From Geoffrey Chaucer's "The Canterbury Tales", The Nun's Priest's Tale, lines 263-296

From The Canterbury Tales:
The Nun's Priest's Tale
lines 263-296: The bad dream becomes truth

	The hostiler answerde hym anon,
	And seyde, `Sire, your felawe is agon,
265	As soone as day he wente out of the toun.'
	This man gan fallen in suspecioun,
	Remembrynge on hise dremes that he mette,
	And forth he gooth, no lenger wolde he lette,
	Unto the westgate of the toun; and fond
270	A dong carte, as it were to donge lond,
	That was arrayed in that same wise,
	As ye han herd the dede man devyse.
	And with an hardy herte he gan to crye,
	Vengeance and justice of this felonye;
275	'My felawe mordred is this same nyght,
	And in this carte he lith gapyng upright.
	I crye out on the ministres,' quod he,
	`That sholden kepe and reulen this citee!
	Harrow! Allas! Heere lith my felawe slayn!'
280	What sholde I moore unto this tale sayn?
	The peple out-sterte, and caste the cart to grounde,
	And in the myddel of the dong they founde
	The dede man, that mordred was al newe.

	The keeper of the place replied anon,
	And said he: 'Sir, your friend is up and gone;
265	As soon as day broke he went out of town.'
	This man, then, felt suspicion in him grown,
	Remembering the dream that he had had,
	And forth he went, no longer tarrying, sad,
	Unto the west gate of the town, and found
270	A dung-cart on its way to dumping-ground,
	And it was just the same in every wise
	As you have heard the dead man advertise;
	And with a hardy heart he then did cry
	Vengeance and justice on this felony:
275	'My comrade has been murdered in the night,
	And in this very cart lies, face upright.
	I cry to all the officers,' said he
	'That ought to keep the peace in this city.
	Alas, alas, here lies my comrade slain!'
280	"Why should I longer with this tale detain?
	The people rose and turned the cart to ground,
	And in the center of the dung they found
	The dead man, lately murdered in his sleep.

	O blisful God, that art so just and trewe!
285	Lo, howe that thou biwreyest mordre alway!
	Mordre wol out, that se we day by day.
	Mordre is so wlatsom and abhomynable
	To God that is so just and resonable,
	That he ne wol nat suffre it heled be,
290	Though it abyde a yeer, or two, or thre.
	Mordre wol out, this my conclusioun.
	And right anon ministres of that toun
	Han hent the carter, and so soore hym pyned,
	And eek the hostiler so soore engyned
295	That they biknewe hire wikkednesse anon,
	And were anhanged by the nekke-bon.

	O Blessed God, Who art so true and deep!
285	Lo, how Thou dost turn murder out alway!
	Murder will out, we see it every day.
	Murder's so hateful and abominable
	To God, Who is so just and reasonable,
	That He'll not suffer that it hidden be;
290	Though it may skulk a year, or two, or three,
	Murder will out, and I conclude thereon.
	Immediately the rulers of that town,
	They took the carter and so sore they racked
	Him and the host, until their bones were cracked,
295	That they confessed their wickedness anon,
	And hanged they both were by the neck, and soon.