WHEN ended was the life of Saint Cecile, Ere we had ridden fully five mile, <2> At Boughton-under-Blee us gan o’ertake A man, that clothed was in clothes black, And underneath he wore a white surplice.
His hackenay,* which was all pomely-gris,** *nag **dapple-gray So sweated, that it wonder was to see; It seem’d as he had pricked* miles three. *spurred The horse eke that his yeoman rode upon So sweated, that unnethes* might he gon.
** *hardly **go About the peytrel <3> stood the foam full high; He was of foam, as *flecked as a pie. * *spotted like a magpie* A maile twyfold <4> on his crupper lay; It seemed that he carried little array; All light for summer rode this worthy man.
And in my heart to wonder I began What that he was, till that I understood How that his cloak was sewed to his hood; For which, when I had long advised* me, *considered I deemed him some Canon for to be.
His hat hung at his back down by a lace,* *cord For he had ridden more than trot or pace; He hadde pricked like as he were wood. * *mad A clote-leaf* he had laid under his hood, * burdock-leaf For sweat, and for to keep his head from heat.
But it was joye for to see him sweat; His forehead dropped as a stillatory* *still Were full of plantain or of paritory. * *wallflower And when that he was come, he gan to cry, 'God save,' quoth he, 'this jolly company.
Fast have I pricked,' quoth he, 'for your sake, Because that I would you overtake, To riden in this merry company. ' His Yeoman was eke full of courtesy, And saide, 'Sirs, now in the morning tide Out of your hostelry I saw you ride, And