Geoffrey Chaucer, The Canterbury Tales: General Prologue 07, The Monk - (A Minimalist Translation) Poem by Forrest Hainline

Geoffrey Chaucer, The Canterbury Tales: General Prologue 07, The Monk - (A Minimalist Translation)

A monk there was, a fair for the mastery,
An outrider, that loved venery,
A manly man, to be an abbot able.
Full many a dainty horse had he in stable,
And when he rode, men might his bridle hear
Jingling in a whistling wind all clear
And eek as loud as doth the chapel bell
There as this lord was keeper of the cell.
The rule of Saint Maure or of Saint Benedict -
Because that it was old and somewhat strict
This same monk let old things pace,
And held after the new world the space.
He gave not of that text a pulled hen,
That says that hunters be not holy men,
Nor that a monk, when he is reckless,
Is likened to a fish that is waterless -
This is to say, a monk out of his cloister.
But that text held he not worth an oyster;
And I said his opinion was good.
What should he study and make himself wood,
Upon a book in cloister always to pour,
Or swink with his hands, and labor,
As Austin bid? How shall the world be served?
Let Austin have his swink to him reserved!
Therefore he was a pricasour aright:
Greyhounds he had as swift as fowl in flight;
Of pricking and of hunting the hare
Was all his lust, for no cost would he spare.
I saw his sleeves purfled at the hand
With gray, and that the finest of the land;
And for to fasten his hood under his chin,
He had of gold wrought a full curious pin;
A love knot in the greater end there was.
His head was bald, that shone as any glass,
And eek his face, as he had been anoint.
He was a lord full fat and in good point;
His eyes steep, and rolling in his head,
That steamed as a furnace of lead;
His boots supple, his horse in great estate.
Now certainly he was a fair prelate;
He was not pale as a forpined ghost.
A fat swan he loved best of any roast.
His palfrey was as brown as is a berry.

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Forrest Hainline