Chapter 56

11. Compare with this catalogue raisonne of trees the ampler list given by Spenser in “The Faerie Queen,” book i. canto i. In several instances, as in “the builder oak” and “the sailing pine,” the later poet has exactly copied the words of the earlier. The builder oak: In the Middle Ages the oak was as distinctively the building timber on land, as it subsequently became for the sea. The pillar elm: Spenser explains this in paraphrasing it into “the vineprop elm” — because it was planted as a pillar or prop to the vine; it is called “the coffer unto carrain,” or “carrion,” because coffins for the dead were made from it. The box, pipe tree: the box tree was used for making pipes or horns. Holm: the holly, used for whip-handles. The sailing fir: Because ships’ masts and spars were made of its wood. The cypress death to plain: in Spenser’s imitation, “the cypress funeral.” The shooter yew: yew wood was used for bows. The aspe for shaftes plain: of the aspen, or black poplar, arrows were made. The laurel divine: So called, either because it was Apollo’s tree — Horace says that Pindar is “laurea donandus Apollinari” (“to be given Apollo’s laurel”) — or because the honour which it signified, when placed on the head of a poet or conqueror, lifted a man as it were into the rank of the gods.

12. If Chaucer had any special trio of courtiers in his mind when he excluded so many names, we may suppose them to be Charms, Sorcery, and Leasings who, in The Knight’s Tale, come after Bawdry and Riches — to whom Messagerie (the carrying of messages) and Meed (reward, bribe) may correspond.

13. The dove was the bird sacred to Venus; hence Ovid enumerates the peacock of Juno, Jove’s armour bearing bird, “Cythereiadasque columbas” (“And the Cythereian doves”) — “Metamorphoses. xv. 386

14. Priapus: fitly endowed with a place in the Temple of Love, as being the embodiment of the principle of fertility in flocks and the fruits of the earth. See note 23 to the Merchant’s Tale.

15. Ovid, in the “Fasti” (i. 433), describes the confusion of Priapus when, in the night following a feast of sylvan and Bacchic deities, the braying of the ass of Silenus wakened the company to detect the god in a furtive amatory expedition.

16. Hautain: haughty, lofty; French, “hautain.”

17. Well to my pay: Well to my satisfaction; from French, “payer,” to pay, satisfy; the same word often occurs, in the phrases “well apaid,” and “evil apaid.”

18. Valentia, in Spain, was famed for the fabrication of fine and transparent stuffs.

19. The obvious reference is to the proverbial “Sine Cerere et Libero friget Venus,” (“Love is frozen without freedom and food”) quoted in Terence, “Eunuchus,” act iv. scene v.

20. Cypride: Venus; called “Cypria,” or “Cypris,” from the island of Cyprus, in which her worship was especially celebrated.

21. Callisto, daughter of Lycaon, was seduced by Jupiter, turned into a bear by Diana, and placed afterwards, with her son, as the Great Bear among the stars. Atalanta challenged Hippomenes, a Boetian youth, to a race in which the prize was her hand in marriage — the penalty of failure, death by her hand. Venus gave Hippomenes three golden apples, and he won by dropping them one at a time because Atalanta stopped to pick them up. Semiramis was Queen of Ninus, the mythical founder of Babylon; Ovid mentions her, along with Lais, as a type of voluptuousness, in his “Amores,” 1.5, 11. Canace, daughter of Aeolus, is named in the prologue to The Man of Law’s Tale as one of the ladies whose “cursed stories” Chaucer refrained from writing. She loved her brother Macareus, and was slain by her father. Hercules was conquered by his love for Omphale, and spun wool for her in a woman’s dress, while she wore his lion’s skin. Biblis vainly pursued her brother Caunus with her love, till she was changed to a fountain; Ovid, “Metamorphoses.” lib. ix. Thisbe and Pyramus: the Babylonian lovers, whose death, through the error of Pyramus in fancying that a lion had slain his mistress, forms the theme of the interlude in the “Midsummer Night’s Dream.” Sir Tristram was one of the most famous among the knights of King Arthur, and La Belle Isoude was his mistress. Their story is mixed up with the Arthurian romance; but it was also the subject of separate treatment, being among the most popular of the Middle Age legends. Achilles is reckoned among Love’s conquests, because, according to some traditions, he loved Polyxena, the daughter of Priam, who was promised to him if he consented to join the Trojans; and, going without arms into Apollo’s temple at Thymbra, he was there slain by Paris. Scylla: Love-stories are told of two maidens of this name; one the daughter of Nisus, King of Megara, who, falling in love with Minos when he besieged the city, slew her father by pulling out the golden hair which grew on the top of his head, and on which which his life and kingdom depended. Minos won the city, but rejected her love in horror. The other Scylla, from whom the rock opposite Charybdis was named, was a beautiful maiden, beloved by the sea-god Glaucus, but changed into a monster through the jealousy and enchantments of Circe. The mother of Romulus: Silvia, daughter and only living child of Numitor, whom her uncle Amulius made a vestal virgin, to preclude the possibility that his brother’s descendants could wrest from him the kingdom of Alba Longa. But the maiden was violated by Mars as she went to bring water from a fountain; she bore Romulus and Remus; and she was drowned in the Anio, while the cradle with the children was carried down the stream in safety to the Palatine Hill, where the she-wolf adopted them.

22. Prest: ready; French, “pret.”

23. Alanus de Insulis, a Sicilian poet and orator of the twelfth century, who wrote a book “De Planctu Naturae” — “The Complaint of Nature.”

24. The falcon was borne on the hand by the highest personages, not merely in actual sport, but to be caressed and petted, even on occasions of ceremony, Hence also it is called the “gentle” falcon — as if its high birth and breeding gave it a right to august society.

25. The merlion: elsewhere in the same poem called “emerlon;” French, “emerillon;” the merlin, a small hawk carried by ladies.

26. The scorning jay: scorning humbler birds, out of pride of his fine plumage.

27. The false lapwing: full of stratagems and pretences to divert approaching danger from the nest where her young ones are.

28. The sparrow, Venus’ son: Because sacred to Venus.

29. Coming with the spring, the nightingale is charmingly said to call forth the new leaves.

30. Many-coloured wings, like those of peacocks, were often given to angels in paintings of the Middle Ages; and in accordance with this fashion Spenser represents the Angel that guarded Sir Guyon (“Faerie Queen,” book ii. canto vii.) as having wings “decked with diverse plumes, like painted jay’s.”

31. The pheasant, scorner of the cock by night: The meaning of this passage is not very plain; it has been supposed, however, to refer to the frequent breeding of pheasants at night with domestic poultry in the farmyard — thus scorning the sway of the cock, its rightful monarch.

32. The waker goose: Chaucer evidently alludes to the passage in Ovid describing the crow of Apollo, which rivalled the spotless doves, “Nec servataris vigili Capitolia voce cederet anseribus” — “nor would it yield (in whiteness) to the geese destined with wakeful or vigilant voice to save the Capitol” (“Metam.,” ii. 538) when about to be surprised by the Gauls in a night attack.

33. The cuckoo ever unkind: the significance of this epithet is amply explained by the poem of “The Cuckoo and the Nightingale.”

34. The drake, destroyer: of the ducklings — which, if not prevented, he will kill wholesale.

35. The stork is conspicuous for faithfulness to all family obligations, devotion to its young, and care of its parent birds in their old age. Mr Bell quotes from Bishop Stanley’s “History of Birds” a little story which peculiarly justifies the special character Chaucer has given: — “A French surgeon, at Smyrna, wishing to procure a stork, and finding great difficulty, on account of the extreme veneration in which they are held by the Turks, stole all the eggs out of a nest, and replaced them with those of a hen: in process of time the young chickens came forth, much to the astonishment of Mr and Mrs Stork. In a short time Mr S. went off, and was not seen for two or three days, when he returned with an immense crowd of his companions, who all assembled in the place, and formed a circle, taking no notice of the numerous spectators whom so unusual an occurrence had collected. Mrs Stork was brought forward into the midst of the circle, and, after some consultation, the whole flock fell upon her and tore her to pieces; after which they immediately dispersed, and the nest was entirely abandoned.”

36. The cormorant feeds upon fish, so voraciously, that when the stomach is crammed it will often have the gullet and bill likewise full, awaiting the digestion of the rest.

37. So called from the evil omens supposed to be afforded by their harsh cries.

38. The fieldfare visits this country only in hard wintry weather.

39. “Formel,” strictly or originally applied to the female of the eagle and hawk, is here used generally of the female of all birds; “tercel” is the corresponding word applied to the male.

40. Entriketh: entangles, ensnares; french, “intriguer,” to perplex; hence “intricate.”

41. Entremette him of: meddle with; French, “entremettre,” to interfere.

42. The duck exhorts the contending lovers to be of light heart and sing, for abundance of other ladies were at their command.

43. Solain: single, alone; the same word originally as “sullen.”

44. The cuckoo is distinguished by its habit of laying its eggs in the nests of other and smaller birds, such as the hedge-sparrow (“heggsugg”); and its young, when hatched, throw the eggs or nestlings of the true parent bird out of the nest, thus engrossing the mother’s entire care. The crime on which the emerlon comments so sharply, is explained by the migratory habits of the cuckoo, which prevent its bringing up its own young; and nature has provided facilities for the crime, by furnishing the young bird with a peculiarly strong and broad back, indented by a hollow in which the sparrow’s egg is lifted till it is thrown out of the nest.

45. “Who well loves, late forgets;” the refrain of the roundel inculcates the duty of constancy, which has been imposed on the three tercels by the decision of the Court.

THE FLOWER AND THE LEAF

[“The Flower and the Leaf” is pre-eminently one of those poems by which Chaucer may be triumphantly defended against the charge of licentious coarseness, that, founded upon his faithful representation of the manners, customs, and daily life and speech of his own time, in “The Canterbury Tales,” are sweepingly advanced against his works at large. In an allegory — rendered perhaps somewhat cumbrous by the detail of chivalric ceremonial, and the heraldic minuteness, which entered so liberally into poetry, as into the daily life of the classes for whom poetry was then written — Chaucer beautifully enforces the lasting advantages of purity, valour, and faithful love, and the fleeting and disappointing character of mere idle pleasure, of sloth and listless retirement from the battle of life. In the “season sweet” of spring, which the great singer of Middle Age England loved so well, a gentle woman is supposed to seek sleep in vain, to rise “about the springing of the gladsome day,” and, by an unfrequented path in a pleasant grove, to arrive at an arbour. Beside the arbour stands a medlar-tree, in which a Goldfinch sings passing sweetly; and the Nightingale answers from a green laurel tree, with so merry and ravishing a note, that the lady resolves to proceed no farther, but sit down on the grass to listen. Suddenly the sound of many voices singing surprises her; and she sees “a world of ladies” emerge from a grove, clad in white, and wearing garlands of laurel, of agnus castus, and woodbind. One, who wears a crown and bears a branch of agnus castus in her hand, begins a roundel, in honour of the Leaf, which all the others take up, dancing and singing in the meadow before the arbour. Soon, to the sound of thundering trumps, and attended by a splendid and warlike retinue, enter nine knights, in white, crowned like the ladies; and after they have jousted an hour and more, they alight and advance to the ladies. Each dame takes a knight by the hand; and all incline reverently to the laurel tree, which they encompass, singing of love, and dancing. Soon, preceded by a band of minstrels, out of the open field comes a lusty company of knights and ladies in green, crowned with chaplets of flowers; and they do reverence to a tuft of flowers in the middle of the meadow, while one of their number sings a bergerette in praise of the daisy. But now it is high noon; the sun waxes fervently hot; the flowers lose their beauty, and wither with the heat; the ladies in green are scorched, the knights faint for lack of shade. Then a strong wind beats down all the flowers, save such as are protected by the leaves of hedges and groves; and a mighty storm of rain and hail drenches the ladies and knights, shelterless in the now flowerless meadow. The storm overpast, the company in white, whom the laurel-tree has safely shielded from heat and storm, advance to the relief of the others; and when their clothes have been dried, and their wounds from sun and storm healed, all go together to sup with the Queen in white — on whose hand, as they pass by the arbour, the Nightingale perches, while the Goldfinch flies to the Lady of the Flower. The pageant gone, the gentlewoman quits the arbour, and meets a lady in white, who, at her request, unfolds the hidden meaning of all that she has seen; “which,” says Speght quaintly, “is this: They which honour the Flower, a thing fading with every blast, are such as look after beauty and worldly pleasure. But they that honour the Leaf, which abideth with the root, notwithstanding the frosts and winter storms, are they which follow Virtue and during qualities, without regard of worldly respects.” Mr Bell, in his edition, has properly noticed that there is no explanation of the emblematical import of the medlar-tree, the goldfinch, and the nightingale. “But,” he says, “as the fruit of the medlar, to use Chaucer’s own expression (see Prologue to the Reeve’s Tale), is rotten before it is ripe, it may be the emblem of sensual pleasure, which palls before it confers real enjoyment. The goldfinch is remarkable for the beauty of its plumage, the sprightliness of its movements, and its gay, tinkling song, and may be supposed to represent the showy and unsubstantial character of frivolous pleasures. The nightingale’s sober outward appearance and impassioned song denote greater depth of feeling.” The poem throughout is marked by the purest and loftiest moral tone; and it amply deserved Dryden’s special recommendation, “both for the invention and the moral.” It is given without abridgement.] (Transcriber’s note: Modern scholars believe that Chaucer was not the author of this poem)

WHEN that Phoebus his car of gold so high Had whirled up the starry sky aloft, And in the Bull <1> enter’d certainly; When showers sweet of rain descended soft, Causing the grounde, fele* times and oft, *many Up for to give many a wholesome air, And every plain was y-clothed fair

With newe green, and maketh smalle flow’rs To springe here and there in field and mead; So very good and wholesome be the show’rs, That they renewe what was old and dead In winter time; and out of ev’ry seed Springeth the herbe, so that ev’ry wight Of thilke* season waxeth glad and light. *this

And I, so glad of thilke season sweet, Was *happed thus* upon a certain night, *thus circumstanced* As I lay in my bed, sleep full unmeet* *unfit, uncompliant Was unto me; but why that I not might Rest, I not wist; for there n’as* earthly wight, *was not As I suppose, had more hearte’s ease Than I, for I n’had* sickness nor disease.** *had not **distress

Wherefore I marvel greatly of myself, That I so long withoute sleepe lay; And up I rose three houres after twelf, About the springing of the [gladsome] day; And on I put my gear* and mine array, *garments And to a pleasant grove I gan to pass, Long ere the brighte sun uprisen was;

In which were oakes great, straight as a line, Under the which the grass, so fresh of hue, Was newly sprung; and an eight foot or nine Every tree well from his fellow grew, With branches broad, laden with leaves new, That sprangen out against the sunne sheen; Some very red;<2> and some a glad light green;

Which, as me thought, was right a pleasant sight. And eke the birdes’ songes for to hear Would have rejoiced any earthly wight; And I, that could not yet, in no mannere, Heare the nightingale of* all the year,<3> *during Full busy hearkened with heart and ear, If I her voice perceive could anywhere.

And at the last a path of little brede* *breadth I found, that greatly had not used be; For it forgrowen* was with grass and weed, *overgrown That well unneth* a wight mighte see: *scarcely Thought I, “This path some whither goes, pardie!”* *of a surety And so I follow’d [it], till it me brought To a right pleasant arbour, well y-wrought,

That benched was, and [all] with turfes new Freshly y-turf’d, <4> whereof the greene grass, So small, so thick, so short, so fresh of hue, That most like to green wool, I wot, it was; The hedge also, that *yeden in compass,* *went all around <5>* And closed in all the greene herbere,* *arbour With sycamore was set and eglatere,* *eglantine, sweet-briar

Wreathed *in fere* so well and cunningly, *together* That ev’ry branch and leaf grew *by measure,* *regularly* Plain as a board, of *a height by and by:* *the same height side I saw never a thing, I you ensure, by side* So well y-done; for he that took the cure* *pains, care To maken it, I trow did all his pain To make it pass all those that men have seen.

And shapen was this arbour, roof and all, As is a pretty parlour; and also The hedge as thick was as a castle wall, That whoso list without to stand or go, Though he would all day pryen to and fro, He should not see if there were any wight Within or no; but one within well might

Perceive all those that wente there without Into the field, that was on ev’ry side Cover’d with corn and grass; that out of doubt, Though one would seeken all the worlde wide, So rich a fielde could not be espied Upon no coast, *as of the quantity;* *for its abundance For of all goode thing there was plenty. or fertility*

And I, that all this pleasant sight [did] see, Thought suddenly I felt so sweet an air Of the eglentere, that certainly There is no heart, I deem, in such despair, Nor yet with thoughtes froward and contrair So overlaid, but it should soon have boot,* *remedy, relief* If it had ones felt this *savour swoot.* *sweet smell*

And as I stood, and cast aside mine eye, I was ware of the fairest medlar tree That ever yet in all my life I seye,* *saw As full of blossoms as it mighte be; Therein a goldfinch leaping prettily From bough to bough; and as him list he eat Here and there of the buds and flowers sweet.

And to the arbour side was adjoining This fairest tree, of which I have you told; And at the last the bird began to sing (When he had eaten what he eate wo’ld) So passing sweetly, that by many fold It was more pleasant than I could devise;* *tell, describe And, when his song was ended in this wise,

The nightingale with so merry a note Answered him, that all the woode rung, So suddenly, that, *as it were a sote,* *like a fool <6>* I stood astound’; so was I with the song Thorough ravished, that, *till late and long,* *for a long time* I wist not in what place I was, nor where; Again, me thought, she sung e’en by mine ear.

Wherefore I waited about busily On ev’ry side, if that I might her see; And at the last I gan full well espy Where she sat in a fresh green laurel tree, On the further side, even right by me, That gave so passing a delicious smell, *According to* the eglantere full well. *blending with*

Whereof I had so inly great pleasure, That, as me thought, I surely ravish’d was Into Paradise, where [as] my desire Was for to be, and no farther to pass, As for that day; and on the sweete grass I sat me down; for, *as for mine intent,* *to my mind* The birde’s song was more *convenient,* *appropriate to my humour*

And more pleasant to me, by many fold, Than meat, or drink, or any other thing; Thereto the arbour was so fresh and cold, The wholesome savours eke so comforting, That, as I deemed, since the beginning Of the world was [there] never seen *ere than* *before then* So pleasant a ground of none earthly man.

And as I sat, the birdes heark’ning thus, Me thought that I heard voices suddenly, The most sweetest and most delicious That ever any wight, I *trow truely,* *verily believe* Heard in their life; for the harmony And sweet accord was in so good musike, That the voices to angels’ most were like.

At the last, out of a grove even by, That was right goodly, and pleasant to sight, I saw where there came, singing lustily, A world of ladies; but to tell aright Their greate beauty, lies not in my might, Nor their array; nevertheless I shall Tell you a part, though I speak not of all.

In surcoats* white, of velvet well fitting, *upper robes They were clad, and the seames each one, As it were a mannere [of] garnishing, Was set with emeraldes, one and one, *By and by;* but many a riche stone *in a row* Was set upon the purfles,* out of doubt, *embroidered edges Of collars, sleeves, and traines round about;

As greate pearles, round and orient,* *brilliant And diamondes fine, and rubies red, And many another stone, of which I went* *cannot recall The names now; and ev’reach on her head [Had] a rich fret* of gold, which, without dread,** *band **doubt Was full of stately* riche stones set; *valuable, noble And ev’ry lady had a chapelet

Upon her head of branches fresh and green, <7> So well y-wrought, and so marvellously, That it was a right noble sight to see’n; Some of laurel, and some full pleasantly Had chapelets of woodbine; and sadly,* *sedately Some of agnus castus <8> wearen also Chapelets fresh; but there were many of tho’* *those

That danced and eke sung full soberly; And all they went *in manner of compass;* *in a circle* But one there went, in mid the company, Sole by herself; but all follow’d the pace That she kept, whose heavenly figur’d face So pleasant was, and her well shap’d person, That in beauty she pass’d them ev’ry one.

And more richly beseen, by many fold, She was also in ev’ry manner thing: Upon her head, full pleasant to behold, A crown of golde, rich for any king; A branch of agnus castus eke bearing In her hand, and to my sight truely She Lady was of all that company.