The Canterbury Tales

But natheless, while I have time and space,
Ere that I farther in this talë pace,
Me thinketh it accordant to reasón,
To tell you allë the condition
Of each of them, so as it seemed me,
And which they weren, and of what degree;
And eke in what array that they were in:
And at a Knight then will I first begin.

A Knight there was, and that a worthy man,
That from the timë that he first began
To riden out, he loved chivalry,
Truth and honoúr, freedom and courtesy.
Full worthy was he in his Lordë’s war,
And thereto had he ridden, no man farre,13
As well in Christendom as in Heatheness,
And ever honour’d for his worthiness.
At Alisandre14 he was when it was won.
Full often time he had the board begun
Above allë natións in Prusse.15
In Lettowe had he reysed,16 and in Russe,
No Christian man so oft of his degree.
In Grenade at the siege eke had he be
Of Algesir,17 and ridden in Belmarie.18
At Leyës was he, and at Satalie,
When they were won; and in the Greatë Sea19
At many a noble army had he be.
At mortal battles had he been fifteen,
And foughten for our faith at Tramissene.20
In listës thriës, and aye slain his foe.
This ilkë21 worthy knight had been also
Some timë with the lord of Palatie,22
Against another heathen in Turkie:
And evermore he had a sovereign price.23
And though that he was worthy he was wise,
And of his port as meek as is a maid.
He never yet no villainy24 ne said
In all his life, unto no manner wight.
He was a very perfect gentle knight.
But for to tellë you of his array,
His horse was good, but yet he was not gay.
Of fustian he weared a gipon,
Allë besmotter’d with his habergeon,25
For he was late y-come from his voyáge,
And wentë for to do his pilgrimage.

With him there was his son, a youngë Squire,
A lover, and a lusty bacheler,
With lockës crulle26 as they were laid in press.
Of twenty year of age he was I guess.
Of his statúre he was of even length,
And wonderly deliver,27 and great of strength.
And he had been some time in chevachie,28
In Flanders, in Artois, and Picardie,
And borne him well, as of so little space,29
In hope to standen in his lady’s grace.
Embroider’d was he, as it were a mead
All full of freshë flowers, white and red.
Singing he was, or fluting all the day;
He was as fresh as is the month of May.
Short was his gown, with sleevës long and wide.
Well could he sit on horse, and fairë ride.
He couldë songës make, and well indite,
Joust, and eke dance, and well pourtray and write.
So hot he loved, that by nightertale30
He slept no more than doth the nightingale.
Courteous he was, lowly, and serviceable,
And carv’d before his father at the table.31