Analysis of Chaucer's Tale of Sir Thopas

WHEN said was this miracle, every man
As sober* was, that wonder was to see,                     *serious
Till that our Host to japen* he began,                *talk lightly
And then *at erst* he looked upon me,          *for the first time*
And saide thus; 'What man art thou?' quoth he;
'Thou lookest as thou wouldest find an hare,
For ever on the ground I see thee stare.

'Approache near, and look up merrily.
Now ware you, Sirs, and let this man have place.
He in the waist is shapen as well as I;  
This were a puppet in an arm t'embrace
For any woman small and fair of face.
He seemeth elvish* by his countenance,               *surly, morose
For unto no wight doth he dalliance.

'Say now somewhat, since other folk have said;
Tell us a tale of mirth, and that anon.'
'Hoste,' quoth I, 'be not evil apaid,*                *dissatisfied
For other tale certes can* I none,                            *know
Eut of a rhyme I learned yore* agone.'                        *long
'Yea, that is good,' quoth he; 'now shall we hear
Some dainty thing, me thinketh by thy cheer.'

The First Fit*                                         *part

Listen, lordings, in good intent,
And I will tell you verrament*                               *truly
Of mirth and of solas,*                            *delight, solace
All of a knight was fair and gent,*                         *gentle
In battle and in tournament,
His name was Sir Thopas.

Y-born he was in far country,
In Flanders, all beyond the sea,
At Popering  in the place;
His father was a man full free,
And lord he was of that country,
As it was Godde's grace.  

Sir Thopas was a doughty swain,
White was his face as paindemain,  
His lippes red as rose.
His rode* is like scarlet in grain,                     *complexion
And I you tell in good certain
He had a seemly nose.

His hair, his beard, was like saffroun,
That to his girdle reach'd adown,
His shoes of cordewane:
Of Bruges were his hosen brown;
His robe was of ciclatoun,
That coste many a jane.

He coulde hunt at the wild deer,
And ride on hawking *for rivere*                     *by the river*
With gray goshawk on hand:  
Thereto he was a good archere,
Of wrestling was there none his peer,
Where any ram  should stand.

Full many a maiden bright in bow'r
They mourned for him par amour,
When them were better sleep;
But he was chaste, and no lechour,
And sweet as is the bramble flow'r
That beareth the red heep.*                                    *hip

And so it fell upon a day,
For sooth as I you telle may,
Sir Thopas would out ride;
He worth* upon his steede gray,                            *mounted
And in his hand a launcegay,*                           *spear  
A long sword by his side.

He pricked through a fair forest,
Wherein is many a wilde beast,
Yea, bothe buck and hare;
And as he pricked north and east,
I tell it you, him had almest                               *almost
Betid* a sorry care.                                      *befallen

There sprange herbes great and small,
The liquorice and the setewall,*                          *valerian
And many a clove-gilofre,  
And nutemeg to put in ale,
Whether it be moist* or stale,                                 *new
Or for to lay in coffer.

The birdes sang, it is no nay,
The sperhawk* and the popinjay,**        *sparrowhawk **parrot  
That joy it was to hear;
The throstle-cock made eke his lay,
The woode-dove upon the spray
She sang full loud and clear.

Sir Thopas fell in love-longing
All when he heard the throstle sing,
And *prick'd as he were wood;*                       *rode as if he
His faire steed in his pricking were mad*
So sweated, that men might him wring,
His sides were all blood.

Sir Thopas eke so weary was
For pricking on the softe grass,
So fierce was his corage,*                     *inclination, spirit
That down he laid him in that place,
To make his steed some solace,
And gave him good forage.

'Ah, Saint Mary, ben'dicite,
What aileth thilke* love at me                                *this
To binde me so sore?
Me dreamed all this night, pardie,
An elf-queen shall my leman* be,                          *mistress
And sleep under my gore.*                                    *shirt

An elf-queen will I love, y-wis,*                        *assuredly
For in th