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1. The Canon’s Yeoman’s Prologue
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The Prologue of the Canon’s Yeoman’s Tale
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When ended was the life of Saint Cecilia,
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Ere we had ridden fully five miles further,
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At Boughton-under-Blean rode up a hack
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With a man clothed in black upon its back,
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Who underneath had on a white surplice.
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His hack, a dappled grey, all sweating is,
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Sweating so hard it is a sight to see;
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It looks as if he has galloped miles three.
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Also the horse his yeoman rode upon
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Sweated so, it could barely trot on.
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About the saddle straps the foam stood high;
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With foam it was all flecked like a magpie.
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A doubled wallet on its crupper lay;
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It seemed that he carried slight array,
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All light, for summer, rode this worthy man.
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And in my mind to wonder I began
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What he might be, until I understood,
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Since his cloak was sewn onto his hood,
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After I’d reflected a while, that he
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A regular canon of the church must be.
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His hat hung at his back down by a lace,
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For he had ridden at a lively pace:
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He had been galloping as he were mad.
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And a dock-leaf under his hood he had,
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For sweat, and to keep his head from heat.
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It was a joy to see him sweat so neat!
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His forehead shed drops like a distillery,
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A still for plantain-juice and pellitory.
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And when he arrived, he cried full loudly:
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‘God save,’ quoth he, ‘this jolly company!
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Fast I have ridden,’ quoth he, for your sake,
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Because I wished you folk to overtake,
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And ride with all this merry company.’
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His yeoman too was full of courtesy,
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And said: ‘Sires, but now at morning-tide,
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Out of your hostelry I saw you ride,
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And made aware my lord and sovereign,
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Who was eager your company to gain
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For his amusement; he loves dalliance.’
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‘Friend, for your trouble God give you good chance!’
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Then said our Host: ‘– for, certain, it would seem
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Your lord is wise, wisdom I would it deem.
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He is full jocund also, I dare say!
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Can he tell a merry tale or two, in play,
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To gladden all this company, say I?’
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‘Who, sir: my lord? Yes, yes, without a lie!
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He knows of mirth, and also jollity,
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More than enough; also, sire, trust me,
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If you but knew him half so well as I,
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You’d be amazed how well he can vie
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With all, in work, and that in sundry wise.
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He has dealt with many an enterprise,
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That would be hard for any that is here
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To bring about, unless he were to steer.
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As homely as he may look among you,
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It would benefit you, that him you knew.
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You would not forego his acquaintance
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For all your goods, I’d set in the balance
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All that I have in my possession!
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He is a man of great discretion;
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I advise you, he’s an excellent man.’
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‘Well,’ quoth our Host, ‘I pray you, tell on,
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Is he a cleric, or no? Say what he is.’
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‘Nay, to be greater than a clerk is this,’
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Said the Yeoman, ‘in a few words or so,
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Host, of his craft something I would show.
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I say, my lord such subtle skills has he –
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Yet all his craft you cannot learn from me
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Although I help him somewhat in its working –
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That all this ground over which we’re riding,
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Until we come to Canterbury town,
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He could turn it all clean upside-down,
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And pave it all with silver and with gold.’
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And when the Yeoman had this story told
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To our Host, he cried, ‘Benedicitee!
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It then seems wondrous marvellous to me –
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Since your lord is of such high sapience,
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And all men should hold him in reverence –
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That his own dignity he treats so light.
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His cassock now is scarcely worth a mite,
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In truth, I’d say, to him, God bless my soul!
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It’s dirty through and through, and torn also.
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Why is your lord so slovenly, I pray?
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– Yet has the means to buy better any day,
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If his deeds accord with all your speech.
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Tell me that, for so I do you beseech!’
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Quoth the Yeoman, ‘Why go asking me?
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God help me so, but he’ll not prosper thee!
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– I can’t acknowledge anything I say,
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And therefore keep the secret now, I pray –
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But he’s too wise, so I believe, in truth.
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Whatever is in excess, will never prove
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Useful, as the clerics say; it’s a vice.
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So that in this I hold him foolish twice;
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For when a man has far too great a wit,
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Often it happens he misuses it.
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So does my lord: and it grieves me sore.
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God amend it! I can explain no more.’
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‘No matter, my good Yeoman’ quoth our Host;
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But since of the cunning of your lord you boast,
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Say what he does, I pray you heartily,
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Since he works so well and skilfully.
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Where do you dwell, if told such may be?’
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‘In the suburbs of a town,’ quoth he,
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‘Lurking in holes and corners, alleys blind,
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Where robbers, and thieves of every kind,
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Fearful, keep their private residence,
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As those do who daren’t show their presence.
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So do we fare, if I must tell the truth.’
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‘Now,’ quoth our Host, ‘let me ask of you.
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Why are you so discoloured round the face?’
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112
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‘Peter!’ quoth he, ‘God shows it little grace,
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I am forced so oft the flames to blow
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That is has altered my whole colour so.
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In the mirror I’m hardly wont to pry,
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But labour hard: and alchemy I try.
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We blunder ever, poring o’er the fire,
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Yet for all that, we fail of our desire,
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For we never reach the right conclusion.
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On many folk we practice pure illusion,
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And borrow gold – be it a pound or two,
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Or ten, or twelve, more if we’re able to –
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And make them think, in whatever way,
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That from a pound we can make two: I say
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It is all falsehood; but we live in hope
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Of success: and after it we grope,
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But the science runs so far before
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We cannot, despite the oath we swore,
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Overtake it; it glides away so fast.
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It will leave us beggars at the last.’
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While the Yeoman thus went on talking,
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The Canon, drawing near, heard everything
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That the Yeoman said; for great suspicion
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Of men’s speech ever had this Canon.
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For Cato says, that he who guilty is
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Thinks all men speak of him, as in this.
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That was the reason he so near did draw
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To his Yeoman, to eavesdrop all the more.
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And then he spoke unto his Yeoman, so:
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‘Hold your peace and speak not, I say no!
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For if you do, you’ll pay for it full dearly.
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You’re slandering me to all this company,
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Revealing also things that you should hide.’
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‘Yet,’ quoth our Host, ‘tell on whate’er betide!
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And all his threats reckon them not a fly.’
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‘By my faith,’ quoth he, ‘no more shall I.’
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And when the Canon saw that it must be,
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And the Yeoman dispense with privacy,
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He fled away, for very sorrow and shame.
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‘Ah,’ quoth the Yeoman, ‘now begins a game!
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All that I know, anon now I will tell,
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Since he’s gone – fiends whisk him off to Hell!
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For never hereafter with him will I visit,
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For a penny or a pound, so I swear it.
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He that brought me first to that foul game,
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Before he dies, sorrow on him, and shame!
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For all is serious to me, in faith.
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That I feel whatever any man sayeth.
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And despite the pain, and all my grief,
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Despite my sorrow, labour, and mischief,
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I could never forsake it in any wise.
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162
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Now would God my wits might suffice
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To tell you all belonging to that art!
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Yet, nonetheless, I will tell you part;
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Since my lord is gone, no details spare.
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Whatever of it I know, I shall declare.’
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Here ends the Prologue of the Canon’s Yeoman’s tale
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2. The Canon Yeoman’s Tale
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Here begins the Canon’s Yeoman his Tale
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2.1. (Part One)
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With this Canon I’ve dwelt for seven years,
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Yet his science no clearer to me appears.
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And all that I have had, I’ve lost thereby,
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As, God knows, have many more than I!
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Where I was wont to be right fresh each day
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In clothing, and in other fine array,
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Now I must wear my hose upon my head;
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And where my colour was both fresh and red,
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Now is it wan and of a leaden hue.
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Whoso employs it, bitterly shall he rue!
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And bleared yet from labour is my eye.
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Lo, what a game it is to ‘multiply’!
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The slippery science renders me so bare
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I gain no profit, wherever I may fare.
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And yet I am so much in debt thereby,
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With the gold that I have borrowed, I,
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While I live, may yet repay it never.
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Let every man be warned by me forever!
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Whichever man applies himself thereto,
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His luck is over, if he dare continue.
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So help me God, nothing thereby he’ll win,
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But empty his purse, and make his wits thin.
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And when he, through his madness and folly,
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Has placed his own wealth in jeopardy,
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Then he’ll excite other folks thereto
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To lose their own wealth, as he must do.
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For to villains a joy it is, and does please,
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To see others suffer pain and disease.
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– Thus I was once informed by a clerk.
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Of that no matter; I’ll speak of our work.
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When we had found a place to exercise
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Our elvish craft, we appeared wondrous wise;
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Our language was so technical and quaint.
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I blew the fire till I was fit to faint.
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Why should I tell you every proportion
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Of all the substances we worked upon?
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– Such as, five or six ounces, it may be,
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Of silver, or some other quantity –
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Or busy myself to tell you all the names,
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Arsenic sulphides, burnt bone, iron grains,
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All into powder ground, and rendered small;
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And how in an earthen pot we put it all,
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And put in salt, a sprinkling of pepper,
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Before the powders that I speak of, covered
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The whole thing with a vessel made of glass;
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And many another thing which there was;
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And with clay the pots and glasses sealing,
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That, of the air, might pass out nothing;
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And of the slow fire, and hot also,
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Which we made, and all the care and woe
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We took with our materials’ sublimation,
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And in calcination and amalgamation
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Of quicksilver, called mercury indeed?
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For all our tricks we could not succeed.
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Our arsenic sulphides, sublimated mercury,
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Our lead oxides ground down fine on porphyry;
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Of each of these some ounces went for certain –
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Nothing helped; we laboured all in vain!
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Neither the vapours in their ascension,
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Nor the solids left settling all adown
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Did in our workings anything avail,
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For lost was all our labour and travail.
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And all the cost, all gone the devil’s way,
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Was lost also, whatever we had to pay.
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There is also many another thing
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To mention, to our craft appertaining,
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Though I can’t by rote rehearse the plan,
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For truly I was never a learned man.
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Yet I will speak them as they come to mind,
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Though I can’t enumerate them by kind:
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– Such as Armenian clay, verdigris, borax,
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And sundry vessels made of earth and glass,
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Our urinals, our pots for distillation,
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Phials, crucibles, pots for sublimation,
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Of gourd-retorts, and alembics I speak,
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And other such, all hardly worth a leek –
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I’ve no need to rehearse them all –
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Waters for reddening metals, bull’s gall,
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Arsenic, sal ammoniac, and brimstone;
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And herbs I might mention, many a one
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– As moonwort, valerian, agrimony,
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And other such, if I should choose to tarry.
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Our vessels glowing bright, both night and day,
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To bring about our purpose, if we may;
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Our furnaces too for calcination,
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And waters for the albification;
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Un-slaked lime, chalk and egg-white, say,
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Powders diverse, ashes, dung, piss and clay,
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Waxed bags, saltpetre, vitriol,
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And diverse fires made of wood and coal;
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Tartar, alkali, salt preparation,
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And combust matters in coagulation;
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Clay made with horse or human hair, and oil
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93
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Of tartar, potash of alum, yeast, argoile,
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94
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Realgar, unfermented beer, moistening
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95
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Matter, matter for our compounding,
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96
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And for our silver’s citrination,
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97
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Our testing by heat, our fermentation,
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98
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Our ingots, vessels for assay, and so.
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99
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I’ll tell you, as was taught to me, also,
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100
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Of the four spirits and the bodies seven,
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101
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In order, as I heard my master give them:
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102
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The first spirit’s quicksilver, in the list;
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103
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The second arsenic sulphide; the third is
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104
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Sal ammoniac, and the fourth brimstone.
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105
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The bodies seven too, lo here anon:
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106
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Sol gold is, and Luna’s silver, all;
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107
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Mars iron, Mercury quicksilver we call;
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108
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Saturn is lead, and Jupiter is tin,
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109
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And Venus copper, by my father’s kin.
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110
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Who this wretched craft shall exercise,
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111
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Shall have no wealth from it that may suffice,
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112
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For all the wealth he spends thereabout
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113
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Shall he lose; of that I have no doubt.
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114
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Who would reveal his folly, so say I,
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115
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Let him come forth and learn to ‘multiply’.
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116
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And every man with aught in his coffer,
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117
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Let him appear and play philosopher,
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118
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If to the craft it’s easy to aspire!
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119
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Nay, nay, God knows, be it monk or friar,
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120
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Priest or canon on whom the wish should light,
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121
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Though he sit at his books both day and night
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122
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Studying this foolish elvish lore,
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123
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All is in vain – and, in faith, it’s more
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124
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Vain teaching a layman all this subtlety!
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125
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Fie! Speak not of it, no way shall it be.
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126
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Whether he knows his letters, or knows none,
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127
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The effect’s the same, he’ll find it all one;
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128
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For either of the two, by my salvation,
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129
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Achieve the same at alchemy’s mutation,
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130
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Whatever ‘multiplying’ they may do,
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131
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That is to say, they fail: both the two.
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|
132
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|
Still have I forgotten my rehearsal
|
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133
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|
Of corrosive liquids, and of metal,
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134
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And of bodies’ mollification,
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135
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And also of their induration,
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136
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|
Oils, ablutions, and metal fusible –
|
|
137
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To tell it all’s beyond any bible
|
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138
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Anywhere; and so, and for the best,
|
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139
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From all these names I’ll take a rest.
|
|
140
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It seems to me, enough I’ve told you now
|
|
141
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To raise a fiend, one fierce enough I vow.
|
| |
|
142
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|
Ah, nay, let be! The philosopher’s stone,
|
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143
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|
Called the elixir, we seek it every one,
|
|
144
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|
For had we it, we’d be secure, and how.
|
|
145
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|
Yet to the God of Heaven I will avow,
|
|
146
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|
For all our skill, when the work is through,
|
|
147
|
|
|
Despite our wit, still is there all to do.
|
|
148
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|
|
It tempted us to spend our worldly good,
|
|
149
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|
For sorrow of which go mad we should,
|
|
150
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|
|
Except that hope still creeps about our heart,
|
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151
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|
Dreaming ever, despite our bitter smart,
|
|
152
|
|
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Of being eased by profit, afterward.
|
|
153
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|
Such dreaming, and such hope dies hard;
|
|
154
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|
|
I warn you, you’ll seek for it forever.
|
|
155
|
|
|
That future hope makes madmen sever,
|
|
156
|
|
|
By trusting it, from all they ever had;
|
|
157
|
|
|
Yet the art can never make them sad,
|
|
158
|
|
|
For to them it is still bitter-sweet.
|
|
159
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|
|
So it seems – for have they but a sheet,
|
|
160
|
|
|
In which to wrap themselves of a night,
|
|
161
|
|
|
And a coarse cloak to walk in, by daylight,
|
|
162
|
|
|
They will sell them, and spend it on the craft.
|
|
163
|
|
|
They cannot cease till nothing’s left, alas.
|
|
164
|
|
|
And evermore, wherever they choose to go,
|
|
165
|
|
|
By that brimstone smell, men may them know.
|
|
166
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|
|
For all the world, they stink like goats, the lot!
|
|
167
|
|
|
The smell they give off is so rank and hot
|
|
168
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|
|
That though a man a mile from them may be,
|
|
169
|
|
|
The smell will still infect him yet, trust me.
|
|
170
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|
|
Thus by the smell, and their threadbare array,
|
|
171
|
|
|
If men wish recognise these folk they may.
|
|
172
|
|
|
And if a man will ask them privately
|
|
173
|
|
|
Why they clothe themselves so shabbily,
|
|
174
|
|
|
They right anon will whisper in his ear,
|
|
175
|
|
|
And say that if they discovered were
|
|
176
|
|
|
Men would slay them, because of their science.
|
|
177
|
|
|
Lo, thus these folk trade on innocence!
|
| |
|
178
|
|
|
Pass over this; I go my tale unto.
|
|
179
|
|
|
Ere that the pot be on the fire anew,
|
|
180
|
|
|
Metals in specific quantity,
|
|
181
|
|
|
My lord tempers, and no man but he –
|
|
182
|
|
|
Now he is gone, I dare say it boldly –
|
|
183
|
|
|
For, as men say, he works skilfully
|
|
184
|
|
|
(At any rate, I know he’s earned a name),
|
|
185
|
|
|
And yet he often blunders just the same.
|
|
186
|
|
|
Know you how? Full oft it happens so,
|
|
187
|
|
|
The pot breaks, and then there’s naught to show!
|
|
188
|
|
|
These metals are of such great violence,
|
|
189
|
|
|
Our walls provide but limited resistance,
|
|
190
|
|
|
Unless they are wrought of lime and stone.
|
|
191
|
|
|
They pierce so, and through the wall are gone,
|
|
192
|
|
|
And some of them sink straight into the ground –
|
|
193
|
|
|
Thus have we lost sometimes many a pound –
|
|
194
|
|
|
And some are scattered all the floor about,
|
|
195
|
|
|
Some leap up to the roof. Without a doubt,
|
|
196
|
|
|
Though to our sight the fiend won’t show,
|
|
197
|
|
|
I think he’s with us, that foul so and so!
|
|
198
|
|
|
In Hell, where he is the lord and sire,
|
|
199
|
|
|
There’s no more woe, or rancour, or ire,
|
|
200
|
|
|
Than when our pot breaks, as I have said;
|
|
201
|
|
|
Everyone chides, pours insults on our head.
|
| |
|
202
|
|
|
Some say it was faulty fire-making;
|
|
203
|
|
|
Some say nay, it was faulty blowing;
|
|
204
|
|
|
Then I’m a-feared, since that’s my office.
|
|
205
|
|
|
‘Straw!’ says a third, ‘You’re foolish twice!
|
|
206
|
|
|
It wasn’t tempered as it ought to be!
|
|
207
|
|
|
‘Nay,’ says a fourth, ‘hearken unto me.
|
|
208
|
|
|
Because the fire wasn’t made of beech,
|
|
209
|
|
|
That’s the cause, and none other, I teach!’
|
|
210
|
|
|
I’ve no idea where the thing went wrong,
|
|
211
|
|
|
But well I know great strife is us among.
|
|
212
|
|
|
‘Well!’ says my lord, ‘No more can be done.
|
|
213
|
|
|
I’ll be more careful in time to come.
|
|
214
|
|
|
I’m certain now that the pot was crazed.
|
|
215
|
|
|
Be it as it may, be not dismayed;
|
|
216
|
|
|
As we do, sweep the floor, swift and lithe.
|
|
217
|
|
|
Pluck up your courage, be glad and blithe!’
|
| |
|
218
|
|
|
The rubbish in a heap is swept, alas,
|
|
219
|
|
|
And over the floor a piece of canvas cast,
|
|
220
|
|
|
And all the rubbish in a sieve is thrown,
|
|
221
|
|
|
And sifted, and picked over like a bone.
|
|
222
|
|
|
‘By my faith,’ says one, ‘some of our metal
|
|
223
|
|
|
Is here yet, although we have not it all.
|
|
224
|
|
|
And though the thing has failed us for now,
|
|
225
|
|
|
Another time it may go well, I vow.
|
|
226
|
|
|
We have to risk our wealth, at a venture!
|
|
227
|
|
|
A merchant, by my faith, can’t endure
|
|
228
|
|
|
For long, trust me, in his prosperity.
|
|
229
|
|
|
Sometimes his wealth is drowned in the sea,
|
|
230
|
|
|
And sometimes it comes home safe to land.’
|
|
231
|
|
|
‘Peace!’ quoth my lord,’ Next time, you understand,
|
|
232
|
|
|
I’ll try to bring our craft to perfection,
|
|
233
|
|
|
And if I do not, sires, condemn my actions!
|
|
234
|
|
|
There was a fault, though what fault I know not.’
|
| |
|
235
|
|
|
Another claimed the fire was over hot –
|
|
236
|
|
|
But, be it hot or cold, I dare say this,
|
|
237
|
|
|
Our attempt would still have gone amiss.
|
|
238
|
|
|
We fail to profit from all that we gave,
|
|
239
|
|
|
And in our madness evermore we rave.
|
|
240
|
|
|
And when we are together, everyone
|
|
241
|
|
|
Seems as wise as was King Solomon;
|
|
242
|
|
|
But everything that glitters is not gold
|
|
243
|
|
|
Nor everything that shines, I am told,
|
|
244
|
|
|
Nor is every apple that meets the eye
|
|
245
|
|
|
Good to eat, whatever the hue and cry.
|
|
246
|
|
|
Right so, behold, it fares amongst us:
|
|
247
|
|
|
He that seems the wisest man, by Jesus,
|
|
248
|
|
|
Is the biggest fool, when put to proof,
|
|
249
|
|
|
And who seems honest is a thief, in truth.
|
|
250
|
|
|
This you shall know, ere from you I wend,
|
|
251
|
|
|
By the time my tale has reached an end.
|
| |
| |
|
|
2.2. (Part Two)
|
|
0
|
|
|
There is a canon now of religion
|
|
1
|
|
|
Amongst us, who could infect a town,
|
|
2
|
|
|
Though it were as great as Nineveh,
|
|
3
|
|
|
With Rome, Troy, and Alexandria.
|
|
4
|
|
|
His tricks and infinite deceitfulness
|
|
5
|
|
|
Are more than a man could write, I guess,
|
|
6
|
|
|
Though he might live for a thousand years.
|
|
7
|
|
|
In all this world of falsehood, it appears,
|
|
8
|
|
|
He has no equal, with jargon he’ll blind
|
|
9
|
|
|
All men, and speak, too, in so sly a kind,
|
|
10
|
|
|
When he communes with any day or night,
|
|
11
|
|
|
That he will make the man a fool outright,
|
|
12
|
|
|
Unless he is a fiend, as he himself is.
|
|
13
|
|
|
For many a man has he beguiled ere this,
|
|
14
|
|
|
And will, if he may live a little while.
|
|
15
|
|
|
And yet men ride, and go many a mile
|
|
16
|
|
|
To seek him out, and make his acquaintance,
|
|
17
|
|
|
Not knowing of his false governance.
|
|
18
|
|
|
And if you will grant me audience,
|
|
19
|
|
|
I will tell of it here, in your presence.
|
| |
|
20
|
|
|
But worshipful canons, all religious,
|
|
21
|
|
|
Don’t think that I am slandering your house,
|
|
22
|
|
|
Although my tale may of a canon be.
|
|
23
|
|
|
In every order, some are rogues, we see!
|
|
24
|
|
|
And God forbid that a whole company
|
|
25
|
|
|
Should all do penance for one man’s folly.
|
|
26
|
|
|
To slander you is hardly my intent,
|
|
27
|
|
|
But to correct what is wrong, is meant.
|
|
28
|
|
|
This tale is not told for you alone, now,
|
|
29
|
|
|
But more for others. You well know how
|
|
30
|
|
|
That among Christ’s Apostles twelve
|
|
31
|
|
|
There was no traitor but Judas himself;
|
|
32
|
|
|
Then why would all the rest share the blame
|
|
33
|
|
|
Who were guiltless? Of you I say the same –
|
|
34
|
|
|
Save only this, if you will hark to me:
|
|
35
|
|
|
If any Judas in your convent be
|
|
36
|
|
|
Remove him swiftly, be it on your head
|
|
37
|
|
|
If shame or loss should ever cause you dread.
|
|
38
|
|
|
And be not displeased with me, I pray,
|
|
39
|
|
|
But in this instance hark to what I say.
|
| |
|
40
|
|
|
In London lived a chantry priest I hear,
|
|
41
|
|
|
Who therein had dwelt for many a year,
|
|
42
|
|
|
Who was so agreeable and so able,
|
|
43
|
|
|
The housewife where he sat at table,
|
|
44
|
|
|
Would allow him not a coin to pay
|
|
45
|
|
|
For board or clothing, whatever his display;
|
|
46
|
|
|
And he had spending-silver too, and how.
|
|
47
|
|
|
No matter; I will proceed for now,
|
|
48
|
|
|
And tell forth all my tale of the canon
|
|
49
|
|
|
Who brought this priest to great confusion.
|
|
50
|
|
|
The false canon went along one day
|
|
51
|
|
|
To the priest’s chamber where he lay,
|
|
52
|
|
|
Beseeching him to lend him a certain
|
|
53
|
|
|
Sum of gold, which he’d repay again.
|
|
54
|
|
|
‘Lend me a mark,’ quoth he, ‘but days three,
|
|
55
|
|
|
And on the day appointed I’ll pay thee.
|
|
56
|
|
|
And if so be that you find me false,
|
|
57
|
|
|
The next day hang me from the walls!’
|
| |
|
58
|
|
|
The priest took out a mark, at once,
|
|
59
|
|
|
And the canon thanked him anon,
|
|
60
|
|
|
And took his leave, and went forth on his way,
|
|
61
|
|
|
And on the third day came to repay,
|
|
62
|
|
|
And gave his gold to the priest again,
|
|
63
|
|
|
Of which the priest was glad, it’s plain.
|
| |
|
64
|
|
|
‘Certainly,’ quoth he, ‘it’s fine by me
|
|
65
|
|
|
To lend a man a noble, or two, or three,
|
|
66
|
|
|
Or anything that is in my possession,
|
|
67
|
|
|
When he’s of such honest disposition
|
|
68
|
|
|
That he’ll in no wise fail of his day.
|
|
69
|
|
|
To such a man I never can say nay.’
|
|
70
|
|
|
‘What,’ quoth the canon, ‘I be untrue?
|
|
71
|
|
|
Nay, that would indeed be something new!
|
|
72
|
|
|
My honour is a thing I’ll ever keep
|
|
73
|
|
|
Until the final day on which I creep
|
|
74
|
|
|
Into my grave, all else God forbid!
|
|
75
|
|
|
Believe in this as surely as the Creed!
|
|
76
|
|
|
God be thanked, in good time be it said,
|
|
77
|
|
|
There was never a man not repaid
|
|
78
|
|
|
By me with the gold or silver he had lent,
|
|
79
|
|
|
Nor never a falsehood in my intent.
|
|
80
|
|
|
And sire,’ quoth he, ‘now all privately,
|
|
81
|
|
|
Since you have show such courtesy to me,
|
|
82
|
|
|
And dealt with me with such nobleness,
|
|
83
|
|
|
To repay you somewhat for your goodness
|
|
84
|
|
|
I’ll tell you something: if you wish to hear,
|
|
85
|
|
|
I’ll teach you plainly all the manner
|
|
86
|
|
|
In which I can work true alchemy.
|
|
87
|
|
|
Take good heed; with your own eye you’ll see
|
|
88
|
|
|
That I will work a miracle ere I go.’
|
|
89
|
|
|
‘Yea?’ quoth the priest, ‘Sire, and will you so?
|
|
90
|
|
|
Marry! I pray you do so, heartily.’
|
|
91
|
|
|
‘At your command, sire, I shall do, truly,’
|
|
92
|
|
|
Quoth the canon, ‘all else God forbid!’
|
| |
|
93
|
|
|
Lo, how this thief could his service bid!
|
|
94
|
|
|
True indeed it is that proffered service
|
|
95
|
|
|
Stinks: call the old and wise as witness;
|
|
96
|
|
|
And that full soon you will surely see
|
|
97
|
|
|
In this canon, root of all treachery,
|
|
98
|
|
|
Who evermore delights and finds gladness –
|
|
99
|
|
|
Such fiendish tricks his thoughts express –
|
|
100
|
|
|
When on Christ’s people mischief he does bring.
|
|
101
|
|
|
God keep us from his false dissembling!
|
| |
|
102
|
|
|
The priest knew nothing of with whom he dealt,
|
|
103
|
|
|
And of the coming harm he nothing felt.
|
|
104
|
|
|
O foolish priest, O foolish innocent,
|
|
105
|
|
|
By covetousness, anon, to be rent!
|
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106
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O devoid of grace: blind your conceit!
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107
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Utterly unaware of the deceit
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108
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This cunning fox has crafted for thee.
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109
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From his wily tricks you may not flee;
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110
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And therefore to reach my conclusion
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111
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Which concerns your utter confusion,
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112
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Unhappy man, I will move on swiftly
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113
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To tell of your stupidity and folly,
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114
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And the falseness of that other wretch,
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115
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As far as my ability may stretch.
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116
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This canon was my lord, you think I mean?
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117
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Sir Host, in faith, and by the Heavens’ Queen,
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118
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It was another canon, and not he,
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119
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A hundred-fold deeper in subtlety.
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120
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He has betrayed folks many a time;
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121
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Of his falseness it troubles me to rhyme.
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122
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Whenever I speak about his falsehood,
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123
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For shame of him my cheeks fill with blood
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124
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– At any rate, they begin to glow,
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125
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For redness I have none, as I do know,
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126
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In my visage, for the fumes all diverse
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127
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Of metals, which you heard me rehearse,
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128
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Consumed and wasted have my redness.
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129
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Take heed of this canon’s wickedness!
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130
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‘Sire,’ quoth he to the priest, ‘Send your man
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131
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For quicksilver, so we have some on hand;
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132
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And let him bring us two ounces or three;
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133
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And when he returns, then you shall see
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134
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A wondrous thing you never saw ere this.’
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135
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‘Sire,’ quoth the priest, ‘as you command, it is.’
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136
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He bade his servant fetch him this thing,
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137
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And he was all ready at his bidding,
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138
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And so went forth, and came anon again
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139
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With this quicksilver, briefly to explain,
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140
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And handed three ounces to the canon;
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141
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And he laid them fair and well adown,
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142
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And bade the servant coals for to bring,
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143
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That he might at once begin its working.
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144
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The servant swiftly brought the coal,
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145
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And the canon then took a crucible
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146
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From his bosom, and showed it to the priest.
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147
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‘This instrument,’ quoth he, ‘which you see,
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148
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Take it in hand yourself, and place therein
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149
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Of this quicksilver an ounce, and so begin,
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150
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In Christ’s name, to be a philosopher.
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151
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There are few indeed to whom I’d offer
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152
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To show them this much of all my science,
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153
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For you shall see here, by experience,
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154
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This quicksilver I’ll harden, by and by,
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155
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Right in your sight anon, without a lie,
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156
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And make it as good silver, and as fine,
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157
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As there is any in your purse, or mine,
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158
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Or elsewhere, and make it malleable –
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159
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Else hold me as false, and unable
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160
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Ever amongst true folks to appear!
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161
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I have a powder here, that cost me dear,
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162
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Which makes all good, it’s the root of all
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163
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My power, of which I’ll show you more.
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164
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Send your man away, he can stand without,
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165
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And shut the door while we are about
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166
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Our private tasks, that no man may us see,
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167
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While we work at all this alchemy.’
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168
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All that he asked was fulfilled in deed:
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169
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The servant was sent away with speed,
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170
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And his master shut the door anon,
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171
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And to their labour swiftly are they gone.
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172
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The priest, at this wretched canon’s bidding,
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173
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Upon the fire anon set this thing,
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174
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And blew the fire, and busied him full fast.
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175
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And the canon into the crucible cast
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176
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A powder – I know not what it was
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177
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Chalk perhaps, perhaps it was of glass,
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178
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Or something else not worth a fly,
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179
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To blind this priest with – and bade him ply
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180
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The tongs, and lay the coal all above
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181
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The crucible: ‘As a token I thee love,’
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182
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Quoth this canon, ‘with your own hands two
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183
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Shall you work the thing which here we do.’
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184
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‘Graunt merci,’ quoth the priest, and was full glad,
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185
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And laid the coals out as the canon bade.
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186
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And while he was busy, the fiendish wretch,
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187
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This false canon – the foul fiend him fetch! –
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188
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Out of his bosom took a beech-wood coal,
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189
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In which all subtly he had bored a hole,
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190
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And put therein silver filings from the scale,
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191
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An ounce, and sealed it was, without fail,
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192
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That hole with wax, to keep the silver in.
|
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193
|
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And understand that this false piece of sin
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194
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Was not made there, but it was made before;
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195
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And other things that I shall tell of more
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196
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Hereafter, that he with him had brought.
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197
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Ere he came, to beguile the priest he thought;
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198
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And so he did, ere that they had parted.
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199
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He couldn’t wait to fleece him, once he’d started.
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200
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It angers me when of him I speak;
|
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201
|
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On his falsehood vengeance would I wreak,
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202
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If I knew how, but he is here and there;
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203
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He’s so changeable, he abides nowhere.
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| |
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204
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But take heed now, sires, for God’s love:
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205
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He took the coal, of which I spoke above,
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206
|
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And in his hand he held it covertly,
|
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207
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And while the priest was working busily
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208
|
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With the other coals, as I said ere this,
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209
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The canon spoke: ‘Friend, you’ve gone amiss.
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|
210
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This is not laid out as it ought to be.
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211
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But I’ll soon amend it now,’ quoth he.
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212
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Let me fiddle with all this for a while,
|
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213
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For I take pity on you, by Saint Giles!
|
|
214
|
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You are full hot – I see how you do sweat.
|
|
215
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Here, take a cloth, and wipe away the wet.’
|
|
216
|
|
|
And while the priest stood and wiped his face,
|
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217
|
|
|
The canon took his coal – may he lack grace! –
|
|
218
|
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And laid it above, on the middle ward
|
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219
|
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|
Of the crucible, and blew well afterward,
|
|
220
|
|
|
Till the coals burnt vigorously, and then:
|
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221
|
|
|
‘Give us a drink,’ quoth the canon ‘when,
|
|
222
|
|
|
In a trice all will be well, I undertake.
|
|
223
|
|
|
Sit us down, and let us merry make.’
|
|
224
|
|
|
And when the canon’s beechen coal
|
|
225
|
|
|
Was burnt, all the metal from the hole
|
|
226
|
|
|
Into the crucible flowed down anon
|
|
227
|
|
|
– For so it had to do, as stands to reason,
|
|
228
|
|
|
Since laid so levelly above it was.
|
|
229
|
|
|
But the priest knew naught of it, alas!
|
|
230
|
|
|
He thought all the coals equally good,
|
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231
|
|
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For of the trick he nothing understood.
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|
232
|
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|
And when the alchemist saw it was time,
|
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233
|
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‘Rise up,’ quoth he, ‘sir priest and stand by me,
|
|
234
|
|
|
And since an ingot mould I know you’ve none,
|
|
235
|
|
|
Go walk forth, and bring me some chalk-stone,
|
|
236
|
|
|
For I will mould it into the same shape
|
|
237
|
|
|
That a silver ingot has, its form I’ll ape.
|
|
238
|
|
|
And bring with you, too, a bowl or pan
|
|
239
|
|
|
Full of water and you will see, good man,
|
|
240
|
|
|
How our affair shall prosper and conceive.
|
|
241
|
|
|
But wait: so that you may not misbelieve
|
|
242
|
|
|
Nor have suspicions of me in your absence,
|
|
243
|
|
|
I will not stay here out of your presence,
|
|
244
|
|
|
But go with you, and come with you again.’
|
|
245
|
|
|
The chamber door, shortly, to explain,
|
|
246
|
|
|
They opened and shut, and went their way,
|
|
247
|
|
|
And carried the key with them, I may say,
|
|
248
|
|
|
And came back again without delay.
|
|
249
|
|
|
Why tarry, in telling this, the livelong day?
|
|
250
|
|
|
He took the chalk, and carved it in the wise
|
|
251
|
|
|
Of a silver ingot mould, that’s no surprise.
|
| |
|
252
|
|
|
I say, he took from out of his own sleeve
|
|
253
|
|
|
A silver rod – curse those who do deceive! –
|
|
254
|
|
|
Which was exactly a full ounce in weight.
|
|
255
|
|
|
And take heed now of the trick he played:
|
|
256
|
|
|
He carved his ingot mould in length and breadth
|
|
257
|
|
|
To fit this rod, cunningly, as I said,
|
|
258
|
|
|
So slyly that the priest naught espied,
|
|
259
|
|
|
And in his sleeve again he did it hide,
|
|
260
|
|
|
And from the fire he took up his matter,
|
|
261
|
|
|
And poured it in the mould, with merry cheer,
|
|
262
|
|
|
Then in the water he the mould did cast
|
|
263
|
|
|
As he wished; and the priest called at the last,
|
|
264
|
|
|
‘Look what is there – put in your hand and grope!
|
|
265
|
|
|
You will find silver there, I dare to hope.’
|
|
266
|
|
|
What else, by the Devil and Hell, could it be?
|
|
267
|
|
|
Silver shavings formed it, utterly!
|
|
268
|
|
|
The priest put in his hand, and plain as plain
|
|
269
|
|
|
Found the silver rod: joy through every vein
|
|
270
|
|
|
Of the priest coursed, on seeing it was so.
|
|
271
|
|
|
‘God’s blessing, and his mother’s also,
|
|
272
|
|
|
And all his saints, on you, sir canon!’
|
|
273
|
|
|
Said the priest, ‘and on me derision,
|
|
274
|
|
|
If – should you agree that you’ll teach me
|
|
275
|
|
|
This noble craft and all its subtlety –
|
|
276
|
|
|
I am not yours, in all that ever I may.’
|
| |
|
277
|
|
|
Quoth the canon: ‘Yet will I make assay
|
|
278
|
|
|
A second time, so that you may take heed
|
|
279
|
|
|
And become expert, and when you need
|
|
280
|
|
|
To do so, another day, in my absence,
|
|
281
|
|
|
Work this discipline and skilful science.
|
|
282
|
|
|
Let us take up another ounce,’ quoth he,
|
|
283
|
|
|
‘Of quicksilver, at once, and rapidly
|
|
284
|
|
|
Do with it as you have done ere this
|
|
285
|
|
|
With the other, which turned to silver is.’
|
| |
|
286
|
|
|
The priest busies himself quick as he can
|
|
287
|
|
|
To do just as the canon, that wicked man,
|
|
288
|
|
|
Has commanded him, and fast blows the fire
|
|
289
|
|
|
To come at all the fruits of his desire.
|
|
290
|
|
|
And the canon too, in the meanwhile,
|
|
291
|
|
|
Is all ready the priest to twice beguile;
|
|
292
|
|
|
And in pretence in his hand does bear
|
|
293
|
|
|
A hollow stick – take note and be aware! –
|
|
294
|
|
|
In the end of which an ounce, and no more
|
|
295
|
|
|
Of silver metal was placed, as before
|
|
296
|
|
|
In the coal, and sealed with wax as well,
|
|
297
|
|
|
To keep the bits of metal where they must dwell.
|
|
298
|
|
|
And while the priest arranged the business,
|
|
299
|
|
|
The canon with his stick began to address
|
|
300
|
|
|
The crucible and all his powder he cast in,
|
|
301
|
|
|
As he did before – the devil out of his skin
|
|
302
|
|
|
Flay him, I pray to God, for his deceit!
|
|
303
|
|
|
For he was ever false in thought and deed –
|
|
304
|
|
|
And with his stick, above the crucible,
|
|
305
|
|
|
That was all charged with that false metal,
|
|
306
|
|
|
He stirred the coals till to melt began
|
|
307
|
|
|
The wax within the fire, as every man,
|
|
308
|
|
|
Knows well it should, unless he is a fool,
|
|
309
|
|
|
And all that was in the stick poured out too
|
|
310
|
|
|
And into the crucible it swiftly fell.
|
| |
|
311
|
|
|
Now, good sires, what do you think befell?
|
|
312
|
|
|
When the priest was thus beguiled again,
|
|
313
|
|
|
Supposing it naught but true, truth to say,
|
|
314
|
|
|
He was so glad I can scarce express
|
|
315
|
|
|
The nature of his mirth and his gladness;
|
|
316
|
|
|
As for the canon he offered him the moon,
|
|
317
|
|
|
His body and soul. Quoth the canon soon,
|
|
318
|
|
|
‘Though poor I be, skilful you shall me find,
|
|
319
|
|
|
I warn you; and there is yet more behind.
|
|
320
|
|
|
Is there any copper about?’ said he.
|
|
321
|
|
|
‘Yes, sire,’ quoth the priest, ‘I think there be.’
|
|
322
|
|
|
– ‘If not, go buy some now for us, quickly!
|
|
323
|
|
|
Good sire, be on your way, and haste thee.’
|
| |
|
324
|
|
|
The priest went off, and with the copper came,
|
|
325
|
|
|
And the canon took in his hands the same,
|
|
326
|
|
|
And of the copper weighed out just an ounce.
|
| |
|
327
|
|
|
All too powerless is my tongue to pronounce,
|
|
328
|
|
|
As minister to my thought, the wickedness
|
|
329
|
|
|
Of this canon, root of all sinfulness!
|
|
330
|
|
|
He seemed a friend to those who knew him not,
|
|
331
|
|
|
But he was a fiend, in his deeds and thought.
|
|
332
|
|
|
It wearies me to tell of all his falseness,
|
|
333
|
|
|
Yet nevertheless, I will it all express,
|
|
334
|
|
|
So that men may be made aware, thereby,
|
|
335
|
|
|
And for no other reason, the truth say I.
|
| |
|
336
|
|
|
The ounce of copper in the crucible
|
|
337
|
|
|
He placed, and on the fire set the metal,
|
|
338
|
|
|
Cast in the powder, made the priest to blow,
|
|
339
|
|
|
And in his working made him stoop down low,
|
|
340
|
|
|
As he did before – the whole thing was a jape;
|
|
341
|
|
|
As he had wished, he made the priest his ape!
|
|
342
|
|
|
And afterwards, in the mould the metal cast,
|
|
343
|
|
|
And in the pan placed it at the last
|
|
344
|
|
|
Of water, and into it put his hand,
|
|
345
|
|
|
And in his sleeve (just as beforehand
|
|
346
|
|
|
You heard me tell) he had a silver rod.
|
|
347
|
|
|
He slyly took it out, this cursed of God,
|
|
348
|
|
|
The priest ignorant still of his false craft,
|
|
349
|
|
|
And in the bottom of the pan (you laughed!)
|
|
350
|
|
|
Placed it, tumbling the water to and fro,
|
|
351
|
|
|
And wondrous secretly took up also
|
|
352
|
|
|
The copper rod, invisibly to the priest,
|
|
353
|
|
|
And hid it, and by the arm him seized,
|
|
354
|
|
|
And spoke to him, and carried on the game:
|
|
355
|
|
|
‘Stoop down now – by God, or you’re to blame! –
|
|
356
|
|
|
Help me now, as I did you before. Where
|
|
357
|
|
|
Is your hand? Dip in, and see what’s there.’
|
| |
|
358
|
|
|
The priest took up the silver rod anon;
|
|
359
|
|
|
And then said the canon: ‘Let us now be gone,
|
|
360
|
|
|
With these three rods, that we have wrought,
|
|
361
|
|
|
To a goldsmith, and see if they be aught.
|
|
362
|
|
|
For, by my faith I’d swear, by my hood,
|
|
363
|
|
|
That they are pure silver, fine and good,
|
|
364
|
|
|
And that swiftly proven shall it be.’
|
| |
|
365
|
|
|
Off to the goldsmith with these rods three
|
|
366
|
|
|
They went, and put the rods to the assay
|
|
367
|
|
|
With fire and hammer; and none could say
|
|
368
|
|
|
They were not what they ought to be.
|
| |
|
369
|
|
|
The foolish priest, who was gladder than he?
|
|
370
|
|
|
There was never bird gladder to see the day,
|
|
371
|
|
|
No nightingale in the merry month of May
|
|
372
|
|
|
Was ever more eager than him to sing,
|
|
373
|
|
|
No lady more vigorous in carolling,
|
|
374
|
|
|
Or speaking of love and womanhood,
|
|
375
|
|
|
No knight in arms to show as brave and good,
|
|
376
|
|
|
To gain the favour of his lady dear,
|
|
377
|
|
|
Than was this priest an expert to appear!
|
|
378
|
|
|
And to the canon thus he loudly cried:
|
|
379
|
|
|
‘For love of God, who for us all has died,
|
|
380
|
|
|
And as I may deserve your favour, how
|
|
381
|
|
|
Much does this secret cost? Tell me now!’
|
| |
|
382
|
|
|
‘By our lady,’ quoth the canon, ‘it comes dear,
|
|
383
|
|
|
I warn you; for save I, and one, my peer,
|
|
384
|
|
|
In England no other man can silver make.’
|
|
385
|
|
|
‘No matter,’ quoth he, ‘now, sire, for God’s sake,
|
|
386
|
|
|
What must I pay? Tell me that, I pray.’
|
|
387
|
|
|
‘Well,’ quoth he, ‘it is full dear, I say.
|
|
388
|
|
|
Sire, in a word, if such is what you crave,
|
|
389
|
|
|
You must pay forty pounds, so God me save!
|
|
390
|
|
|
And were it not for the friendship, as it is,
|
|
391
|
|
|
You’ve showed to me, it would be more than this.’
|
| |
|
392
|
|
|
The priest the sum of forty pounds anon,
|
|
393
|
|
|
In nobles, fetched, and took them every one
|
|
394
|
|
|
To the canon for his formula, complete.
|
|
395
|
|
|
All his working was but fraud and deceit.
|
| |
|
396
|
|
|
‘Sir priest,’ he said, ‘I cannot make the most
|
|
397
|
|
|
Of my craft, its secrets must be kept close;
|
|
398
|
|
|
So, as you love me, keep them secretly,
|
|
399
|
|
|
For, if men knew of all my subtlety,
|
|
400
|
|
|
By God, they’d be so possessed by envy
|
|
401
|
|
|
Of me, because of all my alchemy,
|
|
402
|
|
|
I’d be stone dead; that would be their way.’
|
|
403
|
|
|
‘God forbid!’ quoth the priest, ‘What’s this you say?
|
|
404
|
|
|
I’d rather spend all the wealth I had,
|
|
405
|
|
|
Or hope to have, else may I be mad,
|
|
406
|
|
|
Than to see you suffer such misdeed.’
|
|
407
|
|
|
‘Of your goodwill, you show proof indeed!’
|
|
408
|
|
|
Quoth the canon, ‘Now farewell, grant merci!’
|
|
409
|
|
|
He went his way, and never the priest did see
|
|
410
|
|
|
Him from that day to this; and when the priest
|
|
411
|
|
|
Made assay, the next time that he wished,
|
|
412
|
|
|
Of the formula, farewell! – It was deceit!
|
|
413
|
|
|
Lo thus befuddled, and beguiled was he!
|
|
414
|
|
|
So does the canon make preparation
|
|
415
|
|
|
To bring folk to their own destruction.
|
| |
|
416
|
|
|
Consider, sires, how in all walks of life,
|
|
417
|
|
|
Between men and gold there is ever strife,
|
|
418
|
|
|
So much so that there is scarcely any.
|
|
419
|
|
|
This alchemy now has so blinded many
|
|
420
|
|
|
That, in good faith, I swear that it must be
|
|
421
|
|
|
The greatest cause of all this scarcity.
|
|
422
|
|
|
Philosophers speak so mistily
|
|
423
|
|
|
Of this craft, that men can barely see,
|
|
424
|
|
|
Not with the wit that men have nowadays.
|
|
425
|
|
|
They may go on chattering like jays,
|
|
426
|
|
|
And on its jargon wager joy and pain,
|
|
427
|
|
|
But to its end they never will attain.
|
|
428
|
|
|
A man easily learn, if he owns aught,
|
|
429
|
|
|
To ‘multiply’, and bring his wealth to naught.
|
| |
|
430
|
|
|
Lo, such a profit there is in this sweet game:
|
|
431
|
|
|
A man’s mirth it will turn to woe and shame,
|
|
432
|
|
|
Empty out their large and heavy purses,
|
|
433
|
|
|
And end in folk purchasing fresh curses
|
|
434
|
|
|
From those that to it their wealth have turned.
|
|
435
|
|
|
O fie, for shame! – They that have been burned,
|
|
436
|
|
|
Can they not learn, alas, to shun the heat?
|
|
437
|
|
|
You that try it, I’d advise you flee it,
|
|
438
|
|
|
Or lose all; better than never is late.
|
|
439
|
|
|
For wealth, ‘never’ is far too long to wait;
|
|
440
|
|
|
Though you search always, you’ll never find.
|
|
441
|
|
|
You are as bold as Bayard is, the blind
|
|
442
|
|
|
And blundering horse, perils all unknown.
|
|
443
|
|
|
He is as like to run against a stone
|
|
444
|
|
|
As to wander along the broad highway.
|
|
445
|
|
|
So fare you all who ‘multiply’ I say.
|
|
446
|
|
|
If your eyes cannot see aright,
|
|
447
|
|
|
Be careful your mind lacks not its sight;
|
|
448
|
|
|
For though you gaze ever so wide, or stare,
|
|
449
|
|
|
You’ll win nothing at all by dabbling there,
|
|
450
|
|
|
But merely waste all you may seize in turn.
|
|
451
|
|
|
Dampen the fire lest it swiftly burn;
|
|
452
|
|
|
Meddle no more with all that art, I mean,
|
|
453
|
|
|
For if you do, your coffers will be clean.
|
|
454
|
|
|
And listen to me again, here’s the chatter:
|
|
455
|
|
|
What true alchemists made of this matter.
|
| |
|
456
|
|
|
Give Arnold of Villanova your attention –
|
|
457
|
|
|
In his Rosary the process he does mention –
|
|
458
|
|
|
He speaks thus, without shadow of a lie:
|
|
459
|
|
|
‘No man may harden mercury, say I,
|
|
460
|
|
|
Without his brother sulphur inflowing.’
|
|
461
|
|
|
Yet the man who first said this thing
|
|
462
|
|
|
Was the father of the alchemists, Hermes;
|
|
463
|
|
|
He says that the dragon, if you please,
|
|
464
|
|
|
Does not die unless he in turn is slain
|
|
465
|
|
|
With his brother, and, I should explain,
|
|
466
|
|
|
By the dragon, mercury, and no other
|
|
467
|
|
|
He understood, and brimstone by his brother,
|
|
468
|
|
|
That out of Sol and Luna men do draw.
|
|
469
|
|
|
‘And therefore,’ said he – listen to my lore –
|
|
470
|
|
|
‘Let no man busy himself those heights to reach,
|
|
471
|
|
|
Unless the intention and the speech
|
|
472
|
|
|
Of the alchemists he does understand.
|
|
473
|
|
|
And if he does not, he’s a foolish man;
|
|
474
|
|
|
For this science and this skill,’ quoth he,
|
|
475
|
|
|
‘Is the most secret of secrets, trust in me.’
|
| |
|
476
|
|
|
Also there was a disciple of Plato
|
|
477
|
|
|
Who once spoke to his master – I know,
|
|
478
|
|
|
For the book Senior Zadith bears witness –
|
|
479
|
|
|
Making demand that the truth he express:
|
|
480
|
|
|
‘Tell me the name of the secret stone.’
|
|
481
|
|
|
And Plato answered him right anon:
|
|
482
|
|
|
‘Take the stone that men Titanos name – ’
|
|
483
|
|
|
‘What is that?’ quoth he; ‘Magnesia is the same,’
|
|
484
|
|
|
Said Plato. ‘Yea, sire, and is it thus?
|
|
485
|
|
|
You explain ignotum per ignocius!
|
|
486
|
|
|
What is Magnesia then, good sire, I pray?’
|
|
487
|
|
|
‘It is a liquid that is made, I say,
|
|
488
|
|
|
Out of four elements,’ then quoth Plato.
|
|
489
|
|
|
‘Tell me the root, good sire,’ quoth he also,
|
|
490
|
|
|
‘Of that liquid, if so be your will.’
|
|
491
|
|
|
‘Nay,’ quoth Plato, ‘It is a secret, still!
|
|
492
|
|
|
The philosophers are sworn every one
|
|
493
|
|
|
To reveal the essence of this to none,
|
|
494
|
|
|
Nor write it in a book in any manner,
|
|
495
|
|
|
For to God it is so precious and dear
|
|
496
|
|
|
That he wishes not its discovery,
|
|
497
|
|
|
Save where it is pleasing to his deity
|
|
498
|
|
|
To enlighten men, and thus to defend
|
|
499
|
|
|
The truth from others; lo, this is the end!’
|
| |
|
500
|
|
|
So I conclude thus, since the God of Heaven
|
|
501
|
|
|
Won’t allow philosophers, with reason,
|
|
502
|
|
|
To say how men might come at this stone,
|
|
503
|
|
|
I advise you for the best, let it alone!
|
|
504
|
|
|
For whoever makes God his adversary,
|
|
505
|
|
|
And tries to work a thing that’s contrary
|
|
506
|
|
|
To His will, for sure, shall never thrive,
|
|
507
|
|
|
Though he ‘multiply’ as long as he’s alive.
|
|
508
|
|
|
And that’s the point; for ended is my tale.
|
|
509
|
|
|
God send every true man grace without fail!
|
| |
