The Canterbury Tales

Fragment VII

The Prioress's Tale

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Heere bigynneth the

Prioresses Tale.

A

Ther was in asye, in a greet citee,

Amonges cristene folk, a jewerye,

490

Sustened by a lord of that contree

For foule usure and lucre of vileynye,

Hateful to crist and to his compaignye;

And thurgh the strete men myghte ride or wende,

For it was free and open at eyther ende.

495

A litel scole of cristen folk ther stood

Doun at the ferther ende, in which ther were

Children an heep, ycomen of cristen blood,

That lerned in that scole yeer by yere

Swich manere doctrine as men used there,

500

This is to seyn, to syngen and to rede,

As smale children doon in hire childhede.

Among thise children was a wydwes sone,

A litel clergeon, seven yeer of age,

That day by day to scole was his wone,

505

And eek also, where as he saugh th' ymage

Of cristes mooder, hadde he in usage,

As hym was taught, to knele adoun and seye

His ave marie, as he goth by the weye.

Thus hath this wydwe hir litel sone ytaught

510

Oure blisful lady, cristes mooder deere,

To worshipe ay, and he forgat it naught,

For sely child wol alday soone leere.

But ay, whan I remembre on this mateere,

Seint nicholas stant evere in my presence,

515

For he so yong to crist dide reverence.

This litel child, his litel book lernynge,

As he sat in the scole at his prymer,

He alma redemptoris herde synge,

As children lerned hire antiphoner;

520

And as he dorste, he drough hym ner and ner,

And herkned ay the wordes and the noote,

Til he the firste vers koude al by rote.

Noght wiste he what this latyn was to seye,

For he so yong and tendre was of age.

525

But on a day his felawe gan he preye

T' expounden hym this song in his langage,

Or telle hym why this song was in usage;

This preyde he hym to construe and declare

Ful often tyme upon his knowes bare.

530

His felawe, which that elder was than he,

Answerde hym thus: this song, I have herd seye,

Was maked of our blisful lady free,

Hire to salue, and eek hire for to preye

Fo been oure help and socour whan we deye.

535

I kan namoore expounde in this mateere;

I lerne song, I kan but smal grammeere.

And is this song maked in reverence

Of cristes mooder? seyde this innocent.

Now, certes, I wol do my diligence

540

To konne it al er cristemasse be went.

Though that I for my prymer shal be shent,

And shall be beten thries in an houre,

I wol it konne oure lady for to honoure!

His felawe taughte hym homward prively,

545

For day to day, til he koude it by rote,

And thanne he song it wel and boldely,

Fro word to word, acordynge with the note.

Twies a day it passed thurgh his throte,

To scoleward and homward whan he wente;

550

On cristes mooder set was his entente.

As I have seyd, thurghout the juerie,

This litel child, as he cam to and fro,

Ful murily than wolde he synge and crie

O alma redemptoris everemo.

555

The swetnesse hath his herte perced so

Of cristes mooder that, to hire to preye,

He kan nat stynte of syngyng by the weye.

Oure firste foo, the serpent sathanas,

That hath in jues herte his waspes nest,

560

Up swal, and seide, o hebrayk peple, allas!

Is this to yow a thyng that is honest,

That swich a boy shal walken as hym lest

In youre despit, and synge of swich sentence,

Which is agayn youre lawes reverence?

565

Fro thennes forth the jues han conspired

This innocent out of this world to chace.

And homycide therto han they hyred,

That in an aleye hadde a privee place;

And as the child gan forby for to pace,

570

This cursed jew hym hente, and heeld hym faste,

And kitte his throute, and in a pit hym caste.

I seye that in a wardrobe they hym threwe

Where as thise jewes purgen hire entraille.

O cursed folk of herodes al newe,

575

What may youre yvel entente yow availle?

Mordre wol out, certeyn, it wol nat faille,

And namely ther th' onour of God shal sprede;

The blood out crieth on youre cursed dede.

O martir, sowded to virginitee,

580

Now maystow syngen, folwynge evere in oon

The white lamb celestial – quod she –

Of which the grete evaungelist, seint john,

In pathmos wroot, which seith that they that goon

Biforn this lamb, and synge a song al newe,

585

That nevere, flesshly, wommen they ne knewe.

This poure wydwe awaiteth al that nyght

After hir litel child, but he cam noght;

For which, as soone as it was dayes lyght,

With face pale of drede and bisy thoght,

590

She hath at scole and elleswhere hym soght,

Til finally she gan so fer espie

That he last seyn was in the juerie.

With moodres pitee in hir brest enclosed,

She gooth, as she were half out of hir mynde,

595

To every place where she hath supposed

By liklihede hir litel child to fynde;

And evere on cristes mooder meeke and kynde

She cride, and atte laste thus she wroghte:

Among the cursed jues she hym soghte.

600

She frayneth and she preyeth pitously

To every jew that dwelte in thilke place,

To telle hire if hir child wente oght forby.

They seyde nay; but jhesu, of his grace,

Yaf in hir thoght, inwith a litel space,

605

That in that place after hir sone she cryde,

Where he was casten in a pit bisyde.

O grete god, that parfournest thy laude

By mouth of innocentz, lo, heere thy myght!

This gemme of chastite, this emeraude,

610

And eek of martirdom the ruby bright,

Ther he with throte ykorven lay upright,

He alma redemptoris gan to synge

So loude that al the place gan to rynge.

The cristene folk that thurgh the strete wente

615

In coomen for to wondre upon this thyng,

And hastily they for the provost sente;

He cam anon withouten tariyng,

And herieth crist that is of hevene kyng,

And eek his mooder, honour of mankynde,

620

And after that the jewes leet he bynde.

This child with pitous lamentacioun

Up taken was, syngynge his song alway,

And with honour of greet processioun

They carien hym unto the nexte abbay.

625

His mooder swownynge by the beere lay;

Unnethe myghte the peple that was theere

This newe rachel brynge fro his beere.

With torment and with shameful deeth echon

This provost dooth thise jewes for to sterve

630

That of this mordre wiste, and that anon.

He nolde no swich cursednesse observe.

Yvele shal have that yvele wol deserve;

Therfore with wilde hors he dide hem drawe,

And after that he heng hem by the lawe.

635

Upon this beere ay lith this innocent

Biforn the chief auter, whil masse laste;

And after that, the abbot with his covent

Han sped hem for to burien hym ful faste;

And whan they hooly water on hym caste,

640

Yet spak this child, whan spreynd was hooly water,

And song o alma redemptoris mater!

This abbot, which that was an hooly man,

As monkes been – or elles oghte be –

This yonge child to conjure he bigan,

645

And seyde, o deere child, I halse thee,

In vertu of the hooly trinitee,

Tel me what is thy cause for to synge,

Sith that thy throte is kut to my semynge?

My throte is kut unto my nekke boon,

650

Seyde this child, and, as by wey of kynde,

I sholde have dyed, ye, longe tyme agon.

But jesu crist, as ye in bookes fynde,

Wil that his glorie laste and be in mynde,

And for the worship of his mooder deere

655

Yet may I synge o alma loude and cleere.

This welle of mercy, cristes mooder sweete,

I loved alwey, as after my konnynge;

And whan that I my lyf sholde forlete,

To me she cam, and bad me for to synge

660

This anthem verraily in my deyynge,

As ye han herd, and whan that I hadde songe,

Me thoughte she leyde a greyn upon my tonge.

Wherfore I synge, and synge moot certeyn,

In honour of that blisful mayden free,

665

Til fro my tonge of taken is the greyn;

And after that thus seyde she to me;

– My litel child, now wol I fecche thee,

Whan that the greyn is fro thy tonge ytake.

Be nat agast, I wol thee nat forsake. –

670

This hooly monk, this abbot, hym meene I,

His tonge out caughte, and took awey the greyn,

And he yaf up the goost ful softely.

And whan this abbot hadde this wonder seyn,

His salte teeris trikled doun as reyn,

675

And gruf he fil al plat upon the grounde,

And stille he lay as he had ben ybounde.

The covent eek lay on the pavement

Wepynge, and herying cristes mooder deere,

And after that they ryse, and forth been went,

680

And tooken awey this martir from his beere;

And in a tombe of marbul stones cleere

Enclosen they his litel body sweete.

Ther he is now, God leve us for to meete!

O yonge hugh of lyncoln, slayn also

685

With cursed jewes, as it is notable,

For it is but a litel while ago,

Preye eek for us, we synful folk unstable,

That, of his mercy, God so merciable

On us his grete mercy multiplie,

690

For reverence of his mooder marie. Amen

Heere is ended the

Prioress Tale.