« May 2007 | Main | July 2007 »

June 28, 2007

To Her Coy Misters of the Clergy

Let me tell you about my husbands five, of which three were good, and not coincidental is the fact that these three were rich and old, with deep purse and dull wit. The other two young bucks I enjoyed dearly, because like God I am generous, and am not afaid to use my quient honor and best instrument, but they lost taste soon - all of them.

Do I come off as vein? Do you men of the Church see me as a Temptress? Very well; think what you will. If you have something to say, look me in the eyes and then still try to pretend you don't desire me.

You maides, like Christ and Paul, staring at the sky with incantations and hollow hearts, when will you do yourself a favor and extend your prayers to my experience, and draw nearer to God? You poor men, glosing the bible and your lives with jibberish and empty sacrament, offer no pithy reply.

You hate me because I stem from Eve, but I offer no objection. Christ has a place in his heart and will remember me.


*In this entry I took on the character of the wife of bath because often in Marvell's poetry he takes on personas and keeps his own opinions out of the ordeals.

June 27, 2007

Ye Olde Comment on a Lady's Thoughts

NOTE: This entry originally appeared in response to the boasts of a lady that she was beautiful and knew how to seduce Sir Gawain.

Sweet mistress, I , the Miller, speak to you.
With jest and bawdy tales and all that’s lewd.
You claim the means to get Gawain in bed.
Seems all that beauty’s going to your head.

This knight, he don’t play games like you and me.
He’d rather keep the code of chivalry.
I wonder, though, like you, if this is waste.
With all that handsomeness, he’s far too chaste!

As in my Chaucer tale, affairs are fun!
In your words, why not “dance� with everyone?
Although at times they end in burnt behinds
Such tricks and sex are best to pass the time.

Langland quites Chaucer

What a joy to my brain-pan it is to read Langland sending Chaucer out on the proverbial whale-road! Thank God we have some theology to read, rather than more talk about the Wife of Bath's "queinte." Langland makes much more heavenly sense than Chaucer, don't you think?

Comedy Beats Gawain

How fun a tale of trickery can be
When one is sick of Gawain’s courtesy.
I can’t believe he cared about his troth
Lord Bertilak sure kept him to his oath!

My story’s ‘bout a student, Nicholas,
Who seeks sex from his host’s wife, with success.
The two deceive the host to think “a flood,�
And climb into his bed to make some love.

Meanwhile, Absalon, a clerk, comes by.
To get a kiss from Alison, he tries.
He gets, but one, and leans in more to take,
But ass, not lips, he kisses by mistake!

Engraged, clerk Absalon, he seeks revenge,
A burning stick in Nicholas he sends.
Nick's cries of “water� tell Jon its the flood
Concerned about his wife, Jon drops the tub!

Enjoyment’s what I hope you get from me
I’m not so handsome as Gawain, you see.
But when it comes to tales, you bet he’s beat
For mine, is but, with comedy, complete.

June 26, 2007

Call me Absolon

I may be a prude who fears "speeche daungerous" (230), but I had to cringe in hearing the Wife of Bath's open discussion of her "bele chose" (453). Are the Miller and the Wife of Bath truly representative of the medieval commoner? Or is Chaucer just a bawd?

June 25, 2007

Take Thee To Canterbury

Is this a journey or profit or of penance?

What is the fate of the traveler who is making this journey
to praise those whom no longer reside on Earth,
journeying to make profit along the way
and which of these travelers
attempts to make profit in guise of prayer?
Pity be the soul whose intent is not pure.

Be not like the Monk--whose dress and dine is not that of a humble man and whose actions are murderous and unholy.
Be not like the Friar--whose profit is found in the false penance of the wealthy while the beggars and lepers are left without penance because they have nothing of worth.
Be not like the Wife of Bath--whose anger comes before all when her neighbor comes before her.
And be not like the Summoner--whose conscience allows his wife to be bartered for a quart of wine.

Instead
Be like the Parson who is pure of conscience and is true to the teachings of Christ. He and his brother, the Plowman, labor hard in the name of their Lord and seek nothing more than dedication to the true parish. Their loyalty will keep them safe in Heaven.

Take thee to Canterbury
but remember the intent
for what is gained now will surely be lost later.

June 24, 2007

The unsung songs of the common folk

Don't you just become dreadfully bored with hearing of nothing but Kings and Queens, Knights and their ladies, of God and the cross? Now is the time to know and appreciate the other side of life. Although my well-educated listeners must know of the proletariate, but do they know about them? I feel that it is my job, since I came from such lowly beginnings to share this side of life. What better way to get to know people than by traveling with them, hearing their stories first hand?

I am sure you may aruge, "But Mr. Chaucer, what good is knowing the stories of a few dreadful commoners?" LIttle do many of you know the great risks and rewards that come with a commoner's life. Their loves and losses, trusts and betrayals are just as intimate and interesting as your own. They may not eat, speak, or dress like you, but their stories are wonderful. Spend some time exploring those that live not in castles, but rather on and with the earth. You may be surprised by what you hear...

Art there more good lady like me in Chaucer's Canterbury?

Thou, Chaucer and prioress, truly knowest what sorrow I hath had in living in this chaste body. Oh, oh, oh! How greatly comparable is the prioress to me? To weep and cry with all her might at the sight of a mouse dead or suffering from the scorn and evilness of mankind like my Merciful Lord Christ Jesu whose mercy and goodness hath graced us all. Twas when I saw the Crucifix, a man wounded or beaten, I could only weep since my Lord was beaten and wounded for all of man's sins.

But beyond, my commitment is greater as I find the presence of Jesu in seemly men and infant boys. Oh how I am gripped from within and to try to shadow my cries! How may I not mourn and weep for my great Lord Christ Jesu? Hath I been able to see the dear knight and squire, I could only weep and cry for the vision of my Lord may be seen from within them!

Oh how the pilgrimage to Canterbury must ne be as great as my very own pilgrimage to Jerusalem where I hath beset my sight on the places where my Lord Christ was crucified. My cry for him was as if he had died this very day. But God hath purified me and raised this radiating heat within my bosom, clearing me internally and eternally for all sins. Oh how I very well desire to have travelled upon this pilgrimage with you all to pray and worship my Lord Christ.

Miller the Christ-Killer?

I was a bit suspicious about the Miller's Tale when I heard Chaucer say, "Deemeth nought, for Goddes love, that I saye / Of yvel entente, but for I moot reherse / Hir tales alle, be they bet or werse" (64-6). Indeed, after that scatalogical ending, I wish I had taken his advice and turned "over the leef" and chosen another tale! This kind of ribaldry is not uplifting to God - such words do more harm than good, do they not?

June 21, 2007

Christ Is With Us Forever And Ever

And in this same time, I had this ghostly sight of our Lord Jesu Christ. His head is that bleeds for the sake of his people. They do not see the love our good Lord had shown, ne for his suffering he had endured. The world is too much with sin: men dressed in armor to fight and kill until their life's end only for pride and glory, women unfaithful to their husbands simply to fulfill their sexual behaviors. All is all, but without love is nothing. I pray to God for forgiveness, for my sins and all of mankind's. May the glory of our Lord shine through the earth. And Christ will continue to stay with us forever and ever without end.

June 20, 2007

Is a Lady's forte the test of men?

Here hear Sir Gawain a heroines tale
A blameless creature am I, bound to Bertilak.
On an errand was I to earn the errant bent
That oft is the fault of earthling man, I find in you so evident.
You loved your own life more than loyalty.
You forfieted vow and fealty. You lied to my lord's face.
The gift he gave you, you gave not in its place.
For that was your vow, this word and troth:
"And all you have earned you must offer me." my lord said
And in return said Sir Gawain "By God, I grant it forthwith."
Now tell me true. How tempted to hide the green girdle
Were you?
Though honor said
And knights be true
Beside the bed
Your vow you threw

Under untruth and hostility my name you undo
When to the Green Knight compared me to contemptuous coquettes of bible lore
It was Adam's own life that lost the perfect line
And want is man to blame his woes on womankind
Count the cost. Christ was a man.
Were it woman's fault the price would be a woman.
And David did as poor men do,
In want of heart he spied a woman of heralded beauty,
Who thought herself alone high on the rooftops.
Who was it then that did
pursue?
In want of heart was he.
Solomon, and Samson too.
They all chose poorly.
So did you.

The Pentangle

O
Lord,
Here thou
Art much adored.
In this pointed form
On good Gawain’s shield Thy five old wounds doth inform
That his truth, his loyalty, shall yield.
Though he calls for thy blessing, feasts in thy name, attends mass like a nun,
Carries mild Mary, queen of heaven, on his swift steed into battle,
For this young, misguided knight, just what have you done?
Ought he to live engulfed in magic, a witch’s chattel?
Thy allowed him a pawn in a game to emerge,
The toy of Morgan the Goddess and Bertilak,
Threw him a heathen, elfish-green scourge,
And thence turned thy back.
What God uses such
Supernatural dressings?
I wonder at His touch
And doubt His caressing.


O
God,
Here thou
Willed the odd:
Thou offered this knight
The body of his witch-relation
By holy day (not scandalous night)—
Thy powers threatened his very salvation!
Driven to secrets, flushed by forbidden kisses, yet fearful of the man in green,
Lord, thou presented Gawain the brave with no other open choice than
To accept the conflicting mysticism of the belt of the queen,
To save his head from a devil, for he had no other plan.
Yet through his duplicity, his obvious deceit,
Thou guarded him aptly in forest and dell,
His enemy unable to deliver him defeat,
He was a hero not venturing to hell.
Thus I question all of my
Godly thoughts.
Though I am pure
He hears me not.


Dear all,
Here I’ve attempted to mimic Herbert’s interpretation of the emblem poem, which comments on an emblem not only through its words, but also its shape. Although I’m no poetic genius, my aim here was to illustrate Herbert’s creative stanzaic style. In addition, I utilized the broken pentangles to symbolize Herbert’s tentative relationship with God and inability to wholly accept Christian ideology. Unfortunately, I did all of this in Microsoft Word, so when I pasted this into the blog, the formatting did not transfer. After a fierce battle with my computer, I've admitted defeat, so please help me out by imagining this poem shaped like two pentangles. Thanks! :)

Sir Gawain

Why is there this innate feeling
that all men must be brave?
To be bold and daring,
and live up to certain expectations?
Sir Gawain is a tremendous knight,
but a silly one at that.
To take on such a challenge,
that in the end, will only wind up
hurting himself.
This I do not understand.

Brave is he, Sir Gawain the knight,
but what is his fate now?
Come one twelvemonth and one day
Sir Gawain may not be.
Childish it seems, but to some
a note of bravery.

Is it best to conclude
that all knights seem to be
ready and willing to sacrifice themselves
before anyone else?

Why can't all women be like Wealhtheow?

As I heard in Hubert Humphrey Hall today, women are beginning to assume more significant roles in literary works as we enter the fourteenth century. This new regiment of women makes me a bit nervous - shouldn't they recede into the background, peace-weave, and pass around wine in cups for men to drink? The Wife of Bath and the Prioress in Chaucer's General Prologue are given great space and measured respect. Do they really represent the reality of the medieval woman?

June 19, 2007

Is chivalry dead?

As I heard in the hall, this Sir Gawain is a virtuous thane who matches his words with deeds - almost, that is. He falters a bit. So what? Has he really done anything wrong by accepting the girdle and hiding it from Bertilak? Isn't it reasonable to want to save your own life? Or would the chivalric code demand he sacrifice his life in the name of "truth"?

Sir Gowain The Brave

It is I, Ben Jonson, whose answer has been requested
To the question concerning the tried and tested
Sir Gowain the knight and noble lord
Whose tales will leave no man bored
For he wilt not hesitate to sacrifice
Himself for worthy friend, against practical advice

But the question has been stated
Of the knight adourned in armour slated
If the worhtiness of his deeds endure
Beyond chivalry, achiveing heavenly pure
Or if they are the simple deeds performed
By a man by which good sense has been scoffed and scorned

To answer this I must relate to you
A story where I stood tried and true
When I tested my hand at duel against
A man who has departed for haeaven since
It happened on the fields of Shoreditch
When I plunged my sword and watched him twitch
Upon the ground, for my honour I had to defend
And on the lenght of the sword it did not depend
For he had a blade ten inches longer than mine
But it was I whose blade was red like wine
When i delcared "it is I who win"
Like the valiant Sir Gowain

The moral of my story here
Is that no man should give way to fear
When he must make a choice to flee or fight
For something that he believes to be right
For death is but a journey away
And after your dead the bards will replay
Your worthy story with a harp and lay

June 17, 2007

Gawain, faithful fellow or foolish fighter?

In hearing the tale of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, I'm perplexed by the way the Arthurian court operates. What exactly is the relationship between Arthur and his knights? Don't they owe him fealty? Why did not one of them jump at the chance to defend his honor against the Green Knight? Gawain eventually does so, but his willingness to take up the challenge is a bit late in coming. After hearing the lay of Lanval, it seems as if Gawain is a thane who defends other knights at his own expense. Is he a fool? Or are we supposed to admire him for it?

Arthurian Reciprocity ~ An Ode To My Lord And Brother In Arms

There once was a king, who was noble and true,
He was loved by many and loathed by few.
Arthur his name was, with his fair queen Guinevere
Their marriage and kingdom was the most revered.
Now begins my tale,
One that I swear,
Upon the life of my Amie that will dispel the air
Of illusion and treachery that clouded my sight.
Of all the Knights of the Round Table,
I was the most able
To protect and serve my good lord.
Scots and Pict both, I fought and slew,
As my Lord’s domain grew and grew.
When the time of praise and gratitude arrived,
The righteous King supplied and multiplied;
Baron, Knights and Dukes with treasure and land,
While I received nothing but my empty hand.
Broken and wounded from battle;
I sat with a heavy heart and melancholic mind.
I thought I was brave, beautiful, bold and kind;
Yet the great king appeared to shun me,
Something that I did not foresee.
While I displayed nothing but loyalty and tenacity.
Arthur and his knights celebrated with glee.
Despair and Despondent, I wandered off,
Searching for comfort I had lost.
Out of divine luck I should find,
A goddess and kingdom that would become mine.
Lost was I in the ecstasy that is love,
I return to my lord as a turtledove
To nest and rest while forgetting
Of the King’s earlier misgivings.
Content and happy was I that day,
Oblivious to what lies and evils would later play.
Having forgiven my lord for his ungratefulness,
The fair queen approached me with dagger in her dress.
“Lanval my dear, for long I have watched you,
Your lance makes me perspire with dew.
Please take me now for I want you in bed,
Thoughts of you roam my head,
My body grows hot and red,
With desire to be your first and only one.�
Shocked and disturbed, was I at the queen’s request,
I professed my allegiance to Arthur. But obsessed,
And surprised at my refusal,
The fork-tongued siren conjured delusions
And lies to vilify and destroy,
My life and reputation in a ploy.
Loving young boys and men
Was I accused of doing then.
The most heinous of sins was I to be brand
By the jealous queen in Arthur’s hand.
As an epitome of truth,
I declared the Queen to be dumb as a mute,
Her beauty in comparison
To be less than the maiden
Who tended my queen and Amie.
Guinevere recounted, ranted and raved,
As a hell spawned demon from a grave.
She cried to Arthur about my betrayal
Who swiftly judged without hearing of my portrayal.
My good brother and king placed me on trial
To be defamed and thrown into exile.
I pleaded and begged for him to recall
My deeds, devotion and service to all.
Alas, did my queen and love finally enter,
To prove her Lanval was no deceiver.
Shocked and stupefied was the king with the queen,
To realize her innocence was not so pristine.
Content and satisfied was I
That I did not bat an eye,
To leave the accursed land; I was gone
With my one true love to Avalon.
Now before my story comes to an end,
I do want to make amends.
Arthur, my lord and brother,
Please be advised that your son’s mother
Made your heir with another,
The noble Sir Gawain. Your lover
Is nothing but a usurper,
Whom you’ve vested trust and lust
Has now destroyed your comitatus.

Truly yours,
Lanval
The knight who Ladies And Noblewomen Venerate And Love

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I have just tried to imitate Marie’s writing by having Laval tell the story. Crude and pathetic as it may be. I wanted to have Lanval give his own personal account instead of the narrator. I got the idea from the Grendal excerpt we read. Hope it’s alright.

Welcome to the Dark Side

O son of man, my dear Lanval, I would like to welcome you to our world. Although fairy is a suitable name for you to label your amie and her people, they are actually physical manifestations of Celestial Spirits that have been exhiled from their rightful place in Heaven. There is an on-going war with the Almighty, my friend, and you have just chosen sides. Did you not wonder where the money and lavish gifts came from? They were born from the same magical essence that created the Pandemonium, where I reign in such beauty, it rivals the splendor of Heaven (I stole one of the Almighty's favored architects). Let me introduce myself; I am the Archangel know as Satan.

Your amie ultimately owes allegiance to me, and it is the duty of the Spirits, known as the Fey, to entice select worthy mortals, such as yourself, to reinforce the ranks of our army. You are a particularly special and welcome acquisition, since you once were one of the famed Knights of the Round Table. Your loyalty and generosity to your fellow man is admirable. I do hope your commradery will extend to your new brother-in-arms, and I trust that you will find our hospitality more welcoming than the rejection you suffered at the hands of envious mortal men. In this realm we prize such traits as courage and humility. After all, it is not often a mortal man of royal birth will choose to forsake the privilege afforded one of your lineage, in order to serve at the knee of a foreign king with honest and devote loyalty. The Supreme King cannot help but grieve the loss of such a valorous and steadfast spirit.

I do hope that since you now find yourself without a protector, you will see fit to pledge fealty to me. I will make sure you are taken care of, safe within the loving arms of your amie, until the end of times. Your every whim and desire will be granted, the extent of our magic virtually limitless, as you have already witnessed with your lady's boundless generosity. Once our rightful place in Heaven is restored, you will be richly rewarded for our alliance. You will find that the Almighty is not a very forgiving king, and the simple act of you loving and being loved by one of our "evil" nature has already damned you to the pits of hell.

You will find that our position isn't as bad as everyone makes it seem. After all, it is only temporary, and we tend to have an eye for beautiful things. Your amie is unparalleled, even in our realm. Some call us fairies because it is easier for the mortal mind to accept and comprehend when we choose to reveal ourselves in the mortal world. But do not mistake who and what we are, my friend, nor where we have come from. I look forward to furthing your aquantince, noble Lanval. Welcome to the dark side.

June 13, 2007

Frea protect us from the fairies!

As the story goes, class discussion was much interested in the role of the supernatural in Beowulf. I'm a bit bothered by it myself - such heathenish talk! And to make matters worse, we must hear more about it from Marie de France in her Breton lay. What should we make of the fairy world in Lanval?

June 12, 2007

Brief Verse Concerning Beowulf

Having returned from the Bower of Bliss,
I was shocked and perturbed to discover,
That a well-received text such as this,
Could have such self-love to uncover:
Beowulf, forever unable to recover.
Embodying the traits I despise,
Himself he prefers above others,
His great deeds a repeating reprise,
He stands tallest in his own eyes.

I passed through temptation and excess,
He sings his own praise at a feast,
In the blissful bower I sought to redress,
While Beowulf claimed not humility in the least.
He remains no better than a bower beast,
With his haughty and perpetual praise;
What man can live on pride alone?
Does too much arrogance call Beowulf home?

His strength as a swimmer is unmatched,
His equal in arms he has none,
Those that do meet him become attached,
And he takes no shame in the lauding hum.
Of the voices who say he’s as bright as the sun,
His virtue unmatched in the Danes,
But a braggart is truly but honored by one,
His values can not be but feign,
Beowulf’s heart should remain in shame.


(I attempted to adhere to the great poet Edmund Spencer's rhyme scheme in this posting, but I remain a bit of an amateur. One may only hope that with continued posts my verse becomes more refined.)

Don't anger Grendel's Mom

First, I am glad to see I am still remembered,
even at this late date and in this strange land,
as the great warrior and hero that I aspired to be.
Be that as it may, one aspect of my tale
has vexed me off and on for years.

The usual order of things, as I see it,
is that Grendel, the horrible beast that he was,
that devil, that spawn of Cain,
slew many of Hrothgar's men,
as payment for some imagined wrong
the castle Heorot did to his countenance.
His vengeance went above and beyond,
and showed no signs of ceasing,
and as such, deserved retribution.
This I provided. But here the story
fails, as it falls to Grendel's Dam
to exact further vengeance for the
passing of her son. Why is this?
We would not expect Guenevere
to take up the gauntlet and slay Mordred
for the wrongs he dealt to Pendragon
(I apologize for continuing to draw
parallels to King Arthur's court, by the way.
Hopefully that will change as I get better at this.).
Why was I forced to slay a female, a mother, a woman,
and not a more powerful father?

June 11, 2007

Death and Paganism

You know I'm pretty much a fired up Christian, but I'm not too sure this Beowulf text is really that Godly. It seems rather interested in old Germanic pagan rites, not something that would be uplifting to God. Does this seem like a Christian text to you?