With him there rode a courteous Pardoner,
From St. Mary of Roncival's order,
His best friend - just come from the Holy See.
Who loudly sang Come hither love to me
While the Summoner held a strong base line;
No trumpet sounded half so loud or fine.
This pardoner had hair as yellow as wax,
It hung straight and lank as a hank of flax,
Such hair as he had, fell in rat's tails down
To splay across his shoulders all around,
Lying there in strands - thin, straggly and spare.
Yet to be stylish he would never wear
His hood, but kept it packed in his wallet.
He thought himself one of the trendy set.
Dishevelled, save for a hat, his head was bare.
He had the bright glaring eyes of a wild hare.
Sown on his hat the true image of Christ's face.
On his lap, his wallet rested in its place
Brimful with pardons brought hot foot from Rome.
His voice, like a goats, had a bleating tone;
He had no beard, nor ever would have one,
You'd think that his shaving had just been done.
I swear he was a gelding or a mare.
But for pardoning, from Berwick down to Ware,
He was the most skilful of all his race,
For in his bag he had a pillow case,
Which he claimed was made from Our Lady's veil;
He said he had a small piece of the sail
That St. Peter had when in Galilee
Until Christ came and took him from the sea.
He had a base metal cross, set with stones,
And a glass monstrance all filled with pig's bones;
Yet with these 'relics`, whenever he spied
A simple parson from the countryside
In one day he made more money I fear
Than that simple parson made in a year.
And so with his false flattery and craft
He made the people and the priest seem daft.
But, and indeed to be perfectly fair,
In church, he was a noble cleric there;
He read well both the lesson and the story
But best of all he sung the offertory,
For he knew fine that once that song was sung,
He must preach well and keenly hone his tongue,
To win as much as he could from the crowd,
Therefore he sung most merrily and loud.
With hym ther rood a gentil Pardoner
Of Rouncivale, his freend and his compeer,
That streight was comen fro the court of Rome.
Ful loude he soong "Com hider, love, to me!"
This Somonour bar to hym a stif burdoun;
Was nevere trompe of half so greet a soun.
This Pardoner hadde heer as yelow as wex,
But smothe it heeng as dooth a strike of flex;
By ounces henge his lokkes that he hadde,
And therwith he hise shuldres overspradde;
But thynne it lay by colpons oon and oon.
But hood, for jolitee, wered he noon,
For it was trussed up in his walet.
Hym thoughte he rood al of the newe jet.
Dischevelee, save his cappe, he rood al bare.
Swiche glarynge eyen hadde he as an hare.
A vernycle hadde he sowed upon his cappe.
His walet lay biforn hym in his lappe
Bretful of pardoun come from Rome al hoot.
A voys he hadde as smal as hath a goot,
No berd hadde he, ne nevere sholde have;
As smothe it was as it were late shave,
I trowe he were a geldyng or a mare.
But of his craft, from Berwyk into Ware,
Ne was ther swich another pardoner;
For in his male he hadde a pilwe-beer,
Which that he seyde was Oure Lady veyl:
He seyde he hadde a gobet of the seyl
That Seint Peter hadde, whan that he wente
Upon the see, til Jesu Crist hym hente.
He hadde a croys of latoun ful of stones,
And in a glas he hadde pigges bones.
But with thise relikes, whan that he fond
A povre persoun dwellyng upon lond,
Upon a day he gat hym moore moneye
Than that the person gat in monthes tweye.
And thus, with feyned flaterye and japes,
He made the persoun and the peple his apes.
But trewely to tellen atte laste,
He was in chirche a noble ecclesiaste;
Wel koude he rede a lessoun or a storie,
But alderbest he song an offertorie,
For wel he wiste, whan that song was songe,
He moste preche, and wel affile his tonge
To wynne silver, as he ful wel koude;
Therfore he song the murierly and loude.