"The Canterbury Tales" by Geoffrey Chaucer, The Man of Law's Tale

Peerless in beauty, yet untouched by pride,
Young, but untainted by frivolity,
In all her dealings goodness is her guide,
And humbleness has vanquished tyranny.

Various councillors said various things,
They argued and conjectured in profusion,
They brought forth many subtle reasonings
And spoke of charms and magical illusion

Alas, what wonder is it if she wept
At being sent into a stranger-nation
And parted from the friends that long had kept
Her tenderly, to suffer subjugation
To one she scarcely knew by reputation?

First cause of motion, cruel firmament,
Driving the stars with thy diurnal sway

O lord of war, whose influence debars
All hope!

How resolute a countenance she bore!

She saw the course on which her son was bent
Of giving up their ancient sacrifices,
And so for certain councillors she sent
Who came to be apprised of her intent

How that my son is purposed to abjure
The holy teaching of our Alkoran
And all Mahomet had from God the Pure.

O Sultaness! Root of iniquity!
Virago, second Queen Semiramis!
O serpent masked in femininity!

This Sultaness (on whom my imprecation!),
Having dismissed her court in secrecy
—Why spin things out into a long narration?—
Rode round to see the Sultan presently

The day appointed came, the Sultaness,
Old harridan, fixed the feast of which I told
Thither the host of Christian people press
In general assembly, young and old.

And Constance showed such sweet alacrity
To serve and please all people in that place
They loved her that but looked upon her face.

Great was their fear and great their penitence
For having made a wrongful accusation
And felt suspicion of her innocence.

Belfries ring
In solemn joy, and Constance the serene
By ordinance of Christ is made a queen.

How many find
That not the act alone, but even the will
To set about it can deprave and kill!

From Syria the news had been brought home
About the Christians slaughtered, and the vile
Dishonour to his daughter by the guile
Of that foul Sultaness, accursed beast,
That had them murdered at the wedding-feast.

This Senator’s wife, it happened, was her aunt;
But for all that she did not yet discern
Her niece, long-lost, in Constance.

The news at once was bandied through the town:
‘Alla the King has come on pilgrimage!’

His harbingers were going up and down
And, by a custom common in that age,
The Senator and all his lineage
Rode out, as much to show magnificence
As to receive a King with reverence.

The Senator said, ‘By God and by St John,
He has a mother, but his father’s gone
For all I know….’ He went on to expound
The circumstance in which the child was found.

In this child’s face there was as great resemblance
To Constance as there possibly could be,
And Alla, bearing ever in remembrance
The beauty of his wife, bemusedly
Thought, ‘Could the mother of the child be she
That once I had to wife?’

The Emperor vouchsafed with courtesy
To come and dine with him as he besought.

The morning came; King Alla and his Queen
Rose early and arrayed themselves to meet
The Emperor; they were of joyful mien.

Who ever lived so happy for a day
As to have been unmoved by any sense
Of guilt or rage, unvexed by some affray,
By pride or envy, passion or offence?

And this I only say as evidence
That our felicities are of short life