This was written as my final project for my Chaucer class in college. I had the option of writing an essay paper or my own Canterbury Tale--no contest! It was a hell of a lot of fun to write. Here was my brief explanation of the piece:
This tale is written in reply to the genre of fabliau, specifically The Miller’s Tale. It is almost a parody, for the genre has been inverted in many ways. For instance, instead of everyday common folk, the characters are all gods; however, they behave in much the same manner as any fabliau character does, with trickery, jollity, jealousy, and triumph. The praise of cleverness is still key, but it has been flipped around so it is a trait of the cuckolded husband rather than of the lovers. This means that in the end, there is somewhat of a moral, unlike in most fabliaux, for the husband wins and the illicit lovers are humiliated. To further correlate the two tales, many lines from the Miller’s Tale are repeated here though sometimes in different contexts, just as the Miller takes words from the Knight. The tale has a comic feel augmented by the use of alliteration and occasional vernacular.
In other words--if you are sensitive to somewhat crude language, skip this one. That means you, Mother.
The Student's Tale
Long ago when Earth was newly born,
And every god was fresh as rosy morn,
The sea-green waters swirling 'round the isle
Of holy Cythera began to rile
Up, tortured by a heaving, angry storm
Until the white-capped foam began to form
A figure most divine; a goddess fair
Arose from the waves, whose pearls adorned her hair
Which fully cloaked her splendid, shining shape.
Attendant naiads gathered 'round to drape
Her body with robes of purest, finest silk,
To clad her skin as pale as summer milk.
So thus did Venus leave the frothy foams
To bring desire and love wherever she roams.
Around her feet, flowers sprouted blooms,
The subtle fragrance lending Spring perfumes.
She walked from this shore to heaven’s shrouded gate
To join the gods’ divine, deific state,
But her beauty, once beheld, incited strife
As to who would take this gorgeous girl to wife.
Apollo, lusty and vain as any satyr,
Declared no other male was fit to mate her
But he himself. However, martial Mars
Complained, exclaiming fate had written in the stars
That she was meant for only the Lord of War,
While clever Mercury smirked and slyly swore
That he had been the one to whom Venus
Had been promised. Every single penis
In heaven felt her beauty’s deadly thrall:
But though the roving eye of Jove did fall
Upon her beauty, Juno, jealous spouse,
With glaring eyes reduced him to a mouse
Until he called together all the gods
Who laid a claim and clamored all at odds.
“My friends,” he said, “To leave this woman unwed
Will bring us endless trouble; Let’s instead
Arrange a hasty marriage to one who might
Be able to keep an eye on her at night
And during daytime hours; I’m sorry, dear son
Apollo, you are not he, for such a one
As she won’t stand your infidelity
With every passing nymph or mortal pretty.
And Mars, what woman wants a hulking brute
Like you, unable to grant her gracious suit?
Your warlike looks and lack of gentle words
Would scare to death our fragile little bird.
The duties Mercury minds are great indeed—
For he fulfills our errands and also leads
To Hades wand’ring souls of mortal dead—
And leave no time for him to fill her bed.
This problem must be solved and soon, but who
Can be entrusted thus? A man who’s true
And gentle, one on whom we can rely?
No god like that on Mount Olympus high
Exists to take this maiden for his bride,”
he said, until he noticed at his side
Was crippled Vulcan, heaven’s famous smith.
His duties kept him close to home, so with
Him nearby, the girl could cause no harm;
Unsightly though he was, he had the charm
That honest, earnest men can use to woo
Fair ladies; Never would he, women knew,
Betray their trust, not only since his heart
Could not conceive it; his ugly face would thwart
Him if he tried to court another girl.
So Jove declared that now was time to unfurl
The wedding banners: Venus, fair as day,
Was going to marry Vulcan, foul as clay!
This unusual union seemed to all a joke
But charming Venus merely smiled and spoke
Not a word. The groom, however, seemed
Confused, surprised, and pleased so much he beamed.
The wedding feast was splendid; every eye
Was rapt upon the bride, who’d smile and sigh
Sweet compliments to all the men
With whom she danced, and laugh like tinkling bells when
They made a joke. They found her coy flirtation
Alluring, so that each felt great vexation
That Vulcan, lame and rude, should wed this pearl
From Ocean’s sparkling foam, and wanted the girl
Himself. But once the marriage rites had ceased
And guests had left the celebration feast,
This gem was now no longer bride but wife.
At last she realized her whole immortal life
Would now be spent with Vulcan’s ugly face,
Enduring every clumsy kiss and embrace
From his twisted lips and meaty, knotted arms.
Incensed her perfect beauty and playful charms
Were wasted on heaven’s ugly clown, her heart
Recoiled in disgust; but she employed the art
That women use around the world to rule
Their men: manipulation, using the tool
Of pretty pouts and tears or cool disdain
To bend their husbands’ doting hearts for gain.
Whatever Venus wanted, Vulcan gave
To calm her trembling lower lip and stave
Off diamond tears. He showered gifts of lovely
Jewels, gowns, and pets on her, so many
That Vulcan didn’t notice right away
The extra baubles that in her bedroom lay.
But once he saw a brilliant brooch at her neck
That he had never made or seen bedeck
Her lily throat before, he knew he was not
The only man who wooed his wife and sought
Her sweet affections. Soon he found out who’d
Usurped and sullied his bed, though he sadly rued
The knowledge; returning early from a trip
To Helicon’s peak, the Muses’ mountain’s tip,
He overheard his Venus’ dulcet voice
And also a man’s raucous laugh, rejoice
In Vulcan’s absence, which allowed them time
To indulge illicit lusts and adulterous crime.
The pitter-patter sound of dancing feet
As the giggling goddess coyly fled her fleet
Pursuer stopped abruptly when, catching her wrist,
He pulled her down onto the couch and kissed
Her coral lips. Their long embrace of passion
Venus ended, whisp’ring in an urgent fashion:
“My husband’s heart is always so jealous,
He’s sure to learn of our affair unless
You be discreet and subtle; please, my dear,
Do this for me!” He replied, “Have no fear,
My love; it shouldn’t be too hard to fool
A homely smith as dumb as a clumsy mule.”
Having heard his voice, the hidden husband knew
It was mighty Mars who dared to screw
His precious wedded wife. In silence stood
The wrongèd craftsman, still as ancient wood;
The wound betrayal left was far too deep
For him to know if he should rage or weep.
Emotions warred for reign, his soul besieged
Until his mind regained control and seized
Upon a brilliant, bitter retribution.
To his forge he fled to build his great solution.
He heaved his heavy anvil atop a base
Of solid granite, fueled the flames to chase
Away the shadows and heat the precious ore
Which Vulcan planned to use to settle his score
With Mars. The metal, glowing red and hot
As the smith’s consuming rage, he carefully wrought
Into a net too strong to break, escape
Or unfasten. Under his skill, it took the shape
Of a graceful curtain, links as fine as thread,
Which, morning next, he affixed onto the bed
That Venus and Mars had shared the night before.
With such craft he draped the chain around
The posts in flowing swirls and neatly wound
The coils amidst the rafters in natural swaths,
They looked like silken cobwebs, housing moths
Perhaps, or gath’ring dust above the couch
Of carnal passion. Then he heaved his pouch
Upon his crooked shoulders, and a traveling sack,
Announced he had important business back
In Lemnos, fairest city of men, and went
Without another word. He hadn’t spent
A couple hours away before the lord
Of battle, hearing of Vulcan’s trip, implored
The golden-crowned goddess of love for a taste
Of her sweet, rosy lips. In impassioned haste,
He seized her hand and milky breast, and proposed
They move their naughty fun to under the sheets.
Amused, Venus nodded; into her suites
She led him, tumbling onto the bed, and laughed
Aloud with joy, observing Mars’ shaft.
He pounced her hungrily, so filled with lust
He panted like a dog, and in he thrust,
Ecstatic ‘till the hidden trap was sprung,
Falling down around them, and tightly clung
The embracing pair together, just as shrewd
Vulcan planned it. Thus they lay there nude
As newborn babes, unable to move at all
Or free themselves, not even daring to call
For help for fear of shame and humiliation
Until the wily smith returned from his Thracian
Journey early, guessing his trap had worked.
He heard them struggling within the room, as he lurked
Outside the door a moment, stilling his rage
As well as triumph over his clever cage.
Then, yelling loud as any thunderclap,
He summoned all the gods to see the trap
That held a sight amusing and shameful both.
“Guffaw as much as you like, for on my oath,
It is a funny thing. The lovely, sea-born
Venus, who always treats my lameness with scorn,
In bed with her muscle-bound pretty-boy,
The great moronic Mars. But my little toy
Has ruined their fun—oh how sad!—and now,
Despite their deep affections, I avow
They’d rather have their separate beds.
Too bad for them; to warn any who weds
A maid who’s fair but empty of sense and morals,
To spare him heartache, pain and endless quarrels,
I intend to keep them here a while.
You like that, little lovebirds? You ought to smile
For being given time to snuggle longer!”
At this the gods’ guffaws and hoots got stronger
As each supplied his own jabbing jest:
“If Vulcan, crippled in both his legs, can best
Our nimble Mars, the slow outruns the swift!
Though his legs are lame and twisted, he has a gift
For craft and his mind is quick indeed.” The son
Of Jove, Apollo, asked deceptive Mercury a question:
“O cousin, if you were shackled down like this,
Would you object to lying next to Venus
The fair in sweet embrace?” The other said,
“No, indeed! I would lie in Mars’ stead
If there were thrice as many solid chains
And even if all you men were looking on!”
At which reply, they all collapsed in a roar
Of laughter. When the joke began to bore
The fleeting whim of the gods, the smith at last
Released the nude, embarrassed couple from the vast
Lattice of strong yet slender chains. The instant
The bonds were raised, the lovers, silent
From shame, sprang away and quickly hastened
In separate ways, feeling thoroughly chastened.
The god of war betook himself to Thrace,
His warlike home, while Venus saw her birthplace
In holy Cythera again. However,
No immortal who saw the jesting ever
Forgot the tale of Vulcan’s clever craft
That gave the lovers Mars and Venus the shaft