The House of Fame · 2

With that I turn’d about my head, And saw anon the fifthe rout, company That to this Lady gan to lout, bow down And down on knees anon to fall; And to her then besoughten all To hide their good workes eke, And said, they gave not a leek cared For no fame, nor such renown; For they for contemplatioun And Godde’s love had y-wrought, Nor of fame would they have aught. “What!” quoth she, “and be ye wood? And weene ye for to do good, do ye imagine And for to have of that no fame? Have ye despite to have my name? do ye despise Nay, ye shall lie every one! Blow thy trump, and that anon,” Quoth she, “thou Aeolus, I hote, command And ring these folkes works by note, That all the world may of it hear.” And he gan blow their los so clear reputation Within his golden clarioun, That through the worlde went the soun’, All so kindly, and so soft, That their fame was blown aloft.

And then came the sixth company, And gunnen fast on Fame to cry; began Right verily in this mannere They saide; “Mercy, Lady dear! To telle certain as it is, We have done neither that nor this, But idle all our life hath be; been But natheless yet praye we That we may have as good a fame, And great renown, and knowen name, well-known As they that have done noble gests, feats. And have achieved all their quests, enterprises; desires As well of Love, as other thing; All was us never brooch, nor ring, although Nor elles aught from women sent, Nor ones in their hearte meant To make us only friendly cheer, But mighte teem us upon bier; *might lay us on our bier Yet let us to the people seem (by their adverse demeanour)* Such as the world may of us deem, judge That women loven us for wood. madly It shall us do as muche good, And to our heart as much avail, The counterpoise, ease, and travail, compensation As we had won it with labour; For that is deare bought honour, At the regard of our great ease. in comparison with And yet ye must us more please; in addition Let us be holden eke thereto Worthy, and wise, and good also, And rich, and happy unto love, For Godde’s love, that sits above; Though we may not the body have Of women, yet, so God you save, Let men glue on us the name; fasten Sufficeth that we have the fame.” “I grante,” quoth she, “by my troth; Now Aeolus, withoute sloth, Take out thy trump of gold,” quoth she, “And blow as they have asked me, That ev’ry man ween them at ease, believe Although they go in full bad leas.” sorry plight This Aeolus gan it so blow, That through the world it was y-know.

Then came the seventh rout anon, And fell on knees ev’ry one, And saide, “Lady, grant us soon The same thing, the same boon, Which this next folk you have done.” the people just before us “Fy on you,” quoth she, “ev’ry one! Ye nasty swine, ye idle wretches, Full fill’d of rotten slowe tetches! blemishes What? false thieves! ere ye would Be famous good, and nothing n’ould have good fame Deserve why, nor never raught, recked, cared (to do so) Men rather you to hangen ought. For ye be like the sleepy cat, That would have fish; but, know’st thou what? He woulde no thing wet his claws. Evil thrift come to your jaws, And eke to mine, if I it grant, Or do favour you to avaunt. boast your deeds Thou Aeolus, thou King of Thrace, Go, blow this folk a sorry grace,” *disgrace Quoth she, “anon; and know’st thou how? As I shall telle thee right now, Say, these be they that would honour Have, and do no kind of labour, Nor do no good, and yet have laud, And that men ween’d that Belle Isaude Could them not of love wern; could not refuse them her love And yet she that grinds at the quern mill Is all too good to ease their heart.” This Aeolus anon upstart, And with his blacke clarioun He gan to blazen out a soun’ As loud as bellows wind in hell; And eke therewith, the sooth to tell, This sounde was so full of japes, jests As ever were mows in apes; grimaces And that went all the world about, That ev’ry wight gan on them shout, And for to laugh as they were wood; mad Such game found they in their hood. so were they ridiculed

Then came another company, That hadde done the treachery, The harm, and the great wickedness, That any hearte coulde guess; And prayed her to have good fame, And that she would do them no shame, But give them los and good renown, And do it blow in clarioun. cause it to be blown “Nay, wis!” quoth she, “it were a vice; All be there in me no justice, Me liste not to do it now, Nor this will I grant to you.”

Then came there leaping in a rout, crowd And gan to clappen all about strike, knock Every man upon the crown, That all the hall began to soun’; And saide; “Lady lefe and dear, loved We be such folk as ye may hear. To tellen all the tale aright, We be shrewes every wight, wicked, impious people And have delight in wickedness, As goode folk have in goodness, And joy to be y-knowen shrews, And full of vice and wicked thews; evil qualities Wherefore we pray you on a row, all together That our fame be such y-know In all things right as it is.” “I grant it you,” quoth she, “y-wis. But what art thou that say’st this tale, That wearest on thy hose a pale, vertical stripe And on thy tippet such a bell?” “Madame,” quoth he, “sooth to tell, I am that ilke shrew, y-wis, the same wretch That burnt the temple of Isidis, In Athenes, lo! that city.” “And wherefore didst thou so?” quoth she. “By my thrift!” quoth he, “Madame, I woulde fain have had a name As other folk had in the town; Although they were of great renown For their virtue and their thews, good qualities Thought I, as great fame have shrews (Though it be naught) for shrewdeness, As good folk have for goodeness; And since I may not have the one, The other will I not forgo’n. So for to gette fame’s hire, the reward of fame The temple set I all afire. *Now do our los be blowen swithe, As wisly be thou ever blithe.” see note “Gladly,” quoth she; “thou Aeolus, Hear’st thou what these folk prayen us?” “Madame, I hear full well,” quoth he, “And I will trumpen it, pardie!” And took his blacke trumpet fast, And gan to puffen and to blast, Till it was at the worlde’s end.

With that I gan aboute wend, turn For one that stood right at my back Me thought full goodly to me spake, courteously, fairly And saide, “Friend, what is thy name? Art thou come hither to have fame?” “Nay, for soothe, friend!” quoth I; surely “I came not hither, grand mercy, great thanks For no such cause, by my head! Sufficeth me, as I were dead, That no wight have my name in hand. I wot myself best how I stand, For what I dree, or what I think, suffer I will myself it alle drink, Certain, for the more part, As far forth as I know mine art.” “What doest thou here, then,” quoth he. Quoth I, “That will I telle thee; The cause why I stande here, Is some new tidings for to lear, learn Some newe thing, I know not what, Tidings either this or that, Of love, or suche thinges glad. For, certainly, he that me made To come hither, said to me I shoulde bothe hear and see In this place wondrous things; But these be not such tidings As I meant of.” “No?” quoth he. And I answered, “No, pardie! For well I wot ever yet, Since that first I hadde wit, That some folk have desired fame Diversely, and los, and name; But certainly I knew not how Nor where that Fame dwelled, ere now Nor eke of her description, Nor also her condition, Nor the order of her doom, the principle of her judgments Knew I not till I hither come.” “Why, then, lo! be these tidings, That thou nowe hither brings, That thou hast heard?” quoth he to me. “But now no force, for well I see no matter What thou desirest for to lear.” Come forth, and stand no longer here. And I will thee, withoute dread, doubt Into another place lead, Where thou shalt hear many a one.”

Then gan I forth with him to go’n Out of the castle, sooth to say. Then saw I stand in a vally, Under the castle faste by, A house, that domus Daedali, That Labyrinthus called is, N’as made so wondrously, y-wis, was not Nor half so quaintly was y-wrought. strangely And evermore, as swift as thought, This quainte house aboute went, strange That nevermore it stille stent; ceased to move And thereout came so great a noise, That had it stooden upon Oise, Men might have heard it easily To Rome, I trowe sickerly. confidently believe And the noise which I heard, For all the world right so it far’d As doth the routing of the stone rushing noise* That from the engine is let go’n. And all this house of which I read tell you Was made of twigges sallow, red, willow And green eke, and some were white, Such as men to the cages twight, pull to make cages Or maken of these panniers, Or elles hutches or dossers; back-baskets That, for the swough and for the twigs, rushing noise This house was all so full of gigs, sounds of wind And all so full eke of chirkings, creakings And of many other workings; And eke this house had of entries As many as leaves be on trees, In summer when that they be green, And on the roof men may yet see’n A thousand holes, and well mo’, To let the soundes oute go. And by day in ev’ry tide continually Be all the doores open wide, And by night each one unshet; unshut, open Nor porter there is none to let hinder No manner tidings in to pace; Nor ever rest is in that place, That it n’is fill’d full of tidings, is not Either loud, or of whisperings; And ever all the house’s angles Are full of rownings and of jangles, whisperings and chatterings Of wars, of peace, of marriages, Of rests, of labour, of voyages, Of abode, of death, of life, Of love, of hate, accord, of strife, Of loss, of lore, and of winnings, Of health, of sickness, of buildings, Of faire weather and tempests, Of qualm of folkes and of beasts; sickness Of divers transmutations Of estates and of regions; Of trust, of dread, of jealousy, doubt Of wit, of cunning, of folly, Of plenty, and of great famine, Of cheap, of dearth, and of ruin; cheapness & dearness (of food) Of good or of mis-government, Of fire, and diverse accident. And lo! this house of which I write, Sicker be ye, it was not lite; be assured small For it was sixty mile of length, All was the timber of no strength; although Yet it is founded to endure, While that it list to Adventure, while fortune pleases That is the mother of tidings, As is the sea of wells and springs; And it was shapen like a cage. “Certes,” quoth I, “in all mine age, life Ne’er saw I such a house as this.”

And as I wonder’d me, y-wis, Upon this house, then ware was I How that mine eagle, faste by, Was perched high upon a stone; And I gan straighte to him go’n, And saide thus; “I praye thee That thou a while abide me, wait for For Godde’s love, and let me see What wonders in this place be; For yet parauntre I may lear peradventure **learn Some good thereon, or somewhat hear, That lefe me were, ere that I went.” were pleasing to me “Peter! that is mine intent,” Quoth he to me; “therefore I dwell; tarry But, certain, one thing I thee tell, That, but I bringe thee therein, unless Thou shalt never can begin be able To come into it, out of doubt, So fast it whirleth, lo! about. But since that Jovis, of his grace, As I have said, will thee solace Finally with these ilke things, same These uncouth sightes and tidings, To pass away thy heaviness, Such ruth hath he of thy distress compassion That thou suff’rest debonairly, gently And know’st thyselven utterly Desperate of alle bliss, Since that Fortune hath made amiss The fruit of all thy hearte’s rest Languish, and eke in point to brest; on the point of breaking But he, through his mighty merite, Will do thee ease, all be it lite, little And gave express commandement, To which I am obedient, To further thee with all my might, And wiss and teache thee aright, direct Where thou may’st moste tidings hear, Shalt thou anon many one lear.”

And with this word he right anon Hent me up betwixt his tone, caught **toes And at a window in me brought, That in this house was, as me thought; And therewithal me thought it stent, stopped And nothing it aboute went; And set me in the floore down. But such a congregatioun Of folk, as I saw roam about, Some within and some without, Was never seen, nor shall be eft, again, hereafter That, certes, in the world n’ is left is not So many formed by Nature, Nor dead so many a creature, That well unnethes in that place scarcely Had I a foote breadth of space; And ev’ry wight that I saw there Rown’d evereach in other’s ear whispered A newe tiding privily, Or elles told all openly Right thus, and saide, “Know’st not thou What is betid, lo! righte now?” happened “No,” quoth he; “telle me what.” And then he told him this and that, And swore thereto, that it was sooth; “Thus hath he said,” and “Thus he do’th,” And “Thus shall ’t be,” and “Thus heard I say “That shall be found, that dare I lay;” wager That all the folk that is alive Have not the cunning to descrive describe The thinges that I hearde there, What aloud, and what in th’ear. But all the wonder most was this; When one had heard a thing, y-wis, He came straight to another wight, And gan him tellen anon right The same tale that to him was told, Or it a furlong way was old, And gan somewhat for to eche eke, add To this tiding in his speech, More than it ever spoken was. And not so soon departed n’as was He from him, than that he met With the third; and *ere he let Any stound, he told him als’; without delaying a momen* Were the tidings true or false, Yet would he tell it natheless, And evermore with more increase Than it was erst. Thus north and south at first Went ev’ry tiding from mouth to mouth, And that increasing evermo’, As fire is wont to quick and go become alive, and spread From a spark y-sprung amiss, Till all a city burnt up is. And when that it was full up-sprung, And waxen more on ev’ry tongue increased Than e’er it was, it went anon Up to a window out to go’n; Or, but it mighte thereout pass, It gan creep out at some crevass, crevice, chink And fly forth faste for the nonce. And sometimes saw I there at once A leasing, and a sad sooth saw, *a falsehood and an earnest That gan of adventure draw true saying by chance Out at a window for to pace; And when they metten in that place, They were checked both the two, And neither of them might out go; For other so they gan to crowd, push, squeeze, each other Till each of them gan cryen loud, “Let me go first!” — “Nay, but let me! And here I will ensure thee, With vowes, if thou wilt do so, That I shall never from thee go, But be thine owen sworen brother! We will us medle each with other, mingle That no man, be he ne’er so wroth, Shall have one of us two, but both At ones, as beside his leave, despite his desire Come we at morning or at eve, Be we cried or still y-rowned.” quietly whispered Thus saw I false and sooth, compouned, compounded Together fly for one tiding. Then out at holes gan to wring squeeze, struggle Every tiding straight to Fame; And she gan give to each his name After her disposition, And gave them eke duration, Some to wax and wane soon, As doth the faire white moon; And let them go. There might I see Winged wonders full fast flee, Twenty thousand in a rout, company As Aeolus them blew about. And, Lord! this House in alle times Was full of shipmen and pilgrimes, With scrippes bretfull of leasings, wallets brimful of falsehoods Entremedled with tidings true stories And eke alone by themselve. And many thousand times twelve Saw I eke of these pardoners, Couriers, and eke messengers, With boistes crammed full of lies boxes As ever vessel was with lyes. lees of wine And as I altherfaste went with all speed About, and did all mine intent Me for to play and for to lear, to amuse and instruct myself And eke a tiding for to hear That I had heard of some country, That shall not now be told for me; — For it no need is, readily; Folk can sing it better than I. For all must out, or late or rath, soon All the sheaves in the lath; barn I heard a greate noise withal In a corner of the hall, Where men of love tidings told; And I gan thitherward behold, For I saw running ev’ry wight As fast as that they hadde might, And ev’reach cried, “What thing is that?” And some said, “I know never what.” And when they were all on a heap, Those behinde gan up leap, And clomb upon each other fast, climbed And up the noise on high they cast, And trodden fast on others’ heels, And stamp’d, as men do after eels.

But at the last I saw a man, Which that I not describe can; But that he seemed for to be A man of great authority. And therewith I anon abraid awoke Out of my sleepe, half afraid; Rememb’ring well what I had seen, And how high and far I had been In my ghost; and had great wonder Of what the mighty god of thunder Had let me know; and gan to write Like as ye have me heard endite. Wherefore to study and read alway I purpose to do day by day. And thus, in dreaming and in game, Endeth this little book of Fame.

Here endeth the Book of Fame

Notes to The House of Fame

1. Rood: the cross on which Christ was crucified; Anglo-Saxon, “Rode.”

2. Well worth of this thing greate clerks: Great scholars set much worth upon this thing — that is, devote much labour, attach much importance, to the subject of dreams.

3. The poet briefly refers to the description of the House of Somnus, in Ovid’s “Metamorphoses,” 1. xi. 592, et seqq.; where the cave of Somnus is said to be “prope Cimmerios,” (“near the Cimmerians”) and “Saxo tamen exit ab imo Rivus aquae Lethes.” (“A stream of Lethe’s water issues from the base of the rock”)

4. See the account of the vision of Croesus in The Monk’s Tale.

5. The meaning of the allusion is not clear; but the story of the pilgrims and the peas is perhaps suggested by the line following — “to make lithe [soft] what erst was hard.” St Leonard was the patron of captives.

5. Corsaint: The “corpus sanctum” — the holy body, or relics, preserved in the shrine.

7. So, in the Temple of Venus described in The Knight’s Tale, the Goddess is represented as “naked floating in the large sea”.

8. Vulcano: Vulcan, the husband of Venus.

9. Ered: ploughed; Latin, “arare,” Anglo-Saxon, “erean,” plough.

10. Sours: Soaring ascent; a hawk was said to be “on the soar” when he mounted, “on the sours” or “souse” when he descended on the prey, and took it in flight.

11. This is only one among many instances in which Chaucer disclaims the pursuits of love; and the description of his manner of life which follows is sufficient to show that the disclaimer was no mere mock-humble affectation of a gallant.

12. This reference, approximately fixing the date at which the poem was composed, points clearly to Chaucer’s daily work as Comptroller of the Customs — a post which he held from 1374 to 1386.

13. This is a frank enough admission that the poet was fond of good cheer; and the effect of his “little abstinence” on his corporeal appearance is humorously described in the Prologue to the Tale of Sir Thopas, where the Host compliments Chaucer on being as well shapen in the waist as himself.

14. “To make the beard” means to befool or deceive. See note 15 to the Reeve’s Tale. Precisely the same idea is conveyed in the modern slang word “shave” — meaning a trick or fraud.

15. Love-days: see note 21 to the Prologue to the Canterbury Tales.

16. If this reference is to any book of Chaucer’s in which the House of Fame was mentioned, the book has not come down to us. It has been reasonably supposed, however, that Chaucer means by “his own book” Ovid’s “Metamorphoses,” of which he was evidently very fond; and in the twelfth book of that poem the Temple of Fame is described.

17. Saint Julian was the patron of hospitality; so the Franklin, in the Prologue to The Canterbury Tales is said to be “Saint Julian in his country,” for his open house and liberal cheer. The eagle, at sight of the House of Fame, cries out “bon hostel!” — “a fair lodging, a glorious house, by St Julian!”

18. The laurel-tree is sacred to Apollo. See note 11 to The Assembly of Fowls.

19. French, “roche,” a rock.

20. St. Thomas of Kent: Thomas a Beckett, whose shrine was at Canterbury.

21. The half or side of the rock which was towards the poet, was inscribed with, etc.

22. Cop: summit; German, “kopf”; the head.

23. Gestiours: tellers of stories; reciters of brave feats or “gests.”

24. Arion: the celebrated Greek bard and citharist, who, in the seventh century before Christ, lived at the court of Periander, tyrant of Corinth. The story of his preservation by the dolphin, when the covetous sailors forced him to leap into the sea, is well known.

25. Chiron the Centaur was renowned for skill in music and the arts, which he owed to the teaching of Apollo and Artemis. He became in turn the instructor of Peleus, Achilles, and other descendants of Aeacus; hence he is called “Aeacides” — because tutor to the Aeacides, and thus, so to speak, of that “family.”

26. Glasgerion is the subject of a ballad given in “Percy’s Reliques,” where we are told that “Glasgerion was a king’s own son, And a harper he was good; He harped in the king’s chamber, Where cup and candle stood.”

27. Cornemuse: bagpipe; French, “cornemuse.” Shawmies: shalms or psalteries; an instrument resembling a harp.

28. Dulcet: a kind of pipe, probably corresponding with the “dulcimer;” the idea of sweet — French, “doux;” Latin, “dulcis” — is at the root of both words.

29. In the early printed editions of Chaucer, the two names are “Citherus” and “Proserus;” in the manuscript which Mr Bell followed (No. 16 in the Fairfax collection) they are “Atileris” and “Pseustis.” But neither alternative gives more than the slightest clue to identification. “Citherus” has been retained in the text; it may have been employed as an appellative of Apollo, derived from “cithara,” the instrument on which he played; and it is not easy to suggest a better substitute for it than “Clonas” - - an early Greek poet and musician who flourished six hundred years before Christ. For “Proserus,” however, has been substituted “Pronomus,” the name of a celebrated Grecian player on the pipe, who taught Alcibiades the flute, and who therefore, although Theban by birth, might naturally be said by the poet to be “of Athens.”

30. Marsyas: The Phrygian, who, having found the flute of Athena, which played of itself most exquisite music, challenged Apollo to a contest, the victor in which was to do with the vanquished as he pleased. Marsyas was beaten, and Apollo flayed him alive.

31. The German (Deutsche) language, in Chaucer’s time, had not undergone that marked literary division into German and Dutch which was largely accomplished through the influence of the works of Luther and the other Reformers. Even now, the flute is the favourite musical instrument of the Fatherland; and the devotion of the Germans to poetry and music has been celebrated since the days of Tacitus.

32. Reyes: a kind of dance, or song to be accompanied with dancing.

33. Beam: horn, trumpet; Anglo-Saxon, “bema.”

34. Messenus: Misenus, son of Aeolus, the companion and trumpeter of Aeneas, was drowned near the Campanian headland called Misenum after his name. (Aeneid, vi. 162 et seqq.)

35. Joab’s fame as a trumpeter is founded on two verses in 2 Samuel (ii. 28, xx. 22), where we are told that he “blew a trumpet,” which all the people of Israel obeyed, in the one case desisting from a pursuit, in the other raising a siege.

36. Theodamas or Thiodamas, king of the Dryopes, plays a prominent part in the tenth book of Statius’ “Thebaid.” Both he and Joab are also mentioned as great trumpeters in The Merchant’s Tale.

37. Jongelours: jugglers; French, “jongleur.”

38. Tregetours: tricksters, jugglers. For explanation of this word, see note 14 to the Franklin’s tale.

39. Pythonesses: women who, like the Pythia in Apollo’s temple at Delphi, were possessed with a spirit of divination or prophecy. The barbarous Latin form of the word was “Pythonissa” or “Phitonissa.” See note 9 to the Friar’s Tale.

40. Subfumigations: a ceremony employed to drive away evil spirits by burning incense; the practice of smoking cattle, corn, &c., has not died out in some country districts.

41. In certain ascendents: under certain planetary influences. The next lines recall the alleged malpractices of witches, who tortured little images of wax, in the design of causing the same torments to the person represented — or, vice versa, treated these images for the cure of hurts or sickness.

42. Medea: celebrated for her magical power, through which she restored to youth Aeson, the father of Jason; and caused the death of Jason’s wife, Creusa, by sending her a poisoned garment which consumed her to ashes.

43. Circes: the sorceress Circe, who changed the companions of Ulysses into swine.

44. Calypsa: Calypso, on whose island of Ogygia Ulysses was wrecked. The goddess promised the hero immortality if he remained with her; but he refused, and, after a detention of seven years, she had to let him go.

45. Hermes Ballenus: this is supposed to mean Hermes Trismegistus (of whom see note 19 to the Canon’s Yeoman’s Tale); but the explanation of the word “Ballenus” is not quite obvious. The god Hermes of the Greeks (Mercurius of the Romans) had the surname “Cyllenius,” from the mountain where he was born — Mount Cyllene, in Arcadia; and the alteration into “Ballenus” would be quite within the range of a copyist’s capabilities, while we find in the mythological character of Hermes enough to warrant his being classed with jugglers and magicians.

46. Limote and Colle Tregetour seem to have been famous sorcerers or jugglers, but nothing is now known of either.

47. Simon Magus: of whom we read in Acts viii. 9, et seqq.

48. “And made well more than it was To seemen ev’rything, y-wis, As kindly thing of Fame it is;” i.e. It is in the nature of fame to exaggerate everything.

49. Corbets: the corbels, or capitals of pillars in a Gothic building; they were often carved with fantastic figures and devices.

50. A largess!: the cry with which heralds and pursuivants at a tournament acknowledged the gifts or largesses of the knights whose achievements they celebrated.

51. Nobles: gold coins of exceptional fineness. Sterlings: sterling coins; not “luxemburgs”, but stamped and authorised money. See note 9 to the Miller’s Tale and note 6 to the Prologue to the Monk’s tale.

52. Coat-armure: the sleeveless coat or “tabard,” on which the arms of the wearer or his lord were emblazoned.

53. “But for to prove in alle wise As fine as ducat of Venise” i.e. In whatever way it might be proved or tested, it would be found as fine as a Venetian ducat.

54. Lapidaire: a treatise on precious stones.

55. See imperial: a seat placed on the dais, or elevated portion of the hall at the upper end, where the lord and the honoured guests sat.

56. The starres seven: Septentrion; the Great Bear or Northern Wain, which in this country appears to be at the top of heaven.

57. The Apocalypse: The last book of the New Testament, also called Revelations. The four beasts are in chapter iv. 6.

58. “Oundy” is the French “ondoye,” from “ondoyer,” to undulate or wave.

59. Partridges’ wings: denoting swiftness.

60. Hercules lost his life with the poisoned shirt of Nessus, sent to him by the jealous Dejanira.

61. Of the secte Saturnine: Of the Saturnine school; so called because his history of the Jewish wars narrated many horrors, cruelties, and sufferings, over which Saturn was the presiding deity. See note 71 to the Knight’s tale.

62. Compare the account of the “bodies seven” given by the Canon’s Yeoman: “Sol gold is, and Luna silver we threpe; Mars iron, Mercury quicksilver we clepe; Saturnus lead, and Jupiter is tin, And Venus copper, by my father’s kin.”

63. Statius is called a “Tholosan,” because by some, among them Dante, he was believed to have been a native of Tolosa, now Toulouse. He wrote the “Thebais,” in twelve books, and the “Achilleis,” of which only two were finished.

64. Dares Phrygius and Dictys Cretensis were the names attached to histories of the Trojan War pretended to have been written immediately after the fall of Troy.

65. Lollius: The unrecognisable author whom Chaucer professes to follow in his “Troilus and Cressida,” and who has been thought to mean Boccaccio.

66. Guido de Colonna, or de Colempnis, was a native of Messina, who lived about the end of the thirteenth century, and wrote in Latin prose a history including the war of Troy.

67. English Gaufrid: Geoffrey of Monmouth, who drew from Troy the original of the British race. See Spenser’s “Faerie Queen,” book ii. canto x.

68. Lucan, in his “Pharsalia,” a poem in ten books, recounted the incidents of the war between Caesar and Pompey.

69. Claudian of Alexandria, “the most modern of the ancient poets,” lived some three centuries after Christ, and among other works wrote three books on “The Rape of Proserpine.”

70. Triton was a son of Poseidon or Neptune, and represented usually as blowing a trumpet made of a conch or shell; he is therefore introduced by Chaucer as the squire of Aeolus.

71. Sky: cloud; Anglo-Saxon, “scua;” Greek, “skia.”

72. Los: reputation. See note 5 to Chaucer’s Tale of Melibœus.

73. Swart: black; German, “schwarz.”

74. Tewell: the pipe, chimney, of the furnace; French “tuyau.” In the Prologue to The Canterbury Tales, the Monk’s head is described as steaming like a lead furnace.

75. Tetches: blemishes, spots; French, “tache.”

76. For the story of Belle Isaude see note 21 to the Assembly of Fowls.

77. Quern: mill. See note 6 to the Monk’s Tale.

78. To put an ape into one’s hood, upon his head, is to befool him; see the prologue to the Prioresses’s Tale, l.6.

79. Obviously Chaucer should have said the temple of Diana, or Artemis (to whom, as Goddess of the Moon, the Egyptian Isis corresponded), at Ephesus. The building, famous for its splendour, was set on fire, in B.C. 356, by Erostatus, merely that he might perpetuate his name.

80. “Now do our los be blowen swithe, As wisly be thou ever blithe.” i.e. Cause our renown to be blown abroad quickly, as surely as you wish to be glad.

81. The Labyrinth at Cnossus in Crete, constructed by Dedalus for the safe keeping of the Minotaur, the fruit of Pasiphae’s unnatural love.

82. The river Oise, an affluent of the Seine, in France.

83. The engine: The machines for casting stones, which in Chaucer time served the purpose of great artillery; they were called “mangonells,” “springolds,” &c.; and resembled in construction the “ballistae” and “catapultae” of the ancients.

84. Or it a furlong way was old: before it was older than the space of time during which one might walk a furlong; a measure of time often employed by Chaucer.

85. Shipmen and pilgrimes: sailors and pilgrims, who seem to have in Chaucer’s time amply warranted the proverbial imputation against “travellers’ tales.”

86. Pardoners: of whom Chaucer, in the Prologue to The Canterbury Tales, has given us no flattering typical portrait

87. Lath: barn; still used in Lincolnshire and some parts of the north. The meaning is, that the poet need not tell what tidings he wanted to hear, since everything of the kind must some day come out — as sooner or later every sheaf in the barn must be brought forth (to be threshed).

88. A somewhat similar heaping-up of people is de scribed in Spenser’s account of the procession of Lucifera (“The Faerie Queen,” book i. canto iv.), where, as the royal dame passes to her coach, “The heaps of people, thronging in the hall, Do ride each other, upon her to gaze.”