From Geoffrey Chaucer's "The Canterbury Tales", The Squire's Tale, lines 409-446

From The Canterbury Tales:
The Squire's Tale
lines 409-446: Canace meets a wounded female falcon

	Amydde a tree fordryed, as whit as chalk,
410	As Canacee was pleyyng in hir walk,
	Ther sat a faucon over hir heed ful hye,
	That with a pitous voys so gan to crye
	That all the wode resouned of hir cry.
	Ybeten hath she hirself so pitously
415	With bothe hir wynges, til the rede blood
	Ran endelong the tree ther-as she stood,
	And evere in oon she cryde alwey and shrighte,
	And with hir beek hirselven so she prighte,
	That ther nys tygre, ne noon so crueel beest
420	That dwelleth outher in wode or in forest
	That nolde han wept, if that he wepe koude
	For sorwe of hire, she shrighte alwey so loude.
	For ther nas nevere yet no man on lyve
	If that I koude a faucon wel discryve,
425	That herde of swich another of fairnesse,
	As wel of plumage as of gentillesse
	Of shape and al that myghte yrekened be.
	A faucon peregryn thanne semed she
	Of fremde land, and everemoore as she stood
430	She swowneth now and now for lakke of blood,
	Til wel neigh is she fallen fro the tree.

	Amidst a dry, dead tree, as white as chalk,
410	As Canace was playing in her walk,
	There sat a falcon overhead full high,
	That in a pitiful voice began to cry,
	That all the wood resounded mournfully.
	For she had beaten herself so pitiably
415	With both her wings that the red glistening blood
	Ran down the tree trunk whereupon she stood.
	And ever in one same way she cried and shrieked,
	And with her beak her body she so pricked
	That there's no tiger, nor a cruel beast
420	That dwells in open wood or deep forest,
	Would not have wept, if ever weep he could,
	For pity of her, she shrieked alway so loud.
	For never yet has been a man alive -
	If but description I could well contrive -
425	That heard of such a falcon for fairness,
	As well of plumage as of nobleness
	Of shape, and all that reckoned up might be.
	A falcon peregrine she was, and she
	Seemed from a foreign land; and as she stood
430	She fainted now and then for loss of blood,
	Till almost she had fallen from the tree.

	This faire kynges doghter, Canacee,
	That on hir fynger baar the queynte ryng,
	Thurgh which she understood wel every thyng
435	That any fowel may in his leden seyn,
	And koude answeren hym in his ledene ageyn,
	Hath understonde what this faucoun seyde,
	And wel neigh for the routhe almoost she deyde.
	And to the tree she gooth ful hastily,
440	And on this faucoun looketh pitously,
	And heeld hir lappe abrood, for wel she wiste
	The faucoun moste fallen fro the twiste,
	Whan that it swowned next, for lakke of blood.
	A longe while to wayten hir she stood,
445	Til atte laste she spak in this manere
	Unto the hauk, as ye shal after heere.

	This king's fair daughter, Princess Canace,
	Who on her finger bore the magic ring
	Whereby she understood well everything
435	That any bird might in his language say,
	And in such language could reply straightway,
	She understood well what this falcon said,
	And of her pity well-nigh was she dead.
	So to the tree she went right hastily,
440	And on this falcon looked she pitifully,
	And held her lap up wide, for she knew now
	The falcon must come falling from the bough
	When next it swooned away from loss of blood.
	A long while waiting there the princess stood,
445	Till at the last she spoke, in her voice clear,
	Unto the hawk, as you'll hereafter hear.