巴斯妇故事.doc

(The Wife of Bath’s Tale)
In the old days, the days of King Arthur10,
He whom the Britons hold in great honour,
All of this land was full of magic then.
And with her pany the elf-queen
Danced many a time on many a green mead.
That was the old belief, as if have read:
I speak of many hundred years ago.
But now elves can be seen by men no more,
For now the Christian charity and prayers
Of limiters11 and other saintly friars12
Who haunt each nook and corner, field and stream,
Thick as the motes of dust in a sunbeam,
Blessing the bedrooms, kitchens, halls, and bowers,
Cities and towns, castles and high towers,
Villages, barns, cattle-sheds and dairies,
Have seen to it that there are now no fairies.
Those places where you once would see an elf
Are places where the limiter himself
Walks in the afternoons and early mornings,
Singing his holy offices and martins,
While going on the rounds of his district.
Women may now go safely where they like:
In every bush, and under every tree,
They’ll find no other satyr13 there but he:
And he’ll do nothing worse than take their honour.
Now it so happened that this King Arthur
Had in his court a bold knight-bachelor
Who one day was hawking by the river,
And it so chanced, as he was riding home,
He met a maiden walking all alone,
And thereupon, though she fought long and hard,
The knight took by main force her maid