The Canterbury Tales, and Other Poems by Geoffrey Chaucer
page 481 of 1215 (39%)
page 481 of 1215 (39%)
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A falcon peregrine seemed she,
Of fremde* land; and ever as she stood *foreign <28> She swooned now and now for lack of blood; Till well-nigh is she fallen from the tree. This faire kinge's daughter Canace, That on her finger bare the quainte ring, Through which she understood well every thing That any fowl may in his leden* sayn, **language <29> And could him answer in his leden again; Hath understoode what this falcon said, And well-nigh for the ruth* almost she died;. *pity And to the tree she went, full hastily, And on this falcon looked piteously; And held her lap abroad; for well she wist The falcon muste falle from the twist* *twig, bough When that she swooned next, for lack of blood. A longe while to waite her she stood; Till at the last she apake in this mannere Unto the hawk, as ye shall after hear: "What is the cause, if it be for to tell, That ye be in this furial* pain of hell?" *raging, furious Quoth Canace unto this hawk above; "Is this for sorrow of of death; or loss of love? For; as I trow,* these be the causes two; *believe That cause most a gentle hearte woe: Of other harm it needeth not to speak. For ye yourself upon yourself awreak;* *inflict Which proveth well, that either ire or dread* *fear Must be occasion of your cruel deed, |
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