1
The merry words of the Host to the Monk
2
When ended was my tale of Melibee
3
And of Prudence and her benignity,
4
Our Host said: ‘As a true Christian,
5
And by the precious corpus Madrian,
6
I’d rather my wife had heard this tale
7
Dear God, than have a barrelful of ale!
8
For she has never shown such patience
9
As did this Melibeus’ wife Prudence.
10
By God’s bones, when I beat my knaves,
11
She brings me the great knobbed staves,
12
And cries out: “Slay the dogs, every one,
13
And break their backs and every bone!”
14
And if there’s any neighbour of mine
15
Who fails in church his head to incline,
16
Or is so bold as to commit trespass,
17
When she comes home she rages in my face,
18
And shouts: “False coward, avenge your wife!
19
By corpus bones, I’ll go wield your knife,
20
And you shall have my distaff and go spin!”
21
Day and night that’s how she’ll first begin.
22
“Alas!” she’ll say, ‘that ever it was my fate
23
To wed a milksop, and a cowardly ape
24
Who sees himself outfaced, who never fights,
25
And daren’t stand up, to honour his wife’s rights!”
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Such is my life, unless I choose to fight,
27
And out at door anon I must go, alright,
28
Or else I am but lost, I must bear me
29
Like a wild lion, and as foolhardily.
30
I expect some day she’ll make me slay
31
A neighbour, and then I’ll be on my way,
32
For I am dangerous with knife in hand,
33
Albeit that I dare not her withstand,
34
For she can heft an arm, by my faith;
35
As he’ll find out who minds not what he sayeth!
36
– But let us pass on now from all this matter.
37
My lord the Monk,’ quoth he, ‘be merry of cheer,
38
For you shall tell a tale, by my eye.
39
Lo, Rochester is here, the town fast by!
40
Ride forth, my lord, don’t break off the game.
41
Yet, by my troth, I know not your true name;
42
Whether I should call you my lord Sir John,
43
Or Sir Thomas now, or else Sir Alban?
44
Of what house are you, by your father’s kin?
45
I swear to God you have a full fair skin!
46
They’ll be gentle pastures to which you post;
47
You look not like a penitent or ghost.
48
Upon my faith, you are some officer,
49
Some worthy sexton, or some cellarer.
50
And by my father’s soul, I’ll have it known,
51
You’ll be the master when you are at home –
52
No poor cloister-dweller, nor a novice,
53
But an official, a wily man and wise,
54
And, at that, not short of brawn and bone,
55
A fine looking person I must own.
56
I pray God, bring that man confusion
57
Who first taught you to seek religion!
58
You would have trodden the hens all right;
59
Had you licence as you have the might
60
To satisfy the need that is in nature,
61
You’d have begotten many a fine creature.
62
Alas, who draped you in so broad a cope?
63
God give me sorrow, but if I were Pope,
64
Not only you, but every mighty man,
65
Though he were tonsured when he first began,
66
Should have a wife: for all the world’s forlorn!
67
Religion’s cornered the market, all the corn
68
Of treading, and we laymen are but shrimps.
69
From feeble trees there come but wretched imps;
70
This makes our heirs, so feeble, so tender,
71
That feebleness they can scarce engender.
72
That is what prompts our wives to make assay
73
Of you religious folk, who can better pay
74
The debts that are due Venus than may we.
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God knows, in no base coinage pay ye!
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But be not wrath, my lord, this is but play;
77
Full oft there’s truth in jest, so I’ve heard say.’
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The worthy Monk heard all with patience,
79
And said: ‘I will with all due diligence,
80
As far as may conform with decency,
81
Tell you a tale now, or two or three.
82
And if you care to hearken, hitherward,
83
I’ll tell you of the life of Saint Edward –
84
Or else, first, of some tragedy I’ll tell,
85
Of which I have a hundred in my cell.
86
“Tragedy” is to say a kind of story,
87
Of which old books present the memory,
88
Of those who stood in great prosperity,
89
And fell then sadly from a high degree
90
Into misery, ending wretchedly.
91
And such are versified most commonly
92
With six feet, in hexameters are done,
93
In prose too is written many a one,
94
And other metres: many a sundry wise.
95
Lo, this explanation should suffice.
96
Now hearken, if you wish for to hear!
97
But first I beseech in this matter, here,
98
If I should chance to speak of these things,
99
Whether of popes, emperors, or kings,
100
Out of the written order, that men find,
101
Telling some before and some behind,
102
As first they come to my remembrance,
103
Accept my excuses for my ignorance.’
1
Here begins the Monk’s Tale
2
De casibus virorum illustrium: of the fall of famous men
3
I will bewail, in style of tragedy,
4
The fall of those who stood in high degree,
5
And fell such that there was no remedy
6
To raise them out of their adversity.
7
For when Fortune chooses us to flee,
8
There is no man her course can stay, I hold.
9
Let no man blindly trust prosperity!
10
Be warned by these examples true and old.
12
With Lucifer, though he an angel were,
13
And not a man, with him I shall begin;
14
For though Fortune no angel can impair,
15
From high degree yet fell he, for his sin,
16
Down into Hell, and he is still therein,
17
O Lucifer, brightest of angels all,
18
Now you are Satan, and may never win
19
Out of the misery that was your fall!
21
Lo, Adam in the field, Damascene,
22
With God’s own finger wrought was he,
23
And not begot of man’s sperm unclean,
24
And ruled all Paradise, save for one tree.
25
Never had worldly man such high degree
26
As Adam, till through his bad governance
27
He was driven from his prosperity
28
To labour, and to Hell, and to mischance.
30
Lo, Samson, his birth annunciated
31
By the angel, long ere his nativity,
32
Was to Almighty God consecrated,
33
And stood forth nobly while he could see:
34
There was never another such as he,
35
As regards his strength, and hardiness.
36
But to his wives his secret told he,
37
And so he slew himself from wretchedness.
38
Samson, this noble all-conquering champion,
39
Without weapon save his hands, I say,
40
Slew, and then rent to pieces, a lion,
41
While walking to his wedding, by the way.
42
His wife would please him so, and pray
43
Till she his counsel knew; and she untrue
44
Unto his foes his counsel did betray,
45
And forsook him, and took another new.
46
Three hundred foxes Samson took, in ire,
47
And all their tails he tied up in a band,
48
And set the foxes’ tails all on fire,
49
For he to every tail attached a brand;
50
And they burned all the corn in the land,
51
And all the olive-trees, and vines also.
52
A thousand men he slew with his hand,
53
With nothing but an ass’s jaw-bone.
54
When they were dead, so thirsted him that he
55
Was near to death himself, and then did pray
56
That God would on his pain now take pity
57
And send him drink, or he must die that day.
58
And from the ass’s jaw-bone, dry, I say,
59
Out of a back tooth, sprang anon a well,
60
Of which he drank enough, and was saved.
61
Thus God helped him, as Judges will tell.
62
By strength alone, at Gaza, then, one night,
63
Despite the Philistines in that city,
64
The town gates he tore up, in his might,
65
And carried them on his back, did he,
66
To a high hill, so anyone might see.
67
O noble all-conquering Samson, loved and dear,
68
Had you not told your secret, privately,
69
In all this world you would have had no peer!
70
Samson, he never cider drank nor wine,
71
Nor to his hair came shears or razor there,
72
By precept of the messenger divine,
73
For all of his great strength lay in his hair.
74
And fully twenty winters, year by year,
75
He had of Israel the governance.
76
But soon he had to weep many a tear,
77
For woman would bring him to mischance.
78
To Delilah, his lover, thus he told
79
How in his hair all his great strength lay,
80
And falsely to his foes she him sold;
81
And sleeping in a barn there, on a day,
82
She clipped and sheared his hair away,
83
And let his enemies all this trick espy.
84
And when he was weakened in this way,
85
They bound him fast, and quenched each eye.
86
And ere she did his hair both clip and shave,
87
There was no bond with which men might him bind.
88
Yet once he was imprisoned in a cave
89
They made him labour at the quern and grind.
90
O noble Samson, strongest of mankind,
91
O sometime Judge, in glory and in richness!
92
Now may you weep with eyes stone blind,
93
Since you are fallen to such wretchedness.
94
The end of this poor wretch was as I say:
95
His enemies made a feast, one fine day,
96
And made him as their fool before them play;
97
And this was in a temple, with great display.
98
But at the last, he made a fierce affray,
99
For two pillars he shook and made them fall;
100
And down fell temple and all, and there it lay,
101
And he slew himself and his enemies all.
102
That is, the Magistrates every one,
103
Three thousand others too, were there slain
104
Buried beneath the great temple of stone.
105
Of Samson’s tale no more will I explain.
106
Be warned by this example old and plain
107
That none should tell his secrets to his wife,
108
Such things that he’d in secrecy retain,
109
Touching the safety of his limbs and life.
111
Of Hercules, the sovereign conqueror,
112
His works sing his praise and high renown,
113
For, in his time, of strength he was the flower.
114
He slew and took the skin from the lion;
115
The Centaurs’ vaunted pride he brought down.
116
The Harpies he slew, those cruel birds fell;
117
He stole the golden apples from the dragon;
118
And dragged Cerberus the hound from Hell.
119
He slew the tyrant, Diomede the vicious,
120
And made his horses eat him, flesh and bone;
121
He slew the fiery serpent venomous;
122
Of Achelous’ two horns he broke one,
123
And he slew Cacus in his cave of stone;
124
He slew the giant Antaeus the strong;
125
He slew the grisly boar, and that anon,
126
And bore the heavens, on his neck, long.
127
Was never hero since the world began,
128
Who slew as many monsters as did he.
129
Through the whole wide world his name ran,
130
For both his strength and his great bounty,
131
And every realm he travelled for to see;
132
He was so strong no man might him fret.
133
At both the world’s ends, says Trophee,
134
Instead of boundaries he a pillar set.
135
A lover had this noble champion,
136
She was Deianira, fresh as May;
137
And, as the scholars make mention,
138
She sent him a shirt, fresh and gay.
139
Alas! This shirt – alas, and well away! –
140
Envenomed was so subtly withal
141
That ere he had worn it half a day,
142
It made his flesh all from his bones fall.
143
But nonetheless, some writers make excuse
144
For her, saying it was Nessus’ shirt in fact.
145
That being the case, I shall not her accuse;
146
But he wore this shirt on his naked back,
147
Till his flesh from the venom was all black.
148
And when he found no other remedy nigh,
149
On hot coals he lay down, since on the rack
150
Of venomous torment he scorned to die.
151
Thus fell the mighty, noble Hercules.
152
Lo, who of Fortune’s dice may trust the throw?
153
For he that follows all this world, at ease,
154
Ere he’s aware, is often laid full low.
155
Full wise is he that seeks himself to know!
156
Beware, for when Fortune shall dispose,
157
Then she waits her man to overthrow
158
By such means as he might least suppose.
160
The mighty throne, the precious treasure,
161
The glorious sceptre, and royal majesty
162
That this King possessed, Nebuchadnezzar,
163
By human tongue can scarce described be.
164
He twice took Jerusalem the city;
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The vessels of the Temple he then bade
166
Men take to Babylon his Sovereign See,
167
Where he his glory and his pleasure had.
168
The fine male children of the blood royal
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Of Israel he gelded them anon,
170
Making every one of them his thrall.
171
Amongst others Daniel was one,
172
Who was the wisest child of anyone;
173
For he the dreams of the king expounded,
174
While in Chaldea wise man was there none
175
Who knew what end his dreams had sounded.
176
The proud king had a statue made of gold,
177
Sixty cubits long and seven in breadth,
178
To which image both the young and old
179
Were ordered to bow down, and bow in dread,
180
Or in a fiery furnace, burning red,
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Be burnt if they chose to disobey.
182
But Daniel would not assent, instead
183
He and his two companions went their way.
184
The king of kings, was so proud and great
185
He thought that God who sits in majesty
186
Could never strip him of his high estate.
187
Yet suddenly he fell from dignity,
188
And like a beast then he seemed to be,
189
And ate hay like an ox, and all about,
190
In the rain, with wild beasts walked he,
191
Until all God’s allotted time was out.
192
And like an eagle’s feathers was his hair;
193
His nails like a bird’s claws did appear,
194
Till God released him from his madness there,
195
Restored his wits; and then with many a tear
196
He thanked God, and lived his life in fear
197
Of acting thus amiss, of more disgrace;
198
And till the day he laid was on his bier,
199
He paid witness to God’s might and grace.
201
Now, his son, who was named Belshazzar,
202
And reigned there after his father’s day,
203
Learned nothing himself from all that matter,
204
For proud he was of heart, and loved display.
205
And an idolater he was always.
206
His high estate filled his heart with pride;
207
But Fortune cast him down, and there he lay,
208
And his kingdom others did divide.
209
A feast he made once for his lords all
210
On a day, and they were blithe and merry,
211
And then to his officers he did call:
212
‘Go, bring forth the vessels now,’ quoth he,
213
‘That my father in his prosperity
214
Out of the Temple in Jerusalem reft,
215
And to our gods give thanks must we
216
For the trophies our ancestors left.’
217
His wife, his lords, and his concubines
218
Drank on, while their appetites did last,
219
Out of those noble vessels, sundry wines.
220
And on a wall the king his eyes did cast,
221
And saw a hand, armless, that wrote full fast,
222
For fear of which he quaked and sighed full sore.
223
The hand that made Belshazzar all aghast
224
Wrote Mene, Tekel, Peres, and no more.
225
In all that land magician was there none
226
Who could expound what the letters meant.
227
But Daniel expounded it anon
228
Saying: ‘King, God to your father lent
229
Glory and honour, kingdom, treasure, rent;
230
And he was proud, ignoring what God bade,
231
And therefore God His punishment He sent,
232
And bereft him of the kingdom that he had.
233
He was cast out of human company;
234
With asses was all his habitation,
235
In wet and dry, he ate like any beast,
236
Till he understood, by grace and reason,
237
That the God of Heaven has domination
238
Over every kingdom and every creature.
239
And then indeed God showed him compassion,
240
And restored his kingdom and his power.
241
And you, who are his son, are proud also,
242
And know all these things, certainly,
243
And are a rebel, and to God a foe.
244
You drink now from his vessels boldly –
245
Your wife as well, and wenches, sinfully
246
Drink from the same vessels sundry wines –
247
And worship the false gods wickedly;
248
Thus punishment will fall, this is the sign.
249
The hand was sent from God, that on the wall
250
Wrote Mene, Tekel, Peres, for, trust me,
251
Your reign is done; you weigh naught at all.
252
Divided is your kingdom, and shall be
253
To Medes and Persians given,’ thus quoth he.
254
And that same night the King he was no more,
255
And Darius occupied his degree,
256
Though he thereto had neither right nor law.
257
Lordings, from this a moral you may take
258
That lordship none securely may possess.
259
For when Fortune shall a man forsake,
260
She strips him of his kingdom and success,
261
His friends as well, the greater and the less.
262
For he whose friends are friends of Fortune too,
263
Mishap will make them enemies, I guess;
264
This proverb is both widely known and true.
266
Zenobia, of Palmyra was the queen,
267
As the Persians write, in nobleness
268
So worthy, and in arms so passing keen,
269
None could match her in courageousness,
270
Nor her lineage, nor her other greatness.
271
Of the Persian royal blood descended.
272
I do not say she was the loveliest,
273
But her beauty could not be amended.
274
From her childhood, I find she fled
275
The offices of women, to nature went,
276
And many a wild hart’s blood she shed
277
With swift arrows that through them she sent;
278
She was so fleet of foot they soon were spent.
279
And when she grew older she would kill
280
Lions, leopards, bears, so all were rent,
281
And in her arms contain them there at will.
282
She dared the wild creatures’ dens to seek,
283
And ran about the mountains in the night,
284
And slept beneath a bush; and nothing meek
285
Would wrestle by main force and main might
286
With any man, however strong in fight;
287
None to withstand her arms could be found.
288
She kept her maidenhead, her honour bright,
289
Nor deigned that she by any man be bound.
290
But at last her friends all saw her married
291
To Odenathus, prince of that country,
292
Albeit that she had for so long tarried.
293
For you must understand now that he
294
Had the same inclinations as had she.
295
And yet when they were knit together,
296
They lived in joy and in felicity,
297
For each loved, and each held dear, the other.
298
Save one thing; she never would assent
299
At any time that he might with her lie
300
Except but once, for it was her intent
301
To have a child, the race to multiply.
302
And so as soon as she did espy
303
That she was not with child by the deed,
304
She suffered him once more, by and by,
305
But only once, and then no more, indeed.
306
And if she was with child at the last,
307
No longer would she let him play the game
308
Till the full forty weeks were past;
309
Then once more did she allow the same.
310
And Odenathus, be he wild or tame,
311
He got no more of her, for thus she said:
312
It was for wives mere lechery, and shame
313
If men for other reasons with them played.
314
Two sons by Odenathus thus had she,
315
Whom she raised in virtue and the law.
316
But now unto our tale again turn we:
317
I say so worshipful a creature,
318
And wise therewith, and keeping measure,
319
So zealous in the wars, and courteous too,
320
None could more labour in the wars endure,
321
Though men indeed should seek the whole world through.
322
Her richness of display cannot be told,
323
Whether in treasure or in her clothing;
324
She was all clad in jewellery and gold.
325
And she neglected naught, for her hunting,
326
Having in sundry tongues great learning,
327
When she had leisure; and she did intend
328
To study books deeply, as was her liking,
329
And learn how in true virtue life to spend.
330
And briefly of this story to relate,
331
So brave was her husband and was she,
332
That they conquered many kingdoms great
333
In the Orient, many a fair city
334
Appertaining unto the majesty
335
Of Rome, and with strong hand held them fast.
336
And never might their foes make them flee
337
While King Odenathus’ days did last.
338
As for her battles, if of them you’d read,
339
Against Shapur the King, who was her foe,
340
And others too, and all that passed indeed,
341
How she conquered, what title had, and so
342
Afterwards of her trouble and her woe,
343
How she was besieged through her mistake –
344
Then you shall to my master Petrarch go,
345
Who wrote the most of it, I’ll undertake.
346
When Odenathus died, she mightily
347
Held all his kingdoms in her own hand
348
Against her foes she fought so cruelly
349
There was no prince or king in all that land
350
That was not glad if he should understand
351
That she’d not treat him as an enemy.
352
With her they made alliance, and did stand
353
In peace with her and quiet, and let her be.
354
The Emperor, one Claudius Gothicus,
355
And before him Gallienus, the Roman,
356
Were never in their reign so courageous,
357
Nor the Armenian, nor the Egyptian,
358
Nor the Arabian, nor the Syrian,
359
To dare to take the field with her and fight
360
Lest she should slay them by her own hand,
361
Or with her army put them all to flight.
362
In royal robes her sons were wont to go,
363
Both heirs to their father’s kingdoms all,
364
Herennianus, Timolaus, so
365
Were they named, the Persians thus did them call.
366
But Fortune with her honey mixes gall:
367
This mighty queen’s power could not endure.
368
Fortune from her kingdom saw her fall,
369
Into wretchedness, through misadventure.
370
Aurelian, when that the governance
371
Of Rome fell into his hands, I say,
372
He set himself on her to wreak vengeance,
373
And with his legions he made his way
374
Towards Zenobia; and on a day
375
He made her flee, and as was his intent,
376
Took and fettered her, and her children they
377
Were taken too, and home to Rome he went.
378
Amongst the other trophies that he won,
379
Her chariot all of gold, her jewellery,
380
This great Roman, this Aurelian,
381
Brought back with him, for all the world to see.
382
The vanguard of his Triumph there walked she,
383
With golden chains about her neck hanging;
384
Crowned she was, according to degree,
385
And full of gems was charged her clothing.
386
Alas, Fortune! She that but lately was
387
The terror of high kings and emperors,
388
All the people gazed on her, alas!
389
And she that was all helmeted in the wars,
390
And by force won strong towns and towers,
391
Shall on her head now wear a veil light;
392
And she that bore a sceptre wreathed with flowers,
393
Shall bear a distaff, thus her costs requite.
394
King Pedro the First of Spain
395
O noble, O worthy Pedro, glory of Spain,
396
Whom Fortune held in such high majesty,
397
Of your piteous death should men complain!
398
Out of your land your brother made you flee;
399
And afterwards, through siege and subtlety
400
You were betrayed and led unto his tent.
401
Where with his own hand he slew thee,
402
Succeeding to your kingdom and your rent.
403
The silver field with eagle black therein,
404
Caught with a limed rod, stained red, indeed,
405
He brewed this wickedness and all this sin!
406
Mauny, the ‘evil nest’, he worked this deed –
407
No Oliver, to Charlemagne, who took heed
408
Of truth and honour, but from Armorica
409
A Ganelon, corrupted by his greed,
410
He brought this worthy king to disaster.
412
O worthy Peter, King of Cyprus, also,
413
Who won Alexandria by high mastery,
414
On full many a heathen you wrought woe,
415
At which your own liegemen felt great envy,
416
And for no other cause but your chivalry
417
They in your bed slew you on the morrow.
418
So does Fortune guide her wheel, you see,
419
And out of joy brings men to sorrow.
420
Bernarbò Visconti of Lombardy
421
Of Milan great Bernarbò Visconti,
422
God of delight, and scourge of Lombardy,
423
Why should I not of your misfortune speak,
424
Since in estate you climbed so highly?
425
Your brother’s son, doubly bound to thee,
426
For he your nephew was and son-in-law,
427
Within his prison slew you in misery.
428
But of why, or how, I know no more.
429
Ugolino Count of Pisa
430
What Ugolino of Pisa did endure
431
No tongue may tell of it for pity.
432
A little outside Pisa stands a tower,
433
In which tower imprisoned once was he,
434
And with him his little children three;
435
The eldest scarcely five years was in age.
436
Alas, Fortune! It was great cruelty
437
To lock up birds like this in such a cage!
438
Condemned he was to die in that prison,
439
For Ruggieri, Pisa’s Bishop, lies
440
Told, false charges made at his suggestion,
441
Through which the people did up-rise,
442
And cast him in prison, in such wise
443
As you have heard; and meat and drink he had
444
So little, that it might scarcely suffice,
445
And it was also poor in kind and bad.
446
And on a day it befell, in that hour
447
When that his meat was wont to be brought,
448
The gaoler shut the doors of the tower.
449
He heard it right enough, but he spoke naught,
450
And to his mind there came anon a thought,
451
That they from hunger would let him die.
452
‘Alas!’ quoth he, ‘alas that I was wrought!’
453
And at that the tear fell from his eye.
454
His young son, that was three years of age,
455
Unto him: ‘Father,’ said, ‘why do you weep?
456
When will the gaoler bring our pottage?
457
Is there a morsel of that bread you keep?
458
I am so hungry that I cannot sleep.
459
Now would God that I might sleep forever!
460
Then would no hunger through my stomach creep;
461
There is naught but bread shall aid me ever.’
462
Thus day after day the child did cry,
463
Till in his father’s lap adown he lay,
464
And said: ‘Farewell, father, I must die!’
465
Kissed his father, and died that very day.
466
And when the woeful father saw this, pray,
467
For woe he started his two arms to bite,
468
And said: ‘Alas, Fortune, and well-away!
469
False wheel, for my woe, I blame you outright.’
470
His children thought from hunger thus it was
471
That he his arms gnawed, and not from woe,
472
And said: ‘Dear father, do not so, alas,
473
But rather eat the flesh that on us grows.
474
Our flesh you gave us, take the flesh we owe,
475
And eat your fill.’ – Right thus they to him said.
476
And after that, within a day or so,
477
They lay in his lap and they were dead.
478
He himself despairs, from hunger starved.
479
Thus this mighty Earl of Pisa dies!
480
From high estate Fortune has him carved.
481
Of tragedy these words should now suffice;
482
Who desires it in a longer wise,
483
May read the great poet of Italy
484
Dante, that is, for he did it devise
485
Point by point; and every word there see.
487
Although this Nero was as vicious
488
As any fiend that is beneath the ground,
489
Yet he, as so says Suetonius,
490
Had in subjection this great world, all found,
491
From East to West, South to North around.
492
With rubies, sapphires and with pearls pure white
493
Were all his clothes embroidered up and down,
494
For in gemstones he did greatly delight.
495
More delicate, more pompous in display,
496
More proud was never Emperor than he.
497
The same clothes that he had worn a day,
498
After that time he never more must see.
499
Nets of gold thread had he in great plenty,
500
To fish the Tiber when he wished to play.
501
His desires were all made law by decree,
502
For Fortune as his friend did him obey.
503
He burnt Rome for his own pleasure, ay,
504
The Senators he slew upon a day,
505
To hear how those men would weep and cry,
506
Slew his brother, and by his sister lay.
507
Of his mother made piteous display,
508
For he cut up her womb, to behold
509
Where he was conceived; oh, well-away,
510
In such disdain did he his mother hold.
511
No tears fell from his eyes at the sight
512
He only said: ‘A fair woman was she!’
513
A wonder is it how he could or might
514
Be the judge concerning her dead beauty.
515
The wine to be brought commanded he,
516
And drank anon; no other grief displayed.
517
When great power is joined to cruelty,
518
Alas, too deep in venom men must wade!
519
In youth a teacher had this Emperor,
520
To teach him literature and courtesy,
521
For of morality he was the flower
522
At that time, unless the books deceive,
523
And while this teacher had the mastery,
524
He made him so learned and so supple
525
That it was long before his tyranny
526
Or any vice did mind from heart uncouple.
527
This Seneca, of whom I now advise,
528
Because Nero held him in such dread,
529
Since for vice he would him thus chastise,
530
Privately, not by word but deed, I’ve read –
531
‘Sire,’ would he say, ‘an Emperor instead
532
Should love virtue and loath tyranny –
533
For which in a bath Seneca lay and bled
534
From both his arms, till his life did flee.
535
This Nero had acquired a habit once;
536
In youth against his master so to rise,
537
That afterward with him became a grievance;
538
Therefore he made him die in this wise.
539
But nonetheless this Seneca the wise
540
Chose in a bath to die in this manner,
541
Rather than face death in some other guise.
542
And thus did Nero slay his master dear.
543
Now it befell, that Fortune wished no longer
544
To cherish Nero in his soaring pride,
545
For, though he was strong, she was stronger.
546
She thought thus: ‘By God, how ill advised
547
To raise a man so filled with every vice
548
To high degree and Emperor him call!
549
By God, I’ll pull him down in a trice;
550
When he least expects it, then he’ll fall.’
551
The people rose upon him in the night
552
Against his wickedness, when this he spied,
553
Out of his doors anon he rushed in flight
554
Alone, and there he though he’d find allied
555
Old friends, knocked hard, but the more he sped
556
The swifter they shut the doors and all.
557
Then he knew he had himself misled,
558
And went his way; no longer dare he call.
559
The people cried and muttered up and down,
560
So that it reached his ears how they said:
561
‘Where’s the tyrant false, Nero the clown?’
562
For fear indeed he almost lost his head,
563
And to his gods piteously he prayed
564
For succour but none was there beside.
565
In dread of all, he thought that he was dead,
566
And ran into a garden him to hide.
567
And in the garden two churls on that day
568
Were sitting by a fire, great and red,
569
And these two churls he began to pray
570
To slay him, by striking off his head,
571
And guard his body, when that he was dead,
572
From mutilation, and from acts of shame.
573
Himself he slew, last remedy, instead;
574
At which Fortune laughed, as if in game.
576
There was never general to a king
577
That held more kingdoms in subjection,
578
None stronger in the field in everything
579
In his time, or higher in distinction,
580
Nor more vainglorious in his presumption
581
Than Holofernes, whom Fortune had kissed
582
So amorously, and led him up and down,
583
Till that his head was off, before he list.
584
Not only did the world hold him in awe
585
For fear of losing wealth and liberty,
586
But he made every man abjure God’s law.
587
‘Nebuchadnezzar is your god’, said he;
588
‘No other god shall there worshipped be.’
589
Against his order no man dare trespass,
590
Save in Bethulia, a powerful city,
591
Where Eliachim, the high priest was.
592
But take note of the death of Holofernes:
593
Amidst his host he lies there drunk one night,
594
In his tent, like a barn, to sleep he turns;
595
And yet, for all his pomp and all his might,
596
Judith, a woman, as he lay upright
597
Sleeping, his head smote off, and from his tent
598
Full secretly she stole, ere morning light,
599
And with his head off to her home she went.
600
King Antiochus the Illustrious
601
What need to tell of King Antiochus,
602
Or to describe his royal majesty,
603
His high pride, his deeds so venomous?
604
There was not such another one as he.
605
Read what is said of him in Maccabee,
606
And read the proud words that he said,
607
And why he fell from high prosperity,
608
And on a hillside wretchedly lay dead.
609
Fortune had advanced him so in pride
610
That truly he thought he might attain
611
Unto the stars, upon every side,
612
And weigh in the balance every mountain,
613
And all the waves of the sea restrain.
614
And God’s people held he most in hate;
615
Them would he slay in torment and in pain,
616
Thinking that God would not his pride abate.
617
And because Nicanor and Timothy
618
Had by the Jews been conquered easily,
619
For those same Jews such hatred showed he
620
That he bade his chariot readied swiftly,
621
And swore an oath, and said wrathfully
622
That Jerusalem would dance to his tune,
623
And he’d wreak vengeance on it cruelly –
624
But of his purpose he was foiled full soon.
625
God for his threats smote him and so sore
626
With an invisible wound, incurable,
627
That in his guts it carved so, and did gnaw,
628
That his pain proved insupportable.
629
And that was a vengeance all rational,
630
For many a man’s guts he rent in pain.
631
Yet from his purpose cursed and damnable,
632
For all his hurt, could not himself restrain.
633
But gave the word to summon all his host,
634
And swiftly, ere he was of it aware,
635
God dented all his pride and all his boast;
636
For he fell sorely from his chariot there,
637
So that his limbs and skin began to tear,
638
And he might no longer walk or ride,
639
But men bore him about in a chair
640
All bruised severely, both back and side.
641
God’s vengeance smote him so cruelly
642
That through his body evil worms crept,
643
And therewithal he stank so terribly
644
That none of all his company that kept
645
By him then, whether he woke or slept,
646
Could the very stink of him endure.
647
In this troubling he wailed and wept,
648
And knew God the lord of every creature.
649
To all his host, and to himself also,
650
Full loathsome was the stink of his frame;
651
No man could bear to carry him to and fro.
652
And gripped by this stench and deadly pain
653
He starved full wretchedly, on a mountain.
654
Thus had this robber and this homicide,
655
Who made many men weep and complain,
656
The reward that is earned by excess pride.
658
Alexander’s story is so well known
659
That all who reach the age of discretion
660
Have heard some or all of his fortune.
661
This wide world, indeed, in conclusion,
662
He’d won by strength, or by his high renown,
663
Men sued for peace and to him did send.
664
The pride of man and beast he brought down,
665
Wherever he went, unto the world’s end.
666
And comparison might no man make
667
Between him and any other conqueror;
668
For all this world for dread of him did quake.
669
Of knighthood and freedom he was the flower;
670
Fortune made him heir to all her honour.
671
Save wine and women, nothing might assuage
672
His high intent on warfare and its labour,
673
So filled was he with a lion’s courage.
674
What praise were it to him then, if I told
675
Of Darius, and a hundred thousand foes,
676
Of kings, princes, dukes, and earls bold,
677
How he conquered them, and swelled their woes?
678
I say, as far as men may ride or go,
679
The world was his; what more can I advise?
680
For though I wrote and wandered, to and fro,
681
About his chivalry, it would not suffice.
682
Twelve years he reigned, as says Maccabee;
683
And Philip’s son, of Macedon, was he,
684
The first who was king in Greece’s country.
685
O worthy noble Alexander, alas,
686
That you should ever come to such a pass!
687
Poisoned were you by your folk I fear.
688
Fortune your sixes aces made, at last,
689
And yet for you she wept never a tear.
690
Who shall give me tears to complain
691
Of the death of nobility’s franchise,
692
Who counted all the world as his domain,
693
And yet considered it could not suffice,
694
So full was his mind of high enterprise?
695
Alas, who shall help me to indict
696
False Fortune, and poison to despise?
697
– Of whose blame for all this woe I write.
699
By wisdom, manliness, and great labour,
700
From humble bed to royal majesty
701
Up rose Julius the Conqueror,
702
Who won the Occident by land and sea,
703
By strength of hand, or else by treaty,
704
And unto Rome made them tributary;
705
And then of Rome the Emperor was he,
706
Till Fortune rose as his adversary.
707
O mighty Caesar, who in Thessaly
708
Fought against Pompey, your son-in-law,
709
Who of the Orient ruled the chivalry
710
As far as the dawn of day and more,
711
Through your power they their death’s day saw,
712
Save a few folk that with Pompey fled,
713
And thus of you the Orient stood in awe;
714
Thank Fortune that stood you in such stead!
715
But for a little while let me bewail
716
That Pompey, that noble governor
717
Of Rome, who in this war did fail.
718
I say, one of his men, a false traitor,
719
Smote off his head, to win great favour
720
From Julius, and him the head he brought.
721
Alas, Pompey, of the Orient conqueror,
722
That Fortune to such an end you brought!
723
To Rome again returned our Julius
724
In triumph crowned with laurel for to be.
725
But one day, Brutus and Cassius,
726
Who ever showed for his estate envy,
727
Brought to fruition their conspiracy
728
Against this Julius in subtle wise,
729
And chose the very place where die must he
730
Beneath their daggers, as I shall advise.
731
Thus Julius to the Capitol went
732
One day, where he was wont to go,
733
In the Capitol they seized him then,
734
That false Brutus and his other foes,
735
And struck him with their daggers so
736
That he had many a wound, there he did lie,
737
But groaned he at no stroke but one, I know,
738
Or else at two, unless the stories lie.
739
So manly was this Julius at heart,
740
And so in love with honest dignity,
741
That though his wounds gave him sore smart,
742
His mantle about his hips cast he,
743
That no man should steal his privacy.
744
And as he lay dying in a trance,
745
And knew that in truth dead was he,
746
Of dignity he still kept remembrance.
747
In Lucan this tale I recommend,
748
And Suetonius, Valerius also,
749
Who this story wrote from end to end,
750
How that to these great conquerors so
751
Fortune was first friend, and then their foe.
752
We may not trust in her great favour long,
753
But watch her with suspicion as we go;
754
Witness all these conquerors so strong.
756
This rich Croesus, king of Lydia,
757
Croesus whom Cyrus held in dread,
758
Was captured still, midst of all his pride there,
759
And to be burnt men to the fire him led;
760
But such a rain down from the heavens shed
761
The fire was doused, and he made his escape.
762
But to beware it no thought had he had,
763
Till Fortune on the gallows made him gape.
764
When he escaped, he was still intent
765
On starting on another war again.
766
He believed that fortune had it sent,
767
The manner in which he escaped by rain,
768
And that by his foes he might not be slain;
769
And then with a dream one night he met,
770
Of which he was so proud and so vain
771
That on vengeance all his heart he set.
772
Upon a tree he perched, or so he thought,
773
Where Jupiter bathed him, back and side,
774
While Phoebus a fair towel then him brought
775
To dry him with, and so increased his pride.
776
And so his daughter, who stood beside,
777
Whom he knew with wisdom did abound,
778
He bade her tell him what it signified,
779
And she his dream began thus to expound:
780
‘The tree,’ she said the gallows-tree does mean,
781
And Jupiter betokens snow and rain,
782
And Phoebus, with his towel so clean,
783
There as the sun beams, that is plain.
784
You shall be hanged father: I say again
785
Rain shall wash you, and the sun shall dry.’
786
Thus she warned him fully, but in vain:
787
His daughter, she was Phanya, say I.
788
Hanged was Croesus then, the proud king;
789
His royal sceptre was of no avail.
790
Tragedy no other manner of thing
791
Can in its singing cry for or bewail
792
Than how Fortune always shall assail
793
With sudden stroke the kingdom of the proud;
794
For when men trust in her then she shall fail,
795
And cover her bright features with a cloud……..
796
Here the Knight halts the Monk’s Tale
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