A monk there was, a fair for the mastery, <br />An outrider, that loved venery, <br />A manly man, to be an abbot able. <br />Full many a dainty horse had he in stable, <br />And when he rode, men might his bridle hear <br />Jingling in a whistling wind all clear <br />And too as loud as doth the chapel bell <br />There as his lord was keeper of the cell. <br />The rule of Saint Maure or of Saint Benedict - <br />Because it was old and somewhat strict <br />This same monk let old things pace, <br />And held after the new world the space. <br />He gave not of that text a pulled hen, <br />That said that hunters be not holy men, <br />Nor that a monk, when he is reckless, <br />Is likened to a fish that is waterless - <br />This is to say, a monk out of his cloister. <br />But that text held he not worth an oyster; <br />And I said his opinion was good. <br />And should he study and make himself wood, <br />Upon a book in cloister always to pour, <br />Or work with his hands and labor, <br />As Austin bid? How shall the world be served? <br />Let Austin have his work to him reserved! <br />Therefore he was a prikasour aright: <br />Greyhounds he had as swift as fowl in flight; <br />Of tracking and of hunting the hare <br />Was all his lust, for no cost would he spare. <br />I saw his sleeves fur-lined at the hand <br />With gray, and that the finest of the land; <br />And for to fasten his hood under his chin, <br />He had of gold wrought a curious pin; <br />A love knot in the greater end there was. <br />His head was bald, that shone as any glass, <br />And too his face, as it had been anoint. <br />He was a lord full fat and in good point; <br />His eyes steep, and rolling in his head, <br />That seemed as a furnace of lead; <br />His boots supple, his horse in great estate. <br />Now certainly he was a fair prelate; <br />He was not pale as a forpyned ghost. <br />A fat swan he loved best of any roast. <br />His palfrey was as brown as is a berry. <br /> <br /> <br />© 2008,2012 Forrest Hainline<br /><br />Forrest Hainline<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/general-prologue-07-the-monk-geoffrey-chaucer-forrest-hainline-s-minimalist-translation/
