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CANTERBURY TALES

THE KNIGHT'S TALE

by Geoffrey Chaucer

THE KNIGHT'S TALE

Iamque domos patrias, Scithice post aspera gentis

Prolia, laurigero, etc.

-STATIUS, Theb., XII, 519. -

Once on a time, as old tales tell to us,

There was a duke whose name was Theseus:

Of Athens he was lord and governor,

And in his time was such a conqueror

That greater was there not beneath the sun.

Full many a rich country had he won;

What with his wisdom and his chivalry

He gained the realm of Femininity,

That was of old time known as Scythia.

There wedded he the queen, Hippolyta,

And brought her home with him to his country.

In glory great and with great pageantry,

And, too, her younger sister, Emily.

And thus, in victory and with melody,

Let I this noble duke to Athens ride

With all his armed host marching at his side.

And truly, were it not too long to hear,

I would have told you fully how, that year,

Was gained the realm of Femininity

By Theseus and by his chivalry;

And all of the great battle that was wrought

Where Amazons and the Athenians fought;

And how was wooed and won Hippolyta,

That fair and hardy queen of Scythia;

And of the feast was made at their wedding,

And of the tempest at their home-coming;

But all of that I must for now forbear.

I have, God knows, a large field for my share,

And weak the oxen, and the soil is tough.

The remnant of the tale is long enough.

I will not hinder any, in my turn;

Let each man tell his tale, until we learn

Which of us all the most deserves to win;

So where I stopped, again I'll now begin.

This duke of whom I speak, of great renown,

When he had drawn almost unto the town,

In all well-being and in utmost pride,

He grew aware, casting his eyes aside,

That right upon the road, as suppliants do,

A company of ladies, two by two,

Knelt, all in black, before his cavalcade;

But such a clamorous cry of woe they made

That in the whole world living man had heard

No such a lamentation, on my word;

Nor would they cease lamenting till at last

They'd clutched his bridle reins and held them fast.

"What folk are you that at my home-coming

Disturb my triumph with this dolorous thing?"

Cried Theseus. "Do you so much envy

My honour that you thus complain and cry?

Or who has wronged you now, or who offended?

Come, tell me whether it may be amended;

And tell me, why are you clothed thus, in black?"

The eldest lady of them answered back,

After she'd swooned, with cheek so deathly drear

That it was pitiful to see and hear,

And said: "Lord, to whom Fortune has but given

Victory, and to conquer where you've striven,

Your glory and your honour grieve not us;

But we beseech your aid and pity thus.

Have mercy on our woe and our distress.

Some drop of pity, of your gentleness,

Upon us wretched women, oh, let fall!

For see, lord, there is no one of us all

That has not been a duchess or a queen;

Now we are captives, as may well be seen:

Thanks be to Fortune and her treacherous wheel,

There's none can rest assured of constant weal.

And truly, lord, expecting your return,

In Pity's temple, where the fires yet burn,

We have been waiting through a long fortnight;

Now help us, lord, since it is in your might.

"I, wretched woman, who am weeping thus,

Was once the wife of King Capaneus,

Who died at Thebes, oh, cursed be the day!

And all we that you see in this array,

And make this lamentation to be known,

All we have lost our husbands at that town

During the siege that round about it lay.

And now the old Creon, ah welaway!

The lord and governor of Thebes city,

Full of his wrath and all iniquity,

He, in despite and out of tyranny,

To do the dead a shame and villainy,

Of all our husbands, lying among the slain,

Has piled the bodies in a heap, amain,

And will not suffer them, nor give consent,

To buried be, or burned, nor will relent,

But sets his dogs to eat them, out of spite."

And on that word, at once, without respite,

They all fell prone and cried out piteously:

"Have on us wretched women some mercy,

And let our sorrows sink into your heart!"

This gentle duke down from his horse did start

With heart of pity, when he'd heard them speak.

It seemed to him his heart must surely break,