The Canterbury Tales, and Other Poems Part 63

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 G.o.ddes 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 G.o.d, said he; None other G.o.dde should honoured be.

Against his hest* there dare no wight tres.p.a.ce, *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 G.o.dde's people had he most in hate Them would he slay in torment and in pain, Weening that G.o.d 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

G.o.d 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 d.a.m.nable, *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, G.o.d 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 G.o.d 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 G.o.d 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 a.s.suage 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 *n.o.ble 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 n.o.ble 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 Ca.s.sius, 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 mighte not be slain.

And eke a sweven* on a night he mette,** *dream **dreamed Of which he was so proud, and eke so fain,* *glad That he in vengeance all his hearte set.

Upon a tree he was set, as he thought, Where Jupiter him wash'd, both back and side, And Phoebus eke a fair towel him brought To dry him with; and therefore wax'd his pride.

And to his daughter that stood him beside, Which he knew in high science to abound, He bade her tell him what it signified; And she his dream began right thus expound.

"The tree," quoth she, "the gallows is to mean, And Jupiter betokens snow and rain, And Phoebus, with his towel clear and clean, These be the sunne's streames* sooth to sayn; *rays Thou shalt y-hangeth be, father, certain; Rain shall thee wash, and sunne shall thee dry."

Thus warned him full plat and eke full plain His daughter, which that called was Phanie.

And hanged was Croesus the proude king; His royal throne might him not avail.

Tragedy is none other manner thing, Nor can in singing crien nor bewail, But for that Fortune all day will a.s.sail With unware stroke the regnes* that be proud:<27> *kingdoms For when men truste her, then will she fail, And cover her bright face with a cloud.

O n.o.ble, O worthy PEDRO, <28> glory OF SPAIN, Whem Fortune held so high in majesty, Well oughte men thy piteous death complain.

Out of thy land thy brother made thee flee, And after, at a siege, by subtlety, Thou wert betray'd, and led unto his tent, Where as he with his owen hand slew thee, Succeeding in thy regne* and in thy rent.** *kingdom *revenues

The field of snow, with th' eagle of black therein, Caught with the lion, red-colour'd as the glede,* *burning coal He brew'd this cursedness,* and all this sin; *wickedness, villainy The wicked nest was worker of this deed; Not Charles' Oliver, <29> that took aye heed Of truth and honour, but of Armorike Ganilien Oliver, corrupt for meed,* *reward, bribe Broughte this worthy king in such a brike.* *breach, ruin

O worthy PETRO, King of CYPRE <30> also, That Alexandre won by high mast'ry, Full many a heathnen wroughtest thou full woe, Of which thine owen lieges had envy; And, for no thing but for thy chivalry, They in thy bed have slain thee by the morrow; Thus can Fortune her wheel govern and gie,* *guide And out of joy bringe men into sorrow.

Of Milan greate BARNABO VISCOUNT,<30> G.o.d of delight, and scourge of Lombardy, Why should I not thine clomben* wert so high? *climbed Thy brother's son, that was thy double ally, For he thy nephew was and son-in-law, Within his prison made thee to die, But why, nor how, *n'ot I* that thou were slaw.* *I know not* *slain*