(331) He wente for to fighte nathelees, Madame Pertelote, so have I blis, 4354 Royal he was, he was namore aferd; 4366 He fethered Pertelote twenty tyme, And trad as ofte, er that it was pryme. He loketh as it were a grim leoun; 4369 And on his toos he rometh up and doun, Him deyned not to sette his foot to grounde. (361) He chukketh, whan he hath a corn y-founde, And to him rennen thanne his wyves alle. Thus royal, as a prince is in his halle, Leve I this Chauntecleer in his pasture; And after wol I telle his aventure. 4376 Whan that the month in which the That it was pryme, and crew with blisful stevene. 'The sonne,' he sayde, ' is clomben up on hevene Fourty degrees and oon, and more, y-wis. Ful is myn herte of revel and solas.' 4405 A col-fox, ful of sly iniquitee, That in the grove hadde woned yeres three, By heigh imaginacioun forn-cast, The same night thurgh-out the hegges brast Into the yerd, ther Chauntecleer the faire As gladly doon thise homicydes alle, Thou were ful wel y-warned by thy dremes, That thilke day was perilous to thee. But I ne can not bulte it to the bren, 4430 4435 Or if his witing streyneth nevere a del 4440 sorwe, To walken in the yerd upon that morwe That he had met the dreem, that I yow tolde. 4445 Wommennes counseils been ful ofte colde; Wommannes counseil broghte us first to WO, And made Adam fro paradys to go, Ther-as he was ful mery, and welat ese.— But for I noot, to whom it mighte displese, 44.50 If I counseil of wommen wolde blame, (441) Passe over, for I seyde it in my game. Rede auctours, wher they trete of swich matere, And what thay seyn of wommen ye may here. Thise been the cokkes wordes, and nat myne; 4455 I can noon harm of no womman divyne.— Faire in the sond, to bathe hir merily, Lyth Pertelote, and alle hir sustres by, Agayn the sonne; and Chauntecleer so free Song merier than the mermayde in the see; For Phisiologus seith sikerly, 4460 (451) 4464 How that they singen wel and merily. As man that was affrayed in his herte. This Chauntecleer, whan he gan him My lord your fader (god his soule blesse !) And eek your moder, of hir gentilesse, Han in myn hous y-been, to my gret ese; And certes, sire, ful fayn wolde I yow plese. 4488 But for men speke of singing, I wol saye, So mote I brouke wel myn eyen tweye, Save yow, I herde never man so singe, As dide your fader in the morweninge; Certes, it was of herte, al that he song. And for to make his voys the more strong, He wolde so peyne him, that with bothe his yen 4495 He moste winke, so loude he wolde cryen, And stonden on his tiptoon ther-with-al, And strecche forth his nekke long and smal. And eek he was of swich discrecioun, That ther nas no man in no regioun 4500 That him in song or wisdom mighte passe. (491) I have wel rad in daun Burnel the Asse, Among his vers, how that ther was a cok, For that a preestes sone yaf him a knok Upon his leg, whyl he was yong and nyce, 4505 He made him for to lese his benefyce. Allas! ye lordes, many a fals flatour Redeth Ecclesiaste of flaterye ; Beth war, ye lordes, of hir trecherye. 4520 This Chauntecleer stood hye up-on his toos, (511) eyen Strecching his nekke, and heeld his cloos, And gan to crowe loude for the nones; And daun Russel the fox sterte up at ones, 4524 And by the gargat hente Chauntecleer, And on his bak toward the wode him beer, Certes, swich cry ne lamentacioun 4545 Was never of ladies maad, whan Ilioun Was wonne, and Pirrus with his streite swerd, Whan he hadde hent king Priam by the berd, And slayn him (as saith us Eneydos), As maden alle the hennes in the clos, 4550 Whan they had seyn of Chauntecleer the sighte. (541) But sovereynly dame Pertelote shrighte, She was so ful of torment and of rage, O woful hennes, right so cryden ye, lyves; 4565 Withouten gilt this Nero hath hem slayn. Now wol I torne to my tale agayn:This sely widwe, and eek hir doghtres two, Herden thise hennes crye and maken wo, And out at dores sterten they anoon, And syen the fox toward the grove goon, And bar upon his bak the cok away; And cryden, Out! harrow! and weylaway! 4570 Ha, ha, the fox!' and after him they ran, (561) And eek with staves many another man; Ran Colle our dogge, and Talbot, and Gerland, And Malkin, with a distaf in hir hand; Ran cow and calf, and eek the verray hogges 4575 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; kille, As thilke day was maad upon the fox. And therwithal thay shryked and they houped; 4590 It semed as that heven sholde falle. (581) 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, 4595 In al his drede, un-to the fox he spak, And seyde, sire, if that I were as ye, Yet sholde I seyn (as wis god helpe me), Turneth agayn, yo proude cherles alle! 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 4605 This cok brak from his mouth deliverly, 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! I have to yow,' quod he, 'y-doon trespas, In-as-muche as maked yow aferd, (601) Whan I yow hente, and broghte out of the yerd; But, sire, I dide it in no wikke entente; Com doun, and I shal telle yow what I mente. I shal seye sooth to yow, god help me so." 'Nay than,' quod he, 'I shrewe us bothe two, 4616 Here is ended the Nonne Preestes Tale. THER was, as telleth Titus Livius, 10 Pigmalion noght, though he ay forge and bete, |