but right fair was hir heer, I nil nat lie. 50
Greet sokene hath this miller, out of doute,
with whete and malt of al the lond aboute;
and namëliche ther was a greet collegge
men clepen the Soler-halle at Cantëbregge,
theer was hir whete and eek hir malt ygrounde.
And on a day it happëd in a stounde,
seek lay the maunciple on a maladie:
men weenden wisly that he scholdë die.
For which this miller stal bothe mele and corn
an hundred timë morë than beforn; 60
for ther-beforn he stal but curteisly,
but now he was a theef outrageously.
For which the wardain chidde and madë fare;
but ther-of sette the miller nat a tare:
he craketh boost and swoor it nas nat so.
Than were ther yŏngë pourë clerkes two
that dwelten in this halle of which I seye:
testif thay were and lusty for to pleye;
and only for hir mirthe and reuelrie
upon the wardain bisily thay crie 70
to yeue hem leuë but a litel stounde
to goon to mille and seen hir corn ygrounde—
and, hardily, thay dorstë leye hir nekke
the miller scholde nat stele hem half a pekke
of corn by sleightë, ne by force hem reue;
and attë laste the wardain yaf hem leue.
Jon highte that oon, and Alain highte that other.
Of o toun where thay born that hightë Strother:
fer in the north—I can nat tellë where.
This Alain maketh redy al his gere, 80
and on an hors the sak he caste anoon.
Forth gooth Alain the clerk and also Jon,
with good swerd and with bukeler by hir side.
Jon knew the wey, hem nedëdë no guide,
And attë mille the sak adoune he leith.
Alain spak first: “Al hail! Simond, i faith!
How faris thy fair doghter and thy wif ?”
“Alain! Welcŏme!” quoth Simkin, “by my lif !
And Jon also! How now? What do ye heer?”
“Simond!” quoth Jon, “by god, need has na peer! 90
Him bos himseluen serue at has na swain,
or els he es a folt, as clerkis sain.
Our manciple, I hope he wil be deed,
swa werkis ay the wangis in his heed.
And for-thy es I cum, and als Alain,
til grind our corn and carie it haam again.
I pray yow, spedis us hethen as ye may!”
“It schal be doon,” quoth Simkin, “by my fay!
What wŏl ye doon whil that it is in hand?”
“By god, right by the hoper wil I stand,” 100
quoth Jon, “and see hougat the corn gaas in!
Yit sagh I neuer, by my fader kin,
hougat the hoper waggis til and fra.”
Alain answerdë: “Jon! and wiltu swa,
then wil I be binethen, by my croune,
and see hougat the melë fallis doune
in til the trogh. That sal be my desport.
For Jon, i faith, I es al of your sort:
I es as il a miller as er ye!”
This miller smilëde of hir nicëtee, 110
and thoghte: “Al this nis doon but for a wile:
thay wenen that no man may hem beguile.
But, by my thrift, yet schal I blere hir yë
for at the sleighte in hir philosophie.
The morë queintë crekës that they make,
the morë wŏl I stelë whan I take.
In stede of flour yet wŏl I yeue hem bren.
‘The gretteste clerkës been noght the wiseste men,’
as whilŏm to the wolf thus spak the mare.
Of al hir art I countë noght a tare.” 120
Oute attë dore he gooth ful priuëly,
whan that he sagh his timë; softëly
he loketh up and doune til he hath founde
the clerkës hors, ther-as it stood ybounde
behindë the mille under a leefsel;
and to the hors he gooth him faire and wel.
He strepeth of the bridel right anoon;
and whan the hors was loos, he ginneth goon
toward the fen, ther wildë mares renne,
forth with wee-hee thurgh thikke and thurgh thenne. 130
This miller gooth ayein; no word he seide,
but dooth his note, and with the clerkës pleide,
til that hir com was faire and wel ygrounde.
And whan the mele is sakkëd and ybounde,
this Jon gooth out, and fint his hors awey,
and gan to crie: “Harrow!” and “weilawey!
our hors es lost! Alain, for goddis banis,
step on thy feet! Cum of, man, al at anis!
Alas! our wardain has his palfray lorn.”
This Alain al forgat bothe mele and corn, 140
al was out of his minde his husbondrie.
“Quat! Quilk way es he gaan?” he gan to crie.
The wif coom lepinge inward with a ren;
sche saide: “Alas! you hors gooth to the fen
with wildë mares, as faste as he may go!
Unthank cŏme on his hond that bond him so,
and he that bettrë scholde han knit the reine!”
“Alas!” quoth Jon, “Alain, for Christis peine,
lay doun thy swerd, and I sal min alswa.
I es ful wight, god waat, as es a raa; 150
By goddis herte, he sal nat scape us bathe!
Quy nadde thu pit the capil in the lathe?
Il hail! By god, Alain, thow es a fonne!”
Thise sely clerkës han ful faste yrŏnne
toward the fen, bothe Alain and eek Jon.
And whan the miller sagh that thay were goon,
he half a busschel of hir flour hath take,
and bad his wif go knede it in a cake.
He saide: “I trowe the clerkës were afeerd.
Yet can a miller make a clerkës beerd 160
for al his art. Now lat hem goon hir weye!
Lo, wheer thay goon! Yee, lat the children pleye!
Thay gete him nat so lightly, by my croune!”
Thise sely clerkës rennen up and doune,
with: “Keep! keep! stand! stand! jossa! warderere!
gaa quistel thow, and I sal keep him here!”
But, schortly, til that it was verray night,
thay couthë nat, thogh thay doon al hir might,
hir capel cacche, he ran alwey so faste,
til in a diche thay caghte him attë laste. 170
Wery and weet, as beest is in the rein,
cŏmth sely Jon, and with him cŏmth Alain.
“Alas!” quoth Jon, “the day that I was born!
Now er we dreuen til hething and to scorn.
Our corn is stoln. Men wil us folis calle,
bathë the wardain and our felaus alle,
and namëly the miller. Wailaway!”
Thus plaineth Jon, as he gooth by the wey
toward the mille, and Bayard in his hond.
The miller sittinge by the fir he fond. 180
For it was night, and further mighte thay noght,
thay for the lŏue of god han him besoght
of herberghe and of ese as for hir peny.
The miller saide ayein: “If ther be eny,
swich as it is, yet schul ye han your part.
Min hous is streit, but ye han lernëd art:
ye cŏnne by argumentës make a place
a milë brood of twenty-foot of space.
Lat see now if this placë may suffise!
Or make it roum with speche, as is your guise!” 190
“Now, Simond,” saidë Jon, “by saint Cudbert,
ay es thow mery, and this es faire answerd!
I haf herd say ‘man suld taa of twaa thingis
slik as he findis, or taa slik as he bringis.’
But specially, I pray yow, hostë dere,
get us sum mete and drink, and mak us chere;
and we wil payë treuly at thy wille.
With empty hand men may na haukis tille—
lo, heer our siluer redy for til spende!”
This miller in to toune his doghter sende 200
for ale and breed, and rostede hem a goos,
and bond hir hors, it scholdë nat goon loos;
and in his owne chambre hem made a bed
with schetës and with chalons faire yspred,
noght from his ownë bed ten foot or twelue.
His doghter hadde a bed al by hirselue
right in the samë chambrë, by and by: