坎特伯雷故事集（英文版）
The Canterbury Tales
by Geoffrey Chaucer
(1340?-1400)
The General Prologue
Here begins the Book of the Tales of Canterbury When April with his showers sweet with fruit The drought of March has pierced unto the root And bathed each vein with liquor that has power To generate therein and sire the flower; When Zephyr also has, with his sweet breath, Quickened again, in every holt and heath, The tender shoots and buds, and the young sun Into the Ram one half his cour has run, And many little birds make melody
That sleep through all the night with open eye (So Nature pricks them on to ramp and rage)- Then do folk long to go on pilgrimage, And palmers to go eking out strange strands, To distant shrines well known in sundry lands. And specially from every shire's end
Of England they to Canterbury wend,
The holy blesd martyr there to ek Who help ed them when they lay so ill and weal Befell that, in that ason, on a day In Southwark, at the Tabard, as I lay Ready to start upon my pilgrimage
To Canterbury, full of devout homage, There came at nightfall to that hostelry Some nine and twenty in a company
耳字组词Of sundry persons who had chanced to fall In fellowship, and pilgrims were they all That toward Canterbury town would ride. The rooms and stables spacious were and wide, And well we there were ead, and of the best. And briefly, when the sun had gone to rest, So had I spoken with them, every one, That I was of their fellowship anon,
And made agreement that we'd early ri To take the road, as you I will appri.
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But none the less, whilst I have time and space, Before yet farther in this tale I pace, It ems to me accordant with reason To inform you of the state of every one Of all of the, as it appeared to me, And who they were, and what was their degree, And even how arrayed there at the inn; And with a knight thus will I first begin. THE KNIGHT
A knight there was, and he a worthy man, Who, from the moment that he first began To ride about the world, loved chivalry, Truth, honour, freedom and all courtesy. Full worthy was he in his liege-lord's war, And therein had he ridden (none more far) As well in Christendom as heathenes, And honoured everywhere for worthiness. At Alexandria, he, when it was won; Full oft the table's roster he'd begun Above all nations' knights in Prussia. In Latvia raided he, and Russia,
课外阅读思维导图No christened man so oft of his degree. In far Granada at the siege was he Of Algeciras, and in Belmarie.
At Ayas was he and at Satalye
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When they were won; and on the Middle Sea At many a noble meeting chanced to be. Of mortal battles he had fought fifteen, And he'd fought for our faith at Tramisne Three times in lists, and each time slain his foe. This lf-same worthy knight had been also At one time with the lord of Palatye Against another heathen in Turkey: And always won he sovereign fame for prize. Though so illustrious, he was very wi And bore himlf as meekly as a maid. He never yet had any vileness said, In all his life, to whatsoever wight. He was a truly perfect, gentle knight. But now, to tell you all of his array, His steeds were good, but yet he was not gay. Of simple fustian wore he a jupon
Sadly discoloured by his habergeon;
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For he had lately come from his voyage And now was going on this pilgrimage. THE SQUIRE
世界环境日是哪天With him there was his son, a youthful squire, A lover and a lusty bachelor,
With locks well curled, as if they'd laid in press. Some twenty years of age he was, I guess. In stature he was of an average length, Wondrously active, aye, and great of strength. He'd ridden sometime with the cavalry In Flanders, in Artois, and Picardy, And borne him well within that little space In hope to win thereby his lady's grace. Prinked out he was, as if he were a mead, All full of fresh-cut flowers white and red. Singing he was, or fluting, all the day; He was as fresh as is the month of May. Short was his gown, with sleeves both long and wide. Well could be sit on hor, and fairly ride. He could make songs and words thereto indite, Joust, and dance too, as well as sketch and write. So hot he loved that, while night told her tale, He slept no more than does a nightingale. Courteous he, and humble, willing and able, And carved before his father at the table. THE YEOMAN
我和我的父辈
A yeoman had he, nor more rvants, no, At that time, for he cho to travel so; And he was clad in coat and hood of green. A sheaf of peacock arrows bright and keen Under his belt he bore right carefully (Well could he keep his tackle yeomanly: His arrows had no draggled feathers low), And in his hand he bore a mighty bow. A cropped head had he an
三国穿越d a sun-browned face. Of woodcraft knew he all the uful ways. Upon his arm he bore a bracer gay,
And at one side a sword and buckler, yea, And at the other side a dagger bright, Well sheathed and sharp as spear point in the light; On breast a Christopher of silver sheen. He bore a horn in baldric all of green; A forester he truly was, I guess.
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THE PRIORESS
There was also a nun, a prioress,
Who, in her smiling, modest was and coy; Her greatest oath was but 'By Saint Eloy!' And she was known as Madam Eglantine. Full well she sang the rvices divine, Intoning through her no, becomingly; And fair she spoke her French, and fluently, After the school of Stratford-at-the-Bow, For French of Paris was not hers to know. At table she had been well taught withal, And never from her lips let morls fall, Nor dipped her finger
s deep in sauce, but ate With so much care the food upon her plate That never driblet fell upon her breast. In courtesy she had delight and zest. Her upper lip was always wiped so clean That in her cup was no iota en
