Now, goodë men, I pray you hearken all;
Lo, how Fortúnë turneth suddenly
The hope and pride eke of her enemy.
This cock, that lay upon the fox’s back,
In all his dread unto the fox he spake,
And saidë, “Sir, if that I were as ye,
Yet would I say (as wisly4421 God help me),
‘Turn ye again, ye proudë churlës all;4422
A very pestilence upon you fall.
Now am I come unto the woodë’s side,
Maugré your head, the cock shall here abide;
I will him eat, in faith, and that anon.’ ”
The fox answér’d, “In faith it shall be done:”
And, as he spake the word, all suddenly
The cock brake from his mouth deliverly,4423
And high upon a tree he flew anon.
And when the fox saw that the cock was gone,
“Alas!” quoth he, “O Chanticleer, alas!
I have,” quoth he, “y-done to you trespass,4424
Inasmuch as I maked you afear’d,
When I you hent,4425 and brought out of your yard;
But, Sir, I did it in no wick’ intent;
Come down, and I shall tell you what I meant.
I shall say sooth to you, God help me so.”
“Nay then,” quoth he, “I shrew4426 us both the two,
And first I shrew myself, both blood and bones,
If thou beguile me oftener than once.
Thou shalt no more through thy flattery
Do4427 me to sing and winkë with mine eye;
For he that winketh when he shouldë see,
All wilfully, God let him never thé.”4428
“Nay,” quoth the fox; “but God give him mischance
That is so indiscreet of governánce,
That jangleth4429 when that he should hold his peace.”
Lo, what it is for to be reckëless
And negligent, and trust on flattery.
But ye that holdë this tale a follý,
As of a fox, or of a cock or hen,
Take the morality thereof, good men.
For Saint Paul saith, That all that written is,
To our doctríne4430 it written is y-wis.4431
Take the fruit, and let the chaff be still.
Now goodë God, if that it be thy will,
As saith my Lord,4432 so make us all good men;
And bring us all to thy high bliss. Amen.
“Sir Nunnë’s Priest,” our Hostë said anon,
“Y-blessed be thy breech, and every stone;
This was a merry tale of Chanticleer.
But by my truth, if thou wert seculére,4433
Thou wouldest be a treadëfowl4434 aright;
For if thou have couráge as thou hast might,
Thee werë need of hennës, as I ween,
Yea more than seven timës seventeen.
See, whatë brawnës4435 hath this gentle priest,
So great a neck, and such a largë breast!
He looketh as a sperhawk with his eyen;
Him needeth not his colour for to dyen
With Brazil, nor with grain of Portugale.
But, Sirë, fairë fall you for your tale.”
And, after that, he with full merry cheer
Said to another, as ye shallë hear.4436
⋮
The Second Nun’s Tale4437
The minister and norice4438 unto vices,
Which that men call in English idleness,
The porter at the gate is of delices;4439
T’ eschew, and by her contrar’ her oppress—
That is to say, by lawful business4440—
Well oughtë we to do our all intent,4441
Lest that the fiend through idleness us hent.4442
For he, that with his thousand cordës sly
Continually us waiteth to beclap,4443
When he may man in idleness espy,
He can so lightly catch him in his trap,
Till that a man be hent right by the lappe,4444
He is not ware the fiend hath him in hand;
Well ought we work, and idleness withstand.
And though men dreaded never for to die,
Yet see men well by reason, doubtëless,
That idleness is root of sluggardý,
Of which there cometh never good increase;
And see that sloth them holdeth in a leas,4445
Only to sleep, and for to eat and drink,
And to devouren all that others swink.4446
And, for to put us from such idleness,
That cause is of so great confusión,
I have here done my faithful business,
After the Legend, in translatión
Right of thy glorious life and passión—
Thou with thy garland wrought of rose and lily,
Thee mean I, maid and martyr, Saint Cecílie.
And thou, thou art the flow’r of virgins all,
Of whom that Bernard list so well to write,4447
To thee at my beginning first I call;
Thou comfort of us wretches, do me indite
Thy maiden’s death, that won through her meríte
Th’ eternal life, and o’er the fiend victóry,
As man may after readen in her story.
Thou maid and mother, daughter of thy Son,
Thou well of mercy, sinful soulës’ cure,
In whom that God of bounté chose to won;4448
Thou humble and high o’er every creatúre,
Thou nobilest, so far forth our natúre,4449
That no disdain the Maker had of kind,4450
His Son in blood and flesh to clothe and wind.4451
Within the cloister of thy blissful sidës
Took mannë’s shape th’ eternal love and peace,
That of the trinë compass4452 Lord and guide is;
Whom earth, and sea, and heav’n, out of release,4453
Aye hery;4454 and thou, Virgin wemmëless,4455
Bare of thy body, and dweltest maiden pure,
The Creatór of every creatúre.
Assembled is in thee magnificence4456
With mercy, goodness, and with such pitý,
That thou, that art the sun of excellence,
Not only helpest them that pray to thee,
But oftentime, of thy benignity,
Full freely, ere that men thine help beseech,
Thou go’st before, and art their livës’ leech.4457
Now help, thou meek and blissful fairë maid,
Me, flemed4458 wretch, in this desért of gall;
Think on the woman Cananée that said
That whelpës eat some of the crumbës all
That from their Lordë’s table be y-fall;4459
And though that I, unworthy son of Eve,4460
Be sinful, yet acceptë my believe.4461
And, for that faith is dead withoutë werkës,
For to workë give me wit and space,
That I be quit from thennes that most
