I should like, first off, without hesitation
To revered Chaucer to make reparation:
The Canterbury Tales are his, I reckon.
I apologise for indignities that I do on 'em.
Now reader fair, if you are friend
Here represented: let it not offend –
'Twas written on a dark and drunken day.
For it I shall receive no pay.
And reader true, if you are not –
Spare a moment, please, to jot
A word or two: be it good or not.
Now on we go to the story, God wot!
The Student's Tale Part ISeven young adults are the subjects of my tale;
Their names I shall not tell, for fear of assail:
That is to say, that these four young men
And three young women should be most unhappy when
It came to light that their secrets were laid bare –
And risk their retribution, I will not dare.
Seven young citizens of fair Caledonia:
All of an age, to a few months – so near
As makes no difference. The first was a man
Of generous height and ample span –
I hedge to say, somewhat plump around the waist;
Yet fair and friendly, possessed of inner grace.
From a troubled home he came – the first
Of four brothers, now turned to three. The worst
Stroke of cruel Fate tore away the least
And left this man with but a fool and a beast.
This beastly child, second-born: in jealous rage
Did strike out at the elder with a blade
Gouging him about the face, and like –
Yet crying out when subject to a strike.
The third followed the second; but these two now
Reside with mother; father and brother apart. How?
The wonders of the modern age allow an end
To come to marriage – a divorce, my friend.
This young man found himself attracted to men
And admitted so last year – a homosexual then.
A problem for the mores of society which restrain us,
Which seek to hold us back and to constrain us.
A problem not for those who look to the soul:
While depressed and unhappy, this young man is yet whole.
I turn next to a woman of the group; another one
Of the seven to turn from what has been shown
In terms of relationships – that is to say
That this young woman is also gay.
Her father died when she was but a child; and yet
She recovered from the blow. While prone to forget
The smaller things in life, she was a steadfast
Friend and could be relied upon, as came to pass –
But that shall be expounded at a later time.
This girl – a woman not yet in her prime –
Tallish and shapely with flowing brown hair,
Attractive to many, and thus called fair –
In concern for others, lost her own self in part
And this so distressed her, and struck to her heart
That she became unbalanced – in short, she went
A little mad – a hindrance to her natural bent
For laughter and sweet living. She lays out hints
At ever more disastrous occurrences that by dint
Of piling one atop the other, have served
To partially unhinge her mind – most undeserved
In a girl of her sweet nature and her beauty
Natural goodness, and attendance to duty.
Another young man; parents also divorced
But so long ago, in his far youth, that both
Have since remarried. A boy with a sister
And siblings both half and step: a whistler
At life and its cares. Arrogant, light-hearted
A facile wit to cover cuts that smarted;
Dark and sturdy, tall and well-built,
Named most attractive of these without guilt;
Yet when in his cups, gentle and kind,
Ready with advice, polite; blind
To affections, perhaps he may appear –
But that is not so: he simply makes clear
That such attentions are unreturned –
Liking rejected and admiration spurned.
The loving feelings of which I speak
Came from the next – a woman unmeek
In all but matters regarding love.
But her feelings are gone, thank Heaven above,
For she has moved on to pastures afar,
And found men more pleasing to eye in the bar –
Yet approached them not. Since her mother's death
A few years ago, she has not a breath
Of confidence in her. She sank into self-pity
And later self-harm. She never was pretty –
Clever, assuredly, tall but not quite slim,
With features that tend to serious, even grim.
She thus finds it hard to believe any man
Could pay her attention – that is, other than
Such as leads to lust and leaving.
Rather than this, she'll keep to her grieving
And to herself. The next is another
The loss of a parent – his father – to suffer.
The sudden, unexpected death did much
To turn the boy from the normal for such
Into a wild and, frankly, crazy man.
He ended on a hill with a blade in his hand,
Purposing to take his life. It was not to be.
His friends (and drugs) from madness set him free.
The support of this man I touched on before –
'Twas the catalyst of another's madness – as in yore
When lunacy passed from one to the next
Transferred by proximity, as with ticks.
This man now has left his home and lives in sin
Or "cohabits" with a gentlewoman – not of the seven.
His frame is stocky and his hair is as fire,
As is that of the next lady – I desire
A few lines to expound, if it may be done
On the graciousness of such a one:
The calm acceptance of what God may send;
(The others believe not – their souls defend!)
The slim lithe body, the laughing looks;
Serenity in prayer and diligence at books;
Virtue in body and beauty in soul,
Fresh and dainty as a newborn foal.
Exquisite creature, brought to Earth
To suffer loss and grief, and a dearth
Of homely quietude – her parents are parting
A trouble that through the following was starting:
Her grandmother died, slowly and by degrees –
Ending after her son (our lady, his niece)
But a week – in the mountains he died
Suddenly. But there is more beside:
A friend of the family, a guest in their home,
Was tortured by voices, heard by he alone.
This led him to commit a heinous crime.
The effects may be guessed. Now move in time
To the last of the group, a tall slender boy –
Docile and intelligent: his parents' joy –
Works hard at studies and at earning,
Sensible, normal – indeed I am yearning
To tell some outrageous lie – for I admit
He could be seen as boring. But not a whit
Of criticism will I allow of this friend:
For his happy state all aspire to, in the end.