The Canterbury Tales;the Knyghtes Tale Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: A AB A BBCDDC EFGCG EEGGC CEEBB GFHHC CIIGG DDDDG GEEJJ HHDDH EEGG KCCD DCCBB AADDA ABBGG BBGGD DGLGG EELLG G GGB GKKG GGGGG KKGGG GGGGG DDGGH HDDGG GGGGK KGGGG DDBBH HGGGG BBGGG GGGGG EGDDG GGGDD GGDDD DGG MM GGGGD DMMMM MMMM BBBM

THE KNYGHTES TALEA
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Iamque domos patrias Scithice post aspera gentis preliaA
laurigero c Thebaid xiiB
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Heere bigynneth the knyghtes taleA
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Whilom as olde stories tellen usB
Ther was a duc that highte TheseusB
Of Atthenes he was lord and governourC
That gretter was ther noon under the sonneD
Ful many a riche contree hadde he wonneD
What with his wysdom and his chivalrieC
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He conquered al the regne of FemenyeE
That whilom was ycleped ScithiaF
And weddede the queene YpolitaG
And broghte hir hoom with hym in his contreeC
With muchel glorie and greet solempnyteeG
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And eek hir yonge suster EmelyeE
And thus with victorie and with melodyeE
Lete I this noble duk to Atthenes rydeG
And al his hoost in armes hym bisydeG
And certes if it nere to long to heereC
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I wolde have toold yow fully the manereC
How wonnen was the regne of FemenyeE
By Theseus and by his chivalryeE
And of the grete bataille for the nonesB
Bitwixen Atthenes and AmazonesB
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And how asseged was YpolitaG
The faire hardy queene of ScithiaF
And of the feste that was at hir weddyngeH
And of the tempest at hir hoom comyngeH
But al the thyng I moot as now forbereC
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I have God woot a large feeld to ereC
And wayke been the oxen in my ploughI
The remenant of the tale is long ynoughI
I wol nat letten eek noon of this routeG
Lat every felawe telle his tale abouteG
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And lat se now who shal the soper wynneD
And ther I lefte I wol ayeyn bigynneD
This duc of whom I make menciounD
Whan he was come almoost unto the tounD
In al his wele and in his mooste prideG
-
He was war as he caste his eye asideG
Where that ther kneled in the hye weyeE
A compaignye of ladyes tweye and tweyeE
Ech after oother clad in clothes blakeJ
But swich a cry and swich a wo they makeJ
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That in this world nys creature lyvyngeH
That herde swich another waymentyngeH
And of this cry they nolde nevere stentenD
Til they the reynes of his brydel hentenD
'What folk been ye that at myn hom comyngeH
-
Perturben so my feste with criynge '-
Quod Theseus 'hav ye so greet envyeE
Of myn honour that thus compleyne and cryeE
Or who hath yow mysboden or offendedG
And telleth me if it may been amendedG
-
And why that ye been clothed thus in blak '-
The eldeste lady of hem alle spakK
Whan she hadde swowned with a deedly cheereC
That it was routhe for to seen and heereC
And seyde 'Lord to whom Fortune hath yevenD
-
Victorie and as a conqueror to lyvenD
Nat greveth us youre glorie and youre honourC
But we biseken mercy and socourC
Have mercy on oure wo and oure distresseB
Som drope of pitee thurgh thy gentillesseB
-
Upon us wrecched wommen lat thou falleA
For certes lord ther is noon of us alleA
That she ne hath been a duchesse or a queeneD
Now be we caytyves as it is wel seeneD
Thanked be Fortune and hir false wheelA
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That noon estat assureth to be weelA
And certes lord to abyden youre presenceB
Heere in the temple of the goddesse ClemenceB
We han ben waitynge al this fourtenyghtG
Now help us lord sith it is in thy myghtG
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I wrecche which that wepe and waille thusB
Was whilom wyf to kyng CappaneusB
That starf at Thebes cursed be that dayG
And alle we that been in this arrayG
And maken al this lamentaciounD
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We losten alle oure housbondes at that tounD
Whil that the seege theraboute layG
And yet now the olde Creon weylawayL
That lord is now of Thebes the CiteeG
Fulfild of ire and of iniquiteeG
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He for despit and for his tirannyeE
To do the dede bodyes vileynyeE
Of alle oure lordes whiche that been slaweL
He hath alle the bodyes on an heep ydraweL
And wol nat suffren hem by noon assentG
-
Neither to been yburyed nor ybrentG
But maketh houndes ete hem in despit '-
And with that word withouten moore respitG
They fillen gruf and criden pitouslyG
'Have on us wrecched wommen som mercyB
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And lat oure sorwe synken in thyn herte '-
This gentil duk doun from his courser sterteG
With herte pitous whan he herde hem spekeK
Hym thoughte that his herte wolde brekeK
Whan he saugh hem so pitous and so maatG
-
That whilom weren of so greet estaatG
And in his armes he hem alle up henteG
And hem conforteth in ful good ententeG
And swoor his ooth as he was trewe knyghtG
He solde doon so ferforthyl his myghtG
-
Upon the tiraunt Creon hem to wrekeK
That all the peple of Grece sholde spekeK
How Creon was of Theseus yservedG
As he that hadde his deeth ful wel deservedG
And right anoon withouten moore aboodG
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His baner he desplayeth and forth roodG
To Thebesward and al his hoost bisideG
No neer Atthenes wolde he go ne rideG
Ne take his ese fully half a dayG
But onward on his wey that nyght he layG
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And sente anon Ypolita the queeneD
And Emelye hir yonge suster sheeneD
Unto the toun of Atthenes to dwelleG
And forth he rit ther is namoore to telleG
The rede statue of Mars with spere and targeH
-
So shyneth in his white baner largeH
That alle the feeldes gliteren up and dounD
And by his baner gorn is his penounD
Of gold ful riche in which ther was ybeteG
The Mynotaur which that he slough in CreteG
-
Thus rit this duc thus rit this conquerourG
And in his hoost of chivalrie the flourG
Til that he cam to Thebes and alighteG
Faire in a feeld ther as he thoughte fighteG
But shortly for to speken of this thyngK
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With Creon which that was of Thebes kyngK
He faught and slough hym manly as a knyghtG
In pleyn bataille and putte the folk to flyghtG
And by assaut he wan the citee afterG
And rente adoun bothe wall and sparre and rafterG
-
And to the ladyes he sestored agaynD
The bones of hir housbondes that weren slaynD
To doon obsequies as was tho the gyseB
But it were al to longe for to devyseB
The grete clamour and the waymentyngeH
-
That the ladyes made at the brennyngeH
Of the bodies and the grete honourG
That Theseus the noble conquerourG
Dooth to the ladyes whan they from hym wenteG
But shortly for to telle is myn ententeG
-
Whan that his worthy duc this TheseusB
Hath Creon slayn and wonne Thebes thusB
Stille in that feeld he took al nyght his resteG
And dide with al the contree as hym lesteG
To ransake in the taas of bodyes dedeG
-
Hem for to strepe of harneys and of wedeG
The pilours diden bisynesse and cureG
After the bataille and disconfitureG
And so bifel that in the taas they foundeG
Thurgh girt with many a grevous blody woundeG
-
Two yonge knyghtes liggynge by and byE
Bothe in oon armes wroght ful richelyG
Of whiche two Arcita highte that oonD
And that oother knyght highte PalamonD
Nat fully quyke ne fully dede they wereG
-
But by here cote armures and by hir gereG
The heraudes knewe hem best in specialG
As they that weren of the blood roialG
Of Thebes and of sustren two ybornD
Out of the taas the pilours han hem tornD
-
And had hem caried softe unto the tenteG
Of Theseus and he ful soone hem senteG
To Atthenes to dwellen in prisounD
Perpetuelly he nolde no raunsounD
And whan this worthy due hath thus ydonD
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He took his hoost and hoom he rood anonD
With laurer crowned as a conquerourG
And ther he lyveth in joye and in honourG
-
Terme of his lyve what nedeth wordes moM
And in a tour in angwissh and in woM
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Dwellen this Palamon and eek ArciteG
For evermoore ther may no gold hem quiteG
This passeth yeer by yeer and day by dayG
Till it fil ones in a morwe of MayG
That Emelye that fairer was to seneD
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Than is the lylie upon his stalke greneD
And fressher than the May with floures neweM
For with the rose colour stroof hir heweM
I noot which was the fairer of hem twoM
Er it were day as was hir wone to doM
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She was arisen and al redy dightM
For May wole have no slogardrie a nyghtM
The sesoun priketh every gentil herteM
And maketh hym out of his slepe to sterteM
And seith arys and do thyn observaunce '-
-
This maked Emelye have remembraunceB
To doon honour to May and for to ryseB
Yclothed was she fressh for to devyseB
Hir yelow heer was broydeM

Geoffrey Chaucer



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