Geoffrey Chaucer

A knyght ther was, and that a worthy man,
A Knight there was, and he a worthy man,

That fro the tyme that he first began
Who, from the first moment that he began

To riden out, he loved chivalrie,
To ride upon a horse, loved chivalry,

Trouthe and honour, fredom and curteisie.
Truth and honour, freedom and courtesy.

Ful worthy was he in his lordes were,
Worthy in the duty to his Lord’s will,

And therto hadde he riden, no man ferre,
That no man had strived so hard, to fulfill,

As wel in cristendom as in hethenesse,
In Christendom as well as heathen lands,

And evere honoured for his worthynesse.
Always honoured, as worthiness demands.

At alisaundre he was whan it was wonne.
At Alexandria when it was won,

Ful ofte tyme he hadde the bord bigonne
Heading the table when battle was done,

Aboven alle nacions in pruce;
Above all those nations from Prussia,

In lettow hadde he reysed and in ruce,
Fought in Lithuania and Russia,

No cristen man so ofte of his degree.
As had no Christian man of such degree.

In gernade at the seege eek hadde he be
Also at Granada’s siege, so was he,

Of algezir, and riden in belmarye.
Algerciras saw him and Bellemarie.

At lyeys was he and at satalye,
At Ayas and Antalya was he

Whan they were wonne; and in the grete see
When won and also, on the Middle Sea,

At many a noble armee hadde he be.
Embarked on great ventures by royal decree.

At mortal batailles hadde he been fiftene,
In mortal combat his score was fifteen

And foughten for oure feith at tramyssene
Fighting for the true faith at Telemeen.

In lystes thries, and ay slayn his foo.
Three times in jousts and always slain his foe.

This ilke worthy knyght hadde been also
This selfsame perfect knight had served also

Somtyme with the lord of palette
When he served with the Palathian Lord

Agayn another hethen in turkye.
Against another heathen Turkish horde.

And everemoore he hadde a sovereyn prys;
For honour, always took the highest prize

And though that he were worthy, he was wys,
For though he was most worthy, he was wise,

And of his port as meeke as is a mayde.
His manners were as gentle as a maid,

He nevere yet no vileynye ne said
And discourteous language he never made

In al his lyf unto no maner wight.
In all his life, in any kind of light,

He was a verray, parfit gentil knyght.
He was a truly, gentle, perfect Knight.

But, for to tellen yow of his array,
But now to tell you all of his array,

His hors were goode, but he was nat gay.
His horses were good but his clothes not gay.

Of fustian he wered a gypon
A fustian tunic showing much travail

Al bismotered with his habergeon
As much bespattered as his coat of mail,

For he was late ycome from his viage,
For, having returned from his last voyage,

And wente for to doon his pilgrymage.
He now was ready for his pilgrimage.

spoken =Anniina Jokinen