Chaucer's Tale of Sir Thopas

by Geoffrey Chaucer

　　The First Fit* *part Listen, lordings, in good intent, And I will tell you verrament* *truly Of mirth and of solas,* *delight, solace All of a knight was fair and gent,* *gentle In battle and in tournament, His name was Sir Thopas. Y-born he was in far country, In Flanders, all beyond the sea, At Popering in the place; His father was a man full free, And lord he was of that country, As it was Godde's grace. Sir Thopas was a doughty swain, White was his face as paindemain, His lippes red as rose. His rode* is like scarlet in grain, *complexion And I you tell in good certain He had a seemly nose. His hair, his beard, was like saffroun, That to his girdle reach'd adown, His shoes of cordewane: Of Bruges were his hosen brown; His robe was of ciclatoun, That coste many a jane. He coulde hunt at the wild deer, And ride on hawking *for rivere* *by the river* With gray goshawk on hand: Thereto he was a good archere, Of wrestling was there none his peer, Where any ram should stand. Full many a maiden bright in bow'r They mourned for him par amour, When them were better sleep; But he was chaste, and no lechour, And sweet as is the bramble flow'r That beareth the red heep.* *hip And so it fell upon a day, For sooth as I you telle may, Sir Thopas would out ride; He worth* upon his steede gray, *mounted And in his hand a launcegay,* *spear A long sword by his side. He pricked through a fair forest, Wherein is many a wilde beast, Yea, bothe buck and hare; And as he pricked north and east, I tell it you, him had almest *almost Betid* a sorry care. *befallen There sprange herbes great and small, The liquorice and the setewall,* *valerian And many a clove-gilofre, And nutemeg to put in ale, Whether it be moist* or stale, *new Or for to lay in coffer. The birdes sang, it is no nay, The sperhawk* and the popinjay,** *sparrowhawk **parrot That joy it was to hear; The throstle-cock made eke his lay, The woode-dove upon the spray She sang full loud and clear. Sir Thopas fell in love-longing All when he heard the throstle sing, And *prick'd as he were wood;* *rode as if he His faire steed in his pricking were mad* So sweated, that men might him wring, His sides were all blood. Sir Thopas eke so weary was For pricking on the softe grass, So fierce was his corage,* *inclination, spirit That down he laid him in that place, To make his steed some solace, And gave him good forage. "Ah, Saint Mary, ben'dicite, What aileth thilke* love at me *this To binde me so sore? Me dreamed all this night, pardie, An elf-queen shall my leman* be, *mistress And sleep under my gore.* *shirt An elf-queen will I love, y-wis,* *assuredly For in this world no woman is Worthy to be my make* *mate In town; All other women I forsake, And to an elf-queen I me take By dale and eke by down." Into his saddle he clomb anon, And pricked over stile and stone An elf-queen for to spy, Till he so long had ridden and gone, That he found in a privy wonne* *haunt The country of Faery, So wild; For in that country was there none That to him durste ride or gon, Neither wife nor child. Till that there came a great giaunt, His name was Sir Oliphaunt, A perilous man of deed; He saide, "Child,* by Termagaunt, *young man *But if* thou prick out of mine haunt, *unless Anon I slay thy steed With mace. Here is the Queen of Faery, With harp, and pipe, and symphony, Dwelling in this place." The Child said, "All so may I the,* *thrive To-morrow will I meete thee, When I have mine armor; And yet I hope, *par ma fay,* *by my faith* That thou shalt with this launcegay Abyen* it full sore; *suffer for Thy maw* *belly Shall I pierce, if I may, Ere it be fully prime of day, For here thou shalt be slaw."* *slain Sir Thopas drew aback full fast; This giant at him stones cast Out of a fell staff sling: But fair escaped Child Thopas, And all it was through Godde's grace, And through his fair bearing. Yet listen, lordings, to my tale, Merrier than the nightingale, For now I will you rown,* *whisper How Sir Thopas, with sides smale,* *small Pricking over hill and dale, Is come again to town. His merry men commanded he To make him both game and glee; For needes must he fight With a giant with heades three, For paramour and jollity Of one that shone full bright. "*Do come,*" he saide, "my minstrales *summon* And gestours* for to telle tales. *story-tellers Anon in mine arming, Of romances that be royales, Of popes and of cardinales, And eke of love-longing." They fetch'd him first the sweete wine, And mead eke in a maseline,* *drinking-bowl And royal spicery; of maple wood Of ginger-bread that was full fine, And liquorice and eke cumin, With sugar that is trie.* *refined He didde,* next his white lere,** *put on **skin Of cloth of lake* fine and clear, *fine linen A breech and eke a shirt; And next his shirt an haketon,* *cassock And over that an habergeon,* *coat of mail For piercing of his heart; And over that a fine hauberk,* *plate-armour Was all y-wrought of Jewes'* werk, *magicians' Full strong it was of plate; And over that his coat-armour,* *knight's surcoat As white as is the lily flow'r, In which he would debate.* *fight His shield was all of gold so red And therein was a boare's head, A charboucle* beside; *carbuncle And there he swore on ale and bread, How that the giant should be dead, Betide whatso betide. His jambeaux* were of cuirbouly, *boots His sworde's sheath of ivory, His helm of latoun* bright, *brass His saddle was of rewel bone, His bridle as the sunne shone, Or as the moonelight. His speare was of fine cypress, That bodeth war, and nothing peace; The head full sharp y-ground. His steede was all dapple gray, It went an amble in the way Full softely and round In land. Lo, Lordes mine, here is a fytt; If ye will any more of it, To tell it will I fand.* *try The Second Fit Now hold your mouth for charity, Bothe knight and lady free, And hearken to my spell;* *tale Of battle and of chivalry, Of ladies' love and druerie,* *gallantry Anon I will you tell. Men speak of romances of price* * worth, esteem Of Horn Child, and of Ipotis, Of Bevis, and Sir Guy, Of Sir Libeux, and Pleindamour, But Sir Thopas, he bears the flow'r Of royal chivalry. His goode steed he all bestrode, And forth upon his way he glode,* *shone As sparkle out of brand;* *torch Upon his crest he bare a tow'r, And therein stick'd a lily flow'r; God shield his corse* from shand!** *body **harm And, for he was a knight auntrous,* *adventurous He woulde sleepen in none house, But liggen* in his hood, *lie His brighte helm was his wanger,* *pillow And by him baited* his destrer** *fed **horse Of herbes fine and good. Himself drank water of the well, As did the knight Sir Percivel, So worthy under weed; Till on a day - . . .