{"product_id":"the-canterbury-tales-isbn-9780307743534","title":"The Canterbury Tales","description":"A clear modern prose translation of Chaucer’s masterpiece of Middle English storytelling by the acclaimed poet David Wright.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eThe Canterbury Tales \u003c\/i\u003ehas entertained readers for centuries, with its comic animal fables, moral allegories, miniature epics of courtly love, and rollicking erotic farces that bring fourteenth-century England to life on every page. The gloriously varied stories, narrated by a group of pilgrims on their way to Canterbury, are peopled with saints, sinners, and ordinary mortals in a vivid panorama of the medieval world. This prose translation renders these tales as accessible and irresistible to modern readers as they were to Chaucer’s contemporaries.“A delight . . . [Raffel’s translation] provides more opportunities to savor the counterpoint of Chaucer’s earthy humor against passages of piercingly beautiful lyric poetry.”—\u003ci\u003eKirkus Reviews\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Masterly . . . This new translation beckons us to make our own pilgrimage back to the very wellsprings of literature in our language.” —Billy Collins\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“\u003cb\u003eThe Canterbury Tales\u003c\/b\u003e has remained popular for seven centuries. It is the most approachable masterpiece of the medieval world, and Mr. Raffel’s translation makes the stories even more inviting.”\u003ci\u003e—Wall Street Journal\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003eGEOFFREY CHAUCER (1343–1400) was England’s most famous medieval poet and writer, sometimes called the father of English literature.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eDAVID WRIGHT (1920–1994) was born in South Africa and died in England. He was a poet who drew inspiration from \u003ci\u003eBeowulf\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eThe Canterbury Tales\u003c\/i\u003e, both of which he translated into modern English.The Knight’s Tale\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe old legends tell us there was once a Duke called Theseus who was  lord and ruler of Athens. In his time there was no mightier conqueror  under the sun. He had overrun many rich kingdoms, and by his generalship  and knightly valour had conquered the land of the Amazons, then called  Scythia, and wedded Hippolyta their queen, whom he brought home with him  to his own land in the greatest pomp and splendour, together with her  younger sister Emily. And so I leave this noble Duke and his armed host  riding victoriously and with music towards Athens. If it weren't too  long to listen to I would certainly describe in detail how the land of  women was vanquished by Theseus and his knights; and especially the  pitched battle between the Athenians and the Amazons; how Hippolyta, the  fierce and beautiful queen of Scythia, was besieged; the feast that  took place at their wedding, and the great storm that blew up on their  voyage home. But for the time being I must pass over all these  things—God knows I have a big field to plough and weak oxen in my team.  The rest of my tale is long enough; and I don't want to stand in the way  of the others in our party. Let everyone tell his tale in turn and  we'll see who wins the dinner. So I'll begin again where I left off.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe  Duke I spoke of had just approached the outskirts of the town when, in  the midst of all his joy and triumph, he noticed out of the corner of  his eye a band of ladies dressed in black kneeling two by two in a row  on the highway. They were weeping and wailing, making a lamentation the  like of which no living creature ever heard; nor would they stop their  clamour until they had laid hold of his bridle-rein.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e'Who may you  be who disturb my homecoming and the general joy with these outcries?'  asked Theseus. 'Is it because you grudge me these honours that you  complain and cry out like this? Or has somebody insulted or injured you?  Tell me if it can be redressed, and why you are thus clothed in black.'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAlmost  fainting, with a deathlike countenance pitiful to see, the eldest of  these ladies began to speak: 'My lord, to whom Fortune has granted  victory and all the honours of a conqueror, we do not grudge you your  laurels or your triumph, but beg for aid and mercy. Have mercy on our  distress and grief! Out of the nobility of your heart let some drop of  pity fall upon us wretched women— for indeed, my lord, there is not one  of us who was not once a duchess or a queen. But now, as anyone can see,  we are the most miserable women, thanks to Fortune's treacherous wheel  which sees to it that no state of affairs continues happy. Indeed, my  lord, we have been waiting your arrival here in the temple of the  Goddess of Pity for a whole fortnight. Now help us, Sir, since it lies  in your power!\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e'I who weep here in misery was once the wife of  King Capaneus who perished at Thebes. Cursed be that day! And all of us  who are lamenting in this dress lost their husbands while the town was  being besieged. Alas! alas! at this very moment old Creon, who is now  lord of the city of Thebes, is filled with wrath and iniquity and  dishonours their corpses: in his tyrannic spite he has dragged the  bodies of our slain husbands upon a heap and will not hear of their  being burned or given burial, but contemptuously gives them to the dogs  to eat.'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSaying this they immediately fell upon their faces,  pitifully crying out, 'Have mercy upon us wretched women, and let our  grief sink into your heart.'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhen the Duke heard them speak he  leapt from his horse with his heart full of pity; seeing how forlorn and  dejected they were who had once been of such high estate, he felt as if  his heart must break. He raised each of them in his arms and tried to  give comfort, swearing upon his knighthood that he would exert his  utmost might to avenge them upon the tyrant till all Greece should  resound with the manner in which Theseus awarded Creon the death he so  richly deserved. Then without waiting further he displayed his banner to  summon his men and rode against Thebes with his whole army. Nor would  he approach any nearer Athens, even to rest half a day, but lodged that  night on the road to Thebes. He sent his queen Hippolyta and her young  and lovely sister Emily into the city of Athens there to remain while he  rode forth. What more can I say?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe red image of Mars with  spear and shield gleamed from his great white banner till its reflection  glittered up and down all the fields through which they rode. Beside  the banner was borne his pennon of rich gold embroidered with the figure  of the Minotaur he had slain in Crete. So the conquering Duke rode with  his army, the flower of chivalry, until he came to Thebes where he drew  up in splendid array before the field of battle. But to cut the story  short, he fought with Creon king of Thebes and slew him in fair combat  like a valiant knight; then having routed his men he took the city by  storm, tearing down walls, beams, and rafters. Next Theseus restored to  the women the bones of their slain husbands so that they might be  accorded the customary funeral rites. It would take much too long to  describe the din of lamentation the ladies made at the burning of the  corpses, or the great courtesy the noble conqueror Theseus paid them  when they took leave of him, for I mean to tell my story as briefly as I  can. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHaving slain Creon, taken Thebes and disposed of the whole  kingdom as he thought fit, the noble Duke Theseus camped quietly in the  field that night. But after the battle and the flight of the Thebans,  pillagers busily ransacked the pile of dead bodies, stripping them of  arms and clothing. It so happened that among the heaped corpses they  found two young knights lying bleeding side by side, clad in the same  richly-wrought armour and pierced through with many grievous wounds.  Arcite was the name of one; the other night was called Palamon.  Half-dead and half-alive though they were, the heralds identified them,  particularly from their coats-of-arms and equipment, as cousins and  members of the royal house of Thebes. The looters dragged them from the  pile of corpses and carried them gently to the tent of Theseus, who,  refusing to hear of any ransom, immediately sent them to perpetual  imprisonment in Athens. This done, the noble Duke and his army rode  straight home, crowned with conquering laurels. And there, needless to  say, he lives in honour and in joy for the remainder of his days, while  Palamon and his friend Arcite are shut up forever in a tower, in misery  and grief; no amount of gold can secure their release.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThus  passed the days and years, till one May morning it chanced that  Emily—she was lovelier to look upon than a lily on its stalk of green,  and fresher than May with all its budding flowers; for her hue compete  with the rose, and I don't know which was the prettier—had risen and  dressed herself before daylight as she often did.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe nights of  May are not for sleep, for the time of the year stirs each noble heart,  rousing it from slumber with the bidding, 'Arise and pay homage to the  season.' This made Emily remember to do honour to the month of Ma, and  she got up. Picture her clothed in bright colours, her yellow hair  falling down her back and braided in a  tress perhaps a yard long,  wandering at will in the garden at the rising of the sun to gather white  and scarlet flowers to weave a delicate garland for her head; and  singing with a heavenly voice like an angel's.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA mighty tower,  thick and strong, the principal keep of the castle in which the two  knights who are the subject of my tale were shut up, adjoined the castle  wall where Emily was amusing herself. The sun was bright and clear that  morning; and poor captive Palamon had risen as usual. By leave of his  jailer he was roaming about in an upper room from which he could see the  noble prospect of the city and also the green-branched garden where  Emily, so radiant and fresh, was walking up and down. As the captive  Palamon sadly paced to and fro in the chamber, commiserating with  himself and often crying out: 'Alas that I was born!' it happened that,  whether by chance or fate, his glance fell on Emily through a window  thickly fenced with iron bars as square and massive as stakes of timber:  at which he started back with a cry, sung to the heart. And at the  noise Arcite leapt to his feet and said, 'What is the matter, cousin?  Why do you look so deadly pale? Why did you cry out? Who has upset you?  For the love of God be patient with our imprisonment—there is no  alternative. This hardship is the gift of Fortune; some malign aspect or  disposition of Saturn and the constellations has allotted it to us in  spite of all we can do. It was in our stars when we were born; the long  and short of it is, we must endure our fate.'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePalamon replied,  'Indeed, cousin, you've got hold of the wrong idea. It was not this  prison which made me cry out, for just now my eye was pierced right  through to my heart with a wound that I fear will prove mortal. The  beauty of that lady I see wandering in the garden there is the sole  cause of my crying out and of my grief. Whether she is a goddess or a  woman I cannot tell, but by my guess it is Venus herself.' And with that  he fell down on his knees and said, 'Venus, if it be your will to  manifest yourself in this garden to so sorrowful and wretched a creature  as I, help us to escape from this prison; yet if my destiny is  irrevocably fixed by an eternal fiat to die in captivity, have some pity  upon our noble blood brought low by tyranny.'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut while he was  speaking Arcite caught glimpse of the lady as she walked to and fro. At  the sight of her beauty he was so shaken that if Palamon was sorely  wounded, Arcite was as badly hit or more. Sadly he said, \"The fresh  beauty of that girl wandering there has dealt me a blow as sudden as it  is mortal; unless I obtain her pity and favour so that I can at least  see her, I am no better than a dead man—that's all I can say.'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhen he heard these words Palamon replied sharply, 'Do you say that in game or in earnest?' \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e'In earnest and good faith,' returned Arcite, 'So help me God, I am in no mood to joke.'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePalamon  knitted his brows and answered, 'It would do you no great honour were  you to prove faithless or a traitor to me, seeing that I am not only  your cousin but your sworn brother. We are each bound to the other by  the most solemn oaths: that never till death do us part—not even death  by torture—shall either stand in the other's way in matters of love or  of anything else. On the contrary you, dear brother, must always come  faithfully to my aid just as I must come to yours. That was your sworn  oath, and mine also, and I know perfectly well that you dare not gainsay  it. For this reason I trustfully confided in you; but now you are  treacherously seeking to love the lady whom I must always love and serve  till my heart stops beating. No, you won't, false Arcite, that's  certain! I was first to love her; I told you about it only because, as I  said before, you are the confidant of my secrets, my sworn brother  pledged to come to my help, and therefore bound as a knight to give me  what aid you can—otherwise I dare call you forsworn.'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eArcite  disdainfully retorted: 'You are more likely to prove forsworn than I—and  you are utterly forsworn, I tell you plainly! For I loved her  passionately before you did. What can you say? Just now you did not know  whether she is a woman or a goddess. Yours is a spiritual affection,  while mine is love of a human being—that's why I told you what had  happened to me, as to my cousin and sworn brother.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e'Suppose for  the sake of argument that you loved her first. Have you never heard the  old philosopher's adage: 'Who can lay down the law to a lover?'' Upon my  soul, love is a greater law than any decreed by mortal men; and  therefore all man-made laws and like injunctions are broken every day  for love by all kinds of people. A man must love, against all reason.  Even if it should cost him his life there's no escaping it, whether she  be maid, widow or wife. And anyway it is hardly likely you will ever win  her favour any more than I shall, for as you well know we are both  condemned to a perpetual imprisonment from which no ransom will buy us  out. We are quarrelling like the two dogs who fought all day over a bone  but got no share of it: while they bickered a kite came along and  carried off the bone from between them both. And so, brother, as in high  politics, it's ever man for himself—that's all there is to it. Love her  if you wish, for I love her and always will. Dear brother, each of us  must endure this prison and take his chance, that's all.'","brand":"Vintage","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46303151849701,"sku":"NP9780307743534","price":11.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780307743534.jpg?v=1767738593","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/the-canterbury-tales-isbn-9780307743534","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}