Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=395630" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Canterbury Tales; The Prioresses Tale</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The prologe of the Prioresses tale.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Domine dominus noster.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O lord oure lord, thy name how merveillous<br>Is in this large world ysprad-quod she-<br>For noght oonly thy laude precious<br>Parfourned is by men of dignitee,<br>But by the mouth of children thy bountee<br>Parfourned is, for on the brest soukynge<br>Somtyme shewen they thyn heriynge.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Wherfore in laude, as I best kan or may,<br>Of thee, and of the whyte lylye flour<br>Which that the bar, and is a mayde alway,<br>To telle a storie I wol do my labour;<br>Nat that I may encreessen hir honour,<br>For she hirself is honour, and the roote<br>Of bountee, next hir sone, and soules boote.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O mooder mayde! O mayde mooder fre!<br>O bussh unbrent, brennynge in Moyses sighte,<br>That ravysedest doun fro the deitee<br>Thurgh thyn humblesse, the goost that in thalighte,<br>Of whos vertu, whan he thyn herte lighte,<br>Conceyved was the Fadres sapience,<br>Help me to telle it in thy reverence.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Lady, thy bountee, thy magnificence,<br>Thy vertu, and thy grete humylitee,<br>Ther may no tonge expresse in no science,<br>For somtyme, lady, er men praye to thee,<br>Thou goost biforn of thy benyngnytee<br>And getest us the lyght, thurgh thy preyere,<br>To gyden us unto thy sone so deere.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My konnyng is so wayk, O blisful queene,<br>For to declare thy grete worthynesse,<br>That I ne may the weighte nat susteene,<br>But as a child of twelf monthe oold, or lesse,<br>That kan unnethes any word expresse,<br>Right so fare I; and therfore I yow preye,<br>Gydeth my song that I shal of yow seye.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Heere begynneth the Prioresses Tale.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ther was in Asye, in a greet citee,<br>Amonges cristene folk a Jewerye,<br>Sustened by a lord of that contree<br>For foule usure and lucre of vileynye,<br>Hateful to Crist and to his compaignye,<br>And thurgh this strete men myghte ride or wende,<br>For it was free and open at eyther ende.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A litel scole of cristen folk ther stood<br>Doun at the ferther ende, in which ther were <br>Children an heep, ycomen of cristen blood,<br>That lerned in that scole yeer by yeer<br>Swich manere doctrine as men used there,<br>This is to seyn, to syngen and to rede,<br>As smale children doon in hir childhede.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Among thise children was a wydwes sone,<br>A litel clergeoun, seven yeer of age,<br>That day by day to scole was his wone,<br>And eek also, wher as he saugh thymage<br>Of Cristes mooder, he hadde in usage<br>As hym was taught, to knele adoun, and seye<br>His Ave Marie, as he goth by the weye.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thus hath this wydwe hir litel sone ytaught<br>Oure blisful lady, Cristes mooder deere,<br>To worshipe ay; and he forgate it naught,<br>For sely child wol alday soone leere.<br>But ay, whan I remembre on this mateere,<br>Seint Nicholas stant evere in my presence,<br>For he so yong to Crist dide reverence.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">This litel child, his litel book lernynge,<br>As he sat in the scole at his prymer,<br>He 'Alma redemptoris' herde synge<br>As children lerned hir anthiphoner;<br>And as he dorste, he drough hym ner and ner,<br>And herkned ay the wordes and the noote,<br>Til he the firste vers koude al by rote.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Noght wiste he what this Latyn was to seye,<br>For he so yong and tendre was of age,<br>But on a day his felawe gan he preye<br>Texpounden hym this song in his langage,<br>Or telle hym why this song was in usage;<br>This preyde he hym to construe and declare<br>Ful often tyme upon hise knowes bare.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">His felawe, which that elder was than he,<br>Answerde hym thus, 'This song, I have herd seye,<br>Was maked of oure blisful Lady free,<br>Hir to salue, and eek hir for to preye<br>To been our help, and socour whan we deye.<br>I kan namoore expounde in this mateere,<br>I lerne song, I kan but smal grammere.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'And is this song maked in reverence<br>Of Cristes mooder?' seyde this innocent.<br>'Now, certes, I wol do my diligence<br>To konne it al, er Cristemasse is went;<br>Though that I for my prymer shal be shent<br>And shal be beten thries in an houre,<br>I wol it konne, oure lady for to honoure.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">His felawe taughte hym homward prively<br>Fro day to day, til he koude it by rote;<br>And thanne he song it wel and boldely<br>Fro word to word acordynge with the note.<br>Twies a day it passed thurgh his throte,<br>To scoleward, and homward whan he wente;<br>On Cristes mooder set was his entente.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">As I have seyd, thurghout the Jewerie<br>This litel child, as he cam to and fro,<br>Ful murily than wolde he synge and crie<br>'O Alma redemptoris' evere-mo.<br>The swetnesse hath his herte perced so<br>Of Cristes mooder, that to hir to preye<br>He kan nat stynte of syngyng by the weye.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oure firste foo, the serpent Sathanas,<br>That hath in Jewes herte his waspes nest,<br>Up swal, and seyde, 'O Hebrayk peple, allas,<br>Is this to yow a thyng that is honest,<br>That swich a boy shal walken as hym lest<br>In youre despit, and synge of swich sentence,<br>Which is agayn oure lawes reverence?'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Fro thennes forth the Jewes han conspired<br>This innocent out of this world to chace.<br>An homycide therto han they hyred<br>That in an aleye hadde a privee place;<br>And as the child gan forby for to pace,<br>This cursed Jew hym hente and heeld hym faste,<br>And kitte his throte, and in a pit hym caste.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I seye that in a wardrobe they hym threwe,<br>Where as this Jewes purgen hire entraille.<br>O cursed folk of Herodes al newe,<br>What may youre yvel entente yow availle?<br>Mordre wol out, certeyn, it wol nat faille,<br>And namely ther thonour of God shal sprede,<br>The blood out crieth on youre cursed dede.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O matir, sowded to virginitee,<br>Now maystow syngen, folwynge evere in oon<br>The white lamb celestial-quod she-<br>Of which the grete Evaungelsit Seint John<br>In Pathmos wroot, which seith that they that goon<br>Biforn this lamb and synge a song al newe,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That never, fleshly, wommen they ne knewe.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">This povre wydwe awaiteth al that nyght<br>After hir litel child, but he cam noght;<br>For which, as soone as it was dayes light,<br>With face pale of drede and bisy thoght,<br>She hath at scole and elles-where hym soght,<br>Til finally she gan so fer espie,<br>That he last seyn was in the Jewerie.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">With moodres pitee in hir brest enclosed,<br>She gooth, as she were half out of hir mynde,<br>To every place where she hath supposed<br>By liklihede hir litel child to finde,<br>And evere on Cristes mooder, meeke and kynde<br>She cride, and atte laste thus she wroghte,<br>Among the cursed Jewes she hym soghte.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She frayneth, and she preyeth pitously<br>To every Jew that dwelte in thilke place,<br>To telle hir if hir child wente oght forby.<br>They seyde nay; but Jesu, of his grace,<br>Yaf in hir thoght, inwith a litel space,<br>That in that place after hir sone she cryde,<br>Wher he was casten in a pit bisyde.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O grete God, that parfournest thy laude<br>By mouth of innocentz, lo, heer thy myght!<br>This gemme of chastite, this emeraude,<br>And eek of martirdom the ruby bright,<br>Ther he with throte ykorven lay upright,<br>He 'Alma redemptoris' gan to synge<br>So loude, that al the place gan to rynge.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The cristene folk that thurgh the strete wente<br>In coomen, for to wondre upon this thyng,<br>And hastily they for the Provost sente.<br>He cam anon withouten tariyng,<br>And herieth Crist that is of hevene kyng,<br>And eek his mooder, honour of mankynde;<br>And after that, the Jewes leet he bynde.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">This child, with pitous lamentacioun,<br>Uptaken was, syngynge his song alway,<br>And with honour of greet processioun<br>They carien hym unto the nexte abbay;<br>His mooder swownynge by his beere lay,<br>Unnethe myghte the peple that was theere<br>This newe Rachel brynge fro his beere.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">With torment and with shameful deeth echon<br>This Provost dooth the Jewes for to sterve,<br>That of this mordre wiste, and that anon.<br>He nolde no swich cursednesse observe;<br>Yvele shal have that yvele wol deserve.<br>Therfore with wilde hors he dide hem drawe,<br>And after that he heng hem, by the lawe.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Upon his beere ay lith this innocent<br>Biforn the chief auter, whil masse laste,<br>And after that, the abbot with his covent<br>Han sped hem for to burien hym ful faste,<br>And whan they hooly water on hym caste,<br>Yet spak this child, whan spreynd was hooly water,<br>And song 'O Alma redemptoris mater.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">This abbot, which that was an hooly man,<br>As monkes been-or elles oghte be-<br>This yonge child, 'and, as by wey of kynde,<br>I sholde have dyed, ye, longe tyme agon,<br>But Jesu Crist, as ye in bookes fynde,<br>Wil that his glorie laste and be in mynde,<br>And for the worship of his mooder deere,<br>Yet may I synge 'O Alma' loude and cleere.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">This welle of mercy, Cristes mooder swete,<br>I loved alwey as after my konnynge;<br>And whan that I my lyf sholde forlete,<br>To me she cam, and bad me for to synge<br>This antheme, verraily, in my deyynge,<br>As ye han herd, and whan that I hadde songe,<br>Me thoughte she leyde a greyn upon my tonge.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Wherfore I synge, and synge I moot certeyn<br>In honour of that blisful mayden free,<br>Til fro my tonge oftaken is the greyn.<br>And afterward thus seyde she to me,<br>`My litel child, now wol I fecche thee,<br>Whan that the greyn is fro thy tonge ytake;<br>Be nat agast, I wol thee nat forsake.''</div><div style="margin:10px 0">This hooly monk, this Abbot, hym meene I,<br>His tonge out-caughte, and took awey the greyn,<br>And he yaf up the goost ful softely;<br>And whan this Abbot hadde this wonder seyn,<br>Hise salte teeris trikled doun as reyn,<br>And gruf he fil al plat upon the grounde,<br>And stille he lay, as he had been ybounde.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The covent eek lay on the pavement,<br>Wepynge, and heryen Cristes mooder deere.<br>And after that they ryse, and forth been went,<br>And tooken awey this martir from his beere,<br>And in a temple of marbul stones cleere<br>Enclosen they his litel body sweete.<br>Ther he is now, God leve us for to meete!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O yonge Hugh of Lyncoln, slayn also<br>With cursed Jewes, as it is notable,<br>For it nis but a litel while ago,<br>Preye eek for us, we synful folk unstable,<br>That of his mercy God so merciable<br>On us his grete mercy multiplie,<br>For reverence of his mooder Marie. Amen.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Heere is ended the Prioresses Tale.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Geoffrey+Chaucer">Geoffrey Chaucer</a><div class=q>
<img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share">
<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=395630" data-title="The Canterbury Tales; The Prioresses Tale de Geoffrey Chaucer" data-description="The prologe of the Prioresses tale./Domine dominus noster./O lord oure lord, thy name how merveillous/Is in this large world ysprad-quod she-/For noght oonly thy laude precious/Parfourned is by men of dignitee,/But by the mouth of children thy bou..."></div>
</div>
</div>