 | Poems of Chaucer modernized |  |
291
THE FRANKLIN'S PROLOGUE.
‘Squire, in good faith, thou hast thyself well quit,
And fair and well I praise thy gentle wit,’
The Franklin said; ‘considering thy youth,
So feelingly thou speak'st, Sir, in good sooth,
If I may say so, there is no one here
That shall with thee in eloquence compare
If that thou live; God give to thee good chance,
And to thy virtue send continuance.
Thy speaking pleaseth me in great degree.
I have a son, and by the sacred Three,
Rather than twenty pounds’ worth of fair land,
I would, though now 'twere fallen in my hand,
He were a man of such discretion high
As I find thee: fie on possessions, fie!
Unless a man be virtuous withal.
And fair and well I praise thy gentle wit,’
The Franklin said; ‘considering thy youth,
So feelingly thou speak'st, Sir, in good sooth,
If I may say so, there is no one here
That shall with thee in eloquence compare
If that thou live; God give to thee good chance,
And to thy virtue send continuance.
Thy speaking pleaseth me in great degree.
I have a son, and by the sacred Three,
Rather than twenty pounds’ worth of fair land,
I would, though now 'twere fallen in my hand,
He were a man of such discretion high
As I find thee: fie on possessions, fie!
Unless a man be virtuous withal.
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I have my son reprov'd, and often shall:
To virtuous counsel will he not attend,
But loves to play at dice, and to expend,
And to lose all he hath—a gambling rage;
And he would rather talk with groom or page
Than converse hold with any gentle wight
Of whom he gentilesse might learn aright.’
To virtuous counsel will he not attend,
But loves to play at dice, and to expend,
And to lose all he hath—a gambling rage;
And he would rather talk with groom or page
Than converse hold with any gentle wight
Of whom he gentilesse might learn aright.’
‘Straw for your gentilesse!’ exclaimed our Host:
What, Franklin! pardie, Sir, full well thou know'st
That each of you, as we have made accord,
Must tell a tale or two, or break his word.’
‘Sir,’ quoth the Franklin, ‘you say well and plain:
I pray you have me not in such disdain,
Though I to this man speak a word or two.’
‘Tell,’ quoth the Host, ‘thy tale: why this to-do?’
‘Gladly, Sir Host,’ quoth he, ‘I will obey
Your pleasant will: now hearken what I say;—
I shall your purpose hinder in no wise,
So far as my poor knowledge may suffice.
I pray to God that it may please you well,
Then will be good enough the tale I tell.’
What, Franklin! pardie, Sir, full well thou know'st
That each of you, as we have made accord,
Must tell a tale or two, or break his word.’
‘Sir,’ quoth the Franklin, ‘you say well and plain:
I pray you have me not in such disdain,
Though I to this man speak a word or two.’
‘Tell,’ quoth the Host, ‘thy tale: why this to-do?’
‘Gladly, Sir Host,’ quoth he, ‘I will obey
Your pleasant will: now hearken what I say;—
I shall your purpose hinder in no wise,
So far as my poor knowledge may suffice.
I pray to God that it may please you well,
Then will be good enough the tale I tell.’
‘These Britons old, and noble in their days,
Of strange adventures made them divers lays,
Rhymed in their earliest native British tongue;
Which lays unto their instruments they sung,
Or else they read them for their cordial glee:
And one of them have I in memory.
I'll tell it with good will, as best I can.’
Of strange adventures made them divers lays,
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Which lays unto their instruments they sung,
Or else they read them for their cordial glee:
And one of them have I in memory.
I'll tell it with good will, as best I can.’
‘But, Sirs, because I am a rough-spun man,
Ere my beginning I would you beseech
Have me excused for my unstudied speech.
Rhetoric I never learnt, and none will feign:
All that I speak it must be bare and plain.
Dreams on Parnassus Mount I ne'er did know,
Nor studied Marcus Tullius Cicero.
Figures and colours know I none, indeed,
But such as grow for ever in the mead;
Or else such hues as men dye with, or paint;—
Colours of rhetoric are to me all quaint:
My spirit feeleth nought of such dry cheer;
But if ye list my story ye shall hear.’
Ere my beginning I would you beseech
Have me excused for my unstudied speech.
Rhetoric I never learnt, and none will feign:
All that I speak it must be bare and plain.
Dreams on Parnassus Mount I ne'er did know,
Nor studied Marcus Tullius Cicero.
Figures and colours know I none, indeed,
But such as grow for ever in the mead;
Or else such hues as men dye with, or paint;—
Colours of rhetoric are to me all quaint:
My spirit feeleth nought of such dry cheer;
But if ye list my story ye shall hear.’
| Poems of Chaucer modernized | |