Be war and keep thy nekke-boon from iren

For the last couple of days, I've had "The Wife of Bath's Tale" stuck in my head. The first seven lines are circling there like lyrics from a song. I guess I blame the Medieval Poetry Reading. Otherwise it would just be other bits of Chaucer making me crazy.

In th'olde dayes of the king Arthour,
Of which that Britons speken greet honour,
All was this land fulfild of fairye.
The elf-queene with her joly compaignye
Daunced ful ofte in many a grene mede.
This was the olde opinion, as I rede--
I spake of may hundred yeres ago.

But now kan no man seen none elves mo,
For new the grete charitee and prayers
Of limitours and othere hooly freres,
That serchen every lond and every streem
As thikke as motes in the sonne-beem,
Blessinge halles, chambres, kichenes, boures,
Citees, burghes, castels, hye toures,
Thropes, bernes, shipnes, daieryes.
This maketh that there been no fairyes.
For there as wont to walken was an elf
There walketh now the limitour himself,
In undermeles and in morweninges,
And seyth his matins and his hooly thinges
As he gooth in his limitacioun.
Wommen may go new saufly up and doun.
In every bussh or under every tree
There is noon oother incubus but he,
And he no wol doon hem but dishonour.

This is going to sound dirty, but I love the way Middle English feels in my mouth. For example, I really like the feel of "Arthour" and "As thikke as motes in the sonne-beem," among others. As well as this post's subject line. I don't know. I just like the way that it feels, the way my mouth has to work. And I love the resulting sound. This is why Chaucer in English will never ever be as great.

I miss Masculinity in the Middle Ages. And Chaucer. Oh, school.

(Note to self: Be careful with spellcheck when using Middle English.)