GLOSSARY.

This duk, of whom I make mencioùn,

This duke aforesaid, of deserved renown,

come

prosperity

aware

kneeled, high-way

two

each, black

woe

there is not

lamenting cease,

would not caught

perturb

injured

black

them, spoke

Whan he was comen almost unto the When he had almost come into the town toun,

In al his wele and in his moste pryde,
He was war, as he cast his eyghe aside,
Wher that ther knelede in the hye
weye

A companye of ladies, tweye and

In all his splendour and in all his pride,
Perceived, as he cast his eyes aside,
A company of ladies, in a row,

Were kneeling in the highway-two by two,

tweye,
Ech after other, clad in clothes blake; Each behind each, clad all in black
array;

But such a cry and such a woo they But such an outcry of lament made
make,
they,
That in this world nys creature That in this world there is no living

lyvynge,

That herde such another weymentynge,
And of that cry they nolde nevere
stenten,

thing

That e'er heard such another outcrying; Nor would they cease to wail and to complain

Til they the reynes of his bridel henten. Till they had caught him by his bridle

'What folk be ye that at myn
comynge

hom

Pertourben so my feste1 with cryinge?'
Quod Theseus; 'Have ye so gret envye
Of myn honour, that thus compleyne
and crie?

rein.
'What folk are ye who at my home-
coming

Perturb my festival with murmuring,'
Quoth Theseus. Or do you envy me
Mine honour that ye wail so woefully?

Or who hath yow misboden or offended? Or who hath injured you, or who

And telleth me, if it may ben amended;
And why that ye ben clothed thus in
blak ?'

The oldest lady of hem alle spak

...

offended?

Tell me, if haply it may be amended, And why are all of you in black arrayed ? '

The oldest lady of them all then said

'Lord, to whom fortune has given victory, and to live ever as a conqueror, we do not grudge your glory 2 and honour, but we have come to implore your pity and help. Have mercy on us in our grief. There is not one of us that has not been a queen or duchess; now we are beggars, and you can help us if you will.

'I was wife to King Capaneus, who died at Thebes: and all of us who kneel and weep have lost our husbands there during a siege; and now Creon, who is king of Thebes, has piled together these dead bodies, and will not suffer them to be either burned or buried.'

And with these words all the ladies wept more piteously than ever, and prayed Theseus to have compassion on their great sorrow.

The kind duke descended from his horse, full of commiseration for the poor

I Feste in this place means rather festival than feast, as Theseus was only on his way to the city.

2 At this period the personal pronoun you was used only in the plural sense, or in formal address, as on the Continent now; whilst thou implied familiarity. The Deity, or any superior, was therefore addressed as

you: intimates and inferiors as thou Throughout Chaucer the distinction is noticeable but as the present mode reverses the order, I have in my lines adhered to no strict principle, but have used the singular or plural personal pronoun according as it seemed most forcible.

3 Thebes, in Greece.

ladies. He thought his heart would break with pity when he saw them so sorrowful and dejected, who had been lately of so noble a rank.

He raised them all, and comforted them, and swore an oath that as he was a true knight, he would avenge them on the tyrant king of Thebes in such a fashion that all the people of Greece should be able to tell how Theseus served Creon!

The duke sent his royal bride and her young sister Emelye onward to the town of Athens, whilst he displayed his banner, marshalled his men, and rode forth towards Thebes. For himself, till he had accomplished this duty, he would not enter Athens, nor take his ease for one half-day therein.

The duke's white banner bore the red statue of Mars upon it; and by his banner waved his pennon, which had the monster Minotaur (slain by Theseus in Greece) beaten into it in gold. Thus rode this duke-thus rode this conquerer and all his host-the flower of chivalry—till he came to Thebes.

To make matters short, Theseus fought with the King of Thebes, and slew him manly as a knight in fair battle, and routed his whole army. Then he destroyed the city, and gave up to the sorrowful ladies the bones of their husbands, to burn honourably after their fashion.

When the worthy duke had slain Creon and taken the city, he remained all night in the field. During the pillage which followed, it happened that two young knights were found still alive, lying in their rich armour, though grievously wounded. By their coat-armour1 the heralds knew they were of the blood royal of Thebes; two cousins, the sons of two sisters. Their names were Palamon and Arcite.

These two knights were carried as captives to Theseus' tent, and he sent them off to Athens, where they were to be imprisoned for life; no ransom would he take.

Then the duke went back to Athens crowned with laurel, where he lived in joy and in honour all his days, while Palamon and Arcite were shut up in a strong tower, full of anguish and misery, beyond all reach of help.

Thus several years passed.

GLOSSARY.

morning

see

flowers strove

hue

abbr. ne wot.

know not

dressed

This passeth yeer by yeer, and day by Thus passeth year by year, and day

For with the rose colour strof hire (For with the rose's colour strove her hewe,

hue;

ot.} I n'ot which was the fayrere of hem I know not which was fairer of the

two

Er it were day as was her wone to do,
Sche was arisen, and al redy dight;

1 A garment worn over the armour, on which the armorial bearings were usually

two),

Early she rose as she was wont to do, All ready robed before the day was bright;

embroidered, for the purpose of recognition. See tabard, p. 33.

GLOSSARY. sloth

arise, thine

do

clothed yellow

pleased

subtle

sang

For May wole han no sloggardye For May time will not suffer sloth at

anyght.

The sesoun priketh every gentil herte,
And maketh him out of his sleep to
sterte,

night;

The season pricketh every gentle heart, And maketh him out of his sleep to start,

And seith, Arys, and do thin obser- And saith, Rise up, salute the birth of

Byhynde hire bak, a yerde long I gesse. Behind her back, a full yard long, I

And in the gardyn at the sonne upriste
Sche walketh up and doun wher as
hire liste.

guess,

And in the garden as the sun uprose She wandered up and down where as she chose,

Sche gadereth floures, party whyte and She gathereth flowers, partly white
reede,
and red,
To make a sotil gerland 3 for hire To make a cunning garland for her
heede,
head.
And as an aungel hevenliche sche And like an angel's singing rose her
song.
song.
The grete tour that was so thikke and The mighty tower, that was so thick
strong
and strong,
Which of the Castell was the cheef The castle's chiefest dungeon (wherein
dongeoun
pent
(Ther as the knightës weren in prisoun The knights were doom'd to life-im-
prisonment,

Of which I tolde you, and tellen schal) Of which I told you some, but not yet

all)

Was evenejoynant to the gardeyn wal,4 Was close adjoining to the garden wall

1 The rites and ceremonies observed on the approach of spring from the earliest times in many countries, have now died out in England, but they are among the most natural and beautiful of all popular fêtes. I have already in the preface alluded to the custom of riding out into the fields at daybreak to do honour to May, the month which was held to be the symbol of springtime. Rich and poor, the court and the commoners, all rode out with one impulse. Boughs of hawthorn and laburnum were brought home to decorate all the streets, and dancing round the maypole, and feasting, and holiday-making, were observed almost like religious rites. It was a great privilege to be elected Queen of May, and one which every young maiden coveted. At a later time we read of Henry VIII. and Queen Catherine of Aragon formally meeting the heads of the corporation of London, on Shooter's Hill, to go a maying.'

But one thing should be remembered when we see how many pleasures were referred to May, and how much more people

E

seemed to count on the weather of a month nowadays proverbially disappointing. The seasons were not the same then as they are now. Not because the climate of the land has altered so much, though that may be fairly surmised, but because the seasons were actually arranged otherwise. In Chaucer's time May began twelve days later than our May, and ended in the midst of June, and therefore there was a much better chance of settled weather than we have. This fact also accounts for the proverbial connection of Christmas and hard weather, snow, and ice, which we get as a rule in January, while December is foggy and wet. Twelfth Day was the old Christmas Day.

2 At point devise-with exactness.

3 The love of the Anglo-Saxons and the early English for flowers is very remarkable. The wearing of garlands of fresh flowers was a common practice with both sexes: a beautiful custom, followed by the Romans, and previously by the Greeks.

4 The big round tower is one of the chain of fortresses linked by a solid wall

Ther as this Emelye hadde hire Wherein this Emelye was rambling. pleyynge.

Bright was the sonne, and cleer that Bright was the sun and clear that

morwenynge;

And Palamon, this woful prisoner,

As was his wone, by leve of his
gayler,

May morning,

And Palamon, that mournful prisoner, As was his wont, by leave of his gaolèr

Was risen and romede in a chambre Was ris'n, and at an upper chamber on heigh

In which he al the noble cité seigh,

stood

Where his view all the noble city shew'd,

And eek the gardyn, ful of braunches And all the garden full of branches grene,

Ther as this fresshe Emely the schene

green

Where this fresh Emely, beauteous to be seen,

Was in hire walk and romede up and Was in her walk and roaming up and

doun.

This sorweful prisoner, this Palamon
Gooth in the chambre, romyng to and
fro,

down.

This sorrowful prisoner, this Palamon Goes in his chamber-pacing to and fro

And to himself compleynyng of his Still to himself complaining of his

That he was born, ful ofte he seyde That he was born full oft he sigh'd
alas!
'alas!'

chance

And so byfel by aventure or cas

through

blenched

stung

criedest thou, thee done

given

And so befell, by chance or some strange case,

That thurgh a wyndow thikke, of That thro' a window thick with many

As though he stongen were unto the Like a man stung, or wounded to the
herte.
heart.

And with that crye Arcite anon up- And at that cry Arcite did forward
sterte

start

And seyde, 'Cosyn myn, what eyleth Saying, 'Dear cousin mine, what the?

That art so pale and deedly on to see?

aileth thee?

Thou art so pale, and deathly-white

to see.

} Why crydestow? who hath the doon Why did you cry out? What's the

offence?

For Goddes love, tak al in pacience
Ourë prisoun, for it may non other be:

last offence?

For God's love, take it all in patience,
This prison-life-it can't be other-

wise

Fortune hath yeven us this adversite.1 Fate is the cause of our adversities.

running around the domain: from one of which the captive knights saw Emelye, her garden being within the walls, and as the castle was generally built on an eminence, on higher ground than the country beyond.

1 Arcite is a fatalist. All his sentiments point to this a philosopher of Necessarian

doctrine. It is helpful to some minds, but others reject it as destructive of all effort and right feeling. Palamon seems to feel and resent his imprisonment less coolly, and never utters fatalistic sentiments, perhaps because his active mind never ceases to hope for redress.

mine

roam

We must endure it, this is short and plain.'

Palamon rebuking, answered him

again,

'Cousin, forsooth, that fix'd opiniön Is but a vain imagination.

Nay, prison-misery did not cause my cry.

But I was hurt right now thurghout But I was hurt that moment thro'
myn eye
mine eye

Into myn herte, that wol my bane be. Unto my heart, and that my bane

The fairnesse of that lady that I see
Yond in the gardyn rome to and
fro

Is cause of al my crying and my wo. abbr. ne wot I not whether sche be womman or goddesse,

I know not

truly

fell

yourself

sorrowful

began, spy

said

at the least

But Venus is it, sothly as I gesse.' 1
And therwithal on knees adoun he
fil,

And seyde: "Venus, if it be youre wil
Yow in this gardyn thus to transfigure,

will be.

The fairness of the lady that I see
Yonder i' the garden roaming to and
fro

Is cause of all my outcry and my wo;
And I know not whether she be god-

dèss

Or woman-but 'tis Venus, as I guess.'
And therewith saying, falling on his

knee,

He cried 'O Venus, if thy will it be, Thus in the garden taking gentle shape

Biforn me sorweful wrecched creäture, In sight of wretched, hapless, woeful

Out of this prisoun help that we may
scape.'

And with that word Arcite gan espye
Wher as this lady romed to and fro.

me,

Out of this prison help us to escape.'

And with that word Arcite cast his eye Where this fair lady roamëd to and fro:

And with that sight hire beauté hurte And with that sight, her beauty stung

Of hir that rometh in the yonder place; Of her that roameth out in yonder

And but I have hire mercy and hire
grace

That I may seen hire atte leste

weye,

place:

And, save I win her mercy and her grace,

That I at least may see her day by day,

am not: is not I nam but deed; ther nys no more to I am but dead-there is no more to

seye.'
This Palamon, whan he tho wordes
herde,

1 Palamon's excitable mind is probably slightly disordered by the privations of prison life. He mistakes for Venus, on whom his brain may be running, a figure which

say.'

This Palamon, when he those words had heard,

Arcite's cooler temperament at once recognises as a woman. Or, my theory may hold good, propounded in Chaucer for Children, which see Appendix, p. 108.