|
The vapour, which that fro the erthe glood, |
| Made the sonne to seme rody and brood; |
| 395 | But natheless, it was so fair a sighte |
| That it made alle hir hertes for to lighte, |
| What for the sesoun and the morwenynge, |
| And for the foweles that she herde synge; |
| For right anon she wiste what they mente |
| 400 | Right by hir song, and knew al hir entente. |
| The knotte, why that every tale is toold, |
| If it be taried til that lust be coold |
| Of hem that han it after herkned yoore, |
| The savour passeth ever lenger the moore, |
| 405 | For fulsomnesse of his prolixitee; |
| And by the same resoun thynketh me, |
| I sholde to the knotte condescende, |
| And maken of hir walkyng soone an ende. |
|
| The morning mists that rose from the damp earth |
| Reddened the sun and broadened it in girth; |
| 395 | Nevertheless it was so fair a sight |
| That it made all their hearts dance for delight, |
| What of the season and the fair morning, |
| And all the myriad birds that she heard sing; |
| For when she heard, she knew well what they meant, |
| 400 | Just by their songs, and learned all their intent. |
| The point of every story, why it's told, |
| If it's delayed till interest grow cold |
| In those who have, perchance, heard it before, |
| The savour passes from it more and more, |
| 405 | For fulsomeness of its prolixity. |
| And for this reason, as it seems to me, |
| I should to my tale's major point descend |
| And make of these girls' walking a swift end. |
|
