|
| | 170 | "Aleyn, welcome," quod Symkyn, "by my lyf! |
| And John also, how now, what do ye heer?" |
| "Symond," quod John, "by God, nede has na peer. |
| Hym boes serve hymself that has na swayn, |
| Or elles he is a fool, as clerkes sayn. |
| 175 | Oure manciple, I hope he wil be deed, |
| Swa werkes ay the wanges in his heed; |
| And forthy is I come, and eek Alayn, |
| To grynde oure corn and carie it ham agayn; |
| I pray yow spede us heythen that ye may." |
| 180 | "It shal be doon," quod Symkyn, "by my fay! |
| What wol ye doon whil that is in hande?" |
| "By God, right by the hopur wil I stande," |
| Quod John, "and se howgates the corn gas in. |
| Yet saugh I nevere, by my fader kyn, |
| 185 | How that the hopur wagges til and fra." |
| Aleyn answerde, "John, and wiltow swa? |
| Thanne wil I be bynethe, by my croun, |
| And se how that the mele falles doun |
| Into the trough; that sal be my disport. |
| 190 | For John, y-faith, I may been of youre sort; |
| I is as ille a millere as ar ye." |
| This millere smyled of hir nycetee, |
| And thoghte, "Al this nys doon but for a wyle. |
| They wene that no man may hem bigyle, |
| 195 | But by my thrift, yet shal I blere hir ye, |
| For al the sleighte in hir philosophye. |
| The moore queynte crekes that they make, |
| The moore wol I stele whan I take. |
| In stide of flour yet wol I yeve hem bren. |
| 200 | 'The gretteste clerkes been noght wisest men,' |
| As whilom to the wolf thus spak the mare. |
| Of al hir art ne counte I noght a tare." |
| Out at the dore he gooth ful pryvely, |
| Whan that he saugh his tyme, softely. |
| 205 | He looketh up and doun til he hath founde |
| The clerkes hors, ther as it stood ybounde |
| Bihynde the mille, under a levesel; |
| And to the hors he goth hym faire and wel; |
| He strepeth of the brydel right anon. |
| 210 | And whan the hors was laus, he gynneth gon |
| Toward the fen, ther wilde mares renne, |
| And forth with 'wehee,' thurgh thikke and thurgh thenne |
|
| 170 | "Alain! Welcome," said Simpkin, "by my life, |
| And John also. Now? What do you do here?" |
| "Simon," said John, "by God, need makes no peer; |
| He must himself serve who's no servant, eh? |
| Or else he's but a fool, as all clerks say. |
| 175 | Our manciple - I hope he'll soon be dead, |
| So aching are the grinders in his head - |
| And therefore am I come here with Alain |
| To grind our corn and carry it home again; |
| I pray you speed us much as you can and may." |
| 180 | "It shall be done," said Simpkin, "by my fay. |
| What will you do the while it is in hand?" |
| "By God, right by the hopper will I stand," |
| Said John, "and see just how the corn goes in; |
| I never have seen, by my father's kin, |
| 185 | Just how the hopper waggles to and fro." |
| Alain replied: "Well, John, and will you so? |
| Then will I get beneath it, by my crown, |
| To see there how the meal comes sifting down |
| Into the trough; and that shall be my sport. |
| 190 | For, John, in faith, I must be of your sort; |
| I am as bad a miller as you be." |
| The miller smiled at this, their simplicity, |
| And thought: "All this is done but for a wile; |
| They think there is no man may them beguile; |
| 195 | But, by my skill, I will yet blur their eyes, |
| For all the tricks in their philosophies. |
| The more odd tricks and stratagems they make, |
| The more I'll steal when I begin to take. |
| In place of flour I'll give them only bran. |
| 200 | 'The greatest clerk is not the wisest man,' |
| As once unto the grey wolf said the mare. |
| But all their arts - I rate them not a tare." |
| Out of the door he went, then, secretly, |
| When he saw his chance, and quietly; |
| 205 | He looked up and looked down, until he found |
| The students' horse where it stood, securely bound. |
| Behind the mill, under an arbour green; |
| And to the horse he went, then, still unseen; |
| He took the bridle off him and at once, |
| 210 | When the said horse was free and saw his chance, |
| Toward the fen, for wild mares ran therein, |
| And with a 'whinny' he went, through thick and thin. |
|
