Classic Poem

At Trumpingtoun, not fer fro Cantebrigge,
Ther goth a brook, and over that a brigge,
Upon the whiche brook ther stant a melle,
And — this is verray sooth that I you telle —
A millere was ther dwelling many a day.
As any pecok he was proud and gay;
Pipen he coude, and fishe, and nettes beete,
And turne cuppes, and wel wrastle and sheete;
And by his belt he bar a long panade,
And of a swerd ful trenchant was the blade.
A joly poppere bar he in his pouche —
Ther was no man for peril dorste him touche —
A Sheffeld thwitel bar he in his hose.
Round was his face and camuse was his nose;
As piled as an ape was his skulle.
He was a market-betere atte fulle:
Ther dorste no wight hand upon him legge
That he ne swor he sholde anon abegge.
A theef he was forsoothe of corn and mele,
And that a sly, and usaunt for to stele.
His name was hote " deynous Simekin".
A wif he hadde, y-comen of noble kin:
The person of the town hir fader was.
With hir he yaf ful many a panne of bras
For that Simkin sholde in his blood allye.
She was y-fostred in a nonnerye;
For Simkin wolde no wif, as he saide,
But she were wel y-norissed and a maide,
To saven his estaat of yomanrye.
And she was proud and pert as is a pye.
A ful fair sighte was it upon hem two:
On halydayes biforn hir wolde he go
With his tipet bounde aboute his heed,
And she cam after in a gyte of reed,
And Simekin hadde hosen of the same —
Ther dorste no wight clepen hir but " dame".
Was non so hardy that wente by the waye
That with hir dorste rage or ones playe,
But if he wolde be slayn of Simekin
With panade or with knif or boidekin;
For jalous folk been perilous everemo —
Algate they wolde her wives wenden so!
And eek, for she was somdel smoterlich,
She was as digne as water in a dich,
And ful of hoker and of bisemare.
Hir thoughte that a lady sholde hir spare,
What for hir kinrede and hir nortelrye
That she hadde lerned in the nonnerye.
A doughter hadde they bitwixe hem two
Of twenty yeer, withouten any mo
Savinge a child that was of half yeer age;
In cradel it lay and was a propre page.
This wenche thikke and wel y-growen was,
With camuse nose and eyen greye as glas,
Buttokes brode, and brestes rounde and hye;
But right fair was hir heer — I wil not lye.
This person of the town, for she was feir,
In purpos was to maken hir his heir
Bothe of his catel and his mesuage,
And straunge he made it of hir mariage.
His purpos was for to bestowe hir hye
Into som worthy blood of auncetrye —
For holy chirches good mot been despended
On holy chirches blood that is descended —
Therfore he wolde his holy blood honoure,
Though that he holy chirche sholde devoure.
Greet sokene hath this millere, out of doute,
With whete and malt of al the land aboute,
And nameliche ther was a greet collegge
Men clepen the Soler Halle at Cantebregge;
Ther was her whete and eek her malt y-grounde.
And on a day it happed in a stounde
Sik lay the maunciple on a maladye;
Men wenden wisly that he sholde dye.
For which this millere stal bothe mele and corn
An hundred time more than biforn;
For ther-biforn he stal but curteisly,
But now he was a theef outrageously;
For which the wardeyn chidde and made fare,
But therof sette the millere not a tare,
And craketh bost and swor it was not so.
Thenne were ther yonge povre clerkes two
That dwelten in this halle of which I saye;
Testif they were and lusty for to playe,
And, only for her mirthe and reverye,
Upon the wardeyn bisily they crye
To yeve hem leve but a litel stounde
To gon to mille and seen her corn y-grounde;
And hardily they dorste laye her nekke
The millere sholde not stele hem half a pekke
Of corn by sleighte, ne by force hem reve;
And at the laste the wardeyn yaf hem leve.
John highte that oon and Alayn highte that other;
Of a town were they born, that highte Strother,
Fer in the north — I can not telle where.
This Alayn maketh redy al his gere,
And on an hors the sak he caste anon.
Forth goth Alayn the clerk and also John
With good swerd and with bokeler by her side.
John knew the way — hem nedede no gide —
And at the mille the sak adown he layth.
Alayn spak first: " Al hail, Simond, i fayth!
How fares thy faire doughter and thy wif?"
" Alayn, welcome", quod Simkin, " by my lif!
And John also. How now, what do ye heer?"
" Simond," quod John, " by God, nede has na peer:
Him boes serve himselve that has na swayn,
Or elles he is a fool, as clerkes sayn.
Oure manciple, I hope he wil be deed,
Swa werkes ay the wanges in his heed;
And for-thy is I come, and eek Alayn,
To grinde oure corn and carye it ham agayn.
I pray you spede us heythen that ye may."
" It shal be don", quod Simkin, " by my fay!
What wil ye don whil that it is in hande?"
" By God, right by the hoper wil I stande",
Quod John, " and see howgates the corn gas in.
Yet saugh I nevere, by my fader kin!
How that the hoper wagges til and fra."
Alayn answerde: " John, and wilt thou swa?
Thenne wil I be binethe, by my crown!
And see how that the mele falles down
Into the trough; that sal be my disport.
For John, i faith, I may been of youre sort:
I is as ille a millere as ar ye."
This millere smiled of her nicetee
And thoughte: " Al this n'is doon but for a wile:
They wene that no man may hem begile.
But, by my thrift, yet shal I blere her eye
For al the sleighte in her philosophye!
The more queinte crekes that they make,
The more wil I stele when I take:
In stede of flour yet wil I yeve hem bren.
" The gretteste clerkes been nought wisest men " ,
As whilom to the wolf thus spak the mare.
Of al her art ne counte I nought a tare."
Out at the dore he goth ful prively,
When that he saugh his time, softely.
He looketh up and down til he hath founde
The clerkes hors, ther as it stood y-bounde
Bihinde the mille under a levesel,
And to the hors he goth him faire and wel.
He stripeth off the bridel right anon,
And when the hors was laus, he ginneth gon
Toward the fen ther wilde mares renne,
And forth with " wehee" thurgh thikke and thurgh thenne.
This millere goth again, no word he sayde,
But doth his note, and with the clerkes playde
Til that her corn was faire and wel y-grounde.
And when the mele is sakked and y-bounde
This John goth out and fint his hors away,
And gan to crye " harrow!" and " waylaway!
Oure hors is lost! Alayn, for Goddes banes,
Step on thy feet! Com off, man, al at anes!
Allas! oure wardeyn has his palfrey lorn."
This Alayn al forgat bothe mele and corn;
Al was out of his minde his housbondrye.
" What! whilk way is he gaan?" he gan to crye.
The wif cam lepinge inward with a ren.
She sayde: " Allas! youre hors goth to the fen
With wilde mares, as faste as he may go.
Unthank come on his hand that bond him so,
And he that bettre sholde han knit the reine!"
" Allas!", quod John, " Alayn, for Cristes peine,
Lay down thy swerd, and I wil myn alswa.
I is ful wight, God waat, as is a raa;
By Goddes herte, he sal not scape us bathe!
Why n'ad thou pit the capul in the lathe?
Il hail! By God, Alayn, thou is a fonne!"
These sely clerkes han ful faste y-ronne
Toward the fen, bothe Alayn and eek John.
And when the millere saugh that they were gon
He half a bushel of her flour hath take,
And bad his wif go knede it in a cake.
He sayde: " I trowe the clerkes were aferd.
Yet can a millere make a clerkes berd,
For al his art! Now let hem gon her waye!
Lo wher they gon! Ye, let the children playe!
They gete him not so lightly, by my crown!"
These sely clerkes rennen up and down
With " keep! keep! stand! stand! jossa! warderere!
Ga, whistle thou, and I sal keep him here."
But shortly, til that it was verray night,
They coude not, though they do al her might,
Her capul cacche — he ran alway so faste —
Til in a dich they caughte him atte laste.
Wery and weet as beest is in the rayn
Comth sely John, and with him comth Alayn.
" Allas", quod John, " the day that I was born!
Now are we drive til hething and til scorn.
Oure corn is stoln: me wil us fooles calle,
Bathe the wardeyn and oure felawes alle,
And namely the millere, waylaway!"
Thus plaineth John as he goth by the way
Toward the mille, and Bayard in his hand.
The millere sittinge by the fyr he fand,
For it was night, and forther mighte they nought;
But, for the love of God, they him bisought
Of herberwe and of ese, as for her peny.
The millere sayde again: " If ther be eny,
Swich as it is, yet shal ye have youre part.
Myn hous is strait, but ye han lerned art:
Ye konne by argumentes make a place
A mile brod of twenty foot of space.
Let see now if this place may suffise,
Or make it roum with speche, as is your gise."
" Now Symond", sayde John, " by Saint Cutberd!
Ay is thou mirie, and this is faire answerd.
I have herd said " man sal taa of twa thinges:
Slik as he findes or taa slik as he bringes " .
But specially I pray thee, hoste deere,
Get us som mete and drinke and make us cheere,
And we wil paye trewely atte fulle.
" With empty hand men may nane hawkes tulle " :
Lo, here oure silver, redy for to spende. "
This millere into town his doughter sende
For ale and breed, and rosted hem a goos,
And bond her hors, it sholde not gon loos;
And in his owene chaumbre hem made a bed
With sheetes and with chalons faire y-spred.
Nought from his owene bed ten foot or twelve
His doughter hadde a bed, al by hir selve,
Right in the same chambre by and by —
It mighte be no bet, and cause why?
Ther was no roumer herberwe in the place.
They soupen and they speke, hem to solace,
And drinken evere strong ale atte beste.
Aboute midnight wente they to reste.