Chapter 57

And she began a roundell <9> lustily, That “Suse le foyle, devers moi,” men call, “Siene et mon joly coeur est endormy;” <10> And then the company answered all, With voices sweet entuned, and so small,* *fine That me thought it the sweetest melody That ever I heard in my life, soothly.* *truly

And thus they came, dancing and singing, Into the middest of the mead each one, Before the arbour where I was sitting; And, God wot, me thought I was well-begone,* *fortunate For then I might advise* them one by one, *consider Who fairest was, who best could dance or sing, Or who most womanly was in all thing.

They had not danced but a *little throw,* *short time* When that I hearde far off, suddenly, So great a noise of thund’ring trumpets blow, As though it should departed* have the sky; *rent, divide And after that, within a while, I sigh,* *saw From the same grove, where the ladies came out, Of men of armes coming such a rout,* *company

As* all the men on earth had been assembled *as if Unto that place, well horsed for the nonce* *occasion Stirring so fast, that all the earthe trembled But for to speak of riches, and of stones, And men and horse, I trow the large ones* *i.e. jewels Of Prester John, <11> nor all his treasury, Might not unneth* have bought the tenth party** *hardly **part

Of their array: whoso list heare more, I shall rehearse so as I can a lite.* *little Out of the grove, that I spake of before, I saw come first, all in their cloakes white, A company, that wore, for their delight, Chapelets fresh of oake cerrial, <12> Newly y-sprung; and trumpets* were they all. *trumpeters

On ev’ry trump hanging a broad bannere Of fine tartarium <13> was, full richly beat;* *embroidered with gold Every trumpet his lord’s armes bare; About their necks, with greate pearles set, [Were] collars broad; for cost they would not let,* *be hindered by As it would seem, for their scutcheons each one Were set about with many a precious stone.

Their horses’ harness was all white also. And after them next, in one company, Came kinges at armes and no mo’, In cloakes of white cloth with gold richly; Chaplets of green upon their heads on high; The crownes that they on their scutcheons bare Were set with pearl, and ruby, and sapphire,

And eke great diamondes many one: But all their horse harness, and other gear, Was in a suit according, ev’ry one, As ye have heard the foresaid trumpets were; And, by seeming, they *were nothing to lear,* *had nothing to learn* And their guiding they did all mannerly.* *perfectly And after them came a great company

Of heraldes and pursuivantes eke, Arrayed in clothes of white velvet; And, hardily,* they were no thing to seek, assuredly How they on them shoulde the harness set: And ev’ry man had on a chapelet; Scutcheones and eke harness, indeed, They had *in suit of* them that ’fore them yede.* *corresponding with* *went Next after them in came, in armour bright, All save their heades, seemly knightes nine, And ev’ry clasp and nail, as to my sight, Of their harness was of red golde fine; With cloth of gold, and furred with ermine, Were the trappures* of their steedes strong, *trappings Both wide and large, that to the grounde hung.

And ev’ry boss of bridle and paytrel* *horse’s breastplate That they had on, was worth, as I would ween, A thousand pound; and on their heades, well Dressed, were crownes of the laurel green, The beste made that ever I had seen; And ev’ry knight had after him riding Three henchemen* upon him awaiting. *pages

Of which ev’ry [first], on a short truncheon,* *staff His lorde’s helmet bare, so richly dight,* *adorned That the worst of them was worthy the ranson* *ransom Of any king; the second a shielde bright Bare at his back; the thirde bare upright A mighty spear, full sharp y-ground and keen; And ev’ry childe* ware of leaves green *page

A freshe chaplet on his haires bright; And cloakes white of fine velvet they ware Their steedes trapped and arrayed right, Without difference, as their lordes’ were; And after them, on many a fresh courser, There came of armed knightes such a rout,* *company, crowd That they bespread the large field about.

And all they waren, after their degrees, Chapelets newe made of laurel green, Some of the oak, and some of other trees; Some in their handes bare boughes sheen,* *bright Some of laurel, and some of oakes keen, Some of hawthorn, and some of the woodbind, And many more which I had not in mind.

And so they came, their horses fresh stirring With bloody soundes of their trumpets loud; There saw I many an *uncouth disguising* *strange manoeuvring* In the array of these knightes proud; And at the last, as evenly as they could, They took their place in middest of the mead, And ev’ry knight turned his horse’s head

To his fellow, and lightly laid a spear Into the rest; and so the jousts began On ev’ry part aboute, here and there; Some brake his spear, some threw down horse and man; About the field astray the steedes ran; And, to behold their rule and governance,* *conduct I you ensure, it was a great pleasuance.

And so the joustes last’* an hour and more; *lasted But those that crowned were in laurel green Wonne the prize; their dintes* were so sore, *strokes That there was none against them might sustene: And the jousting was alle left off clean, And from their horse the nine alight’ anon, And so did all the remnant ev’ry one.

And forth they went together, twain and twain, That to behold it was a worthy sight, Toward the ladies on the greene plain, That sang and danced as I said now right; The ladies, as soon as they goodly might, They brake off both the song and eke the dance, And went to meet them with full glad semblance.* *air, aspect

And ev’ry lady took, full womanly, By th’hand a knight, and so forth right they yede* *went Unto a fair laurel that stood fast by, With leaves lade the boughs of greate brede;* *breadth And, to my doom,* there never was, indeed, *judgment Man that had seene half so fair a tree; For underneath it there might well have be* *been

A hundred persons, *at their own pleasance,* *in perfect comfort* Shadowed from the heat of Phoebus bright, So that they shoulde have felt no grievance* *annoyance Of rain nor haile that them hurte might. The savour eke rejoice would any wight That had been sick or melancholious, It was so very good and virtuous.* *full of healing virtues

And with great rev’rence they inclined low Unto the tree so sweet and fair of hue;* *appearance And after that, within a *little throw,* *short time* They all began to sing and dance of new, Some song of love, some *plaining of untrue,* *complaint of Environing* the tree that stood upright; unfaithfulness* And ever went a lady and a knight. *going round

And at the last I cast mine eye aside, And was ware of a lusty company That came roaming out of the fielde wide; [And] hand in hand a knight and a lady; The ladies all in surcoats, that richly Purfiled* were with many a riche stone; *trimmed at the borders And ev’ry knight of green ware mantles on,

Embroider’d well, so as the surcoats were; And ev’reach had a chaplet on her head (Which did right well upon the shining hair), Maked of goodly flowers, white and red. The knightes eke, that they in hande led, In suit of them ware chaplets ev’ry one, And them before went minstrels many one,

As harpes, pipes, lutes, and psaltry, All [clad] in green; and, on their heades bare, Of divers flowers, made full craftily All in a suit, goodly chaplets they ware; And so dancing into the mead they fare. In mid the which they found a tuft that was All overspread with flowers in compass* *around, in a circle

Whereunto they inclined ev’ry one, With great reverence, and that full humbly And at the last there then began anon A lady for to sing right womanly, A bargaret, <14> in praising the daisy. For, as me thought, among her notes sweet, She saide: “Si douce est la margarete.”<15>

Then alle they answered her in fere* *together So passingly well, and so pleasantly, That it was a [most] blissful noise to hear. But, I n’ot* how, it happen’d suddenly *know not As about noon the sun so fervently Wax’d hote, that the pretty tender flow’rs Had lost the beauty of their fresh colours,

Forshrunk* with heat; the ladies eke to-brent,** *shrivelled **very burnt That they knew not where they might them bestow; The knightes swelt,* for lack of shade nigh shent** *fainted **destroyed And after that, within a little throw, The wind began so sturdily to blow, That down went all the flowers ev’ry one, So that in all the mead there left not one;

Save such as succour’d were among the leaves From ev’ry storm that mighte them assail, Growing under the hedges and thick greves;* *groves, boughs And after that there came a storm of hail And rain in fere,* so that withoute fail *together The ladies nor the knights had not one thread Dry on them, so dropping was [all] their weed.* *clothing

And when the storm was passed clean away, Those in the white, that stood under the tree, They felt no thing of all the great affray That they in green without *had in y-be:* *had been in* To them they went for ruth, and for pity, Them to comfort after their great disease;* *trouble So fain* they were the helpless for to ease. *glad, eager

Then I was ware how one of them in green Had on a crowne, rich and well sitting;* *becoming Wherefore I deemed well she was a queen, And those in green on her were awaiting.* *in attendance The ladies then in white that were coming Toward them, and the knightes eke *in fere,* *together* Began to comfort them, and make them cheer.

The queen in white, that was of great beauty, Took by the hand the queen that was in green, And saide: “Sister, I have great pity Of your annoy, and of your troublous teen,* *injury, grief Wherein you and your company have been So long, alas! and if that it you please To go with me, I shall you do the ease,

“In all the pleasure that I can or may;” Whereof the other, humbly as she might, Thanked her; for in right evil array She was, with storm and heat, I you behight;* *assure Arid ev’ry lady then anon aright, That were in white, one of them took in green By the hand; which when that the knights had seen,

In like mannere each of them took a knight Y-clad in green, and forth with them they fare Unto a hedge, where that they anon right, To make their joustes,<16> they would not spare Boughes to hewe down, and eke trees square, Wherewith they made them stately fires great, To dry their clothes, that were wringing wet.

And after that, of herbes that there grew, They made, for blisters of the sun’s burning, Ointmentes very good, wholesome, and new, Wherewith they went the sick fast anointing; And after that they went about gath’ring Pleasant salades, which they made them eat, For to refresh their great unkindly heat.

The Lady of the Leaf then gan to pray Her of the Flower (for so, to my seeming, They should be called, as by their array), To sup with her; and eke, for anything, That she should with her all her people bring; And she again in right goodly mannere Thanked her fast of her most friendly cheer;

Saying plainely, that she would obey, With all her heart, all her commandement: And then anon, without longer delay, The Lady of the Leaf hath one y-sent To bring a palfrey, *after her intent,* *according to her wish* Arrayed well in fair harness of gold; For nothing lack’d, that *to him longe sho’ld.* *should belong to him*

And, after that, to all her company She made to purvey* horse and ev’rything *provide That they needed; and then full lustily, Ev’n by the arbour where I was sitting, They passed all, so merrily singing, That it would have comforted any wight. But then I saw a passing wondrous sight;

For then the nightingale, that all the day Had in the laurel sat, and did her might The whole service to sing longing to May, All suddenly began to take her flight; And to the Lady of the Leaf forthright She flew, and set her on her hand softly; Which was a thing I marvell’d at greatly.

The goldfinch eke, that from the medlar tree Was fled for heat into the bushes cold, Unto the Lady of the Flower gan flee, And on her hand he set him as he wo’ld, And pleasantly his winges gan to fold; And for to sing they *pain’d them* both, as sore *made great exertions* As they had done *of all* the day before. *during

And so these ladies rode forth *a great pace,* *rapidly* And all the rout of knightes eke in fere; And I, that had seen all this *wonder case,* *wondrous incident* Thought that I would assay in some mannere To know fully the truth of this mattere, And what they were that rode so pleasantly; And when they were the arbour passed by,

I *dress’d me forth,* and happ’d to meet anon *issued forth* A right fair lady, I do you ensure;* *assure And she came riding by herself alone, All in white; [then] with semblance full demure I her saluted, and bade good adventure* *fortune Might her befall, as I could most humbly; And she answer’d: “My daughter, gramercy!”* *great thanks <17>

“Madame,” quoth I, “if that I durst enquere Of you, I would fain, of that company, Wit what they be that pass’d by this herbere? And she again answered right friendly: “My faire daughter, all that pass’d hereby In white clothing, be servants ev’ry one Unto the Leaf; and I myself am one.

“See ye not her that crowned is,” quoth she “[Clad] all in white?” — “Madame,” then quoth I, “yes:” “That is Dian’, goddess of chastity; And for because that she a maiden is, In her hande the branch she beareth this, That agnus castus <8> men call properly; And all the ladies in her company,

“Which ye see of that herbe chaplets wear, Be such as have kept alway maidenhead: And all they that of laurel chaplets bear, Be such as hardy* were in manly deed, — *courageous Victorious name which never may be dead! And all they were so *worthy of their hand* *valiant in fight* In their time, that no one might them withstand,

“And those that weare chaplets on their head Of fresh woodbind, be such as never were To love untrue in word, in thought, nor deed, But ay steadfast; nor for pleasance, nor fear, Though that they should their heartes all to-tear,* *rend in pieces* Would never flit,* but ever were steadfast, *change *Till that their lives there asunder brast.”* *till they died*

“Now fair Madame,” quoth I, “yet would I pray Your ladyship, if that it mighte be, That I might knowe, by some manner way (Since that it hath liked your beauty, The truth of these ladies for to tell me), What that these knightes be in rich armour, And what those be in green and wear the flow’r?

“And why that some did rev’rence to that tree, And some unto the plot of flowers fair?” “With right good will, my daughter fair,” quoth she, “Since your desire is good and debonair;* *gentle, courteous The nine crowned be *very exemplair* *the true examples* Of all honour longing to chivalry; And those certain be call’d The Nine Worthy, <18>

“Which ye may see now riding all before, That in their time did many a noble deed, And for their worthiness full oft have bore The crown of laurel leaves upon their head, As ye may in your olde bookes read; And how that he that was a conquerour Had by laurel alway his most honour.

“And those that beare boughes in their hand Of the precious laurel so notable, Be such as were, I will ye understand, Most noble Knightes of the Rounde Table,<19> And eke the Douceperes honourable; <20> Whiche they bear in sign of victory, As witness of their deedes mightily.

“Eke there be knightes old <21> of the Garter, That in their time did right worthily; And the honour they did to the laurer* *laurel <22> Is for* by it they have their laud wholly, *because Their triumph eke, and martial glory; Which unto them is more perfect richess Than any wight imagine can, or guess.

“For one leaf given of that noble tree To any wight that hath done worthily, An’* it be done so as it ought to be, *if Is more honour than any thing earthly; Witness of Rome, that founder was truly Of alle knighthood and deeds marvellous; Record I take of Titus Livius.” <23>

And as for her that crowned is in green, It is Flora, of these flowers goddess; And all that here on her awaiting be’n, It are such folk that loved idleness, And not delighted in no business, But for to hunt and hawk, and play in meads, And many other such-like idle deeds.

“And for the great delight and the pleasance They have to the flow’r, and so rev’rently They unto it do such obeisance As ye may see.” “Now, fair Madame,”quoth I, “If I durst ask, what is the cause, and why, That knightes have the ensign* of honour *insignia Rather by the leaf than by the flow’r?”

“Soothly, daughter,” quoth she, “this is the troth: For knights should ever be persevering, To seek honour, without feintise* or sloth, *dissimulation From well to better in all manner thing: In sign of which, with leaves aye lasting They be rewarded after their degree, Whose lusty green may not appaired* be, *impaired, decayed

“But ay keeping their beauty fresh and green; For there is no storm that may them deface, Nor hail nor snow, nor wind nor frostes keen; Wherefore they have this property and grace: And for the flow’r, within a little space, Wolle* be lost, so simple of nature *will They be, that they no grievance* may endure; *injury, hardship

“And ev’ry storm will blow them soon away, Nor they laste not but for a season; That is the cause, the very truth to say, That they may not, by no way of reason, Be put to no such occupation.” “Madame,” quoth I, “with all my whole service I thank you now, in my most humble wise;

“For now I am ascertain’d thoroughly Of ev’ry thing that I desir’d to know.” “I am right glad that I have said, soothly, Aught to your pleasure, if ye will me trow,”* *believe Quoth she again; “but to whom do ye owe Your service? and which wolle* ye honour, *will Tell me, I pray, this year, the Leaf or the Flow’r?”

“Madame,” quoth I, “though I be least worthy, Unto the Leaf I owe mine observance:” “That is,” quoth she, “right well done, certainly; And I pray God, to honour you advance, And keep you from the wicked remembrance Of Malebouche,* and all his cruelty; *Slander <24> And all that good and well-condition’d be.

“For here may I no longer now abide; I must follow the greate company, That ye may see yonder before you ride.” And forthwith, as I coulde, most humbly I took my leave of her, and she gan hie* *haste After them as fast as she ever might; And I drew homeward, for it was nigh night,

And put all that I had seen in writing, Under support of them that list it read. <25> O little book! thou art so uncunning,* *unskilful How dar’st thou put thyself in press, <26> for dread? It is wonder that thou waxest not red! Since that thou know’st full lite* who shall behold *little Thy rude language, full *boistously unfold.* *unfolded in homely and unpolished fashion*

Explicit.* *The End

Notes to the Flower and the Leaf

1. The Bull: the sign of Taurus, which the sun enters in May.

2. The young oak leaves are red or ashen coloured.

3. Chaucer here again refers to the superstition, noticed in “The Cuckoo and the Nightingale,” that it was of good omen to hear the nightingale before the cuckoo upon the advent of both with spring.

4. The arbour was furnished with seats, which had been newly covered with turf.

5. “Yede” or “yead,” is the old form of go.

6. Sote: fool — French “sot.”

7. See note 59 to The Court of Love

8. Agnus castus: the chaste-tree; a kind of willow.

9. Roundell: French, “rondeau;” a song that comes round again to the verse with which it opened, or that is taken up in turn by each of the singers.

10. In modern French form, “Sous la feuille, devers moi, son et mon joli coeur est endormi” — “Under the foliage, towards me, his and my jolly heart is gone to sleep.”

11. Prester John: The half-mythical Eastern potentate, who is now supposed to have been, not a Christian monarch of Abyssinia, but the head of the Indian empire before Zenghis Khan’s conquest.

12. Oak cerrial: of the species of oak which Pliny, in his “Natural History,” calls “cerrus.”

13. Tartarium: Cloth of Tars, or of Tortona.

14. Bargaret: bergerette, or pastoral song.

15. “Si douce est la margarete.”: “So sweet is the daisy” (“la marguerite”).

16. To make their joustes: the meaning is not very obvious; but in The Knight’s Tale “jousts and array” are in some editions made part of the adornment of the Temple of Venus; and as the word “jousts” would there carry the general meaning of “preparations” to entertain or please a lover, in the present case it may have a similar force.

17. Gramercy: “grand merci,” French; great thanks.

18. The Nine Worthies, who at our day survive in the Seven Champions of Christendom. The Worthies were favourite subjects for representation at popular festivals or in masquerades.

19. The famous Knights of King Arthur, who, being all esteemed equal in valour and noble qualities, sat at a round table, so that none should seem to have precedence over the rest.

20. The twelve peers of Charlemagne (les douze pairs), chief among whom were Roland and Oliver.

21. Chaucer speaks as if, at least for the purposes of his poetry, he believed that Edward III. did not establish a new, but only revived an old, chivalric institution, when be founded the Order of the Garter.

22. Laurer: laurel-tree; French, “laurier.”

23. The meaning is: “Witness the practice of Rome, that was the founder of all knighthood and marvellous deeds; and I refer for corroboration to Titus Livius” — who, in several passages, has mentioned the laurel crown as the highest military honour. For instance, in 1. vii. c. 13, Sextus Tullius, remonstrating for the army against the inaction in which it is kept, tells the Dictator Sulpicius, “Duce te vincere cupimus; tibi lauream insignem deferre; tecum triumphantes urbem inire.” (“Commander, we want you to conquer; to bring you the laurel insignia; to enter the city with you in triumph”)

24. Malebouche: Slander, personified under the title of Evil-mouth — Italian, “Malbocca;” French, “Malebouche.”