Six Centuries of English Poetry: Tennyson to Chaucer

Name: Six Centuries of English Poetry: Tennyson to Chaucer
Author: Baldwin, James

Baldwin, James

English poetry

In curteisie was set ful moche hire leste.
     Hire overlippë wypede sche so clene,
     That in hire cuppë was no ferthing sene
     Of grecë, whan sche dronken hadde hire draughte.
     Ful semëly after hir mete sche raughte,
     And sikerly sche was of gret disport,{26}
     And ful plesaunt, and amyable of port,
     And peynede hir to countrefetë cheere
     Of court, and ben estatlich of manere,
     And to ben holden digne of reverence.
     But for to speken of hir conscience,
     Sche was so charitable and so pitous,
     Sche woldë weepe if that sche saw a mous
     Caught in a trappe, if it were deed or bledde.
     Of smalë houndës hadde sche, that sche fedde
     With rosted flessh, or mylk and wastel breed.
     But sore weep sche if oon of hem were deed,
     Or if men{27} smot it with a yerdë smerte:
     And al was conscience and tendre herte.
     Ful semëly hire wympel i-pynched was;
     Hir nose tretys; hir eyën greye as glas;
     Hir mouth ful smal, and therto softe and reed
     But sikerly sche hadde a fair forheed.
     It was almost a spannë brood, I trowe;
     For hardily sche was not undergrowe.
     Ful fetys was hir cloke, as I was war.
     Of smal coral aboute hir arm sche bar
     A peire of bedës gauded al with grene;
     And theron heng a broch of gold ful schene,
     On which was first i-write a crownëd A,
     And after, _Amor vincit omnia._{28}
     Another NONNE with hir haddë sche,
     That was hir chapeleyne,{29} and PRESTES thre.
       A MONK ther was, a fair for the maistryë,{30}
     An out-rydere, that lovedë veneryë;
     A manly man, to ben an abbot able.
     Ful many a deynté hors hadde he in stable:
     And whan he rood, men mighte his bridel heere
     Gynglen in a whistlyng wynd as cleere,
     And eek as lowde as doth the chapel belle.
     Ther as this lord was kepere of the celle,
     The reule of seynt Maure or of seint Beneyt,
     Bycause that it was old and somdel streyt,
     This ilkë monk leet oldë thingës pace,
     And held after the newë world the space.
     He yaf nat of that text a pullëd hen,{31}
     That seith, that hunters been noon holy men;
     Ne that a monk, whan he is recchëles
     Is likned to a fissch that is waterles{32};
     This is to seyn, a monk out of his cloystre.
     But thilkë text held he not worth an oystre.
     And I seide his opinioun was good.
     What{33} schulde he studie, and make himselven wood,{34}
     Upon a book in cloystre alway to powre.
     Or swynkë with his handës, and laboure,
     As Austyn bit? How schal the world be servëd?
     Lat Austyn have his swynk to him reservëd.
     Therfor he was a pricasour aright;
     Greyhoundes he hadde as swifte as fowel in flight;
     Of prikyng and of huntyng for the hare
     Was al his lust, for no cost wolde he spare.{35}
     I saugh his slevës purfiled attë honde
     With grys, and that the fyneste of a londe.
     And for to festne his hood under his chynne

Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.

Opening the text

Six Centuries of English Poetry: Tennyson to ChaucerBaldwin, James

General

Six Centuries of English Poetry: Tennyson to Chaucer

Baldwin, James

English poetry

In curteisie was set ful moche hire leste.
     Hire overlippë wypede sche so clene,
     That in hire cuppë was no ferthing sene
     Of grecë, whan sche dronken hadde hire draughte.
     Ful semëly after hir mete sche raughte,
     And sikerly sche was of gret disport,{26}
     And ful plesaunt, and amyable of port,
     And peynede hir to countrefetë cheere
     Of court, and ben estatlich of manere,
     And to ben holden digne of reverence.
     But for to speken of hir conscience,
     Sche was so charitable and so pitous,
     Sche woldë weepe if that sche saw a mous
     Caught in a trappe, if it were deed or bledde.
     Of smalë houndës hadde sche, that sche fedde
     With rosted flessh, or mylk and wastel breed.
     But sore weep sche if oon of hem were deed,
     Or if men{27} smot it with a yerdë smerte:
     And al was conscience and tendre herte.
     Ful semëly hire wympel i-pynched was;
     Hir nose tretys; hir eyën greye as glas;
     Hir mouth ful smal, and therto softe and reed
     But sikerly sche hadde a fair forheed.
     It was almost a spannë brood, I trowe;
     For hardily sche was not undergrowe.
     Ful fetys was hir cloke, as I was war.
     Of smal coral aboute hir arm sche bar
     A peire of bedës gauded al with grene;
     And theron heng a broch of gold ful schene,
     On which was first i-write a crownëd A,
     And after, _Amor vincit omnia._{28}
     Another NONNE with hir haddë sche,
     That was hir chapeleyne,{29} and PRESTES thre.
       A MONK ther was, a fair for the maistryë,{30}
     An out-rydere, that lovedë veneryë;
     A manly man, to ben an abbot able.
     Ful many a deynté hors hadde he in stable:
     And whan he rood, men mighte his bridel heere
     Gynglen in a whistlyng wynd as cleere,
     And eek as lowde as doth the chapel belle.
     Ther as this lord was kepere of the celle,
     The reule of seynt Maure or of seint Beneyt,
     Bycause that it was old and somdel streyt,
     This ilkë monk leet oldë thingës pace,
     And held after the newë world the space.
     He yaf nat of that text a pullëd hen,{31}
     That seith, that hunters been noon holy men;
     Ne that a monk, whan he is recchëles
     Is likned to a fissch that is waterles{32};
     This is to seyn, a monk out of his cloystre.
     But thilkë text held he not worth an oystre.
     And I seide his opinioun was good.
     What{33} schulde he studie, and make himselven wood,{34}
     Upon a book in cloystre alway to powre.
     Or swynkë with his handës, and laboure,
     As Austyn bit? How schal the world be servëd?
     Lat Austyn have his swynk to him reservëd.
     Therfor he was a pricasour aright;
     Greyhoundes he hadde as swifte as fowel in flight;
     Of prikyng and of huntyng for the hare
     Was al his lust, for no cost wolde he spare.{35}
     I saugh his slevës purfiled attë honde
     With grys, and that the fyneste of a londe.
     And for to festne his hood under his chynne

Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.

Six Centuries of English Poetry: Tennyson to Chaucer

Six Centuries of English Poetry: Tennyson to Chaucer

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