Geoffrey Chaucer, The Canterbury Tales: The Clerk's Tale, Part Three (A Minimalist Translation) Poem by Forrest Hainline

Geoffrey Chaucer, The Canterbury Tales: The Clerk's Tale, Part Three (A Minimalist Translation)

There fell, as it befalls times mo,
When this child had sucked but a throw,
This marquis in his heart longs so
To tempt his wife, her steadiness for to know,
That he ne might out of his heart throw
This marvelous desire his wife to assay;
Needless, God woot, he thought her to affray.

He had assayed her enough before,
And found her ever good; what needed it
Her to tempt, and always more and more,
Though some men praise it for a subtle wit?
But as for me, I say that evil it sit
To assay a wife when that it is need,
And put her in anguish and in dread.

For which this marquis wrought in this manner:
He came alone a-night, there as she lay,
With stern face and with full troubled cheer,
And said thus: "Griselda, " said he, "that day
That I you took out of your poor array,
And put you in estate of high noblesse-
You have not that forgotten, as I guess?

"I say, Griselda, this present dignity,
In which that I have put you, as I trow,
Maketh you not forgetful for to be
That I you took in poor estate full low,
For any weal you moot yourself know.
Take heed of every word that I you say;
There is no wight that hears it but we tway.

"You woot yourself well how that you came here
Into this house, it is not long ago;
And though to me that you be lief and dear,
Unto my gentles you be nothing so.
They say, to them it is great shame and woe
For to be subjects and be in servitude
To thee, that born art of a small village.
"And namely since thy daughter was born
These words have they spoken, doubtless.
But I desire, as I have done before,
To live my life with them in rest and peace.
I may not in this case be reckless;
I must do with thy daughter for the best,
Not as I would, but as my people lest

"And yet, God knows, this is full loath to me;
But natheless without your witting
I will not do; but this will I, " said he,
"That you to me assent as in this thing.
Show now your patience in your working,
That you me hight me and swore in your village
That day that maked was our marriage."

When she had heard all this, she not amoved
Neither in word, or cheer, or countenance,
For, as it seemed, she was not aggrieved.
She said, "Lord, all lie in your pleasance.
My child and I, with heartly obeisance,
Be yours all, and you may save or spill
Your own thing; worketh after your will.

"There may nothing, God so my soul save,
Liken to you that may displease me;
Nor I desire nothing for tohave,
Nor dread for to lose, save only yee.
This will is in my heart, and aye shall be;
No length of time or death may this deface/,
Nor change my corage to another place."

Glad was this marquis of her answering,
But yet he feigned as he were not so;
All dreary was his cheer and his looking,
When that he should out of the chamber go.
Soon after this, a furlong way or two,
He privily has told all his intent
Unto a man, and to his wife him sent.

A manor sergeant was this privy man,
The which that faithful oft he founden had
In things great, and eek such folk well can
Do execution in things bad.
The lord knew well that he him loved and dread;
And when this sergeant wist his lord's will,
Into the chamber he stalked him full still.

"Madame, " he said, "you must forgive it me,
Though I do thing to which I am constrained.
You be so wise that full well know ye
That lords' hests may not be efeigned;
They may well be bewailed or complained,
But men must need unto their lust obey,
And so will I; there is no more to say.

"This child I am commanded to take" -
And spoke no more, but out the child he hent
Despiteously, and gan a cheer make
As though he would have slain it ere he went.
Griselda must all suffer and all consent,
And as a lamb she sitteth meek and still,
And let this cruel sergeant do his will.

Suspicious was the diffame of this man,
Suspect his face, suspect his word also;
Suspect the time in which he this began.
Alas! Her daughter that she loved so,
She wend he would have slain it right tho.
But natheless she neither weep nor sighed,
Conforming her to that the marquis liked.

But at the last to speak she began,
And meekly she to the sergeant prayed,
So as he was a worthy gentle man,
That she might kiss her child ere that it died.
And in her barm this little child she laid
With full sad face, and gan the child to bless,
And lulled it, and after gan it kiss.

And thus she said in her benign voice,
"Farewell my child! I shall thee never see.
But since I have thee marked with the cross
Of that Father -blessed may he be! -
That for us died upon a cross of tree,
Thy soul, little child, I him bitake,
For this night shalt thou die for my sake."

I trow that to a nurse in this case
It had been hard this ruth for to see;
Well might a mother then have cried "alas! "
But natheless so sad steadfast was she
That she endured all adversity,
And to the sergeant meekly she said,
"Have here again your little young maid.

"Go now, " said she, "and do my lord's hest;
But one thing will I pray you of your grace,
That, but my lord forbad you, at the least
Bury this little body in some place
That beasts no nor birds it torace."
But he no word will to that purpose say,
But took the child and went upon his way.

This sergeant came unto his lord again,
And of Griselda's words and her cheer
He told him point for point, in short and plain,
And him presenteth with his daughter dear.
Somewhat this lord had ruth in his manner,
But natheless his purpose held he still,
As lords do, when they will have their will;

And bade this sergeant that he privily
Should this child softly wind and wrap,
With all circumstances tenderly,
And carry it in a coffer or in a lap;
But, upon pain his head off for to swap,
No man should know of his intent,
Nor whence he came, nor whither that he went;

But at Bologna to his sister dear,
That this time of Panik was countess,
He should it take and show her this matter,
Beseeching her to do her business
This child to foster in all gentleness;
And whose child that it was he bade her to hide
From every wight, for ought that may betide.

The sergeant goes, and has fulfilled this thing;
But to this marquis now return we.
For now goes he full fast imagining
If by his wife's cheer he might see,
Or by her word perceive, that she
Were changed; but he never her could find
But ever in one alike sad and kind.

As glad, as humble, as busy in service,
And eek in love, as she was wont to be,
Was she to him in every manner wise;
Nor of her daughter not a word spoke she.
No accident, for no adversity,
Was seen in her, ne never her daughter's name
Ne mentioned she, in earnest nor in game.

© 2020
Forrest Hainline