EngHEL I OE to Elisabethan (Handout)

7/27/2019 EngHEL I OE to Elisabethan (Handout)

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History of English Literature: Old English to Elizabethan ___________________________________________________________________ 1

Abbreviations

AELAn Anthology of English Literature. Passages from Mediaeval andRenaissance Poetry, Drama and Prose

BGELBloomsbury Guide to English LiteratureCPEDThe Complete Poems of Emily DickinsonCPPTSEThe Complete Poems and Plays of T.S. EliotHAAL 1The Heath Anthology of American Literature. Volume 1HAAL 2The Heath Anthology of American Literature. Volume 2

HBHoly BibleIVIntimate Voices. Selected Work 1965-1983JTLJourneys through LiteratureKPKabalarian PhilosophyMMiscellany. Poems. Stories. BroadcastsNAALThe Norton Anthology of American LiteratureOAELThe Oxford Anthology of English LiteraturePP1Poezii / PoemsPP2Poeme / PoemsSLFSUltimele sonete nchipuite ale lui Shakespeare n traducere

imaginar de V. Voiculescu/ Shakespeare's Last Fancied Sonnets inV. Voiculescu's Imaginary Translation

SM.SPSStranger Music. Selected Poems and SongsTCSPThe Faber Book of Twentieth-Century Scottish PoetryWSCOWilliam Shakespeare. The Complete Works

The History of English Literature 101

The earliest productions of English literature were brought over by theGermanic tribes when they invaded Britain.

Though they mirrored the life of the Germanic tribes while they lived onthe Continent, they were touched up and adapted to the new historicaldevelopments and thus came to be considered English.

The earliest Anglo-Saxon literature is unwritten; it is the collectivecreation of the people to which professional singers (gleemen and scops)contributed their share. It was handed down from generation to generationby word of mouth, since heathen tradition and heathen priests forbade mento write the poems down. It is only after Christianity was introduced intoBritain that learned monks started compiling these poems, and ofteninterpolated Christian themes and meditations in order to tone down theirpagan outlook.

Anglo-Saxon literature sings of the life of the tribe at a time when thetribal system was already showing signs of disintegration. The poems pointto a certain social stratification: the heroes belong to the rising tribalaristocracy, they are kings and chieftains surrounded by a group ofhenchmen (noblemen) former warriors (thanes), followers in war andlesser retainers of the court. They were still bound in kinship (closerelationship through blood ties), a peculiar feature of the tribal system.

Though the literature of this early period includes both poetry andprose, the verse productions are by far superior in point of artistry andconception. The specimens of lyrical poetry extant are short fragments oflonger poems which have been lost. Most of the lyrical poems are elegiac intone; they express grief for the fallen warriors and regret or nostalgia forpast glory. The descriptions of the grim and primitive nature of Northerncountries enhance the sombre atmosphere pervading the poems. Somelyrics dwell on the wandering life of the minstrels (Widsith), or on themisfortunes they encounter (Deor's Lament). The Ruined Burg describesthe results of the devastation of a Roman settlement (probably the city of

Bath) by the Saxons. The Wandererthrows light on the close relationshipsbetween the early feudal lord and his thanes. The Seafarer sings of theattraction and the dangers of life at sea, quite unknown to the landsman inhis comfortable castle.

Epic poetry includes Beowulf, the greatest monument of Anglo-Saxonliterature and the earliest fully rounded off narrative extant among theGermanic peoples, and some passages of lost poems: The Battle ofFinnsburh (a vivid description of a battle scene in pre-feudal times; itmentions Finn, the king of the North Frisians); Waldhere (a song aboutWaldhere, son of a king of Aquitaine, given up as hostage to Atilla); TheBattle of Brunanburh (a song of triumph recounting the victory won by theking of Wessex and Mercia over an army of Northmen), and The Battle ofMaldon (the story of the East-Saxons' defeat by the Northmen) wereincluded in the "Anglo-Saxon Chronicle".

There were, besides, miscellaneous Anglo-Saxon verses such as TheRune Song, Charms against spells, Riddles humorously describing someobject, the sea, etc.

The excerpts below are translations into Modern English. [inAEL, pp.11-12]

BeowulfVerse Indeterminate Saxon

Hwt! We Gardena in geardagum,eodcyninga, rym gefrunon,hu a elingas ellen fremedon.Oft Scyld Scefing sceaena reatum,

5 monegum mgum, meodosetla ofteah,

egsode eorlas. Syan rest wearfeasceaft funden, he s frofre gebad,weox under wolcnum, weormyndum ah,ot him ghwylc ara ymbsittendra

10 ofer hronrade hyran scolde,gomban gyldan. t ws god cyning!m eafera ws fter cenned,geong in geardum, one god sendefolce to frofre; fyrenearfe ongeat

15 e hie r drugon aldorleaselange hwile. Him s liffrea,wuldres wealdend, woroldare forgeaf;Beowulf ws breme (bld wide sprang),Scyldes eafera Scedelandum in.

20 Swa sceal geongguma gode gewyrcean,fromum feohgiftum on fderbearme,

t hine on ylde eft gewunigenwilgesias, onne wig cume,leode gelsten; lofddum sceal

25 in mga gehwre man geeon.Him a Scyld gewat to gescphwilefelahror feran on frean wre.Hi hyne a tbron to brimes faroe,swse gesias, swa he selfa bd,

30 enden wordum weold wine Scyldinga;leof landfruma lange ahte.r t hye stod hringedstefna,isig ond utfus, elinges fr.Aledon a leofne eoden,

35 beaga bryttan, on bearm scipes,mrne be mste. r ws madma felaof feorwegum, frtwa, gelded;

ne hyrde ic cymlicor ceol gegyrwanhildewpnum ond heaowdum,40 billum ond byrnum; him on bearme lg

madma mnigo, a him mid scoldonon flodes ht feor gewitan.Nals hi hine lssan lacum teodan,eodgestreonum, on a dydon

45 e hine t frumsceafte for onsendonnne ofer ye umborwesende.a gyt hie him asetton segen geldenneheah ofer heafod, leton holm beran,geafon on garsecg; him ws geomor sefa,

50 murnende mod. Men ne cunnonsecgan to soe, selerdende,hle under heofenum, hwa m hlste onfeng.a ws on burgum Beowulf Scyldinga,

leof leodcyning, longe rage55 folcum gefrge (fder ellor hwearf,aldor of earde), ot him eft onwocheah Healfdene; heold enden lifde,gamol ond gureouw, glde Scyldingas.m feower bearn for gerimed

60 in worold wocun, weoroda rswan,Heorogar ond Hrogar ond Halga til;hyrde ic t wsOnelan cwen,Heaoscilfingas healsgebedda.a ws Hrogare heresped gyfen,

65 wiges weormynd, t him his winemagasgeorne hyrdon, o t seo geogo geweox,magodriht micel. Him on mod bearnt healreced hatan wolde,medorn micel, men gewyrcean

70 onne yldo bearn fre gefrunon [...]
http://www8.georgetown.edu/departments/medieval/labyrinth/library/oe/texts/a4.1.htmlhttp://www8.georgetown.edu/departments/medieval/labyrinth/library/oe/texts/a4.1.htmlhttp://www8.georgetown.edu/departments/medieval/labyrinth/library/oe/texts/a4.1.html


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BeowulfAnonymous (the Gummere translation)

Prelude to the Founder of the Danish House

LO, praise of the prowess of people-kingsof spear-armed Danes, in days long sped,

we have heard, and what honor the athelings won!Oft Scyld the Scefing from squadroned foes,from many a tribe, the mead-bench tore,awing the earls. Since erst he layfriendless, a foundling, fate repaid him:for he waxed under welkin, in wealth he throve,till before him the folk, both far and near,who house by the whale-path, heard his mandate,gave him gifts: a good king he!To him an heir was afterward born,a son in his halls, whom heaven sentto favor the folk, feeling their woethat erst they had lacked an earl for leaderso long a while; the Lord endowed him,the Wielder of Wonder, with world's renown.Famed was this Beowulf: far flew the boast of him,

son of Scyld, in the Scandian lands.So becomes it a youth to quit him wellwith his father's friends, by fee and gift,that to aid him, aged, in after days,come warriors willing, should war draw nigh,liegemen loyal: by lauded deedsshall an earl have honor in every clan.

Forth he fared at the fated moment,sturdy Scyld to the shelter of God.Then they bore him over to ocean's billow,loving clansmen, as late he charged them,while wielded words the winsome Scyld,the leader beloved who long had ruled....In the roadstead rocked a ring-dight vessel,ice-flecked, outbound, atheling's barge:

there laid they down their darling lordon the breast of the boat, the breaker-of-rings,by the mast the mighty one. Many a treasurefetched from far was freighted with him.No ship have I known so nobly dightwith weapons of war and weeds of battle,with breastplate and blade: on his bosom laya heaped hoard that hence should gofar o'er the flood with him f loating away.No less these loaded the lordly gifts,thanes' huge treasure, than those had donewho in former time forth had sent himsole on the seas, a suckling child.High o'er his head they hoist the standard,a gold-wove banner; let billows take him,gave him to ocean. Grave were their spirits,

mournful their mood. No man is ableto say in sooth, no son of the halls,no hero 'neath heaven, who harbored that freight!

WIDSITH(7th century)

Widsith (The Far-traveller) spake, unlocked his wordhoard hewho of men of the tribes of earth had wandered most among thepeoples: ..."So I have wandered through many strange lands,throughout the wide world. There, cut off from kindred, I havefound good and evil; far abroad from kinsmen I have gone.Therefore I can sing and tell a story, say before the company inthe mead-hall how the great nobles have dealt full well with me...

When Scilling and I, with a clear voice, raised the song beforeour royal lord, loud with the harp sounded the melody: then manya man, exultant in mind, those who knew, spake and said thatthey never had heard a better song... So, following their destiny,wandering, the gleemen pass by men of many lands; they tell theirneed, speak their thank-words, always south or north they meet

someone wise in songs, free with gifts, who would raise hisrenown before men, make known his sway, until it all shall pass,light and life together. Who so maketh songs of praise shall havelasting honour under the heavens."

GlossaryWidsith a fictitious name, "the far-travelled"mead-hall the hall where king and warriors feasted and drank

mead (alcoholic liquor of fermented honey and water)Scilling another minstrelgleemen professional singers, minstrels who sang the songs

composed by the scops [inAEL, pp. 12-13]

DEOR'S LAMENT(7th century ?)

Weland himself knew exile, the resolute hero enduredaffliction; sorrow and longing he had as follows, winter-coldwretchedness; oft he found woe... He overcame that, so may Ithis!

We have heard of Eormanric's wolfish mind: he ruled thewidespread folk of the realm of the Goths; that was a grim king!Many a man sat bound in sorrows, expecting woe, wishing

earnestly the end of that kingdom. He overcame that, so may Ithis!...I, as to myself, will say this: that for a while I was bard of the

Heodening, dear to a prince, Deor was my name. Many winters Iheld a good office, and had a king lord, until now Heorrenda, asongskilful man, has taken the land-right, which the lord of men tome beforetime had given. I overcame that, so may I this!

GlossaryWeland the Germanic god VulcanEormanric king of the GothsHeorrenda Deor's rival, a more skilful minstrel [inAEL, pp. 13-14]

This poem and "The Wanderer," which follows it here, arepreserved in the Exeter Book, a manuscript collection of Anglo-Saxon poetry transcribed at the end of the tenth century and givento the chapter of Exeter Cathedral, in Devon, by its Archbishop, Leofric, inthe middle of the eleventh. The book is still kept in the chapter library atExeter. None of the poems in it has a title: the titles by which the poems arenow known have all been supplied by modern editors.

Nothing is known of the bard who names himself Deor (Brave orExcellent) in line 35. We do not know, either, when he wrote his poem. Itcannot (by reason of the references to Theodoric the Ostrogoth) be earlierthan the sixth century in origin; it may belong to the eighth; and there isevidence that it existed in King Alfred's time (reigned 871-99). Perhaps themost likely date is the late ninth century.

The mood of "Deor's Lament" is elegiac, and its genre that of theconsolatio, the topics of which go back at least as far as Homer. TheRoman poets use them often Horace, for example:

Dead too is the sire of Pelops, the guest of the godsAnd Tithonus, carried off into air,And Minos, party to Jove's secrets. Now TartarusKeeps Panthous' son...

All these great men had to die: their greatness could not save them fromthe greatest misfortune of all. We who remain must take what consolationwe can from the realization that our lot is common to all. What must happenmust happen. We can hope for better in this life than its misfortunes, but theways of the gods are inscrutable.

When Christian writers took over the topics of the consolatio, theycould add a dimension: God's ways were mysterious, but there was thepromise of eternal life, vindication, and happiness for the good man. Butthough "Deor's Lament" is a poem written by a Christian, it can hardly becalled a Christian poem: hope is for the passing of sorrow in this world, notin the world to come. The quality of that hope can be read as stoicalresignation toward, or as heroic defiance of, the lot of Deor. The refrainwhich drives home the moral and separates the single exempla ofmisfortune one from another can be read in either sense. In theconventional consolatory mode, the poem proceeds by these exempla ofmisfortune, its structure a set of such units, its movement punctuated by therefrain. In this it is unusual, almost unique in Anglo-Saxon poetry: only oneother poem, and that a late one, uses a stanza division, and only one otherany kind of refrain.

Though the poet is using a genre that was popular in the Latin poetry ofthe early Middle Ages, his exempla are all drawn from Germanic legend.His characters would be well known to his audience. Weland, Beadohild,and Maethhild are entirely mythological; Theodoric and Eormanric werehistorical characters around whom legend grew. But though all but


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Maethhild are familiar figures, no coherent or convincing explanation of theirpresence together in the poem has yet been offered.

The translations of this poem and the three that follow ("TheWanderer", The Battle of Maldon, and The Dream of the Rood) are those ofC.W. Kennedy, published in his An Anthology of Old English Poetry, 1960.The lines have been numbered here merely as a guide. [ in OAEL, pp. 98-99]

Deor's Lament

Weland knew fully affliction and woe,Hero unflinching enduring distress;Had for companionship heart-break and longing,Wintry exile and anguish of soul,When Nithhad bound him, the better man,Grimly constrained him with sinewy bonds.

That evil ended. So also may this!

Nor was brother's death to BeadohildA sorrow as deep as her own sad plight,When she knew the weight of the child in her womb,But little could know what her lot might be.


Many have heard of the rape of Hild,Of her father's affection and infinite love,Whose nights were sleepless with sorrow and grief.


For thirty winters Theodoric held,As many have known, the Maering's stronghold.


We have heard of Eormanric's wolf-like ways,Widely ruling the realm of the Goths;Grim was his menace, and many a man,

Weighted with sorrow and presage of woe,Wished that the end of his kingdom were come.That evil ended. So also may this!

He who knows sorrow, despoiled of joys,Sits heavy of mood; to his heart it seemethHis measure of misery meeteth no end.Yet well may he think how oft in this worldThe wise Lord varies His ways to men,Granting wealth and honor to many an eorl,To others awarding a burden of woe.

And so I can sing of my own sad plightWho long stood high as the Heodenings' bard,Deor my name, dear to my lord.Mild was my service for many a winter,

Kindly my king till Heorrenda cameSkillful in song and usurping the land-rightWhich once my gracious lord granted to me.

That evil ended. So also may this!Late 9th century

NotesDeor's This poet is mentioned nowhere else and nothing is known of him

beyond the poem's implication that he was an exile; the name isprobably a persona adopted by the poet.

Weland or Wayland or Welund, whose name means "maker" or "workman",the smith of Germanic legend, a supernatural being corresponding tothe Vulcan of classical mythology. He had been captured by Nithhad,set to work, and hamstrung to prevent his escape. But he managed toescape, after all, killing the two sons of Nithhad and raping hisdaughter Beadohild. Weland is shown on the whalebone reliefs of theFranks Casket (Northumbria, c. 700) in the British Museum ( Fig, 22).

fully a fill-in for two words in the Old English for which no one has yetsuggested a suitable translation

sinewybonds bonds imposed by cutting the sinewsThat... ended Weland got away (by flying, in one form of the story).That... ended (1.12) As a result of the rape, Beadohild bore the hero Widia;

the poet considers that to be the mother of a hero is sufficientcompensation for her.

Hild Beadohild. This translation takes this andthe obscure next two lines tobe a restatement of Beadohild's plight as it affected her father. Thereference may rather be to an unidentified Hild or Maethhild and anunidentified Geat, her lover, so that affection... love should berendered "passion", and sorrow and griefas "bitter love".

Theodoric probably Theodoric the Great, 454-526, king of the Ostrogoths,lord of Italy, who murdered Odoacer, the barbarian mercenary who had

made himself Emperor of the West in 493; the reference is not clear.Others have suggested that Theodoric the Frank ( Wolfdietrich), whoalso suffered exile and defeat, may be meant. The Maering (1.18) maybe Theodoric.

Eormanric's the historical Eormanric, or Ermanric, king of the Ostrogoths,who died about 375, having made himself ruler from the Baltic to theBlack Sea; later legend made him a cruel tyrant.

Goths the Ostrogoths, who originated in southern Russia and held Italyduring the late fifth and early sixth century

eorl The word means either a nobleman, man of the upper class (as it doeshere), or a warrior: by this time its use was largely confined to poetry.

Heodenings' ruling family, descended from HeodenHeorrenda Nothing is known of this bard, either.land-right estate granted to Deor as a reward for his poetry [in OAEL, pp.

99-100]

THE RUINED CITY

(8th century ?)

Wondrous is its wall-stone: fates have broken, have shatteredthe city, the work of giants is perishing. The roofs are fallen, thetowers in ruins, the towers with grated doors despoiled, rime onthe lime, the ramparts' shorn down, fallen, with age undereaten.The earth-grasp, the hard grip of the ground, holds the mightyworkers, decayed, departed: till a hundred generations of menpass away. Oft its wall abided, goat-grey and red-stained, throughrule, steady under storms... bright were the burg-dwellings, bath-halls many, high the clustered pinnacles, great the warlike sound,many a mead-hall, full of mirth of men, until the strong Wyrdchanged it... There stood the courts of stone; the stream threwforth hot and speeding billows: a wall encircled all its brightbosom, where the baths were, hot within; that was well fitted men.

Glossarythe ramparts notched shower-defencesthe clustered pinnacles horn-work, fortificationsWyrd the all powerful goddess of destiny whom all the gods obeyed [in

AEL, p. 14]

LAYAMON

Layamon was a priest who lived near the Welsh border in the late l2thcentury and early l3th century. His translation (1205) of Wace's Brut fromFrench into English verse (which in its turn had been based on Geoffrey ofMonmouth's Historia Bretonum) is representative of the Anglo-Normanchivalrous literature which was much indebted to the French romances.Layamon's Le Bruttells the legends included in the "matter of Britain" cycle,which, of the three cycles (matter of Britain, the matter of Troy, and thematter of Rome) is the most important one for the English people. Le Brut,whose title was inspired from Brutus [who, according to Geoffrey of

Monmouth, was believed to have been the grandson of Aeneas and to havemade his way from Italy to Britain where he founded London; the legend, nodoubt, confuses the word Bryt(a Briton) with the classical name ofBrutus],was also the first work to sing of King Arthur in English verse, hence itssignificance. His sympathies were with the Britons and he invested the storyof Arthur with a mysterious fairy-like atmosphere as he was, no doubt,familiar with sagas and old folk-songs of neighbouring Wales.

Layamon preserved the epic vein of Anglo-Saxon poetry, part of itsvocabulary, but he was the first to introduce the rhymed couplet into Englishverse and used it alongside the old Anglo-Saxon alliterative verse. He oftenresorted to similes.

The legends of Le Brut, recited by minstrels to the noblemen and theordinary folk alike, must have instilled a new feeling, the national feeling,into their listeners who, at that time, were being welded into the Englishnation. [inAEL, p. 49]

KING LEAR AND HIS THREE DAUGHTERS

Sixty winters had Leir wholly governed this land. The king hadthree daughters by his noble queen. He had no son to uphold hisdignity (thereof he was sorry), but only his three daughters. Theeldest daughter was called Gornoille, the second Regau, the third


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Cordoille. She was the youngest sister, in face fairest of all. Shewas as dear to her father as his own life. Then, the king grew old,and weak in dignity of manhood, and he bethought him what hemight do with his kingdom after his day. He said to himself whatwas evil: "I will break up my realm and give my daughters mykingdom and share it among my children. But first I will provewhich of them is my best friend, and she shall have the best partof my lordly land". Thus the king thought and thereafter he

wrought. He called Gornoille his goodly daughter out of her bower,to her father dear; and thus spake the old king where he satamong his nobles. "Say to me, Gornoille, true words; very dearthou art to me, how dear am I to thee? How much worth holdestthou me for wielding royal sway?" Gornoille was very wary, aswomen are nearly everywhere, and said a leasing to her father theking. "Beloved father dear, as I look for God's mercy, so help meApollin, for my faith is all in him, dearer art thou alone to me thanall this whole world. And yet I will speak with thee, thou art dearerto me than my life, and this I say to thee for sooth, thou mayestwell believe me." Leir, the king, believed his daughter's leasing,and thus the old king gave answer. "I say to thee, Gornoille,beloved daughter dear, good shall be thy meed for thy greeting. Iam greatly enfeebled by my old age, and thou lovest me muchmore than is in life. I will divide my lordly land entirely in three;thine shall be the best share. Thou art my daughter dear, and

shalt have for lord my best thane of all that I can find in mykingdom." After wards spake the old king with his (second)daughter. "Beloved daughter Regau, what sayest thou to me forcounsel? Say thou before my people how dear I am to thee inheart." Then answered she with prudent words: "All that is in life isnot so dear to me as thy limbs alone, before my own life". But shesaid nothing true, no more than her sister; all her leasing herfather believed. Then answered the king (his daughter pleasedhim), "The third part of my land I give to thee in hand; thou shalttake a lord where is most pleasing to thee". Then still the kingwould not leave his folly. He bade come before him his daughterCordoille. She was the youngest of all, heedful of truth and mostprudent, and the king loved her more than both the other two.Cordoille heard the leasing which her sisters said to the king; shetook to her faithful mind, so that she would not lie; she would saythe truth to her father, were it lief to him or were it loath to him.

Then said the old king (ill counsel followed him), "Hear I will ofthee, Cordoille, so help thee Apollin, how dear unto thee is mylife". Then answered Cordoille, loud and no whit still, with gameand with laughter to her father beloved: "Thou art dear to me asmy father and I to thee as thy daughter. I have to thee soothfastlove, for we are very near in kinship, and as I look for mercy I willsay to thee more: As much thou art worth as thou dost wield, andas much as thou hast men will love thee, for soon he is loathedwho possesseth little". Thus said the maiden Cordoille, andafterwards sat very still. Then was the king wroth for he was not atall pleased and weened in his mind that it might be through ill-manners that he were so unhonoured by her, so that she wouldnot honour him as her two sisters who both together spakeleasings. Then King Leir turned as black as if were a black cloth,his skin and his hue turned, for he was greatly hurt; with wrath hewas dazed so that he fell in a swoon. Then he slowly recovered.

The maiden was afraid when his wrath all broke out; it was evilthat he spake. "Hearken, Cordoille, I will tell thee my will. Of mydaughters thou wert dearest to me, now thou art to me the mosthateful of all; shalt thou never hold a portion of my land, but withmy daughters I will share my kingdom, and thou shalt be troubledand dwell in misery. For never weened I that thou wouldst thusshame me; therefore thou shalt be as dead I ween. Flee out of myeyesight. Thy sisters shall have my kingdom, and this is pleasingto me. The Duke of Cornwall shall have Gornoille, and theScottish King Regau the fair, and I give them all the possessionsthat I am ruling over." And all the old king did as he had said. Oftwas she for her father's wrath. She went into her bower, and thereshe oft sat sorry because she would not lie to her father beloved.The maid was put greatly to shame because she had shunned herfather, and had followed then best counsel, and she abode in herbower, and suffered trouble of mind, and mourned greatly.

GlossaryLeirLearthereof(archaic) of thathe bethought him he thoughtthereafter(archaic) accordingly

he wrought he actedgoodly good-lookingspake spokewielding (poetical) controllingleasing lyingApollin name of a maiden and afterwards martyr of Alexandriafor sooth (archaic) really, trulymeed (poetic) rewardthane (in early English history) nobleman of lower rank

liefgladly, willinglyloath reluctant, unwillingno whit not at allsoothfast (archaic) truthful, steadfastwroth (poetical) angryhe weened (poetical) he was of opinionhearken listenoft oftenbowerdwelling, room [inAEL, pp. 50-53]

GEOFFREY CHAUCER (1300-1400)

The 14th century was a time of great changes in England's history; itwas during this period that England rose to the rank of a great nationalstate. Alongside the process leading to the formation of the English nationand the English national language, English literature also came intoexistence.

Geoffrey Chaucer is honoured as England's first poet of world stature.His genuine interest in the society of his time, his lay conception as well asthe novelty of his poetic artistry point to the new spirit at work in 14thcentury English literature, a spirit equally opposed to the theological andscholastic interpretation of the phenomena and to the traditionalversification of mediaeval poetry.

The son of a London vintner, Geoffrey Chaucer had the privilege ofuniversity education as well as the opportunity of coming into close touchwith the people in all the walks of life. He also benefited by his travelsabroad as a page at the court, he joined the expedition to France duringthe One Hundred Years' War, then he was sent to France and Italy onvarious missions such as concluding a trade agreement, etc. Travellingabroad broadened Chaucer's outlook, while his first-hand knowledge of theItalian Renaissance poets matured his artistic genius. Later on, as acontroller of the customs in the port of London, Chaucer came to know therepresentatives of many trades and crafts.

The young poet's experimental period includes the unfinishedtranslation of Le Roman de la Rose into English verse; the Frenchallegorical and satirical poem held the English poet in thrall to the end of hislife.

In his earlier poems The Book of the Duchess; The Parliament ofFowls; The House of Fame; his most remarkable narrative, Troylus andCresside, which is a realistic study of character and a psychologicalmotivation of age-old personages' conduct; The Legend of Good Women,Chaucer's narrative and mildly satirical gift mingle with many realisticremarks on the life of his own day. However, most of these are stilltraditional poems in many respects.

Even when Chaucer borrows his themes from foreign models (theclassical ancient poets, Le Roman de la Rose, or Boccaccio), even whenhaving recourse to such traditional forms as the dream vision, the bestiary,the romance, Chaucer manages to infuse a new spirit, a lay spirit, into thepoems mentioned above. He enlivens older motifs thanks to his eagerinterest in such aspects that lent themselves to a realistic approach.

Chaucer's masterpiece and most original contribution, The CanterburyTales, is also the first great poetical work in English. It consists of a GeneralPrologue and about twenty-four tales told by the pilgrims on their way to theshrine of St. Thomas a Becket at Canterbury. The pilgrims' portraits, drawn

in the General Prologue and further rounded off by the Minor Prologuesthose preceding the tales , by the tales, convey a vivid and true-to-lifepicture of 14th century English society. Essential physical and moralfeatures of each social class or category are minutely observed andhumorously or sometimes satirically delineated. Chaucer's pilgrims,however, are no mere types; individual peculiarities, each character'sidiosyncrasies are good-humouredly revealed and made fun of. Chaucerdoes not spare the clergy, the dishonest middle-class townsfolk or thecountry people. Yet, the poet refrains from mentioning and jeering at thehigh clergy and the court aristocracy. Chaucer's sympathy goes to theordinary, hardworking honest men such as the parson and the ploughman.

The Tales tackle themes as varied as the sources they rest on and asdifferent as the likes and dislikes of the story tellers (e.g. the robust Wife ofBath telling a fairy tale derived from a Celtic chivalrous romance; thePardoner in fact a swindler choosing a moralizing tale of Italian originabout the three young revellers in search of Death; the Franklin a healthy-looking landed squire (no nobleman proper) deciding on a Bretonromance about a high-minded knight and his pure rash wife; the drunken

Miller's Tale, coarse and full of fun, probably indebted to a French popularfabliau; the Nun's Priest telling the fable about Chanticleer, the cook, hisbeloved Pertelote and Russell, the fox the tale is a masterpiece ofhumour, dynamism and pictorial details, presumably drawn on "Le Romande Renart").

Thanks to the wide range of subjects, the poet's art of handling the


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narrative, his ability to make the story help reveal the characters, thereaders' interest in the Tales never flags.

Liveliness and dramatic effect are derived from Chaucer's technique ofallowing the pilgrims to react quite naturally to each other's tale. Not only dothey often interrupt the tale in progress, or ask for another, more to theirliking, but they also quarrel, protest and comment on the tales they havebeen listening to (e.g. the end-links of The Miller's Tale, The Reeve's Tale,The Pardoner's Tale, The Friar's Tale, etc.). The clash of conception ofsome of the pilgrims on one and the same question also comes to the fore,

e.g. the attitude to women and to marriage in The Wife of Bath's Talecontrasted to that of the Clerk of Oxford's in his Tale about Griselda.Besides the poet's own comments, there are also those of Harry

Bailey, the genial Host of the Tabard Inn. His censure of the tales insteeped in common sense evincing the sound taste of the practically-minded common townsfolk (e.g. his arguments with the Miller, the Reeve,the Franklin, the Pardoner, his urging the company not to waste time theend-link of the Man of Law's Tale , or the Clerk of Oxford to be cheerfuland take his turn in telling a story, his impatience with Chaucer whose Taleabout Sir Topaz a mock-heroic romance he interrupts, his sympatheticremarks on The Doctor of Physics' Tale, on Chaucer's Tale of Melibeus,etc.).

The Tales and their end-links are thus genuine studies of character.Chaucer is credited for having been the first English poet to use a

regular metre the iambic pentametre and to introduce end-rhymed verseas also the stanzaic form.

With Geoffrey Chaucer the mediaeval outlook in literature comes to anend. With his naive realism conveying the pulsing life of his age, his good-natured humour, his democratic views, Chaucer closely heralds theRenaissance. Equally great are Chaucer's contributions to moulding theEnglish language so as to make it flexible enough for poetic expression. [ in

AEL, pp. 63-66]

Geoffrey ChaucerThe Canterbury Tales

The Prologue

When that Aprille with his showres swootThe drought of Marche hath percd to the root,And bathd every veyn in suche licor,From which vertu engendred is the flour;When Zephirus eek with his swete breethEnspird hath in every holte and heeth

The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonneHath in the Ram his halfe course runne,And smale fowles maken melodie,That slepen al the night with open eye,So pricketh them natre in their corges:Thenne longen folk to go on pilgrimges,And palmers for to seeken strange strandes,To distant seintes, known in sondry landes;And specially, from every shires endeOf Engelond, to Canturbury they wende,The holy blisful martir for to seeke,That them hath holpen when that they were weeke.

Byfel that, in that seson on a day,In Southwerk at the Tabbard as I lay,Redy to wenden on my pilgrimge

To Canturbury with ful devout corge,At night was come into that hostelrieWel nyne and twenty in a companye,Of sondry folk, by ventre i-falleIn felowshipe, and pilgryms were they alle,That toward Canturbury wolden ryde.The chambres and the stables weren wyde,And wel we weren lodgd at the beste.And shortly, when the sonne was to reste,So hadde I spoken with them everyone,That I was of their felowshipe anon,And made covenant erly to aryse,To take oure weye where I shal you devyse.But nonetheles, whiles I have tyme and space,Or that I ferther in this tale pace,Me thinketh it according to reson,

To telle you alle the condicionOf eche of them, so as it semd me,And who they weren, and of what degree;And eek in what array that they were inne:And at a knight than wil I first bygynne.

A Knight ther was, and that a worthy man,That from the tyme that he ferst biganTo ryden out, he lovd chyvalrye,Trouth and honor, fredm and curtesie.Ful worthi was he in his Lordes warre,And thereto had he riden, noman so farre,As wel in Cristendom as hethenesse,And ever honoured for his worthinesse.

At Alisandre he was when it was wonne,Ful ofte tyme he hadde the feast begunneAboven alle the knights that were in Pruce.In Lettowe had he ridden and in RuceNo cristen man so ofte of his degree.In Gernade at the siege eek had he beOf Algesir, and riden in Belmarie.At Lieys was he, and at Satalie,When they were wonne; and in the Grete seeAt many a noble landyng had he be.At mortal batailles had he been fiftene,And foughten for oure feith at TramasseneIn lystes thrice, and ever slayn his foe.This same worthi knight had ben alsoSomtyme with the lord of Palatye,Ageynst another hethen in Turkye:

And evermore he hadde a sovereyn price.And though that he was worthy he was wyse,And of his port as meke as is a mayde.He never yet no vilonye had saydeIn al his lyf, unto no manner of wight.He was a very perfit gentil knight.But for to telle you of his array,His hors was good, but yet he was not gay.Of fustyan he ware a cotepleynWhereon his hauberk left ful many a stain.For he was late come from his voyge,And wente for to do his pilgrimge.

With him ther was his sone, a yong Squyer,A lover, and a lusty bacheler,With lokkes curled as if they lay in presse.

Of twenty yeer he was of age I gesse.Of his statre he was of even lengthe,And wondrous quik he was, and gret of strengthe.And he had been somtyme in chivalrye,In Flaundres, in Artoys, and in Picardie,And born him wel, though in so litel space,In hope to standen in his ladies grace.Embroidred was he, as it were a meadAl ful of fresshe floures, white and red.Syngynge he was, or flutynge, al the day;He was as fressh as is the month of May.Short was his goune, with sleeves long and wyde.Wel coud he sitte on hors, and faire ryde.He coude songes make and wel endite,Joust and eek daunce, and wel purtray and write.So much he lovd, that by nightertale

He slept nomore than doth a nightyngale.Curteous he was, lowly, and servisable,And carved byfore his fader at the table.

A Yeoman had he, and servntes nomoAt that tyme, for him liste ryde so;And he was clad in cote and hood of grene.A shef of pecok arrows bright and keneUnder his belte he bare ful thriftily.Wel coude he dresse his tackel yeomanly;His arrows droopd nought with fetheres low.And in his hond he bare a mighty bowe.A round-hed had he with a broun visge.Of woode-craft wel knew he al the usge.Upon his arme he bar a gay bracer,And by his side a swerd and buckeler,And on that other side a gay daggere,Adornd wel, and sharp as poynt of spere;A buckle on his brest of silver shene.An horn he bare, the girdle was of grene;A forester was he soothly, as I gesse.


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Ther was also a Nonne, a Prioresse,That of her smylyng was ful symple and coy;Her grettest oth was only by seynt Loy;And she was namd madame Englentyne.Ful wel she sang the servises divyne,Entund in her nose ful seemely;And Frensh she spake ful faire and sweetely,After the scole of Stratford-atte- Bowe,

For Frensh of Parys was to her unknowe.At mete wel i-taught was she in all;She let no morsel from her lippes falle,Nor wet her fyngres in her sauce deepe.Wel coude she carie a morsel, and wel keepe,That never drope upon her brest should be.For al her thoughte was sett on curtesie.Her overlippe wypd she so clene,That in her cuppe was no ferthing seneOf greese, when she dronken hadde withinne.Ful semely to ete she did beginne.And certeynly she was of gret disport,And ful plesnt, and amyable of port,And peynd her to counterfete cheereOf court, and to be stately of manre,And to be holden digne of reverence.

But for to speken of her conscience,She was so charitable and so piteous,She wolde weepe if that she saw a mousCaught in a trappe, if it were ded or bledde.Of smale houndes had she, that she feddeWith rosted flessh, and mylk, and wastel breed.But sore wepte she if one of them were ded,Or if men smote it with a stikke smerte:And al was conscience and tendre herte.Ful semely her cloke i- pynchd was;Her nose streight; her eyen grey as glas;Her mouth ful smal, and therto soft and red;But certeynly she hadde a fair forheed.It was almost a spanne broad, I trowe:For verrily she was not undergrowe.Ful faire was her robe, as I was war.

Of smal corl aboute her arme she bareA paire of bedes, the greatest were of grene;And theron hung a broch of gold ful shene,On which was first i-writ a crownd A,And after,Amor vincit omnia.Another Nonne also with her had she,That was her chapelleyn, and Prestes three.

A Monk ther was, wel fit for sovereyntee,An out-rydere, that lovd venerye;A manly man, to be an abbot able.Ful many a dainty hors had he in stable:And whan he rode, men might his bridel hereJyngle in a whistlyng wynd so cleere,And eek as loude as doth the chapel belle.Where that this lord was keper of the celle,

The rule of seynt Maure or of seint Beneyt,Bycause that it was old and somwhat streyt,This ilke monk let pass the olde day,And helde after the newe time alway.He gaf nat for that text a pulld hen,That seith, that hunters be no holy men;Nor that a monk, when he is cloysterless,Is likened to a fisshe that is watirless,This is to sey, a monk out of his cloystre.But that same text held he not worth an oystre.And I seide his opinioun was good.Why! shulde he studie, and make himselve wood,Uppon a book in cloystre alway to pore,Or diggen with his handes, and labore,As Austyn bad? How shal the world be served?Lat Austyn have his toil to him reserved.Therefore a horsman ever he was aright;Greyhoundes he had as swifte as fowl in flight;Of prickyng and of huntyng for the hareWas his delight, for no cost wolde he spare.I saw his sleves rounded at the hand

With fur, and that the fynest in the land.And for to fastne his hood under his chynHe hadde of gold y-wrought a curious pyn:A love-knotte in the gretter ende ther was.His heed was bald, and shon as eny glas,And eek his face as he had been anoynt.He was a lord ful fat and in good poynt;His eyen bright, and rollyng in his heed,

That stemd al as doth a furnace red;His bootes souple, his hors in gret estate.Now certeinly he was a fair prelate;He was not pale as a for-pynd ghost.A fat swan loved he best of eny roast.His palfray was as broun as is a berye.

A Frere ther was, a wanton and a merye,A prechour, and a ful solemne man.In alle the ordres foure is non that canSo moche of daliaunce and fair langge.He had i-made many a marigeOf yonge wymmen, at his owne cost.Unto his ordre he was a noble post.Ful wel biloved and familiar was heWith frankeleyns everywhere in his cuntree,

And eek with worthi wommen of the toun:For he hadde power of confession,As seyde himself, more than a curte,For of his ordre he was licenciat.Ful sweetly herde he their confession,And plesaunt was his absolucion;He was an esy man to geve penanceWhen that he thought to have a good pitanceFor unto a poore ordre for to giveIs signe that a man is wel i-shrive.For if he gaf, he dorste make avaunt,He wiste that a man was rpentant.For many a man so hard is of his herte,He may not wepe though he sore smerte.Therefore in-stede of wepyng and prayres,Men may give silver to the pore freres.

His typet was ay stuffd ful of knyfesAnd pynnes, for to give to faire wyfes.And certaynly he hadde a mery note.Wel coude he synge and pleyen on a flute.Of songes he bar utterly the price.His nekke whit was as the fluer-de-lys.Therto he strong was as a champion.He knew the tavernes wel in every toun,And every ostiller or gay tapstere,Better than lazars or the pore beggere,For unto such a worthi man as heIt was not right, as by his facultee,To have with such sick lazars queyntance.It is not honest, it may not advaunce,For a good Frere to dele with such poraile,But al with riche and sellers of vitaille,

And specially when profyt shulde arise.Curteous he was, and gentil of servyse.Ther was no man nowher so vertuous.He was the beste begger in al his hous,For though a widewe hadde but one shoe,So plesaunt was his In principio,Yet wolde he have a ferthing ere he wente.His begging was far better than his rente.And rage he coude and pleye right as a whelpe,In love-dayes coude he people helpe.For then was he not like a cloysterer,With a thredbare cope as a pore scolr,But he was like a maister or a pope.Of double worsted was his semy-cope,That round was, as a belle, out of the presse.Somwhat he lipsed, for his wantounesse,To make his Englissh swete upon his tunge;And in his harpyng, when that he hadde sunge,His eyen twynkled in his hed aright,As do the sterres in the frosty night.This worthi prechour was y-called Huberd.


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A Marchaunt was ther with a forked berd,In motteleye, and high on horse he sat,Uppon his hed a Flaundrish bever hat;His botes buckled faire and properly.His resons spak he ful solemnely,Touching alway the encrease of his wynnyngs.He wolde the see were guarded for his thingesBetwixe Middulburgh and Orewelle.

Wel coude he in eschange sheeldes selle.This worthi man ful wel his wittes sette;Ther wiste no man that he was in dette,So stately was he of governaunce,With his bargayns, and with his sufficience.For sothe he was a worthi man withalle,I know not, sooth to say, what men him calle.

A Clerk ther was of Oxenford also,That unto logik had long tyme i-go.As lene was his hors as is a rake,And he was not right fat, I undertake;But lokede hollow, and therto soberly.Ful thredbare was his overest cloke to see,For he hadde nought geten him a benefice,Nor was so worldly to have high office.

For he wold rather have at his beddes hedTwenty bookes, clothed in blak and red,Of Aristotil, and his philosophie,Then robes riche, or fiddle, or psaltery.But although that he were a philosphre,Yet had he but a litul gold in cofre;But al that he might gete, and his frendes sent,On bookes and his lernyng he it spent,And busily gan for the soules prayOf them that gaf him money to scolay.Of studie tooke he most cure and most heede.Not one word spak he more than was need;Al that he spak it was of heye prudence,And short, and quyk, and ful of gret sentence.Sowndynge in moral virtu was his speche,And gladly wolde he lerne, and gladly teche.

A Sergeant of Lawe, wys and war,That often hadde ben wher lawyers are,Ther was also, ful riche of excellence.Discret he was, and of gret reverenceHe semd such, his wordes were so wise.Justice he was ful often in assise,By patent, and by pleyn commission;For his science, and for his high renoun,Of fees and robes had he many a one.So gret a lawyer was there nowher noon.Al was fee symple to him in effecte,His word of law might never be suspecte.Nowher so busy a man in eny case,And yet he semd busier than he was.In termes of lawe had he the judgementes al,

That from the tymes of kyng Will were falle.Thereto he coude endite, and make a thing,Ther coude no man blame aught of his writyng.And every statute coude he pleyn by rote.He rode but hoomly in a medly cote,Girt with a girdle of silk, with barres smale;Of his array telle I no lenger tale.

A Frankeleyn ther was in our companyeWhite was his beard, as is the dayesye.Of his complexioun he was sangwyn.Wel loved he in the morn a sop of wyn.To lyven in delite he loved allone,For he was Epicurus owne son,That held opynyoun that pleyn deliteWas verrily felicitee perft.An householder, and that a gret, was he;Seynt Julian he was in his countree.His bred, his ale, was alway best of al;His store of wyn was known in special.Withoute bake mete never was his hous,

Of flessh and fissh, and that so plentyous,It snowd in his hous of mete and drynk,And alle deyntees that men coude thynk.After the sondry sesouns of the yeer,He chaungd them at mete and at soper.Ful many a fat partrich had he in mewe,And many a bream and many a luce in stewe.Wo was his cook, unless his sauce were

Poynant and sharp, and redy al his gear.His table dormant in his halle alwayStood redy covered al the longe day.At sessions there was he lord and sire.Ful ofte tyme he was knight of the shire.A dagger and a wallet al of silkHeng at his gerdul, white as morning mylk.A shirreve and a counter hadde he ben,Was nowher such a worthi Frankeleyn.

An Haberdassher and a Carpenter,A Webber, a Dyer, and a Tapicer,Were with us eek, clothed in one lyveree,Of a solemne and gret fraternitee.Ful fressh and newe their gear y-trimmd was;Their knyfes were y-sette nat with bras,

But al with silver wrought ful clene and faire,Their gurdles and their pouches every where.Wel semd eche of them a fair burgeys,To sitten in a gildehalle on the dais.Every man for the wisdom that he can,Was fitted for to be an alderman.For money hadde they inough, and rente,And eek their wyfes wolde it wel assente;And else certeyn had they ben to blame.It is right fair for to be clept madame.And for to go to churches al byfore,And have a mantel roially i-bore.A Cook thei hadde with them for the nonce,To boyle chikens and the marrow bones,And to make powders swete and tasten wel.Wel coude he knowe a draught of London ale.

He coude roste, sethe, broille, and frie,Make soupe and brawn and bake wel a pye.But gret harm was it, as it semd me,That on his shin a sore wound had he;For blankemange he made with the beste.

A Shipman was ther, dwellyng far by weste:For ought I wot, he was of Dertemouthe.He rode upon a hackneye, as he coude,In gowne woollen falling to the knee.A dagger hangyng on a lace had heAboute his nekke under his arm adoun.The hot somr had made his hew al broun;And certeinly he was a good felwe.Ful many a draught of wyn had he y-draweFrom Burdeaux-ward, whil that the merchant sleep.

Of nyce conscience took he no keep.If that he foughte, and had the higher hand,By water he sente it home to every land.But of his craft to reckon wel the tydes,His stremes and his dangers al bisides,His harbour and his moone, his pilotage,

Ther was none such from Hulle to Cartage.Hardy he was, and wys to undertake;With many a tempest hath his beard ben shake,He knew wel alle the havenes, as thei were,From Scotlond to the cape of Fynestere,And every creek in Bretayne and in Spayne;His barge y-clepd was the Magdelayne.Ther was also a Doctour of Phisk,In al this worlde was ther non him likeTo speke of phisik and of surgerye;For he was grounded in astronomye.He kepte his pacient wondrously and welIn al houres by his magik naturel.Wel coude he gesse the ascending of the star


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Wherein his patientes fortunes settled were.He knew the cause of every maladye,Were it of cold, or hete, or moyst, or drye,And where they engendred, and of what humor;He was a very parfit practisour.The cause once knowen and his right measre,Anon he gaf the syke man his cure.Ful redy hadde he his apothecaries,

To sende him drugges, and electuaries,For eche of them made the other for to wynne;Their frendshipe was not newe to begynne.Wel knew he the old Esculapius,And Deiscorides, and eek Rufus;Old Ypocras, Haly, and Galien;Serapyon, Razis, and Avycen;Averrois, Damascen, and Constantyn;Bernard, and Gatisden, and Gilbertyn.Of his diete mesurble was he,For it was of no superfluitee,But of gret norishing and digestible.His studie was but litel on the Bible.In blue he clad was al and in sangwynLynd with taffata and silke thin.And yit he was but esy in dispence;

He kepte that he won in pestilence.For gold in phisik is a cordial;Therfore he lovd gold in special.

A good Wif of beside Bathe ther was,But she was ever somwhat def, allas.In cloth-makng she had such judgement,She passd them of Ypris and of Ghent.In al the parrissh wyfe was ther noneThat to the altar byfore hir shulde goon,And if ther dide, certeyn so wroth was she,That she was thenne out of alle charitee.Her kerchiefs weren al ful fyne of grounde;I durste swere they weigheden ten poundeThat on a Sonday were upon her hed.Hir hosen were of fyne scarlett red,

Ful streyt y-tyed, and shoes ful moyste and neweBold was hir face, and fair, and red of hewe.She was a worthy womman al her lyfe,Husbondes at chirche dore hadde she fyfe,Withouten other companye in youthe;But thereof needeth nought to speke the truth.And thrice she had ben at Jerusalem;She hadde passd many a strange streem;At Rome she had ben, and at Boloyne,In Galice at seynt Jame, and at Coloyne.She knewe moche of wandrying by the weye.Big- toothd was she, sothly for to seye.Upon an amblere esely she sat,Clokd ful wel, and on her hed an hatAs brood as is a buckler or a targe;A foot-mantel aboute her hippes large,

And on her feet a paire of spurres sharpe.In felawshipe wel coude she laughe and carpe.Of remedyes of love she knew parchaunce,For of that art she knew the olde daunce.

A good man was ther of religion,And was a poore Parson of a town;But riche he was of holy thought and werk.He was also a lernd man, a clerkThat Cristes gospel gladly wolde preach;His parishioners devoutly wolde he teach.Benigne he was, and wondrous diligent,And in adversitee ful pacient;And such he was i-provd ofte to be.To cursen for his tithes ful lothe was he,But rather wolde he given out of doute,Unto his pore parishioners aboute,Of his offrynge, and eek of his substaunce.He coude in litel thing have sufficience.Wyd was his parish, and houses far asonder,But yet he lafte not for reyne or thonder,

In siknesse and in meschief to visteThe ferthest in his parisshe, smal and greatUppon his feet, and in his hand a staf.This noble ensample unto his sheep he gaf,That ferst he wroughte, and after that he taughte,Out of the gospel he those wordes caughte,And this figre he addid yet therto,That if gold ruste, what shulde iron do?

For if a priest be foul, on whom we truste,No wonder if the ignorant shulde ruste;And shame it is, if that a priest take kepe,A dirty shepperd and a clene shepe;Wel oughte a priest ensample for to give,By his clennesse, how that his sheep shulde lyve.He sette not his benefice to hire,And lefte his sheep encombred in the myre,And ran to Londone, unto seynte Paules,To seeken him a chaunterie for soules,Or with a brothurhood to be withholde;But dwelte at hoom, and kepte wel his folde,So that the wolfe made it not myscarye.He was a shepperde and no mercenarie;And though he holy were, and vertuous,He was to sinful man ful piteous,

Nor of his speche wrathful nor yet fine,But in his teching dscret and benigne.To drawe folk to heven by clenenesse,By good ensample, was his busynesse:But were it eny person obstinat,What-so he were of high or lowe estat,Him wolde he snubbe sharply for the nonce.A bettre priest I trowe ther nowher non is.He wayted after no pompe nor reverence,Nor made himself spicd in conscience,But Cristes love, and his apostles twelve,He taught, and ferst he folwed it himselve.

With him there was a Ploughman, was his brother,That hadde i-lad of dung ful many a fother.A trewe worker and a good was he,

Lyvynge in pees and perfit charitee.God loved he best with al his trewe herteAt alle tymes, though he laughed or smerte,And thenne his neighebour right as himselve.He wolde thresshe, and therto dyke and delve,For Cristes sake, with every pore wight,Withouten hyre, if it laye in his might.His tythes payd he ful faire and wel,Bothe by his owne work and his catel.In a round coat he rode upon a mare.

There was also a reeve and a mellere,A summoner and a pardoner also,A manciple, and my-self, ther was no mo.

The Mellere was a stout carl for the nones,

Ful big he was of braun, and eek of bones;And proved it wel, for everywhere he cam,At wrastlynge he wolde bere awey the ram.He was short shuldred, broode, a thikke felw,There was no dore he coude not heave and draweOr breke it at a runnyng with his hed.His beard as eny sowe or fox was red,And therto brood, as though it were a spade.Upon the cop right of his nose he hadA werte, and theron stood a tuft of heres,Red as the berstles of a sowes eeres.His nose- trilles blake were and wyde.A swerd and bocler bar he by his side,His mouth as wyde was as a gret forneys.He was a jangler, and a singer of lays,And that was most of synne and harlotries.Wel coude he stele corn, and profit thrice;In profit he hadde a thombe of gold alway.A whit cote and a blew hood werd he.A baggepipe coude he blowe and sowne,And therwithal he brought us out of towne.


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A gentil Manciple was ther of a temple,Of which al buyers mighten take exempleFor to be wys in buyyng of vitaille.For whether that he payde, or took by taille,Ever he watchd so to buy or sell,That he was ay bifore and fard wel.Now is not that of God a ful fair grace,That such a simple mannes wit shal pass

The wisdom of an heep of lerned men?Of mastres hadde he mo than thrice ten,That were of lawe expert and curious;Of which there were a doseyn in an hous,Al worthi to be stiwards of rente and londOf any lord that is in Engelond,To make him lyve by his propre good,In honour detteles, unless he were wood,Or lyve as scarsly as he can desire;And able for to helpen al a shireIn any case that mighte happe or falle;And yit this manciple past the wit of all.

The Reeve was a slendre colerik man,His beard was shave as nigh as ever he can.His heer was by his eres rounde i-shorn.

His top was dockd lyk a priest biforn.Ful longe were his legges, and ful lene,Al like a staff, ther was no calf y-sene.Wel coude he kepe a garner and a bynne;Ther was no auditour coude from him wynne.Wel wiste he by the drought, and by the reyn,The yeeldyng of his seed, and of his greyn.His lordes sheep, his cattle, his dayerie,His swyn, his hors, his store, and his poultrie,Was wholely in this reeves governynge,And as he seyd so was the rekenynge,Since that his lord of age was twenti yeer;There coude noman bringe him in arrear.Bailiff and herd and men of al degree,Knewen ful wel his sleight and subtiltee;They were adread of him, as of the deth.

His dwellyng was ful fair upon an hethe,With grene trees i-shadewed was his place.He coude bettre than his lord purchce.Ful riche he was i-stord privily,His lord wel coude he plese subtilly,To geve and lend him from his owne good,And have a thank, a cote, and eek an hood.In youthe he hadde ben a good werker;He was a wel good wright, a carpenter.This reeve sat upon a wel good stot,That was a pomely gray, and namd Scot.A long surcote of blew uppon he hadde,And by his side he bar a rusty blade.Of Northfolk was this reeve of which I telle,Byside a toun men callen Baldeswelle.Tuckd he was, as is a friar, aboute,

And ever he rood the hynderest of the route.A Summoner was with us in that place,That hadde a fyr-red cherubynes face,For spotted al he was, with eyen narrow.As hot he was, and lecherous, as a sparrow,With roughe browes blak, and shorte berd;Of his visge children were sore afeard.No quyksilver, litarge, nor bremstone,Boras, ceruce, nor oille of tartre none,Nor oyntement that wolde clense and byte,Might ever help him of his whelkes white,Or of the knobbes sittyng on his cheekes.Wel loved he garleek, oynouns, and eek leekes,And for to drinke strong wyn red as blood.Thenne wolde he speke, and crye as he were wood.And when that he wel dronken had the wyn,Than wolde he speke no word but Latyn.A fewe termes had he, tuo or three,That he hadde lernd out of som decree;No wonder is, he herde it al the day;

And eek he knowe wel, how that a jayCan clepeWatte, as wel as can the king.But who-so wolde him try in other thing,Thenne hadde he spent al his philosophie,Ay, Questio quid juris, wolde he crye,He was a gentil felaw and a kynde;A bettre summoner shulde men nowher fynde.He wolde suffre for a quart of wyn

A good felawe to have his concubynA twelve month, and excuse him utterly.And fooles coude he deceive privily.And if he fond somewhere a good felwe,He wolde teche him for to have no aweIn such a case of the archedeknes curse,Unless a mannes soule were in his purse;For in his purs he sholde punysshed be.Thy purse and money is thy hell, quoth he.But wel I wot he lyd right in dede;For cursyng ought each gilty man to drede;Cursing wil slay and bring damnation;Bewar of excommunication.In his control he hadde at his assiseThe yonge wommen of the diocise,And knew their counseil, and their every nede

A garland had he set upon his hed,As gret as it were for an alehouse-stake;A buckler had he made him of a cake.

With him there rood a gentil PardonerOf Rouncival, his friend and his compeer,That streyt was comen from the court of Rome.Ful loude he sang, Come hider, love, to me.This summoner sang to him in deepe tone,Was nevere trumpe of half so gret a soun.This pardoner had heer as yellow as wex,But smothe it hung, as doth a strike of flex;By ounces hunge his lokkes that he hadde,And therwith he his shuldres overspredde.Ful thinne it lay, in lengthes, one by one,And hood, for jolitee, werd he none,

For it was trussd up in his wallet.He thought he rode al of the newe set,Disheveled, save his cappe, he rode al bare.Suche glaryng eyen hadde he as an hare.A Christes image hung upon his cappe.His wallet lay byfore him in his lappe,Brim-ful of pardouns come from Rome al hot.A voys he had as smale as eny goat.No beard had he, nor never beard sholde have,As smothe it was as it ware late i-shave;I trow he were a geldyng or a mare.But of his craft, from Berwyk unto Ware,Ther was not such another pardoner.For in his bag he hadde a pilow there,Which that he saide, was oure Ladys veyl:He seide, he hadde a gobet of the seyl

That seynt Peter hadde, when that he wenteUppon the see, til Jhesu Crist him hente.He hadde a cros of brasse ful of stones,And in a glas he hadde pigges bones.But with these reliques, whenne that he foundA pore persoun dwellyng uppon ground,Upon a day he gat him more moneyeThan that the parsoun gat in monthes tweye.And thus with feynd flaterie and japes,He made the parsoun and the people his apes.But trewely to tellen at the laste,He was in churche a noble ecclesiaste.Wel cowde he rede a lessoun or a storye,But best of al he sang an offertorie;For wel knew he, when that the song was songe,He muste preche, and wel affyle his tunge,To wynne silver, as he right wel coude;Therefore he sang ful merily and loude.

Now have I told you shortly in a clauseThestate, tharray, the nombre, and eek the cause


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Why that assembled was this companyeIn Southwerk at this gentil ostelrie,That highte the Tabbard, faste by the Belle.But now is tyme to you for to telleHow that we bare us in that same night,When we were in that ostelrie alight;And after wil I telle of oure vige,And al the remnaunt of oure pilgrimage.

But ferst I pray you of your curtesie,That ye ne think it not my vilanye,Though that I speke al pleyn in this matre,To tellen you their wordes and their cheere;Nor though I speke their wordes properly.For this ye knowen al-so wel as I,Who-so shal telle a tale after a man,He moste reherce, as nigh as ever he can,Every word, if it be in his charge,Though speke he never so rudely nor so large;Or else must he telle his tale untrewe,Or feyne thing, or fynde wordes newe.He may not spare, though he were his brother;He moste as wel say one word as another.Crist spak himself ful broade in holy writ,And wel ye wot no vilanye is it.

Eke Plato seith, who-so that can him rede,The wordes must be cosyn to the dede.Also I pray you to forgeve it me,If I have folk not set in their degreeHere in this tale, as that they shulde stonde;My wit is thynne, ye may wel understonde.

Greet cheere made oure host us every one,And to the souper sette he us anon;And servd us with vitaille as he could,Strong was the wyn, and wel we drynken wolde.A semely man oure ostewas withalleFor to have been a marchal in an halle;A large man was he with eyen deep,A fairere burgeys is ther noon in Chepe:Bold of his speche, and wys, and wel i-taught,

And of manhoode lakkd he right naught.Eke therto he was right a mery man,And after soper playen he bygan,And spak of myrthe amonges other thinges,When that we al hadde made our rekonynges;And saydethus: Lo, lordynges, trewelyYe be to me right welcome hertily:For by my trothe, if that I shal not lye,I never saw so mery a companyeAt one time in this harbour as is now.Fayn wold I do you merthe, wiste I how.And of a merthe I am right now bythought,To do you ese, and it shal coste nought.Ye go to Caunturbury; God you speede,The blisful martir give you al youre meede!And wel I wot, as ye go by the weye,

Ye shapen you to talken and to pleye;For trewely comfrt and merthe is noneTo ryde by the weye domb as a stoon;And therfore wil I make you some disport,As I seyde erst, and do you som confrt.And if you liketh alle by one assentNow for to standen at my judgement,And for to werken as I shal you seye,To morrow, when ye riden by the weye,Now by my fadres soule that is ded,Save ye be merye, smyteth off myn hed.Hold up youre hond withoute morespeche.Oure counseil was not longe for to seche;Us thoughte it was not worth to say him nay,And graunted him withoute more delay,And bad him say his verdite, as him leste.Lordynges, quoth he, now herken for the beste;But take it not, I pray you, in disdayn;This is the poynt, to speken short and playn,That each of you to shorten this youre weie,In this vige, shal telle tales tweye,

To Caunturburi- ward, I mene it so,And hom-ward he shal tellen other tuo,Of ventres that there have bifalle.And which of you that bereth him best of alle,That is to seye, that telleth in this caseTales of best sentnce and of solce,Shal have a soper at the cost of alHere in this place sittynge in this halle,

When that we comen ageyn from Canturbery.And for to make you the more mery,I wil myselven gladly with you ryde,Right at myn owen cost, and be youre gyde.And who-so wile my judgement withseieShal paye for al we spenden by the weye.And if ye vouchesafe that it be so,Telle me anon, withouten wordes mo,And I wil erly shapeme therfore.This thing was graunted, and oure othes sworeWith ful glad herte, and prayden him alsoThat he would vouchesafe for to do so,And that he wolde be oure governour,And of our tales judge and rportour,And sette a souper at a certeyn prys;And we wolde rewld be at his devys,

In high and lowe; and thus by one assentWe be accorded to his judgement.And therupon the wyn was fet anon;We dronken, and to reste wente each one,Withouten eny lengere taryinge.And when the morning day bigan to sprynge,Up rose oure ost, and broughte us out of sleep,And gadered us togider alle in a heep,And forth we riden a litel more than pace,Unto the waterynge of seint Thomas.And there oure ost bigan his hors areste,And seyde, Lordes, herken if you liste.Ye wot youre covenant, and I it you recorde.If eve-song and morning-song acorde,Let see now who telle ferst a tale.As evere I may drinke wyn or ale,

Who-so be rebel to my judgementShal paye for al that by the weye is spent.Now draw the straws, ere that we forther win;And he that hath the shortest shal bygynne.Sir knight, quoth he, my maister and my lord,Now draw the cut, for that is myn acord.Come near, quoth he, my lady prioresse;And ye, sir clerk, let be your shamfastnesse,Ne studie not; ley hand to, every man.

Anon to drawen every wight bigan,And shortly for to tellen as it was,Were it by venture, or other case,The sooth is this, the cut fil to the knight,Of which ful glad and blithe was every wight;And telle he moste his tale as was reson,

By covenant and composicion,As ye have herd; what needeth worde mo?And when this good man saw that it was so,As one that wys was and obedientTo kepe his covenant by his free assent,He seyde: Since I shal then bygynne the game,What! welcome be the cut, in Goddes name!Now lat us ryde, and herken what I seye.

And with that word we riden forth oure weye:And he bigan with right a merie chereHis tale, and seide right in this manre.

GlossaryZephyrus (in Greek mythology) name of the West Windthe sign of the Ram zodiacal sign that corresponds to the month of Marchsmall fowl birds

palmerpilgrim who returns from the Holy Land with a palm branch of palmleaf, itinerant monkshire countyCanterbury town in the South East of England (Kent) with an old Gothic

cathedral erected in the 12th century


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wend (archaic) goSouthwark district on the South side of the Thames in the county of SurreyThe Tabard the knight's garment worn over armour; herald's coat. The

Tabard was the sign of the inn where the pilgrims met.hostelry innarray (poetical) dress, outfitapparel (archaic) dress, clothingfustian thick cotton cloth dyed darkcadet younger son

lowly humble, modestyeoman independent farmergearequipmentwoodcraft knowledge of forest conditions useful in huntingprioress superior of an abbey of nunsSt. Loy St. Louisseemly becomingStrattford-at-Bowe a provincial town in Essex, three miles East of Londonwithal (archaic) moreovercourtliness refined mannerssedately calmlyabbot head of an abbey of monksaye alwaysuncloistered out of monasteryAustin St. Augustin, the apostle sent in 596 to convert England to

Christianitylover's knot a kind of double knotprelate high ecclesiastical dignitarypalfrey a horse for ridinglimiterfriar licensed to beg within certain limitsFour Orders monastic ordersat shrift (archaic) while confessing the sinsabsolution forgiveness of sinspenance act of giving absolution for the sins confessedtippet mufflerscum the worst part of societymight accrue might be derived (obtained)Harwick Harwich, a harbour in the East of England, passage for the

Netherlandsranges directionexchanges exchanges of goodspreferment promotion to an office or positionfiddles unimportant mattersat that moreover, into the bargainhaberdasherdealer in small wares (of clothes)livery distinctive clothes worn by members of a guildguild mediaeval corporation of craftsmen

gearequipment, clothingavouches guaranteespouch small bag outside pocketburgess citizenalderman councillor in cities, next in dignity to Mayorrevenue incomemagic effigies image of a person to be hanged or burnthumour(unscientific) one of the four fluids of man's body determining his

physical and mental qualitiesapothecary chemistgoodish while long timeclose (here) niggardly

Ypres town in Belgium (Flanders) known for its linen and lace industryGhent Gand, a town in Belgium (Flanders) known for its textile industryground surface worked upon in embroiderypound 0.453 kg.hose stockingsforsooth in truth, truly (ironical)Boulogne harbour in Northern FranceCologne Koln, a town in GermanySt. James of Compostella a church in Spainambling horse horse moving by lifting two feet on one side togetherwimpled up (covering of linen) won by nuns, formerly also by women about

head, cheeks and chinmantle loose, sleeveless cloakstone weight of 14 pounds or 6.350 kg.brawn muscleheave lift (heavy things)gauge measure exactlybagpipes wind instrument with bag as receptacle of airpardonerman licensed to sell papal pardons or indulgencesCharing Cross street in the West End of LondonThe Court of Rome the Vatican, the official residence of the Popehank of flax coil of flaxyarndriblets small quantitymode fashiongelding castrate

Berwick Berwick-on-Tweed, a seaport town at the mouth of the TweedWare Wareham, a town in Dorsetshiregobbet (archaic) piecerubble waste fragmentsup-country towards the interior, inland

prevarication evasive speechmade monkeys ofshowed contempt of, played tricks withoffertory part of Mass at which offerings are madegirth leather or cloth band tightened round the bodymarshal (here) officer of royal household with judicial functionsCheapside a busy market in mediaeval London and a place of pageants

and sports [inAEL, 66-85]

THE ENGLISH POPULAR BALLADS

Folk literature, ballads more especially, saw a remarkable flourishingduring the 14th and 15th centuries, a period when no poet made a name forhimself in England.

Ballads are anonymous narrative creations, whether individually orcollectively conceived. They spread throughout the country by word ofmouth, which accounts for the many variants of the same specimen.

The rich store of ballad poetry extant forms a comprehensive picture ofthe life of the people in those remote times. They treat the of variousdomestic relations, elopements, exiled husbands, quarrels betweenbrothers and sisters, or between a daughter and her cruel step-mother, loveand death (Binnorie; Edward, Edward; The Cruel Mother; The Nut-BrownMaid; etc.), of the popular superstitious belief in ghosts, witches, fairies,fateful numbers, etc. (The Wife of Usher's Well; Sweet William's Ghost;Thomas the Rhymer; etc.), of certain historical facts often blending with

legends (Sir Patrick Spens; Queen Eleanor's Confession; etc.); the Borderballads dwell on the feuds and hatred between the English and the Scottishlords and their followers (the most famous among these being ChevyChase and Gude Wallace); other ballads relate a humorous incident ofdomestic life or reveal the villagers' shrewd mind (Get up and Bar the Door;Take Thy Old Cloak About Thee; King John and the Abbot of Canterbury;etc.).

The Ballads of outlawry, often referred to as Greenwood ballads, weremainly composed in the 14th century. They echo the people's struggleagainst the feudal lords who were despoiling and oppressing the peasants.Robin Hood is the most celebrated hero of the outlawry ballads circulated inthe South and the central districts of mediaeval England. He is supposed tohave lived in the 12th century. He is depicted as a champion of liberty andsocial justice, valiant, resourceful, devoted to the poor and needy, a swornenemy of the feudal lords.

Genuine feelings, simplicity of tone and composition as well as theprevalence of the epic motifs are typical features of the ballads. Thenarrative is dynamic and dramatic, dialogue is often present. Nature, though

scantily depicted, is often the background of the ballads of outlawry.Abundant repetitions, conventional comparisons and epithets, refrains,alliterations are the most characteristic stylistic devices to be found inballads. The verse pattern is very simple: as a rule it is the four-line stanzaconsisting of two iambic tetrameters alternating with two iambic trimeters.

The popular ballads have always had a stimulating influence on art andliterature. For some of the greatest English poets (Walter Scott, John Keats,Samuel Taylor Coleridge, etc.) the folk ballads were an inexhaustiblesource of inspiration. [inAEL, pp. 87-88]

CHEVY CHASE

God prosper long our noble king,Our lives and safeties all!

A woeful hunting once there didIn Chevy Chase befall.

To drive the deer, with hound and horn,Earl Percy took the way;

The child may rue, that is unborn,The hunting of that day!

The stout Earl of NorthumberlandA vow to God did make,

His pleasure in the Scottish woods,Three summer's days to take;

The chiefest hearts in Chevy ChaseTo kill and bear away.

These tidings to Earl Douglas cameIn Scotland, where he lay.

Who sent Earl Percy present word,He would prevent his sport.

The English Earl, not fearing that,Did to the woods resort.


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With fifteen hundred bowmen bold,All chosen men of might,

Who knew full well, in time of need,To aim their shafts aright.

The gallant greyhounds swiftly ran,To chase the fallow deer.

On Monday they began to hunt,

Ere daylight did appear;

And long before high noon they hadA hundred fat bucks slain:

Then, having dined, the drovers wentTo rouse the deer again.

The bowmen mustered on the hills,Well able to endure;

Their backsides all with special careThat day were guarded sure.

The hounds ran swiftly through the woodsThe nimble deer to take,

That view their cries the hills and dalesAn echo shrill did make.

Lord Percy to the quarry went,To view the tender deer,

Quoth he, 'Earl Douglas promised onceThis day to meet me here:

'But if I thought he would not come,No longer would I stay!'

With that, a brave young gentlemanThus to the Earl did say:

'Lo, yonder doth Earl Douglas come,His men in armour bright;

Full twenty hundred Scottish spearsAll marching in our sight!

'All men of pleasant Tividale,Fast by the river Tweed'.'O, cease your sports!' Earl Percy said,

'And take your bows with speed;

'And now with me, my countrymen,Your courage forth advance;

For there was never champion yet,In Scotland, nor in France,

'That ever did on horseback come;But, and if my hap it were,

I durst encounter man for man,With him to break a spear!'

Earl Douglas, on his milk-white steed,

Most like a baron bold,Rode foremost of his company,Whose armour shone like gold.

'Show me', said he, 'whose men you be,That hunt so boldly here,

That, without my consent, do chaseAnd kill my fallow deer?'

The first man that did answer make,Was noble Percy he,

Who said, 'We list not to declare,Nor show, whose men we be:

'Yet, we will spend our dearest bloodThe chiefest hearts to slay'.

Then Douglas swore a solemn oath,And thus in rage did say:

'Ere thus I will outbraved be,One of us two shall die:

I know thee well, an earl thou at;Lord Percy, so am I.

'But, trust me, Percy, pity it were,And great offence, to kill

Any of these, our guiltless men,For they have done no ill.

'Let thou and I the battle try,And set our men aside'.

'Accurst be he', Earl Percy said,'By whom it is denied'.

Then stepped a gallant squire forth,Witherington was his name,

Who said, 'I would not have it toldTo Henry our king, for shame,

'That e'er my Captain fought on foot,And I stand looking on.

You be two earls', quoth Witherington,And I a squire alone.

'I'll do the best that do I may,

While I have power to stand:While I have power to wield my sword,I'll fight with heart and hand'.

Our English archers bent their bows,Their hearts were good and true.

At the first flight of arrows sent,Full fourscore Scots they slew.

........................................................They closed full fast on every side,

No slackness there was found:And many a gallant gentlemen

Lay gasping on the ground.

O, Christ! it was a grief to see,And likewise for to hear,

The cries of men lying in their gore,And scattered here and there.

At last, these two stout earls did meet,Like captains of great might,

Like lions wood, they laid on load,And made a cruel fight:

They fought, until they both did sweat,With swords of tempered steel,

Until the blood, like drops of rain,They trickling down did feel.

'Yield, thee, O Percy!' Douglas said,'In faith I will thee bring,

Where thou shall high advanced be

By James, our Scottish King:'Thy ransom I will freely give,

And this report of thee,"Thou art the most courageous knight

That ever I did see"'.

'No, Douglas', quoth Earl Percy then,'Thy proffer I do scorn;

I will not yield to any ScotThat ever yet was born'.

With that, there came an arrow keenOut of an English bow,

Which struck Earl Douglas to the heart,A deep and deadly blow.

Who never spake more words than these,'Fight on, my merry men all;

For why? My life is at an end,Lord Percy sees my fall'.


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Then leaving life, Earl Percy tookThe dead man by the hand,

And said, 'Earl Douglas, for thy lifeWould I had lost my land.

'O, Christ! my very heart doth bleedWith sorrow for thy sake,

For sure, a more redoubted knight

Mischance could never take'.

A knight amongst the Scots there was,Which saw Earl Douglas die;

Who straight in wrath did vow revengeUpon the Lord Percy.

Sir Hugh Montgomery was he called;Who, with a spear most bright,

Well-mounted on a gallant steed,Ran fiercely through the fight;

And passed the English archers all,Without all dread or fear;

And through Earl Percy's body thenHe thrust his hateful spear;

With such a vehement force and mightHe did his body gore,

The staff ran through the other side,A large cloth-yard and more.

So thus did both these nobles die,Whose courage none could stain.

An English archer then perceivedThe noble earl was slain;

He had a good bow in his hand,Made of a trusty tree;

An arrow of a cloth-yard longUp to the head drew he.

Against Sir Hugh MontgomerySo right the shaft he set,The grey goose-wing that was thereon

In his heart's blood was wet.

This fight did last from break of dayTill setting of the sun:

For when they rang the evening bell,The battle scarce was done.

........................................................Of twenty hundred Scottish spears

Scarce fifty-five did fly.

Of fifteen hundred Englishmen,Went home but fifty-three;

The rest were slain in Chevy Chase,

Under the greenwood tree.Next day did many widows come

Their husbands to bewail:They washed their wound in brinish tears,

But all would not prevail.

Their bodies, bathed in purple gore,They bare with them away.

They kissed them, dead, a thousand t imes,Ere they were clad in clay.

The news was brought to Edinborough,Where Scotland's King did reign,

That brave Earl Douglas suddenlyWas with an arrow slain.

'O, heavy news!' King James did say,'Scotland may witness be,

I have not any captain moreOf such account as he'.

Like tidings to King Henry came,Within as short a space,

That Percy of Northumberland,Was slain in Chevy Chase.

'Now, god be with him!' said our king,'Sith it will no better be;

I trust I have, within my realm,

Five hundred as good as he:

'Yet shall not Scots, nor Scotland, sayBut I will vengeance take;

I'll be revenged on them all,For brave Earl Percy's sake'.

This vow full well the king performedAfter, at Humbledown,

In one day fifty knights were slain,With lords of great renown;

And of the rest, of small account,Did many thousands die.

Thus endeth the hunting of Chevy Chase,Made by the Earl Percy.

God save our king; and bless this landWith plenty, joy, and peace;

And grant henceforth, that foul debate'Twixt noblemen may cease.

GlossaryTividale place where the battle was foughthap luck, chance, lotwe list not we do not wantthy profferyour offera more redoubted knight a more formidable (redoubtable) knighta trusty tree trustworthythe grey goose-wing the arrow (one end of which was supplied with a

goose-quill)brinish tears briny tears (brine very salt water)they bare they boresith since [inAEL, pp. 88-97]

POPULAR BALLADS

Ballads are short, anonymous, narrative poems, preserved by oraltransmission and sung, often with accompaniment and dance, beforegatherings of people. They exist in all nations. Some ballad themes andstories pass freely from one culture to another and from language tolanguage over many centuries, their words and characters altered to fit thenew context. Some are passed on with very little change. Their subject isusually tragic, death by accident or by treachery in love or in war, often withsupernatural accompaniments, being the most frequent. Motif and incidentmay be taken from a folklore tradition stretching back many centuries, orfrom a comparatively recent historical occurrence. Since ballads werepassed on by word of mouth, they exist in many versions even within onelanguage and are sung to more than one tune. But since ballad meter is sosimple, a single tune will do duty for many ballads. (We have a moresophisticated parallel in the case of hymns, where the rhythm is alsosimple: the same words are sung to many tunes, and the same tune is usedfor many hymns.) Basically, ballad meter is the Western norm for the simplemelodic phrase, four primary beats to the line. The lines are usuallyarranged in quatrains, i.e. groups of four lines.

The simplicity of ballad form implies a simplicity of language and ofsyntax, as well as an economy of expression. Few ballads are longer than apage or two of print, and those that exceed this limit are generally historicalnarratives with a simple story-line. Since they were intended to beunderstood by an audience that would hear them only once and since theywere performed by a single singer, they could not make use of thesophisticated imagery and complicated sentence structure of the writtenlyric. The ballads operate with "and" clauses, not "though" or "if" clauses,with successive statements, not with statement followed by qualifications.Their imagery, even where it seems not fully articulate and is difficult tointerpret fully, is simple and direct.

The popular ballad is essentially a primitive art form, composed andtransmitted in a society such as that of the Scottish Border counties

between the later Middle Ages and the early nineteenth century. Thesesocieties are made up of small, self-contained local units, relatively unmixedand homogeneous; their outlook is limited to their own locality and their ownpast; and they value ballad-makers both as story-tellers and as news-vendors. Naturally, the demands of this audience influenced ballad


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composers, and its criticisms of a performance influenced the singers.Earlier theories of the origin of the popular ballad gave the audience a muchgreater role than this and saw the ballads as the corporate poeticexpression of the folk, the cooperative productions of a whole community,related to the chorus songs and dances which accompany primitive workand play. This idea is not now widely accepted: it originated in lateeighteenth-century Germany at a time when the ballads were beginning tobe collected, studied, and imitated.

Modern study has shown the importance of the bard, the singer of

tales, in primitive societies and the privileged position he often occupies inthem, even where he has some other trade or duty. Each performance thathe gives of a ballad, old or new, is a unit in itself and may include variations.He is the chief, but not the only, hander-on of the ballads to otherexecutants. The handing-on may be lateral, across a society or societies; orvertical and chronological, through successive generations in the samecommunity or family. These considerations explain both the existence ofmany variants of a single ballad and the often surprising consistency inthose variants. As in all orally transmitted literature, differences betweenvariants may be the result of conscious manipulation to fit the ballad to newcircumstances or a different audience of children, perhaps, rather thanadults (as in some of the versions of "Lord Randal"), or an audience drawnfrom another community on whom the allusions would be lost, or which ismore sophisticated in its tastes. Or they may be accidental, the result ofover- or under-sophistication in the transmitter, of failure of understandingor memory, or even of simple mishearing.

A good number of the ballads that we now possess were not writtendown until the eighteenth century or even later, and when they wererecorded in this way, they were recorded in a composite of the forms inwhich they were then being recited. In consequence, it is not

Documents

EngHEL I OE to Elisabethan (Handout)