Chapter 55

For this was on Saint Valentine’s Day, When ev’ry fowl cometh to choose her make,* *mate Of every kind that men thinken may; And then so huge a noise gan they make, That earth, and sea, and tree, and ev’ry lake, So full was, that unnethes* there was space *scarcely For me to stand, so full was all the place.

And right as Alain, in his Plaint of Kind, <23> Deviseth* Nature of such array and face; *describeth In such array men mighte her there find. This noble Emperess, full of all grace, Bade ev’ry fowle take her owen place, As they were wont alway, from year to year, On Saint Valentine’s Day to stande there.

That is to say, the *fowles of ravine* *birds of prey* Were highest set, and then the fowles smale, That eaten as them Nature would incline; As worme-fowl, of which I tell no tale; But waterfowl sat lowest in the dale, And fowls that live by seed sat on the green, And that so many, that wonder was to see’n.

There mighte men the royal eagle find, That with his sharpe look pierceth the Sun; And other eagles of a lower kind, Of which that *clerkes well devise con;* *which scholars well There was the tyrant with his feathers dun can describe* And green, I mean the goshawk, that doth pine* *cause pain To birds, for his outrageous ravine.* *slaying, hunting

The gentle falcon, that with his feet distraineth* *grasps The kinge’s hand; <24> the hardy* sperhawk eke, *pert The quaile’s foe; the merlion <25> that paineth Himself full oft the larke for to seek; There was the dove, with her eyen meek; The jealous swan, against* his death that singeth; *in anticipation of The owl eke, that of death the bode* bringeth. *omen

The crane, the giant, with his trumpet soun’; The thief the chough; and eke the chatt’ring pie; The scorning jay; <26> the eel’s foe the heroun; The false lapwing, full of treachery; <27> The starling, that the counsel can betray; The tame ruddock,* and the coward kite; *robin-redbreast The cock, that horologe* is of *thorpes lite.* *clock *little villages*

The sparrow, Venus’ son; <28> the nightingale, That calleth forth the freshe leaves new; <29> The swallow, murd’rer of the bees smale, That honey make of flowers fresh of hue; The wedded turtle, with his hearte true; The peacock, with his angel feathers bright; <30> The pheasant, scorner of the cock by night; <31>

The waker goose; <32> the cuckoo ever unkind; <33> The popinjay,* full of delicacy; *parrot The drake, destroyer of his owen kind; <34> The stork, the wreaker* of adultery; <35> *avenger The hot cormorant, full of gluttony; <36> The raven and the crow, with voice of care; <37> The throstle old;* and the frosty fieldfare.<38> *long-lived

What should I say? Of fowls of ev’ry kind That in this world have feathers and stature, Men mighten in that place assembled find, Before that noble goddess of Nature; And each of them did all his busy cure* *care, pains Benignely to choose, or for to take, By her accord,* his formel <39> or his make.** *consent **mate

But to the point. Nature held on her hand A formel eagle, of shape the gentilest That ever she among her workes fand, The most benign, and eke the goodliest; In her was ev’ry virtue at its rest,* *highest point So farforth that Nature herself had bliss To look on her, and oft her beak to kiss.

Nature, the vicar of th’Almighty Lord, — That hot, cold, heavy, light, and moist, and dry, Hath knit, by even number of accord, — In easy voice began to speak, and say: “Fowles, take heed of my sentence,”* I pray; *opinion, discourse And for your ease, in furth’ring of your need, As far as I may speak, I will me speed.

“Ye know well how, on Saint Valentine’s Day, By my statute, and through my governance, Ye choose your mates, and after fly away With them, as I you *pricke with pleasance;* *inspire with pleasure* But natheless, as by rightful ordinance, May I not let,* for all this world to win, *hinder But he that most is worthy shall begin.

“The tercel eagle, as ye know full weel,* *well The fowl royal, above you all in degree, The wise and worthy, secret, true as steel, The which I formed have, as ye may see, In ev’ry part, as it best liketh me, — It needeth not his shape you to devise,* — *describe He shall first choose, and speaken *in his guise.* *in his own way*

“And, after him, by order shall ye choose, After your kind, evereach as you liketh; And as your hap* is, shall ye win or lose; *fortune But which of you that love most entriketh,* *entangles <40> God send him her that sorest for him siketh.”* *sigheth And therewithal the tercel gan she call, And said, “My son, the choice is to thee fall.

“But natheless, in this condition Must be the choice of ev’reach that is here, That she agree to his election, Whoso he be, that shoulde be her fere;* *companion This is our usage ay, from year to year; And whoso may at this time have this grace, *In blissful time* he came into this place.” *in a happy hour* With head inclin’d, and with full humble cheer,* *demeanour

This royal tercel spake, and tarried not: “Unto my sov’reign lady, and not my fere,* *companion I chose and choose, with will, and heart, and thought, The formel on your hand, so well y-wrought, Whose I am all, and ever will her serve, Do what her list, to do me live or sterve.* *die

“Beseeching her of mercy and of grace, As she that is my lady sovereign, Or let me die here present in this place, For certes long may I not live in pain; *For in my heart is carven ev’ry vein:* *every vein in my heart is Having regard only unto my truth, wounded with love* My deare heart, have on my woe some ruth.* *pity

“And if that I be found to her untrue, Disobeisant,* or wilful negligent, *disobedient Avaunter,* or *in process* love a new, *braggart *in the course I pray to you, this be my judgement, of time* That with these fowles I be all to-rent,* *torn to pieces That ilke* day that she me ever find *same To her untrue, or in my guilt unkind.

“And since none loveth her so well as I, Although she never of love me behet,* *promised Then ought she to be mine, through her mercy; For *other bond can I none on her knit;* *I can bind her no other way* For weal or for woe, never shall I let* *cease, fail To serve her, how far so that she wend;* *go Say what you list, my tale is at an end.”

Right as the freshe redde rose new Against the summer Sunne colour’d is, Right so, for shame, all waxen gan the hue Of this formel, when she had heard all this; *Neither she answer’d well, nor said amiss,* *she answered nothing, So sore abashed was she, till Nature either well or ill* Said, “Daughter, dread you not, I you assure.”* *confirm, support

Another tercel eagle spake anon, Of lower kind, and said that should not be; “I love her better than ye do, by Saint John! Or at the least I love her as well as ye, And longer have her serv’d in my degree; And if she should have lov’d for long loving, To me alone had been the guerdoning.* *reward

“I dare eke say, if she me finde false, Unkind, janglere,* rebel in any wise, *boastful Or jealous, *do me hange by the halse;* *hang me by the neck* And but* I beare me in her service *unless As well ay as my wit can me suffice, From point to point, her honour for to save, Take she my life and all the good I have.”

A thirde tercel eagle answer’d tho:* *then “Now, Sirs, ye see the little leisure here; For ev’ry fowl cries out to be ago Forth with his mate, or with his lady dear; And eke Nature herselfe will not hear, For tarrying her, not half that I would say; And but* I speak, I must for sorrow dey.** *unless **die

Of long service avaunt* I me no thing, *boast But as possible is me to die to-day, For woe, as he that hath been languishing This twenty winter; and well happen may A man may serve better, and *more to pay,* *with more satisfaction* In half a year, although it were no more. Than some man doth that served hath *full yore.* *for a long time*

“I say not this by me for that I can Do no service that may my lady please; But I dare say, I am her truest man,* *liegeman, servant *As to my doom,* and fainest would her please; *in my judgement *At shorte words,* until that death me seize, *in one word* I will be hers, whether I wake or wink. And true in all that hearte may bethink.”

Of all my life, since that day I was born, *So gentle plea,* in love or other thing, *such noble pleading* Ye hearde never no man me beforn; Whoso that hadde leisure and cunning* *skill For to rehearse their cheer and their speaking: And from the morrow gan these speeches last, Till downward went the Sunne wonder fast.

The noise of fowles for to be deliver’d* *set free to depart So loude rang, “Have done and let us wend,”* *go That well ween’d I the wood had all to-shiver’d:* *been shaken to “Come off!” they cried; “alas! ye will us shend!* pieces* *ruin When will your cursed pleading have an end? How should a judge either party believe, For yea or nay, withouten any preve?”* *proof

The goose, the duck, and the cuckoo also, So cried “keke, keke,” “cuckoo,” “queke queke,” high, That through mine ears the noise wente tho.* *then The goose said then, “All this n’is worth a fly! But I can shape hereof a remedy; And I will say my verdict, fair and swith,* *speedily For water-fowl, whoso be wroth or blith.”* *glad

“And I for worm-fowl,” said the fool cuckow; For I will, of mine own authority, For common speed,* take on me the charge now; *advantage For to deliver us is great charity.” “Ye may abide a while yet, pardie,”* *by God Quoth then the turtle; “if it be your will A wight may speak, it were as good be still.

“I am a seed-fowl, one th’unworthiest, That know I well, and the least of cunning; But better is, that a wight’s tongue rest, Than *entremette him of* such doing *meddle with* <41> Of which he neither rede* can nor sing; *counsel And who it doth, full foul himself accloyeth,* *embarrasseth For office uncommanded oft annoyeth.”

Nature, which that alway had an ear To murmur of the lewedness behind, With facond* voice said, “Hold your tongues there, *eloquent, fluent And I shall soon, I hope, a counsel find, You to deliver, and from this noise unbind; I charge of ev’ry flock* ye shall one call, *class of fowl To say the verdict of you fowles all.”

The tercelet* said then in this mannere; *male hawk “Full hard it were to prove it by reason, Who loveth best this gentle formel here; For ev’reach hath such replication,* *reply That by skilles* may none be brought adown; *arguments I cannot see that arguments avail; Then seemeth it that there must be battaile.”

“All ready!” quoth those eagle tercels tho;* *then “Nay, Sirs!” quoth he; “if that I durst it say, Ye do me wrong, my tale is not y-do,* *done For, Sirs, — and *take it not agrief,* I pray, — *be not offended* It may not be as ye would, in this way: Ours is the voice that have the charge in hand, And *to the judges’ doom ye muste stand.* *ye must abide by the judges’ decision* “And therefore ‘Peace!’ I say; as to my wit, Me woulde think, how that the worthiest Of knighthood, and had longest used it, Most of estate, of blood the gentilest, Were fitting most for her, *if that her lest;* *if she pleased* And, of these three she knows herself, I trow,* *am sure Which that he be; for it is light* to know.” *easy

The water-fowles have their heades laid Together, and *of short advisement,* *after brief deliberation* When evereach his verdict had y-said They saide soothly all by one assent, How that “The goose with the *facond gent,* *refined eloquence* That so desired to pronounce our need,* business Shall tell our tale;” and prayed God her speed.

And for those water-fowles then began The goose to speak. and in her cackeling She saide, “Peace, now! take keep* ev’ry man, *heed And hearken what reason I shall forth bring; My wit is sharp, I love no tarrying; I say I rede him, though he were my brother, But* she will love him, let him love another!” *unless

“Lo! here a perfect reason of a goose!” Quoth the sperhawke. “Never may she the!* *thrive Lo such a thing ’tis t’have a tongue loose! Now, pardie: fool, yet were it bet* for thee *better Have held thy peace, than show’d thy nicety;* *foolishness It lies not in his wit, nor in his will, But sooth is said, a fool cannot be still.”

The laughter rose of gentle fowles all; And right anon the seed-fowls chosen had The turtle true, and gan her to them call, And prayed her to say the *soothe sad* *serious truth* Of this mattere, and asked what she rad;* *counselled And she answer’d, that plainly her intent She woulde show, and soothly what she meant.

“Nay! God forbid a lover shoulde change!” The turtle said, and wax’d for shame all red: “Though that his lady evermore be strange,* *disdainful Yet let him serve her ay, till he be dead; For, sooth, I praise not the goose’s rede* *counsel For, though she died, I would none other make;* *mate I will be hers till that the death me take.”

*“Well bourded!”* quoth the ducke, “by my hat! *a pretty joke!* That men should loven alway causeless, Who can a reason find, or wit, in that? Danceth he merry, that is mirtheless? Who shoulde *reck of that is reckeless?* *care for one who has Yea! queke yet,” quoth the duck, “full well and fair! no care for him* There be more starres, God wot, than a pair!” <42>

“Now fy, churl!” quoth the gentle tercelet, “Out of the dunghill came that word aright; Thou canst not see which thing is well beset; Thou far’st by love, as owles do by light,— The day them blinds, full well they see by night; Thy kind is of so low a wretchedness, That what love is, thou caust not see nor guess.”

Then gan the cuckoo put him forth in press,* *in the crowd For fowl that eateth worm, and said belive:* *quickly “So I,” quoth he, “may have my mate in peace, I recke not how longe that they strive. Let each of them be solain* all their life; *single <43> This is my rede,* since they may not accord; *counsel This shorte lesson needeth not record.”

“Yea, have the glutton fill’d enough his paunch, Then are we well!” saide the emerlon;* *merlin “Thou murd’rer of the heggsugg,* on the branch *hedge-sparrow That brought thee forth, thou most rueful glutton, <44> Live thou solain, worme’s corruption! *For no force is to lack of thy nature;* *the loss of a bird of your Go! lewed be thou, while the world may dare!” depraved nature is no matter of regret.* “Now peace,” quoth Nature, “I commande here; For I have heard all your opinion, And in effect yet be we ne’er the nere.* *nearer But, finally, this is my conclusion, — That she herself shall have her election Of whom her list, whoso be *wroth or blith;* *angry or glad* Him that she chooseth, he shall her have as swith.* *quickly

“For since it may not here discussed be Who loves her best, as said the tercelet, Then will I do this favour t’ her, that she Shall have right him on whom her heart is set, And he her, that his heart hath on her knit: This judge I, Nature, for* I may not lie *because To none estate; I *have none other eye.* *can see the matter in no other light* “But as for counsel for to choose a make, If I were Reason, [certes] then would I Counsaile you the royal tercel take, As saith the tercelet full skilfully,* *reasonably As for the gentilest, and most worthy, Which I have wrought so well to my pleasance, That to you it ought be *a suffisance.”* *to your satisfaction*

With dreadful* voice the formel her answer’d: *frightened “My rightful lady, goddess of Nature, Sooth is, that I am ever under your yerd,* *rod, or government As is every other creature, And must be yours, while that my life may dure; And therefore grante me my firste boon,* *favour And mine intent you will I say right soon.”

“I grant it you,” said she; and right anon This formel eagle spake in this degree:* *manner “Almighty queen, until this year be done I aske respite to advise me; And after that to have my choice all free; This is all and some that I would speak and say; Ye get no more, although ye *do me dey.* *slay me*

“I will not serve Venus, nor Cupide, For sooth as yet, by no manner [of] way.” “Now since it may none other ways betide,”* *happen Quoth Dame Nature, “there is no more to say; Then would I that these fowles were away, Each with his mate, for longer tarrying here.” And said them thus, as ye shall after hear.

“To you speak I, ye tercels,” quoth Nature; “Be of good heart, and serve her alle three; A year is not so longe to endure; And each of you *pain him* in his degree *strive* For to do well, for, God wot, quit is she From you this year, what after so befall; This *entremess is dressed* for you all.” *dish is prepared*

And when this work y-brought was to an end, To ev’ry fowle Nature gave his make, By *even accord,* and on their way they wend: *fair agreement* And, Lord! the bliss and joye that they make! For each of them gan other in his wings take, And with their neckes each gan other wind,* *enfold, caress Thanking alway the noble goddess of Kind.

But first were chosen fowles for to sing,— As year by year was alway their usance,* — *custom To sing a roundel at their departing, To do to Nature honour and pleasance; The note, I trowe, maked was in France; The wordes were such as ye may here find The nexte verse, as I have now in mind:

Qui bien aime, tard oublie. <45>

“Now welcome summer, with thy sunnes soft, That hast these winter weathers overshake * *dispersed, overcome Saint Valentine, thou art full high on loft, Which driv’st away the longe nightes blake;* *black Thus singe smalle fowles for thy sake: Well have they cause for to gladden* oft, *be glad, make mirth Since each of them recover’d hath his make;* *mate Full blissful may they sing when they awake.”

And with the shouting, when their song was do,* *done That the fowls maden at their flight away, I woke, and other bookes took me to, To read upon; and yet I read alway. I hope, y-wis, to reade so some day, That I shall meete something for to fare The bet;* and thus to read I will not spare. *better

Explicit.* *the end

Notes to The Assembly of Fowls

1. “The Dream of Scipio” — “Somnium Scipionis” — occupies most of the sixth book of Cicero’s “Republic;” which, indeed, as it has come down to us, is otherwise imperfect. Scipio Africanus Minor is represented as relating a dream which he had when, in B.C. 149, he went to Africa as military tribune to the fourth legion. He had talked long and earnestly of his adoptive grandfather with Massinissa, King of Numidia, the intimate friend of the great Scipio; and at night his illustrious ancestor appeared to him in a vision, foretold the overthrow of Carthage and all his other triumphs, exhorted him to virtue and patriotism by the assurance of rewards in the next world, and discoursed to him concerning the future state and the immortality of the soul. Macrobius, about AD. 500, wrote a Commentary upon the “Somnium Scipionis,” which was a favourite book in the Middle Ages. See note 17 to The Nun’s Priest’s Tale.

2. Y-nome: taken; past participle of “nime,” from Anglo-Saxon, “niman,” to take.

3. His grace: the favour which the gods would show him, in delivering Carthage into his hands.

4. “Vestra vero, quae dicitur, vita mors est.” (“Truly, as is said, your life is a death”)

5. The nine spheres are God, or the highest heaven, constraining and containing all the others; the Earth, around which the planets and the highest heaven revolve; and the seven planets: the revolution of all producing the “music of the spheres.”

6. Clear: illustrious, noble; Latin, “clarus.”

7. The sicke mette he drinketh of the tun: The sick man dreams that he drinks wine, as one in health.

8. The significance of the poet’s looking to the NNW is not plain; his window may have faced that way.

9. The idea of the twin gates, leading to the Paradise and the Hell of lovers, may have been taken from the description of the gates of dreams in the Odyssey and the Aeneid; but the iteration of “Through me men go” far more directly suggests the legend on Dante’s gate of Hell:—

Per me si va nella citta dolente, Per me si va nell’ eterno dolore; Per me si va tra la perduta gente.

(“Through me is the way to the city of sorrow, Through me is the way to eternal suffering; Through me is the way of the lost people”)

The famous line, “Lasciate ogni speranza, voi che entrate” — “All hope abandon, ye who enter here” — is evidently paraphrased in Chaucer’s words “Th’eschewing is the only remedy;” that is, the sole hope consists in the avoidance of that dismal gate.

10. A powerful though homely description of torment; the sufferers being represented as fish enclosed in a weir from which all the water has been withdrawn.