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The Pardoner
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He and a gentle Pardoner rode together, |
| 690 | A bird from Charing Cross of the same feather, |
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Just back from visiting the Court of Rome. |
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He loudly sang “Come hither, love, come home!” |
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The Summoner sang deep seconds° to this song, |
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No trumpet ever sounded half so strong. |
| 695 | This Pardoner had hair as yellow as wax, |
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Hanging down smoothly like a hank of flax. |
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In driblets fell his locks behind his head |
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Down to his shoulders which they overspread; |
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Thinly they fell, like rat-tails, one by one. |
| 700 | He wore no hood upon his head, for fun; |
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The hood inside his wallet had been stowed, |
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He aimed at riding in the latest mode; |
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But for a little cap his head was bare |
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And he had bulging eye-balls, like a hare. |
| 705 | He’d sewed a holy relic° on his cap; |
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His wallet lay before him on his lap, |
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Brimful of pardons° come from Rome, all hot. |
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He had the same small voice a goat has got. |
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His chin no beard had harbored, nor would harbor, |
| 710 | Smoother than ever chin was left by barber. |
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I judge he was a gelding, or a mare. |
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As to his trade, from Berwick down to Ware |
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There was no pardoner of equal grace, |
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For in his trunk he had a pillow-case |
| 715 | Which he asserted was Our Lady’s veil. |
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He said he had a gobbet° of the sail |
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Saint Peter had the time when he made bold |
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To walk the waves, till Jesu Christ took hold. |
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He had a cross of metal set with stones |
| 720 | And, in a glass, a rubble of pigs’ bones. |
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And with these relics, any time he found |
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Some poor up-country parson to astound, |
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In one short day, in money down, he drew |
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More than the parson in a month or two, |
| 725 | And by his flatteries and prevarication° |
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Made monkeys of the priest and congregation. |
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But still to do him justice first and last |
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In church he was a noble ecclesiast.° |
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How well he read a lesson or told a story! |
| 730 | But best of all he sang an Offertory,° |
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For well he knew that when that song was sung |
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He’d have to preach and tune his honey-tongue |
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And (well he could) win silver from the crowd. |
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That’s why he sang so merrily and loud. |
| 735 | Now I have told you shortly, in a clause, |
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The rank, the array, the number, and the cause |
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Of our assembly in this company |
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In Southwark, at that high-class hostelry |
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Known as The Tabard, close beside The Bell. |
| 740 | And now the time has come for me to tell |
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How we behaved that evening; I’ll begin |
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After we had alighted at the Inn, |
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Then I’ll report our journey, stage by stage, |
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All the remainder of our pilgrimage. |
| 745 | But first I beg of you, in courtesy, |
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Not to condemn me as unmannerly |
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If I speak plainly and with no concealings |
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And give account of all their words and dealings, |
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Using their very phrases as they fell. |
| 750 | For certainly, as you all know so well, |
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He who repeats a tale after a man |
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Is bound to say, as nearly as he can, |
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Each single word, if he remembers it, |
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However rudely spoken or unfit, |
| 755 | Or else the tale he tells will be untrue, |
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The things pretended and the phrases new. |
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He may not flinch although it were his brother, |
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He may as well say one word as another. |
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And Christ Himself spoke broad in Holy Writ, |
| 760 | Yet there is no scurrility° in it, |
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And Plato says, for those with power to read, |
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“The word should be as cousin to the deed.” |
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Further I beg you to forgive it me |
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If I neglect the order and degree |
| 765 | And what is due to rank in what I’ve planned. |
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I’m short of wit as you will understand. |