Part 6 (1/2)

This Miller smiled at their 'cute nicety, And thought,--all this is done but for a wile; They fancy that no man can them beguile: But, by my thrift, I'll dust their searching eye, For all the sleights in their philosophy.

The more quaint knacks and guarded plans they make, The more corn will I steal when once I take: Instead of flour, I'll leave them nought but bran: The greatest clerks are not the wisest men.

As whilom to the wolf thus spake the mare: Of all their art I do not count a tare.

Out at the door he goeth full privily, When that he saw his time, and noiselessly: He looketh up and down, till he hath found The clerks' bay horse, where he was standing bound Under an ivy wall, behind the mill: And to the horse he goeth him fair and well, And strippeth off the bridle in a trice.

And when the horse was loose he 'gan to race Unto the wild mares wandering in the fen, With WEHEE! WHINNY! right through thick and thin!

This Miller then returned; no word he said, But doth his work, and with these clerks he played, Till that their corn was well and fairly ground.

And when the meal is sacked and safely bound John goeth out, and found his horse was gone, And cried aloud with many a stamp and groan, ”Our horse is lost! Allen, 'od's banes! I say, Up on thy feet!--come off, man--up, away!

Alas! our Warden's palfrey, it is gone!”

Allen at once forgot both meal and corn - Out of his mind went all his husbandry - ”What! whilk way is he gone?” he 'gan to cry.

The Miller's wife came laughing inwardly, ”Alas!” said she, ”your horse i' the fens doth fly After wild mares as fast as he can go!

Ill-luck betide the man that bound him so, And his that better should have knit the rein.”

”Alas!” quoth John, ”good Allen, haste amain; Lay down thy sword, as I will mine also; Heaven knoweth I am as nimble as a roe; He shall not 'scape us baith, or my saul's dead!

Why didst not put the horse within the shed?

By the ma.s.s, Allen, thou'rt a fool, I say!”

Those silly clerks have scampered fast away Unto the fen; Allen and nimble John: And when the Miller saw that they were gone, He half a bushel of their flour doth take, And bade his wife go knead it in a cake.

He said, ”I trow these clerks feared what they've found; Yet can a miller turn a scholar round For all his art. Yea, let them go their way!

See where they run! yea, let the children play: They get him not so lightly, by my crown.”

The simple clerks go running up and down, With ”Soft, soft!--stand, stand!--hither!--back ! take care!

Now whistle thou, and I shall keep him here!”

But, to be brief, until the very night They could not, though they tried with all their might, The palfrey catch; he always ran so fast: Till in a ditch they caught him at the last.

Weary and wet as beasts amid the rain, Allen and John come slowly back again.

”Alas,” quoth John, ”that ever I was born!

Now are we turned into contempt and scorn.

Our corn is stolen; fools they will us call; The Warden, and our college fellows all, And 'specially the Miller--'las the day!”

Thus plaineth John while going by the way Toward the mill, the bay nag in his hand.

The Miller sitting by the fire they found, For it was night: no further could they move; But they besought him, for Heaven's holy love, Lodgment and food to give them for their penny.

And Simkin answered, ”If that there be any, Such as it is, yet shall ye have your part.

My house is small, but ye have learned art; Ye can, by arguments, well make a place A mile broad, out of twenty foot of s.p.a.ce!

Let's see now if this place, as 'tis, suffice; Or make more room with speech, as is your guise.”

”Now, Simon, by Saint Cuthbert,” said this John, ”Thou'rt ever merry, and that's answered soon.

I've heard that man must needs choose o' twa things; Such as he finds, or else such as he brings.

But specially I pray thee, mine host dear, Let us have meat and drink, and make us cheer, And we shall pay you to the full, be sure: With empty hand men may na' hawks allure.

Lo! here's our siller ready to be spent!”

The Miller to the town his daughter sent For ale and bread, and roasted them a goose; And bound their horse; he should no more get loose; And in his own room made for them a bed, With blankets, sheets, and coverlet well spread: Not twelve feet from his own bed did it stand.

His daughter, by herself, as it was planned, In a small pa.s.sage closet, slept close by: It might no better be, for reasons why, - There was no wider chamber in the place.

They sup, and jest, and show a merry face, And drink of ale, the strongest and the best.

It was just midnight when they went to rest.

Well hath this Simkin varnished his hot head; Full pale he was with drinking, and nought red.

He hiccougheth, and speaketh through the nose, As with the worst of colds, or quinsy's throes.

To bed he goeth, and with him trips his wife; Light as a jay, and jolly seemed her life, So was her jolly whistle well ywet.

The cradle at her bed's foot close she set To rock, or nurse the infant in the night.