The Tale

Listen, lordings, in good intent, And I will tell you verament Of mirth and of solas, All of a knight was fair and gent, In battle and in tournament, His name was Sir Thopas. Y-born he was in far countrý, In Flanders, all beyond the sea, At Popering in the place; His father was a man full free, And lord he was of that countrý, As it was Goddë’s grace. Sir Thopas was a doughty swain, White was his face as paindemain, His lippës red as rose. His rode is like scarlét in grain, And I you tell in good certáin He had a seemly nose. His hair, his beard, was like saffroún, That to his girdle reach’d adown, His shoes of cordëwane: Of Bruges were his hosen brown; His robë was of ciclatoún, That costë many a jane. He couldë hunt at the wild deer, And ride on hawking for rivére With gray goshawk on hand: Thereto he was a good archére, 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 lechoúr, And sweet as is the bramble flow’r That beareth the red heep. And so it fell upon a day, For sooth as I you tellë may, Sir Thopas would out ride; He worth upon his steedë gray, And in his hand a launcëgay, A long sword by his side. He pricked through a fair forést, Wherein is many a wildë beast, Yea, bothë buck and hare; And as he pricked north and east, I tell it you, him had almest Betid a sorry care. There sprangë herbës great and small, The liquorice and the setëwall, And many a clove-gilofre, And nutëmeg to put in ale, Whether it be moist or stale, Or for to lay in coffer. The birdës sang, it is no nay, The sperhawk and the popinjay, That joy it was to hear; The throstle-cock made eke his lay, The woodë-dove upon the spray She sang full loud and clear. Sir Thopas fell in love-longíng All when he heard the throstle sing, And prick’d as he were wood; His fairë steed in his pricking So sweated, that men might him wring, His sidës were all blood. Sir Thopas eke so weary was For pricking on the softë grass, So fierce was his coráge,