *forsake thy And truth thee shall deliver, it is no dread. inclinations*