Title: The flower and the leaf
Illustrator: Edith Harwood
Author: Anonymous
Release date: February 27, 2026 [eBook #78062]
Language: English
Original publication: London: Edward Arnold, 1902
Credits: Mairi and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)
[1]
When that Phebus his chaire of gold so hie
Hadde whirled up the sterrie sky alofte,
And in the Boole was entred certainely:
When shoures sweet of raine discended softe,
Causing the ground, fele times & ofte,
Up for to give many an wholesome aire,
And every plaine was eke yclothed faire
With newe green, and maketh smalle floures
To springen here and there in field & mede;
So very good & wholsome be the shoures,
That it renueth that was old and dede
In winter time; and out of every sede
Springeth the hearbe, so that every wight
Of this season wexeth ful glad and light.
[2]
And I, so glad of the season thus swete,
Was happed thus upon a certaine nighte:
As I lay in my bed, sleepe ful unmete
Was unto me, but why that I ne mighte
Rest, I ne wiste; for there nas earthly wight,
As I suppose, hadde more heartes ease
Than I, for I nadde sicknesse nor disease.
Wherefore I mervaile greatly of myselfe,
That I withouten sleepe so longe lay;
And up I rose three houres after twelfe,
Aboute the springing of the day,
And on I putte my geare and mine array,
And to a pleasaunt grove I gan to passe,
Long or the brighte Sonne uprisen was;
[3]
In which were okes great, streight as a line,
Under the which the grasse, so fresh of hewe,
Was newly sprong; and an eight foot or nine
Every tree well fro his fellow grew,
With branches brode, lade with leves newe,
That sprongen out ayen the sunne shene,
Some very red and some a glad light grene;
Which, as me thoughte, was right a plesant sight;
And eke the briddes songes for to here
Would have rejoiced any earthly wight;
And I, that couthe not yet, in no manere,
Heare the nightingale of all the year,
Ful busily herkened with hart & eare,
If I her voice perceive coud any where.
[4]
And, at the last, a path of little breede
I found, that greatly hadde not used be;
For it forgrowen was with grasse & weede,
That well unneth a wight ne might it se:
Thoght I, ‘This path some whider goth, pardé!’
And so I followede, till it me broughte
To right a pleasaunt herber, well ywrought,
That benched was, & eke with turfes new
Freshly turved, whereof the grene gras,
So small, so thicke, so short, so fresh of hewe,
That most ylike greene wool, I wot, it was:
The hegge also that yede in this compas,
And closed in all the green herbere,
With sicamour was set and eglatere,
[5]
Wrethen in fere so well and cunningly,
That every branch & leafe grew by mesure,
Plaine as a bord, of oon height by & by.
I ne segh never thing, I you ensure,
So well y-done; for he that tooke the cure
It for to make, Y trow did all his peine
To make it passe alle tho that men have seine.
And shapen was this herber, roofe and all,
As is a prety parlour; & also
The hegge as thicke as is a castle wall,
That who that list withoute to stond or go,
Though he would all day prien to and fro,
He shoulde not see if there were any wighte
Within or no; but one within wel mighte.
[6]
Perceive Alle tho that yeden there withoute
Into the field, that was on every side
Covered with corne & grasse; that out of doubt,
Though one woulde seeke all the worlde wide,
So rich a fielde ne coude not be espide
On any coast, as of the quantitie;
For of alle good thing there was plentie.
And I that all this pleasaunt sight ay sie,
Thought sodainly I felte so sweete an aire
Com of the eglentere, that certainely
There is no heart, I deme, in such dispaire,
Ne with no thoughtes froward and contraire
So overlaid, but it shoulde soone have bote,
If it had ones felt this savour sote.
[7]
And as I stood & cast aside mine eie,
I was of ware the fairest medler tree,
That ever yet in all my life I sie,
As full of blossomes as it mighte be;
Therein a goldfinch leaping pretile
Fro bough to bough; and, as him list, gan eete
Of buddes here and there and floures sweete.
And to the herber side ther was joyninge
This faire tree, of which I have you told;
And at the last the brid began to singe,
When he had eaten what he eate wolde,
So passing sweetly, that by manifolde
It was more pleasaunt than I coude devise.
And when his song was ended in this wise,
[8]
The nightingale with so mery a note
Answered him, that all the woode rong
So sodainly, that, as it were a sote,
I stood astonied; so was I with the song
Thorow ravished, that till late and longe,
Ne wist I in what place I was, ne where;
And ay, me thoughte, she song even by mine ere.
Wherefore about I waited busily,
On every side, if that I her mighte see;
And, at the last, I gan full well aspie
Where she sat in a fresh grene laurer tree,
On the further side, even right by me,
That gave so passing a delicious smell,
According to the eglentere full well.
[9]
Whereof I hadde so inly great pleasure,
That, as me thought, I surely ravished was
Into Paradice, where as my desire
Was for to be, and no ferther to passe
As for that day; and on the sote grasse
I sat me downe; for, as for mine entent,
The birddes song was more convenient,
And more pleasaunt to me by many fold,
Than meat or drinke, or any other thing.
Therto the herber was so fresh and cold,
The wholesome savours eke so comforting,
That, as I demede, sith the beginning
Of thilke world was never seene or than
So pleasaunt a ground of none earthly man.
[10]
And as I sat, the birddes harkening thus,
Me thoughte that I hearde voices sodainly,
The most sweetest & most delicious
That ever any wight, I trow truly,
Heard in here life; for sothe the armony
And sweet accord was in so good musike,
That the voices to angels most was like.
And at the last, out of a grove faste by,
That was right goodly & pleasant to sight,
I sie where there came, singing lustily,
A world of ladies; but, to tell aright
Here grete beautie, it lieth not in my might,
Ne here array; neverthelesse I shalle
Telle you a part, though I speake not of alle.
[11]
The surcotes white, of velvet wele sitting,
They were in clad, & the semes echone,
As it were a maner garnishing,
Was set with emeraudes, one and one.
But by and by ful many a riche stone
Was set on the purfiles, out of doute,
Of colors, sleves, and traines round aboute.
As greate pearles, round & oriente,
Diamondes fine, and rubies rede
And many another stone, of which I wente
The names now; and everich on her heade
A riche fret of gold, which, withoute dreade,
Was full of stately riche stones set;
And every lady had a chapelet.
[12]
Upon her head of floures fresh and greene
So wele ywrought & so mervellously,
That soth it was a noble sight to seene;
Some of laurer, and some full pleasantly
Hadde chapelets of woodbind, and sadly
Some of agnus castus were also
Chapelets freshe; but there were many tho
That song & daunced, ekeful soberly,
And all they yede in manner of compace;
But one there yede in mid the company,
Soole by herselfe; but alle followede the pace
Which that she kepte, whose heavenely faire face
So pleasaunt was, and her wele shape person,
That of beautie she past hem everichone.
[13]
And more richly beseene, by manifold,
She was also in every maner thing:
Upon her head, full pleasaunt to beholde,
A crowne of gold riche for any kinge:
A braunch of agnus castus eke bearing
In her hand; and to my sight truly,
She lady was of al the company.
And she began a roundell lustely,
That ‘Suse le foyle, devers moy,’ men calle,
‘Seen et mon joly cuer est endormy;’
And than the company answered alle,
With voices sweet entuned, and so smalle
That it me thoughte the sweetest melody
That ever I heard in my life soothly.
[14]
And thus they came, dauncing & singing
Into the middest of the mede echone,
Before the herber where I was sitting;
And, God wot, me thought I was wel bigone;
For then I might avise hem one by one,
Who fairest was, who coude best dance or singe,
Or who most womanly was in alle thinge.
They hadde not daunced but a little throwe,
When that I hearde not ferre off sodainely,
So great a noise of thundering trumpes blow,
As though it should have departed the skie;
And, after that, within a while I sie,
From the same grove where the ladies come oute,
Of men of armes coming such a route,
[15]
As alle the men on earth hadde ben assembled
In that place, wele horsed for the nones,
Stering so faste, that al the earth trembled:
But for to speake of riches and of stones,
And men and horse, I trow the large wones
Of Prestir John, ne all his tresorie,
Mighte not unneth have boght the tenth partie
Of here array: who so list heare more,
I shall rehearse so as I can a lite.
Out of the grove, that I of spake before,
I sie come first, all in here clokes white,
A company, that ware, for here delite,
Chapelets fresh of okes serialle,
Newly yspronge, and trumpets they were alle.
[16]
On every trumpe hanging a broad banere
Of fine tartarium ful richely bete;
Every trumpet his lordes armes bere;
About here neckes, with greate pearles sete,
Colleres brode; for cost they woulde not lete,
As it woulde seeme, for here scochones echone
Were set aboute with many a precious stone.
Here horse harneis was all white also.
And after hem next, in one company,
Came kinges of armes, & no mo,
In clokes of white cloth of gold richly;
Chapelets of greene on here heades on hie;
The crownes that they on here scochones bere,
Were set with pearle, ruby, and saphere,
[17]
And eke great diamondes many one:
But all here horse harneis & other geare
Was in a sute accordinge, everychone,
As ye have heard the foresaid trumpets were;
And, by seeming, they were nothing to lere,
And here guiding they dide so manerly.
And, after hem, came a great company
Of heraudes and pursevauntes eke,
Arrayed in clothes of whit velvette,
And, hardily, they were no thing to seke,
How they on hem shoulde the harneis sette;
And every man had on a chapelet;
Scochones and eke horse harneis, indede,
They had in sute of hem that before hem yede.
[18]
Next after hem camen, in armour bright
All save here heades, seemely knightes nine;
And every claspe and naile, as to my sight,
Of here harneis were of red golde fine;
With cloth of gold, and furred with ermine
Were the trappores of here stedes strong,
Wide and large, that to the ground dide honge.
And every bosse of bridle & paitrell
That hadde they, was worth, as I woulde wene,
A thousand pound; and on here heades, well
Dressed, were crowns of laurer grene,
The best ymade that ever I hadde sene;
And every knight had after him riding
Three henshemen on him ay awaiting.
[19]
Of which every first, on a short tronchoun,
His lordes helme bare, so richly dight,
That the worst was worth the ransoun
Of any king; the second a shield bright
Bare at his backe; the thridde bare upright
A mightie spere, full sharpe yground and kene,
And every child eke ware of leaves grene
A fresh chapelet upon his haires brighte:
And clokes white of fine velvet they were;
Here steedes trapped & arraied righte,
Withoute difference, as here lordes were;
And after hem, on many a fresh corsere,
There came of armede knightes such a route,
That they bespradde the large field aboute.
[20]
And all they ware, after here degrees,
Chapelets newe made of laurer grene;
Some of the oke, and some of other trees,
Some in here hondes bare boughes shene,
Some of laurer, and some of okes kene,
Some of hauthorne, and some of the woodbind,
And many mo which I hadde not in mind.
And so they came, here horses freshly stering
With bloodie sownes of her trompes loude;
There sie I many an uncouth disguising
In the array of these knightes proude;
And at the last, as evenly as they coude,
They took here places in middes of the mede,
And every knight turned his horse hede
[21]
To his fellow, & lightly laid a spere
In the arest; & so justes began
On every part abouten, here & there;
Some brake his spere, some drew down hors & manne;
Aboute the field astray the steedes ranne;
And, to behold here rule and governaunce,
I you ensure, it was a great pleasaunce.
And so the justes last an houre and more;
But tho that crowned were in laurer grene
Wanne the prise; here dintes were so sore,
That there was none ayenst hem mighte sustene:
And the justing all was yleft off clene,
And fro here horse the ninth alight anone,
And so did all the remnant everichone.
[22]
And forth they yede togider, twain and twain,
That to behold it was a worthy sight,
Toward the ladies on the greene plaine,
That song & daunced, as I saide now righte:
The ladies tho, soone as they goodly mighte,
They braken of bothe the song and dance,
And yede to meet hem with ful glad semblance.
And every lady tooke, full womanly,
By the right hond a knight, & forth they yede
Unto a faire laurer that stood fast by,
With leves lade, the boughes of great brede;
And to my dome there never was, indede,
Man that hadde seene halfe so faire a tree;
For underneath there might it well have be
[23]
An hundred persons, at here owne plesance,
Shadowed fro the heat of Phebus bright,
So that they shoulden have felt no grevaunce
Of raine ne haile that hem ne hurte mighte.
The savour eke rejoice would any wighte
That hadde be sicke or melancolius,
It was so very good and vertuous.
And with great reverence encline they lowe
To thilke tree so soot, and faire of hewe;
And after that, within a little throwe,
They beganne to singe and daunce of newe
Some song of love, some plaining of untrewe,
Envirouninge the tree that stood upright;
And ever yede a lady and a knight.
[24]
[25]
[26]
And at the last mine eye I caste aside,
And was ware of a lustie company
That came roming out of the field wide,
Hond in hond a knight and a lady;
The ladies all in surcotes, that richely
Purfiled were with many a rich stone,
And every knight of grene ware mantles on,
Embrouded well so as the surcotes were:
And everich had a chapelet on her hede,
Which dide right well upon the shining here
I-made of goodly floures white and rede;
The knightes eke, that they in hond gan lede,
In sute of hem ware chapelets everychone,
And before hem wente minstrels many one.
[27]
As harpes, pipes, lutes, and sautry,
All in greene; and on here heades bare,
Of divers floures, made full craftely,
All in a sute, goodly chapelets they ware;
And, so dauncing, into the mede they fare.
In mid the which they found a tuft that was
Al oversprad with floures in compas.
Whereto they enclined everychone
With great reverence, and that full humbly;
And, at the laste, there began anone
A lady for to singe right womanly
A bargaret in praising the daisie;
For, as me thought, among her notes swete,
She said ‘Si douse est la Margarete.’
[28]
Than they all answered her in fere,
So passingly well, & so plesauntly,
That soth it was a blisfull noise to here.
But, I not how, it happede suddainly
As aboute noone, the sonne so fervently
Waxe hote, that the pretie tendre floures
Hadde lost the beautie of her freshe colours,
Forshronke with heat; the ladies eke to-brent,
That they ne wiste where hem to bestowe;
The knightes swelte, for lack of shade nie shent;
And after that, within a little throwe,
The wind began so sturdily to blowe,
That down goeth alle the floures everichone,
So that in all the mede there laft not one;
[29]
Save such as succoured were among the leves
Fro every storme that mighte hem assaile,
Growing under hedges and thicke greves;
And after that there came a storme of haile
And raine in fere, so that, withouten faile,
The ladies ne the knightes nade o threed
Drie upon hem, so dropping was her weed.
And whan the storm was cleane passed away,
Tho clad in white that stoode under the tree,
They felte nothing of the great affray,
That they in greene without had in ybe;
To hem they yede for routhe and pité,
Hem to comfort after here greate disease,
So faine they were the helplesse for to ease.
[30]
Than was I ware how one of hem in grene
Had on a crowne, ful rich and wel sitting;
Wherefore I demed wel she was a quene,
And tho in greene on her were awaiting;
The ladies then in white that were comming
Towardes hem, and the knightes in fere,
Beganne hem to comfort, and make hem chere.
The queen in white, that was of great beauty,
Tooke by the hond the queen that was in grene,
And said, ‘Suster, I have right great pitie
Of your annoy, and of the troublous tene,
Wherein ye and your company have bene
So long, alas! and if that it you please
To go with me, I shall do you the ease,
[31]
In all the pleasure that I can or may;’
Whereof the tother, humbly as she mighte,
Thanked her; for in right ill array
She was with storm and heat, I you behighte;
And every lady, then anone right,
That were in white, one of hem took in grene
By the hond; which when the knightes hadde sene,
In like wise ech of hem tooke hir a knight
I-clad in greene, & forth with hem they fare,
Unto an hegge, where they anon gan right
To make here justes, woulde they not spare
Boughes to hewe down, and eke trees square,
Wherwith they made hem stately fires greate,
To dry here clothes that were wringing weate.
[32]
And after that, of hearbes that there grewe,
They made, for blisters of the sunne brenning,
Very good & wholesome ointmentes newe,
Where that they yede the sicke fast anointing;
And after that they yede aboute gadering
Pleasaunt salades, which they made hem eate,
For to refresh here greate unkindly heate.
The lady of the Leafe then gan to praye
Her of the Floure (for so to my seeming
They shoulde be, as by here arraye)
To soupe with her, & eek, for any thing,
That she shoulde with her all her people bringe;
And she ayen, in right goodly manere,
Thanketh her of her most friendly cheare,
[33]
Saying plainely, that she would obaye
With all her hart all her commaundement;
And then, anon, withoute lenger delaye,
The lady of the Leafe hath one ysent
For a palfray, as after her intent,
Arrayed well and faire in harneis of golde,
For nothing lacked, that to him long sholde.
And after that, to all her company
She made to purvey horse and every thing
That they needed; & then ful lustily,
Even by the herber where I was sitting,
They passed alle, so pleasantly singing,
That it would have comforted any wight.
But then I sie a passing wonder sight;
[34]
For then the nightingale, that all the day
Had in the laurer sete, & did her might
The whole service to singe longing to May,
All sodainly began to take her flight;
And to the lady of the Leafe, forthright,
She flew, and set her on her hond softly,
Which was a thing I marveled of greatly.
The goldfinch eke, that fro the medler tree
Was fled for heat into the bushes colde,
Unto the lady of the Flower gan flee,
And on her hond he set him as he wolde,
And pleasauntly his winges gan to folde;
And for to singe they pained hem both, as sore
As they hadde do of all the day before.
[35]
And so these ladies rode forth a great pace,
And all the rout of knightes eke in fere;
And I that hadde seene all this wonder case,
Thought I would assay in some manere,
To knowe fully the trouth of this matere;
And what they were that rode so pleasantly.
And when they were the herber passed by,
I dreste me forth, and happede to mete anone
Right a faire lady, I you ensure;
And she come riding by herselfe alone,
All in white; with semblance ful demure
I salued her, and bad her good aventure
Might her befall, as I coude most humbly;
And she answered, ‘My doughter, gramercy!’
[36]
‘Madame,’ quod I, ‘if that I durst enquere
Of you, I woulde faine, of that company,
Wite what they be that paste by this arbere?’
And she ayen answerede right friendly:
‘My faire doughter, all tho that passed here by
In white clothing, be servaunts everichone
Unto the Leafe, and I myselfe am one.
See ye not her that crowned is,’ quod she,
‘All in white?’—‘Madame,’ quod I, ‘yis:’
‘That is Diané, goddesse of chastité;
And for because that she a maiden is,
In her own hond the braunch she beareth iwis,
That agnus castus men calle properly;
And all the ladies in her company,
[37]
Which as ye se of that hearb chapelets weare,
Be such as han kept alway hir maidenheed:
And alle they that of laurer chapelets beare,
Be such as hardy were, and manly indeed,
Victorious name which never may be dede!
And alle they were so worthy of here honde,
That in her time none might hem withstonde.
And tho that weare chaplets on here hede
Of fresh woodbind, be such as never were
To love untrue in word, in thought, ne dede,
But aye stedfast; ne for pleasaunce, ne fere,
Thogh that they shuld here hertes al to-tere,
Woulde ne flitte, but ever were stedfaste,
Til that here lives there asunder braste.’
[38]
‘Now faire madame,’ quod I, ‘yet would I pray
Your ladiship, if that it mighte be,
That I mighte knowe, by some maner way,
(Sith that it hath i-liked your beauté,
The trouth of these ladies for to telle me);
What that these knightes be in rich armour,
And what tho be in grene and weare the flour?
And why that some dide reverence to the tre,
And some unto the plot of floures faire?’
‘With right good will, my fair doghter,’ quod she,
‘Sith your desire is good and debonaire;
Tho nine crowned be very exemplaire
Of all honour longing to chivalry;
And those certaine be called the Nine Worthy,
[39]
Which ye may see now riding all before
That in her time dide many a noble dede,
And for here worthinesse full oft have bore
The crowne of laurer leaves on here hede,
As ye may in your olde bookes rede;
And how that he that was a conquerour,
Hadde by laurer alway his most honour.
And tho that beare bowes in here honde
Of the precious laurer so notable,
Be such as were, I woll ye understonde,
Noble knightes of the rounde table,
And eke the Douseperis honourable,
Which they bearen in signe of victory;
It is witnesse of here deedes mightily.
[40]
Eke there be knightes old of the garter,
That in her time dide right worthily;
And the honour they dide to the laurer,
Is for by it they have here laud wholly,
Here triumph eke, and marshall glory;
Which unto hem is more parfit richesse,
Than any wight imagine can or gesse.
For one leafe given of that noble tree
To any wight that hath done worthily,
And it be done so as it oughte to be,
Is more honour than anything earthly;
Witnesse of Rome that founder was truly
Of all knighthood and deedes marvelous;
Record I take of Titus Livius.
[41]
And as for her that crowned is in greene,
It is Flora, of these floures goddesse;
And all that here on her awaiting beene,
It are such folk that loved idelnesse,
And not delite hadde of no businesse,
But for to hunt and hauke, and pley in medes,
And many other such idle dedes.
And for the greate delite and pleasaunce
They have to the floure, and so reverently
They unto it do such grete obeisaunce
As ye may se.’—‘Now faire Madame,’ quod I,
‘If I durst aske what is the cause and why,
That knightes have the signe of honour,
Wel rather by the leafe than by the flour?’
[42]
‘Soothly, doughter,’ quod she, ‘this is the trouth:
For knightes ever should be persevering,
To seeke honour without feintise or slouth,
Fro wele to better in all manner thing;
In signe of which, with leaves aye lasting
They be rewarded after here degré,
Whose lusty green may not appaired be,
But aie keping here beautie fresh & greene;
For there nis storme that ne may hem deface,
Ne haile nor snow, ne winde nor frostes kene;
Wherfore they have this propertie and grace.
And for the floure, within a little space
Woll be i-lost, so simple of nature
They be, that they no greevance may endure;
[43]
And every storme will blow hem soone awaye,
Ne laste they not but for oon season;
That is the cause, the very trouth to saye,
That they maye not, by no way of reason,
Be put to no such occupation.’
‘Madame,’ quod I, ‘with all mine whole servise
I thanke you now, in my most humble wise;
For now I am acertained throughly,
Of every thing I desired to knowe.’
‘I am right glad that I have said, sothly,
Ought to your pleasure, if ye wille me trowe,’
Quod she ayen, ‘but to whom do ye owe
Your service? and which wolle ye honoure,
Tel me I pray, this yere, the Leafe or the Floure?’
[44]
‘Madame,’ quod I, ‘though I be least worthy,
Unto the Leafe I owe mine observaunce’:
‘That is,’ quod she, ‘right well done certainly;
And pray I God to honour you avaunce,
And kepe you fro the wicked remembraunce
Of Malebouch, and all his crueltie,
And all that good and well conditioned be.
For here may I no lenger now abide,
I muste followe the greate company,
That ye maye see yonder before you ride.’
And tho forth, as I couthe, most humbly,
I tooke my leve of her, as she gan hie
After hem as fast as ever she mighte;
And I drow homeward, for it was nigh nighte,
[45]
And put all that I hadde seene in writing,
Under support of hem that lust it to rede.
O little booke, thou art so unconning,
How darst thou put thyself in prees, for drede?
It is wonder that thou wexest not rede!
Sith that thou wost full lite who shall beholde
Thy rude language, ful boistously unfolde.
HERE ENDS CHAUCER’S FLOWER AND THE LEAF. PRINTED AT THE ESSEX HOUSE PRESS UNDER THE CARE OF C. R. ASHBEE. THE ORNAMENTAL LETTERS HAVE BEEN DRAWN AND COLOURED IN BY EDITH HARWOOD. MDCCCCII.
Published in England by Edward Arnold, 37 Bedford Street, Strand, and in America by Samuel Buckley & Co., 100 William Street, New York.
165 copies only, and all on vellum. This copy is No. 138.