Whan that Aprill, with his shoures soote The droghte of March hath perced to the roote And bathed every veyne in swich licour, Of which vertu engendred is the flour; Whan Zephirus eek with his sweete breeth Inspired hath in every holt and heeth The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne Hath in the Ram his halfe cours yronne, And smale foweles maken melodye, That slepen al the nyght with open eye- (So priketh hem Nature in hir corages); Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages And palmeres for to seken straunge strondes To ferne halwes, kowthe in sondry londes; And specially from every shires ende Of Engelond, to Caunterbury they wende, The hooly blisful martir for the seke That hem hath holpen, whan that they were seeke.
Bifil that in that seson, on a day, In Southwerk at the Tabard as I lay Redy to wenden on my pilgrymage To Caunterbury with ful devout corage, At nyght was come into that hostelrye Wel nyne and twenty in a compaignye Of sondry folk, by aventure yfalle In felaweshipe, and pilgrimes were they alle, That toward Caunterbury wolden ryde. The chambres and the stables weren wyde, And wel we weren esed atte beste; And shortly, whan the sonne was to reste, So hadde I spoken with hem everichon That I was of hir felaweshipe anon, And made forward erly for to ryse To take our wey, ther as I yow devyse. But nathelees, whil I have tyme and space, Er that I ferther in this tale pace, Me thynketh it acordaunt to resoun To telle yow al the condicioun Of ech of hem, so as it semed me, And whiche they weren, and of what degree, And eek in what array that they were inne; And at a knyght than wol I first bigynne.
A KNYGHT ther was, and that a worthy man, That fro the tyme that he first bigan To riden out, he loved chivalrie, Trouthe and honour, fredom and curteisie. Ful worthy was he in his lordes werre, And therto hadde he riden, no man ferre, As wel in cristendom as in hethenesse, And evere honoured for his worthynesse. At Alisaundre he was, whan it was wonne. Ful ofte tyme he hadde the bord bigonne Aboven alle nacions in Pruce; In Lettow hadde he reysed, and in Ruce, No Cristen man so ofte of his degree. In Gernade at the seege eek hadde he be Of Algezir, and riden in Belmarye. At Lyeys was he and at Satalye, Whan they were wonne; and in the Grete See At many a noble armee hadde he be. At mortal batailles hadde he been fiftene, And foughten for oure feith at Tramyssene In lystes thries, and ay slayn his foo. This ilke worthy knyght hadde been also Somtyme with the lord of Palatye Agayn another hethen in Turkye.
And everemoore he hadde a sovereyn prys; And though that he were worthy, he was wys, And of his port as meeke as is a mayde. He nevere yet no vileynye ne sayde In al his lyf unto no maner wight. He was a verray, parfit gentil knyght. But, for to tellen yow of his array, His hors were goode, but he was nat gay. Of fustian he wered a gypon Al bismotered with his habergeoun, For he was late ycome from his viage, And wente for to doon his pilgrymage. With hym ther was his sone, a yong SQUIER, A lovyere and a lusty bacheler; With lokkes crulle, as they were leyd in presse. Of twenty yeer of age he was, I gesse. Of his stature he was of evene lengthe, And wonderly delyvere, and of greet strengthe. And he hadde been somtyme in chyvachie In Flaundres, in Artoys, and Pycardie, And born hym weel, as of so litel space, In hope to stonden in his lady grace. Embrouded was he, as it were a meede, Al ful of fresshe floures, whyte and reede; Syngynge he was, or floytynge, al the day, He was as fressh as is the monthe of May. Short was his gowne, with sleves longe and wyde. Wel koude he sitte on hors, and faire ryde.
‘When that April with his shower sweet The draught of March has pierced to the root And bathed every vein in such liquor Of which vertue engendered is the flour ...’
[1st ed.] WHan that Apprill with his shouris sote And the droughte of marche hath percid þe rote And badid euery veyne in suche licour Of whiche vertu engendrid is the flour 5 Whanne zepherus eke with his sote breth Enspirid hath in euery holte and heth The tendir croppis / and the yong sonne Hath in the ram half his cours y ronne And smale foulis make melodie 10 That slepyn al nyght with opyn ye So prikith hem nature in her corage Than longyng folk to gon on pilgremage And palmers to seche straunge londis To serue halowis couthe in sondry londis 15 And specially fro euery shiris ende Of yngelond to Cauntirbury thy wende The holy blisful martir forto seke That them hath holpyn when they were seke
[2nd ed.] WHan that Apryll wyth hys shouris sote The droughte of marche hath percyd the rote And bathyd euery veyne in suche lycour Of whyche vertue engendryd is the flour 5 Whanne Zepherus eke wyth hys sote breth Enspyrid hath in euery holte and heth The tendyr croppis / and the yong sonne Hath in the ram half hys cours y ronne And smale foulies make melodye 10 That slepyn al nyght wyth opyn eye So prykyth hem nature in her corages Than longyn folk to gon on pylgremages And palmers to seche straunge strondis To serue halowys couthe in sondry londis 15 And specyally fro euery shyris ende Of engelond to Cauntirbury thy wende The holy blysful martir for to seke That them hath holpyn when they were seke