The Canterbury Tales · Chaucer’s Tale of Sir Thopas · The Tale 3858

The Tale3858

Listen, lordings, in good intent,

And I will tell you verament3859

Of mirth and of solas,3860

All of a knight was fair and gent,3861

In battle and in tournament,

His name was Sir Thopas.

Y-born he was in far countrý,

In Flanders, all beyond the sea,

At Popering3862 in the place;

His father was a man full free,

And lord he was of that countrý,

As it was Goddë’s grace.

Sir Thopas was a doughty swain,

White was his face as paindemain,3863

His lippës red as rose.

His rode3864 is like scarlét in grain,

And I you tell in good certáin

He had a seemly nose.

His hair, his beard, was like saffroún,

That to his girdle reach’d adown,

His shoes of cordëwane:3865

Of Bruges were his hosen brown;

His robë was of ciclatoún,3866

That costë many a jane.3867

He couldë hunt at the wild deer,

And ride on hawking for rivére3868

With gray goshawk on hand:

Thereto he was a good archére,

Of wrestling was there none his peer,

Where any ram3869 should stand.

Full many a maiden bright in bow’r

They mourned for him par amour,

When them were better sleep;

But he was chaste, and no lechoúr,

And sweet as is the bramble flow’r

That beareth the red heep.3870

And so it fell upon a day,

For sooth as I you tellë may,

Sir Thopas would out ride;

He worth3871 upon his steedë gray,

And in his hand a launcëgay,3872

A long sword by his side.

He pricked through a fair forést,

Wherein is many a wildë beast,

Yea, bothë buck and hare;

And as he pricked north and east,

I tell it you, him had almest

Betid3873 a sorry care.

There sprangë herbës great and small,

The liquorice and the setëwall,3874

And many a clove-gilofre,3875

And nutëmeg to put in ale,

Whether it be moist3876 or stale,

Or for to lay in coffer.

The birdës sang, it is no nay,

The sperhawk3877 and the popinjay,

That joy it was to hear;

The throstle-cock made eke his lay,

The woodë-dove upon the spray

She sang full loud and clear.

Sir Thopas fell in love-longíng

All when he heard the throstle sing,

And prick’d as he were wood;3878

His fairë steed in his pricking

So sweated, that men might him wring,

His sidës were all blood.

Sir Thopas eke so weary was

For pricking on the softë grass,

So fierce was his coráge,3879

That down he laid him in that place,

To makë his steed some solace,

And gave him good foráge.

“Ah, Saint Marý, ben’dicite,

What aileth thilkë3880 love at me

To bindë me so sore?

Me dreamed all this night, pardie,

An elf-queen shall my leman3881 be,

And sleep under my gore.3882

An elf-queen will I love, y-wis,3883

For in this world no woman is

Worthy to be my make

In town;

All other women I forsake,

And to an elf-queen I me take

By dale and eke by down.”

Into his saddle he clomb anon,

And pricked over stile and stone

An elf-queen for to spy,

Till he so long had ridden and gone,

That he found in a privy wonne3884

The country of Faerý,

So wild;

For in that country was there none

That to him durstë ride or gon,

Neither wife nor child.

Till that there came a great giaunt,

His namë was Sir Oliphaunt,3885

A perilous man of deed;

He saidë, “Child,3886 by Termagaunt,3887

But if3888 thou prick out of mine haunt,

Anon I slay thy steed

With mace.

Here is the Queen of Faëry,

With harp, and pipe, and symphony,

Dwelling in this place.”

The Child said, “All so may I thé,3889

To-morrow will I meetë thee,

When I have mine armór;

And yet I hope, par ma fay,

That thou shalt with this launcëgay

Abyen3890 it full sore;

Thy maw3891

Shall I pierce, if I may,

Ere it be fully prime of day,

For here thou shalt be slaw.”3892

Sir Thopas drew aback full fast;

This giant at him stonës cast

Out of a fell staff sling:

But fair escaped Child Thopas,

And all it was through Goddë’s grace,

And through his fair bearíng.

Yet listen, lordings, to my tale,

Merrier than the nightingale,

For now I will you rown,3893

How Sir Thopas, with sidës smale,

Pricking over hill and dale,

Is come again to town.

His merry men commanded he

To makë him both game and glee;

For needës must he fight

With a giánt with headës three,

For paramour and jollity

Of one that shone full bright.

“Do3894 come,” he saidë, “my minstráles

And gestours3895 for to tellë tales.

Anon in mine armíng,

Of rómances that be royáls,3896

Of popës and of cardinals,

And eke of love-longíng.”

They fetch’d him first the sweetë wine,

And mead eke in a maseline,3897

And royal spicery;

Of ginger-bread that was full fine,

And liquorice and eke cumin,

With sugar that is trie.3898

He diddë,3899 next his whitë lere,3900

Of cloth of lakë3901 fine and clear,

A breech and eke a shirt;

And next his shirt an haketon,3902

And over that an habergeon,3903

For piercing of his heart;

And over that a fine hauberk,3904

Was all y-wrought of Jewës’3905 werk,

Full strong it was of plate;

And over that his coat-armoúr,3906

As white as is the lily flow’r,

In which he would debate.3907

His shield was all of gold so red,

And therein was a boarë’s head,

A charboucle3908 beside;

And there he swore on ale and bread,

How that the giant should be dead,

Betide whatso betide.

His jambeaux3909 were of cuirbouly,3910

His swordë’s sheath of ivory,

His helm of latoun3911 bright,

His saddle was of rewel3912 bone,

His bridle as the sunnë shone,

Or as the moonëlight.

His spearë was of fine cypress,

That bodeth war, and nothing peace;

The head full sharp y-ground.

His steedë was all dapple gray,

It went an amble in the way

Full softëly and round

In land.

Lo, Lordës mine, here is a fytt;3913

If ye will any more of it,

To tell it will I fand.3914

Now hold your mouth for charity,

Bothë knight and lady free,

And hearken to my spell;3915

Of battle and of chivalry,

Of ladies’ love and druerie,3916

Anon I will you tell.

Men speak of rómances of price3917

Of Horn Child, and of Ipotis,

Of Bevis, and Sir Guy,3918

Of Sir Libeux,3919 and Pleindamour,

But Sir Thopas, he bears the flow’r

Of royal chivalry.

His goodë steed he all bestrode,

And forth upon his way he glode,3920

As sparkle out of brand;3921

Upon his crest he bare a tow’r,

And therein stick’d a lily flow’r;

God shield his corse from shand

And, for he was a knight auntroús,3923

He wouldë sleepen in none house,

But liggen3924 in his hood,

His brightë helm was his wangér,3925

And by him baited his destrér3926

Of herbës fine and good.

Himself drank water of the well,

As did the knight Sir Percivel,3927

So worthy under weed;

Till on a day⁠—

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