Geoffrey Chaucer, The Canterbury Tales: General Prologue 08, The Friar - (A Minimalist Translation) Poem by Forrest Hainline

Geoffrey Chaucer, The Canterbury Tales: General Prologue 08, The Friar - (A Minimalist Translation)

[His palfrey was as brown as is a berry.]
A Friar there was, a wanton and a merry,
A limiter, a full solemn man.
In all the orders four there is none that can
So much of dalliance and fair language.
He had made full many a marriage
Of young women at his own cost.
Unto his order he was a noble post.
Full well beloved and familiar was he
With franklins over all in his country,
And eek with worthy women of the town;
For he had power of confession,
As said himself, more than a curate,
For of his order he was licentiate.
Full sweetly heard he confession,
And pleasant was his absolution:
He was an easy man to give penance,
There as he knew to have a good pittance.
For unto a poor order for to give
Is sign that a man is well shrive;
For if he gave, he dared make avaunt,
He knew that a man was repentant;
For many a man so hard is of his heart,
He may not weep, although him sorely smart.
Therefore instead of weeping and prayers
Men must give silver to the poor friars.
His tippet was aye farsed full of knives
And pins, for to give young wives.
And certainly he had a merry note:
Well could he sing and play on a rote;
Of yeddings he bore utterly the prize.
His neck white was as the flour-de-lys;
Thereto he strong was as a champion.
He knew the taverns well in every town
And every hosteler and tappester,
Better than a lazar or a begster,
For unto such a worthy man as he
Accorded not, as by his faculty,
To have with sick lazars acquaintance.
It is not honest, it may not advance,
For to deal with no such porail,
But all with rich and sellers of victual.
And over all, there as profit should arise,
Courteous he was and lowly of service;
There's no man nowhere so virtuous.
He was the best beggar in his house;
[And gave a certain fee for the grant;
None of his brethren came there in his haunt; ]
For though a widow had not a shoe,
So pleasant was his "In principio, "
Yet would he have a farthing, ere he went.
His purchase was well better than his rent.
And rage he could, as it were right a whelp.
In love days there could he much help,
For there he was not like a cloisterer
With a threadbare cope, as is a poor scholar,
But he was like a master or a pope.
Of double worsted was his semicope,
That rounded as a bell out of the press.
Somewhat he lisped, for his wantonness,
To make his English sweet upon his tongue;
And in his harping, when that he had sung,
His eyes twinkled in his head aright
As do the stars in the frosty night.
This worthy limiter was called Huberd.

[A Merchant was there with a forked beard, ]

© 2008,2019,2020
Forrest Hainline