That he ne wol nat suffre it heled1 be;
Though it abyde a yeer, or two, or three,
Mordre wol out, this2 my conclusioun.
And right anoon, ministres of that toun
Han hent the carter, and so sore him pyned3,
And eek the hostiler so sore engyned1,
That thay biknewe5 hir wikkednesse anoon,
And were an-hanged by the nekke-boon.
'Here may men seen that dremes been to
drede.

And certes, in the same book I rede,
Right in the nexte chapitre after this,
(I gabbes nat, so have I Ioye or blis,)
Two men that wolde han passed over see,
For certeyn cause, in-to a fer contree,
If that the wind ne hadde been contrarie,
That made hem in a citee for to tarie,
That stood ful mery upon an haven-syde.
But on a day, agayn the even-tyde,

240

Noot23 I nat why, ne what mischaunce it

eyled24,

281

But casuelly25 the shippes botme rente,
And ship and man under the water wente
In sighte of othere shippes it byside,
That with hem seyled at the same tyde.
And therfor, faire Pertelote so dere,
By swiche ensamples olde maistow26 lere27,
That no man sholde been to recchelees28
Of dremes, for I sey thee, doutelees,
That many a dreem ful sore is for to drede.
'Lo, in the lyf of seint Kenelm, I rede, 290
That was Kenulphus sone, the noble king
Of Mercenrike29, how Kenelm mette a thing;
A lyte30 er he was mordred, on a day,
His mordre in his avisioun31 he say32.

250 His norice33 him expouned every del

270

That I wol lette13 for to do my thinges16.
I sette not a straw by thy dreminges,
For swevenes been but vanitees and Iapes17.
Men dreme al-day18 of owles or of apes,
And eek of many a mase19 therwithal;
Men dreme of thing that nevere was ne shal.
But sith20 I see that thou welt heer abyde,
And thus for-sleuthen21 wilfully thy tyde,
God wot it reweth22 me; and have good day.'
And thus he took his leve, and wente his way.
But er that he hadde halfe his cours v-seyled,

His swevene, and bad him for to kepe him wel
For34 traisoun; but he nas but seven yeer

Reed eek of Ioseph, and ther shul ye see 310
Wher40 dremes ben somtyme (I sey nat alle)
Warning of thinges that shul after falle.
Loke of Egipt the king, daun11 Pharao,
His bakere and his boteler42 also,
Wher40 they ne felte noon effect in dremes.
Who so wol seken actes43 of sondry remes44
May rede of dremes many a wonder thing.

'Lo Cresus, which that was of Lyde45 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 lese46 his lyf,
She dremed on the same night biforn,
How that the lyf of Ector sholde be lorn47,

If thilke day he wente in-to bataille;

She warned him, but it mighte nat availle;
He wente for to fighte natheles,
But he was slayn anoon1 of2 Achilles.
But thilke tale is al to long to telle,
And eek it is ny3 day, I may nat dwelle.
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 store1,
For they ben venimous5, I woot it wel;
I hem defye, I love hem nevere a del.

That it was pryme12, and crew with blisful stevene13.

The sonne,' he sayde, 'is clomben up on hevene

380

Fourty degrees and oon, and more, y-wis.
330 Madame Pertelote, my worldes blis,
Herkneth thise blisful briddes14 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 cas15;
For evere the latter ende of Ioye is wo.
God woot that worldly Ioye is sone ago16;

'Now let us speke of mirthe, and stinte al | And if a rethor17 coude faire endyte18,
this;

Madame Pertelote, so have I bliss,

Of o thing God hath sent me large grace;
For whan I see the beautee of your face,
Ye ben so scarlet-reed about youre yën,
It maketh al my drede for to dyen;
For, also siker7 as In principio,
Mulier est hominis confusios;
Madame, the sentence of this Latin is-
Womman is mannes Ioye and al his blis;

I am so ful of Ioye and of solas

That I defye bothe sweven and dreem.'
And with that word he fley9 doun fro
beem,

For it was day, and eek his hennes alle;
And with a chuk he gan hem for to calle,
For he had founde a corn, lay in the yerd.
Roial he was, he was namore aferd;

He in a chronique saufly19 mighte it write,
As for a sovereyn notabilitee20.
Now every wys man, lat him herkne me;
340 This storie is al-so trewe, I undertake21,
As is the book of Launcelot de Lake22,
That wommen holde in ful gret reverence.
Now wol I torne agayn to my sentence.
A col23-fox, ful of sly iniquitee,
That in the grove hadde woned yeres three,
By heigh imaginacioun forn-cast24,

389

The same night thurgh-out the hegges25 brast26 350 Into the yerd, ther Chauntecleer the faire

Was wont, and eek his wyves, to repaire; 400 the And in a bed of wortes27 stille he lay,

He loketh as it were a grim leoun;
And on his toos he rometh up and doun, 360
Him deyned10 not to sette his foot to grounde.
He chukketh, whan he hath a corn y-founde,
And to him rennen11 thanne his wyves alle.
Thus roial, as a prince is in his halle,
Leve I this Chauntecleer in his pasture;
And after wol I telle his aventure.

Til it was passed undern28 of the day,
Wayting his tyme on Chauntecleer to falle
As gladly doon thise homicydes alle,
That in awayt liggen29 to mordre men.
O false mordrer, lurking in thy den!
O newe Scariot30, newe Genilon31!
False dissimilour32, O Greek Sinon33,
That broghtest Troye al-outrely34 to sorwe!
O Chaunteclcer, acursed be that morwe,
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 forwot35 mot nedes be,
After the opinioun of certeyn clerkis.

Whan that the month in which the world Witnesse on36 him, that any perfit clerk is,
bigan,
That in scole is gret altercacioun

That highte March, whan God first maked man, In this matere, and greet disputisoun,

410

28 about eleven a. m. 29 lie

30 Judas Iscariot

31 The traitor that caused the defeat of Charlemagne and the death of Roland.

32 deceiver

33 Designer of the wooden horse by which Troy was entered.

34 entirely

35 foreknows

36 by

This Chauntecleer stood hye up-on his toos, | Herden thise hennes crye and maken wo, Strecching his nekke, and held his eyen cloos, And out at dores sterten thay anoon, And gan to crowe loude for the nones1; And syen the fox toward the grove goon, And daun Russel2 the foxe sterte up at ones, And bar upon his bak the cok away; And by the gargats hente Chauntecleer, And cryden, 'Out! harrow! and weylaway! 560 And on his bak toward the wode him beer, Ha, ha, the fox!' and after him they ran, For yet ne was ther no man that him sewed5. And eek with staves many another man; O destinee, that mayst nat ben eschewed! Ran Colle our dogge, and Talbot21, and GerAllas, that Chauntecleer fleigh fro the bemes! land21, Allas, his wyf ne roghtes nat of dremes! And on a Friday fil al this meschaunce. O Venus, that art goddesse of plesaunce, Sin that thy servant was this Chauntecleer,

520

Why woldestow suffre him on thy day to dye?
O Gaufred, dere mayster soverayn7,
That, whan thy worthy king Richard was slayn
With shot, compleynedest his deth so sore,
Why ne hadde I now thy sentences and thy
lore,

The Friday for to chide, as diden ye?

571

And Malkin22, with a distaf in hir hand;
Ran cow and calf, and eek the verray hogges
So were they fered for berking of the dogges
And shouting of the men and wimmen eke,
They ronne so, hem thoughte hir herte breke.
They yelleden as feendes doon in helle;
The dokes cryden as men wolde hem quelle23;
The gees for fere flowen over the trees;
Out of the hyve cam the swarm of bees;
So hidous was the noyse, a! benedicite!24
Certes, he Iakke Straw25, and his meynee26,
531 Ne maden nevere shoutes half so shrille,
Whan that they wolden any Fleming kille,
As thilke day was maad upon the fox.
Of bras thay broghten bemes27 and of box28,
Of horn, of boon, in whiche they blewe and
pouped29,

(For on a Friday soothly slayn was he.)
Than wolde I shewe yow how that I coude
pleyne9

For Chauntecleres drede, and for his peyne.
Certes, swich cry ne lamentacioun
Was nevere of ladies maad, whan Ilioun

Was wonne, and Pirrus10 with his streite11
swerd,

540

Whan he hadde hent king Priam by the berd,
And slayn him (as saith us Eneydos)12,
As maden alle the hennes in the clos13,
Whan they had seyn of Chauntecleer the sighte.
But sovereynly14 dame Pertelote shrighte15,
Ful louder than dide Hasdrubales16 wyf,
Whan that hir housbond hadde lost his lyf,
And that the Romayns hadde brend Cartage,
She was so ful of torment and of rage,
That wilfully into the fyr she sterte17,
And brende18 hir-selven with a stedfast herte.
O woful hennes, right so cryden ye,
As, whan that Nero brende the citee
Of Rome, cryden senatoures wyves,
For that hir housbondes losten alle hir lyves;
Withouten gilt 19 this Nero hath hem slayn.
Now wol I torne to my tale agayn:

550

581

And therwithal thay shryked and they houped30;
It semed as that hevene sholde falle.
Now, gode men, I pray yow herkneth alle!
Lo, how fortune turneth sodeinly
The hope and pryde eek of hir enemy!
This cok, that lay upon the foxes bak,
In al his drede, un-to the fox he spak,
And seyde, 'sire, if that I were as ye,
Yet sholde I seyn (as wis31 God helpe me),
Turneth agayn, ye proude cherles alle!
A verray pestilence up-on yow falle!
Now am I come un-to this wodes syde,
Maugree32 your heed, the cok shal heer abyde;
I wol him ete in feith, and that anon.
The fox answerde, 'In feith, it shal be don, '—
And as he spak that word, al sodeinly
This cok brak from his mouth deliverly33,
And heighe up-on a tree he fleigh anon.
And whan the fox saugh that he was y-gon,
'Allas!' quod he, 'O Chauntecleer, allas!

590

610 Ther myghte have ben betwex hem mariage,
But that hir fadres nold18 it not assente,
And both in love y-like soore they brente19,
him That noon of al hir frendes myghte it lette20.
But prevely21 somtyme yit they mette
By sleight, and spoken somme of hir desire,

That iangleth5 whan he sholde holde his pees.' As wre the glede22 and hotter is the fire;

And thus here27 wardeyn wolde they disceyve, 709 And every day this walle they wolde threete28, And wisshe to God that it were doun y-bete. Thus wolde they seyn: 'Allas, thou wikked walle!