The Canterbury Tales, and Other Poems by Geoffrey Chaucer
page 471 of 1215 (38%)
page 471 of 1215 (38%)
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Hath set her heart on any manner wight,
If he be false, she shall his treason see, His newe love, and all his subtlety, So openly that there shall nothing hide. Wherefore, against this lusty summer-tide, This mirror, and this ring that ye may see, He hath sent to my lady Canace, Your excellente daughter that is here. The virtue of this ring, if ye will hear, Is this, that if her list it for to wear Upon her thumb, or in her purse it bear, There is no fowl that flyeth under heaven, That she shall not well understand his steven,* *speech, sound And know his meaning openly and plain, And answer him in his language again: And every grass that groweth upon root She shall eke know, to whom it will do boot,* *remedy All be his woundes ne'er so deep and wide. This naked sword, that hangeth by my side, Such virtue hath, that what man that it smite, Throughout his armour it will carve and bite, Were it as thick as is a branched oak: And what man is y-wounded with the stroke Shall ne'er be whole, till that you list, of grace, To stroke him with the flat in thilke* place *the same Where he is hurt; this is as much to sayn, Ye muste with the flatte sword again Stroke him upon the wound, and it will close. This is the very sooth, withoute glose;* *deceit It faileth not, while it is in your hold." |
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