SPECIMENS or THE frO WHICH IS PREFIXED HISTORICAL SKETCH OF THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF THE ENGLISH POETRY AND LANGUAGE; IN THREE VOLUMES. BY GEORGE ELLIS, ESQ. THE FOURTH EDITION CORRECTED. VOL. I. LONDON: PRINTED FOR LONGMAN, HURST, REES, OV.ME, ANT) IJROWN, PATERNOSTER-ROW. 1811. EDINBURGH : Printed by James Ballantyne & Co. PR V, PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION. 1 HE first edition of this Miscellany, which ap- peared in 1790, was intended as an attempt " to " comprise, within the compass of one volume, " all the most beautiful small poems that had " been published in this country during the " sixteenth and seventeenth centuries ;" but it was, at the same time, admitted, that " the " completion of the publisher's plan had been " prevented by the difficulty of procuring a " sufficient stock of materials." This difficulty has been since removed by the kind assistance of my friends ; and the work, in its present state, contains a selection, made with some care and attention, from a consider- able number of the best poetical libraries in this country. That it is still deficient, and that by greater industry it might have been improved, C iv ] is very certain : * but the reader, who shall fairly examine the stock of materials here col- lected, will not be much surprised if the curio- sity of the compiler was at length satiated, and if the labour of transcription became too irk- some to be farther continued. It has been objected to the former collection that it consisted, almost exclusively, of love- songs and sonnets. The objection was certainly just, but the blame cannot fairly be imputed to an editor, who must be satisfied to take such instances of literary excellence as he can find ; and who, though he may lament, with his read- ers, that beautiful poetry is more frequently calculated to inflame the imagination than to chasten the morals, can only lament, without being able to remedy, such a perversion of ta- lent. The collection, in its present state, will be * To what degree it is defective, the reader will be bet- ter able to judge, when Mr Ritson shall have printed his " Bibliographia Poetica, a Catalogue of English Poets of " the twelfth, thirteenth, fourteenth, fifteenth, and six- " teenth centuries, with a short account of their Works." It is said to be completed, and intended for immediate publication. [This accurate repertory has since appeared in one volume 8vo, 1802. Nicol.] found to contain much more variety. The two - parts into which it is divided are, indeed, di- rected to one principal object ; which is, to ex- hibit, by means of a regular series of Speci- mens, the rise and progress of our language, from the tenth to the latter end of the seven- teenth century. In the former part, which terminates with the reign of Henry VIII. the extracts are generally chosen with a view to picturesque description, or to the delineation of national manners ; whereas the second divi- sion of the work is meant to exhibit the best models that could be found, in each reign, of regular and finished composition. In the former, which consists of very early fragments, it was thought that a few critical remarks, as well as biographical anecdotes, were absolutely necessary; and that these could not be given more concisely than in the form of an historical sketch : but in the latter, a short outline of the literary character of each reign, and a few no- tices respecting the several writers, appeared to be sufficient. To the whole is added a sort of Essay on the formation and carry gradations of our language, which, being little more than a repetition of some observations contained in the first volume, is perhaps superfluous ; but may be convenient for the purpose of reference. The title of these volumes will shew, that they are by no means intended to supersede Mr Warton's very learned and entertaining, though desultory work, from which they are, in part, abridged ; but rather to serve as an useful index to his History. Neither do they interfere with the valuable modern Miscellanies of Bishop Percy, Mr Pinkerton, Mr Ritson, the late Mr Headley, and Mrs Cooper ; from all of which they differ materially, except in the general purpose of selecting what is most valuable from the scarcest and least accessible compositions of our early literature. It is only necessary to add, that the Saxon Ode, which in this work will be found to differ materially from the text of Dr Hickes, and of Gibson's Saxon Chronicle, was kindly furnish- ed by the Rev. Mr Henshall, who collated the printed copies with two excellent MSS. in the Cotton Library ; and who had the farther com- plaisance to supply the literal English version, as well as the learned notes with which it is ac- companied. [ vii ] ADVERTISEMENT TO THE THIRD EDITION. NOTWITHSTANDING the care with which the former edition of this work was revised during its progress through the press, it was found to contain very numerous, though not very impor- tant typographical errors. For the detection and the removal of these ; for the collation of nearly all the extracts contained in the work with the earliest and best copies of the originals, whether printed or manuscript ; for the inser- tion of some new Specimens ; and for much additional information in the notices prefixed to the several authors ; the editor is indebted to the kindness of his friend Mr Heber, and to the frequent assistance of Mr Park. The defects which still remain are solely chargeable to the editor. Many of these, however, will, it is hoped, be removed by the [ viii ] publication of a second series of Specimens, selected from our Early Metrical Romances, which will complete the sketch of our poetical antiquities, and is now nearly ready for the press. CHRONOLOGICAL LIST OF POETS, FROM WHOSE WORKS EXTRACTS HAVE BEEN GIVEN IN THESE VOLUMES. As in many instances it has not been possible to ascertain the precise year of an author's birth or death, the reader is re- quested to observe, that when the word about precedes the date, it must be understood to be correct within two or three years ; where a mark of interrogation is annexed, the date is only offered as an approximation deduced from the author's earliest compositions. HISTORICAL SKETCH. Born. Died. 1 Robert of Gloucester, - - - 1230? 2 Robert Maanyng, - - about 1270 3 Adam Davie, 1280? 4- Robert Langland? - - - 1300? 5 John Gower, - - - - - 1326? 1402 6 John Barbour, - - - about 1326 1396 7 Geoffrey Chaucer, - - - - 1328 1400 8 Andrew of Wyntown, - - - 1352? 9 John Lydgate, 1 375 ?abt. 1462 10 James I. (of Scotland). - - 1395 1437 11 Henry VI 1421 1471 12 Robert Henrysoun, - - - 1425 ? 1 13 Juliana Berners, - - - - 1440 ? 14 Henry the Minstrel, - about 1446 15 Patrick Johnstoun, - - - 495 ? 1520 1520 1529 1522 15 17 William Dunbar, - - - - 18 John Skelton, - - - about 19 Gawin Douglas, - - - - 20 Stephen Hawes, - - - - 21 Walter Kennedy - - - - 22 Quintyn Schaw, - - - - "", \Villi-mi INiV 1455? 1463 1475 1480? 14 abt. 1490 ? 1490 1493 1500 ? abt. 1520 15 1553 1547 1565 24 Sir David Lindsay, - about OK Wpnrv VIII 26 John Heywood, - ... SPECIMENS. 27 George Boleyn, visct. Rochford, 1500 ? 1536 28 Sir Thomas Wyatt, - - - 1503 1541 29 Thomas Vaux, Lord Vaux, - 1507? abt. 1557 30 Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey, 1 520 ? 1 546-7 31 John Hall, - 1520 ? 32 Nicholas Grimoald, 33 Richard Edwards, - 34 Thomas Tusser, 35 Thomas Norton, - 36 Alexander Scot, - - - 1520 abt. 1563 about 1523 1566 about 1523 1580 . . 1524? - - 1525? [ xi 3 Born. Died. 37 Clapperton, - - - - 1525? 38 Elizabeth, 1533 1603 39 Webster(George?) Puttenham, abt. 1 534- 4-0 John Harington, - - - - 1534? 1582 4-1 Edward Vere, Earl of Oxford, 1534? 1604 42 Barnaby Googe, 1535 ? 43 George Gascoigne, - - - - 1540? 1578? 44 George Turbervile, - - - 1540 ? 45 Sir Edward Dyer, - - - - 1540? 161- 46 Henry Willoby, 1540? abt. 1595 47 Dr John Still, - - - about 1542 1607 48 Robert Green, 1550? 1592 49 Humfrey Gifford, - - - - 1550? 50 Sir Walter Raleigh, .... 1552 1618 51 Timothy Kendall, .... 1552? 52 Edmund Spenser, - - about 1553 1598-9 53 John Lylie, .... about 1553 abt. 1600 54 Sir Philip Sidney, - - - - 1554 1586 55 Fulke Greville, Lord Brook, 1554 16*28 56 Nicholas Breton, - - - 1555 ? 1624 ? 57 George Chapman, .... 1557 1634, 58 William Warner, .... 1558? 1608-9 59 Robert Southwell, .... 1550 1595 60 Thomas Watson, - - - - 1560 abt. 1591 61 Thomas Lodge, - - about 1560 1625 62 Sir John Harington, ... 1551 IQI% 63 Samuel Daniel, 1562 1619 [ xii ] Born. Died. 64 Christopher Marlowe, - - - 1562? 1592 65 Joshua Sylvester, - - - - 1563 1618 66 Michael Drayton, - - - - 1563 1631 67 William Shakspeare, - - - 1564 1616 68 Simon Wastel, - - - about 1566 69 Henry Constable, - - about 1566 70 Robert Devereux, Earl of Es^ex, 1567 1601 7UamesI. 1567 1625 72 Sir Henry Wotton, - - - - 1568 1639 73 Barnaby Barnes, - - - - 1569 16 74 William Fowler, - - - - 1569 ? 75 Sir John Davis, - - - about 1570 1626 76 William Smith, ..... 1571 ? 77 Dr John Donne, .... 1573 1631 78 Dr Joseph Hall, 1574 1656 79 Ben Jonson, 1574 1637 80 Richard Barnfeild, - - about 1574 81 Henry Peacham, - - - - 15 16 82 Thomas Campion, - - - - 1575 ? 83 John Fletcher, 1576 1625 84 Robert Burton, 1576 1639 85 George Sandys, - - v - - - 1577 1643 86 Thomas Carew, * - - - - 1577? 1634 87 Thomas Hey wood, - - - - 1580? 16 * Notwithstanding what is said in III. 156, it has been thought best, on deliberate consideration, to place Carew's birth as above. His death certainly happened in 1631. Born. 88 Wm Alexander, Earl of Sterline, 1580 89 Wm Herbert, Earl of Pembroke, 1580 ? 90 Dabridgcourt Belchier, about 1581 91 Lord Herbert of Cherbury, - 1582 92 Francis Davison, - 93 Sir John Beaumont, 94. Phineas Fletcher, - 95 Francis Beaumont, - 96 William Drummond, 97 Sir Francis Kinaston 98 David Murray, 99 Giles Fletcher, 100 George Wither, 101 Richard Brathwait, 102 William Browne, 103 Thomas Freeman, lOt Dr Henry King, 105 Robert Herrick, 106 Francis Quarles, 107 George Herbert, 108 Isaac Walton, - 109 James Shirley, - 110 Patrick Hannay, 1 1 1 Thomas May, 112 John Hagthorpe, 113 Sir John Mennis, 1 It Robert Gomersall, Died. 164-0 1630 1621 164-8 16 1628 - - 1582? - - 1582 about 1584 abt. 1650 - - 1585 1615 - - 1585 1649 about 1585 abt. 1642 1 ^fiS ; iu ? Ifi0 - - 1591 1669 - - 1591 16 - - 1592 1644 t, - - - - 1593 1632-3 . . . - - 1593 1683 . . . about 1594 1666 - - 1594 ? 16 . . . - - 1595 1650 - 1597 ? 16 s, - - - - 1598 1670 ill, - - - 1600 .. , Born. Died. 115 Dr William Strode, - about 1601 1644 116 Sir Kenelra Digby, - - - 1603 1665 117 Dr Jasper Mayne, - - - - 1604- 1672 118 Dr James Smith, - - - 1604 1667 119 Sir William D'Avenant, - - 1605 1668 120 Edmond Waller, .... 1605 1687 121 William Habington, - - - 1605 1654 122 Thomas Randolph, ... 1605 1634 123 Sir Richard Fanshaw, - - - 1607 1666 124 Sir Aston Cokain, - - - - 1608 1683 125 John Milton, 1608 'l674 126 Sir John Suckling, - - 1608-9 1641 127 Sidney Godolphin - - - - 1610 1642-3 128 William Cartwright, - - - 1611 1643 129 Henry Delaune, - - - - 1611? 130 Thomas Nabbes, - ... 1612? 131 George Digby, Earl of Bristol, 1612 1676 132 Henry Glapthorne, - - - 1614? 133 Richard Crashaw, - - about 1615 abt. 1650 134 Sir John Denham, * - - - 1615 1668 135 John Tatham, 1615? 136 Thomas Beedome, - - - - 1616? 137 Sir Edward Sherburne, - - 1618 17 138 Richard Lovelace, - - - - 1618 1658 * In both editions of the Biographia Britannica, Gibber's Lives of the Poets, and Mr Ritson's Anthology, Sir John Denham's death is erroneously placed twenty years later. I XV ] Born. Died. 139 Abraham Cowley, ... - 1618 1667 140 Andrew Marvell, - - - - 1620 1678 14-1 Alexander Brome, - - - 1620 1666 142 Thomas Stanley, - - about 1620 1678 143 Henry Vaughan ... - 1621 1695 144 Sir Robert Howard - about 1622 1698 145 Samuel Sheppard, - - - 1622? 146 Dr Martin Lluellyn, - - - 1623? 147 Dr John Collop, - - - - 1623? 148 Robert Heath, 1625? 149 Edmund Prestwick, - - - 1626? 150 John Hall, 1627 1656 151 Richard Fleckno, - - - - 1628? 1678 152 Matthew Stevenson, - - - 1629? 153 Robert Baron, 1630 154 Charles Cotton, .... 1630 1687 155 John Dryden, 1631 1701 156 Thomas Flatman, - - about 1635 1688 157 Sir Charles Sedley, - about 1639 1701 158 Aphra Behn, - - - about 1644 1689 159 Robert Veel, 1648 160 John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester, 1648 1680 161 Sir Francis Fane, .... 1650? ALPHABETICAL LIST OF POETS, FROM WHOSE WORKS EXTRACTS HAVE BEEN GIVEN IN THESE VOLUMES : WITH THEIR TITLES AND" ACADEMICAL DEGREES. Vol. P. Alexander, William, Earl of Sterline (Sc.), III. 3* Barbour, John, Archdeacon of Aberdeen (Sc.), I. 228 Barnes, Barnaby, - - II. 373 Barnfeild, Richard (A. B.Oxf.), - - 11.356 Baron, Robert, ... III. 357 Beaumont, Francis, - - - - III. 62 Beaumont, Sir John, Bart. ... m. 59 Beedome, Thomas, - - III. 268 Behn, Aphra, - - III. 359 Belchier, Dabridgcourt (A. B. Oxf.), - III. 47 Berners, Juliana, (Prioress of the Nunnery of Sopewell,) I. 363 Boleyn, George, Viscount Rochford, - II. 93 Brathwait, Richard, - III. 103 Breton, Nicholas, - II. 270 Bristol, Earl of. Vide Digby. Brome, Alexander, - - III. 298 Brook, Lord. Vide Greville. VOL. i. b [ xviii ] Vol. P. Browne, William (A. M. Oxf.), - - III. 108 Burton, Rev. Robert (A. M. Oxf.), - III. 7 Campion, Thomas, ... HI. 22 Carew, Thomas, - - - III. 156 Cartwright, Rev. William (A. M. Oxf.), III. 231 Chapman, George, - II. 294 Chaucer, Geoffrey, - I. 201 Clapperton, (Sc.) - II. 127 Cokain, Sir Aston, (A.M. Oxf.), - - III. 218 Collop, John (M. D.), - - - III. 376 Constable, Henry (A. B. Camb.), - - 11.304 Cotton, Charles, - . - III. 361 Cowley, Abraham(A. M. Camb.M. D. Oxf.), III. 279 Crashaw, Richard, Canon of Loretto, (A. M. Camb.), - - - III. 224 Daniel, Samuel, - II. 316 D'Avenant, Sir William, Knt. - III. 183 Davie, Adam, - I. 139 Davis, Sir John, Knt. M. P. (A. B. Oxf.), II. 369 Davison, Francis, .... III. 14, Delaune, Henry, - III. 270 Denham, Sir John, K. B. - - III. 255 Devereux, Robert, Earl of Essex, (A. M. Camb. and Oxf.), - - II. 361 Digby, George, Earl of Bristol, - - III. 399 Digby, Sir Kenelm, Knt. '- - - III. 179 Donne, Rev. John, Dean of St Paul's (A. M. Oxf. D. D. Camb.), - - - II. 383 Douglas, Rev. Gawin,Bishop of Dunkeld (Sc)> I. 390 Drayton, Michael, ... II, 337 [ xix ] Vol. P. Drummond, William (Sc.) .... III. 70 Dry den, John (A.M. Camb.), - - HI. 372 Dunbar, William, I. 377 Dyer, Sir Edward, Knt. - - - - II. 186 Edwards, Richard, II. 137 Elizabeth, II. 14-3 Essex, Earl of. Vide Devereux. Fane, Sir Francis, K. B. - - - - III. 4-06 Fanshaw, Sir Richard, Knt. Bart. - - III. 222 Flatman, Thomas, ..... III. 382 Fleckno, Richard, III. 333 Fletcher, Rev. Giles (B. D. Camb.), - III. 55 Fletcher, John, III. 62 Fletcher, Rev. Phineas (A. M. Camb.), III. 50 Fowler, William (Sc.), .... 11.379 Freeman, Thomas (A. B. Oxf.), - - III. 113 Gascoigne, George, - - - - - II. 174? Gifford, Humfrey, II. 208 Glapthorne, Henry, III. 24-2 Gloucester, Robert of (Monk), - I. 91 Godolphin, Sidney, M. P. - - - - III. 229 Gomersall, Rev. Robert (A. M. Oxf.), - III. 176 Googe, Barnaby, -- - - - - II. 171 Gower, John, I. 169 Green, Robert (A. M. Camb.), - - II. 191 Greville, Fulke, Lord Brook, K. B. (A. M. Oxf.), .... --. II. 26 (jrimoald, Rev. Nicholas (A. B. Camb. A.M. Oxf.), II. 68 Habington, William, ..... III. 203 C xx 3 Vol. P. Hagthorpe, John, III. 138 Hall, John, II. 118 Hall, John, - III. 324- Hall, Rev. Joseph, Bishop of Norwich (D. D. Camb.), II. 386 Hannay, Patrick, - III. 135 Harington, John, - - - - II. 165 Harington, Sir John, Knt. (A. M. Camb.), II. 314 Hawes, Stephen, I. 409 Heath, Robert, III. 319 Henry VI. - I. 352 Henry VIII. II. 2 Henry the Minstrel, commonly called Blind Harry (Sc.), I. 354- Henrysoun, Robert (Sc.), - - ~ - I. 366 Herbert, Edward, Lord Herbert of Cher- bury, K. B. III. 4-2 Herbert, Rev. George (A.M. Camb.), - III. 125 Herbert, William, Earl of Pembroke, III. 4O Herrick, Rev. Robert, .... III. 307 Heywood, John, -- - - - -II. 16 Heywood, Thomas, ----- III. 31 Howard, Henry, Earl of Surrey, K. G. - II. 54 Howard, Sir Robert, Knt. M. P. - - III. 304 James I. of Scotland, II. 299 James I. of England, ----- III. 5 Johnstoun, Patrick (Sc.), - - I. 372 Jonson, Ben (A. M. Oxf.), - - - II. 388 Kendall, Timothy, II. 228 Kennedy, Walter (Sc.), - - - - I. 403 [ xxi ] Vol. P. Kinaston, Sir Francis, Knt. (A. M. Camb.) III. 265 King, Rev. Henry, Bishop of Chichester (D. D. Oxf.), III. 116 Lang! and, Robert, (Fellow of Oriel College ', Oxf.\ - I. 147 Lindsay, Sir David (Sc.) - - - - IL 21 Lluellyn, Martin (M. D. Oxf.), - - II. 370 Lodge, Thomas (A. B. Oxf.), - - - II. 289 Lovelace, Richard (A. M. Oxf.), - - II. 273 Lydgate, John (Benedictine Monk of Bury,) I: 276 Lylie, John (A.M. Oxf.), - - - II. 24-1 Mannyng, alias de Brunne, Robert (Gilber- tineMonk), - - I. 112 Marlowe, Christopher, - II. 326 Marvell, Andrew, M. P. - III. 292 May, Thomas, - - - III. 134- Mayne, Rev. Jasper, Canon of Ch. Ch. and Archdeacon of Chichester (D. D. Oxf.), III. 181 Mennis, Sir John, Knt. - III. 378 Mersar, (Sc.) ... - I. 374- Milton, John (A. M. Camb. and Oxf.) III. 222 Murray, David (Sc.) - - III. 80 Nabbes, Thomas, - HI. 239 Norton, Thomas, - II. 136 Oxford, Earl of. Vide Vere. Peacham, Henry (A. M. Camb.), - - II. 406 Pembroke, Earl of. Vide Herbert. Prestwich, Edmund, .... HI. 327 Puttenham, Webster, alias George, - II. 164- Quarles, Francis, - - III. 121 Raleigh, Sir Walter, Knt. M. P. - - II. 215 C xx " 3 Vol. P. Randolph, Thomas, (A. M. Camb. and Oxf.), III. 210 Robert of Gloucester. Vide Gloucester. Rochester, Earl of. Vide Wilmot. Rochford, Viscount. Vide Boleyn. Roy, William, -< - II. 11 Sandys; George, , - - - III. 24< Schaw, Quintyn (Sc.), I- 404- Scot, Alexander (Sc.), - II. 123 Sedley, Sir Charles, Bart. - - III. 385 Shakspeare, William, - -II. 342 Sheppard, Rev. Samuel, - III. 322 Sherburne, Sir Edward, Knt. (A. M. Oxf.), III. 259 Shirley, James - - III. 129 Sidney, Sir Philip, Knt. - II. 24-7 Skelton, Rev. John, - II. 5 Smith, Rev. James (D. D. Oxf.), - - III. 378 Smith, William, - - -II. 381 Southwell, Robert, - - - II. 199 Spenser, Edmund, - II. 232 Stanley, Thomas, (A. M. Camb. and Oxf.), III. 312 Sterline, Earl of. Vide Alexander. Stevenson, Matthew, - - III. 336 Still, Rev. John, Bishop of Bath and Wells (D.D. Oxf.), - - II. 188 Strode, Rev. William, Canon of Ch. Ch. (D.D. Oxf.), - - III. 173 Suckling, Sir John, Knt. - III. 24-3 Surrey, Earl of. Vide Howard. Sylvester, Joshua, - - II. 330 Tatham, John, III. 257 [] xxiii ] Vol. P. Turbervile, George, - - II. 180 Tusser, Thomas, - II. 14-3 Vaughan, Henry, - - III. 331 Vaux, Thomas, Lord Vaux, - - II. 82 Veel, Robert, - III. 401 Vere, Edward, Earl of Oxford, (A. M. Oxf), II. 167 Waller, Edmond, M. P. - III. 189 Walton, Izaac, ... III. 127 Warner, William, - II- 297 Wastel, Simon, (A. B. Oxf.), - - II. 359 Watson, Thomas, - II. 307 Willoby, Henry, - II. 375 Wilmot, John, Earl of Rochester(A.M.Oxf.), III. 404- Wither, George, - III. 82 Wotton, Sir Henry, Knt. (Provost of Eton), II. 363' Wyatt, Sfr Thomas, Knt. Bart. - - II. 43 Wyntown, Andrew of (Prior of the Monastery of StSerPs Island,) (Sc.), - - - 1.249 CONTENTS OF VOL. I. CHAP. I. INTRODUCTORY Remarks on Language. On the Poetry of the Anglo-Saxons. Specimen of Saxon Poetry. - - page 1 CHAP. II. The same Subject continued. Account of Norman Poets in England. Specimen of W ace's Brut. 35 CHAP. III. State of our Language and Poetry in the REIGN OF HENRY II. and RICHARD I. exemplified by an Extract from Layamon's Translation of Wace. Conjectures concerning the Period at which the Anglo-Norman or English Language began to be formed. Early Specimen of English Poetry from Hickes's Thesaurus. 60 VOL i. c [ xxvr ] CHAP. IV. Robert of Gloucester Specimen Various small Poems apparently iwritten during the latter part of the thirteenth Century. Robert de Brunne Specimen. .... 97 CHAP V. REIGN OF EDWARD II. Changein the Language produced by frequent Trans- lationsjrom the French. Minstrels. Sources of Romance. Adam Davie Specimens of his Life of Alexander. Robert Baston. - 124- CHAP VI. REIGN OF EDWARD III. Richard Rolle, the Hermit ofHampole- Laurence Minot. Pierce Ploughman's Vision Specimens of the Vision. Pierce the Ploughman's Creed Specimen. - - - - - 146 CHAP. VII. REIGN OF EDWARD III. CONTINUED. John Cower Specimens of his Poetry. ~ 169 [ xxvii 3 CHAP. VIII. REIGN OF EDWARD HL Eorocl cystum, On last laegdon Lathum theodunj. Heowan heora flyman, Hindan thearle I5> Mecum * mycel scearpum. Myrce ne wyrndon " Heardes hand to plegan. " Haeleth a nanuni Thaera the mid Anlafe Ofer Maera gebland,** On lides * 4 bosme, Land gesohton, Faege to gefeohte. 18 The MS. Tiberius, A. vi. gives read, not teed, the print* ed reading. 19 Here to thrill, or drill, as Exod. xxi. 6, thirlie his care mid anum ale, " drill his ear with an awl," a custom retain* ed by our forefathers, and executed on their slaves at the church door. 20 The Trinity College MS. supplies us with the cleriva- 6 [ 21 ] So Scotish men eke, Red with worrying war. The West-Saxon forth (army) All the long day, (A chosen herd,) On the last laid Of the loathed people, They hew their fleeing men, The hind ones pierce With swords mickle sharp. The Mercians (rvere) not wearied Hard hands to ply. Health aye (was') none To them who with Anlaf Over the seas blown were, On the bosom of the waves, The land they sought, Foe to fight. lion of this word, Ps. xvi. 14, giving meche where another has sword : the first syllable of the Greek f^<{ or ?*)(* 11 Bede uses the word in this sense, 533, 31. ; Alfred, in his translation of Bocthius, gives plegian, to brandish. 23 Gebleifw, Kushworth Gloss. John. xx. %i. * This probably is an error for ythe, the common word for waves. [ 22 ] Fife lagon On tham campstede Cyningas uinga Swordum aswefede. * s Swylce seofene eac Eorles Anlafes. Unrim * 6 herges * 7 Flotan and Scotta Thaer geflymed wearth. Northmanna bregu 28 Nyde gebaeded Tolides 19 stefne3 Litle werede 3I Cread 3 * cnear on Flot cyning, 15 Swebban, Csedmon ; b,f, and p, are letters of the same organ, and asurpan, swept away, Lye. The Greek, . Hirede, Sax. a retinue, household, &c. nearly equivalent to the French word, me&nie. 3 On the other half, side. * Her lodging (harbour) sought. 5 She, sometimes they, sometimes you. 6 Women. 7 Wonder a many one; i. e. she had wonderfully many women with her. 8 The accustive of the, Sax. 9 Saint Dubric, that was so good. 10 Took, Shakspeare's Nim. 11 Off his head. 14 His high ? royal? king-helm, t, e. crown. [ 63 ] ( For than mucle golde The king hine beren nalde y J ) And dude enne lasse crune On thas kinges hafde ; * And seoth-then 3 he gon do Athere quenc alsivo. " : ?'. Inne Troie this toes la&e s Bi heore celderne dage 6 Tha Bruttes of come." 1 The tveoren ivel idone Alle tha wepmen At heore mete seten Sundi bi heom seolven ; 8 That heom thuhte widen,* And alswa tha wiftnen Heore iitntne I0 hafden. 1 The king him bear ne would, i. e. did not choose to carry so much gold on his head. * And did (i. c. placed) a less crown on the king's head. 3 Sitb-thcn, afterwards. 4 He did the same to the queen. 5 Was the laic or custom. 6 From their elder day*. 7 When Britons came from thence ? 8 All the women that were well done (well educated) at their meat sate atundtr by themselves. 9 That they thought well done. 10 Habitation. To von, Johnson. fi t 6* 3 Tha the king wes isete Mid alle his dujeth to his mete, Eorles and beornes, At horde thas kinges, The stiward com steppen, The KAY wes ihaten, Haxt cnhit on londe, Under than kinge, Of all than hcepe T Of Arthures hirede. KAY hehte him bivoren Moni heah mon iboren. 1 Ther weoren a thusen cnhite bald, Wunder tioel italde, That theineden than kingen, And his here thringen. 3 JEAc cnhit hafde pal on, * And mid golde bigon ; 1 Heap, number, i. e. when the king was seated with all bis nobility at his meat, earls and barons at the king's table, the steward came stepping, that Kay was called, the highest knight in the land, under the king, of all the number of Arthur's household. a Kay summoned before him many high men born, i. e. high-born men. 3 There were a thousand bold knights, wonder well num- bered, that served the king, and thronged as his servants ? * Each knight had a pall on, (i. e. mantle,) and bordered with gold. t 65 3 And alle heore vingeres I riven x mid gold ringes, Thas beorn ilia sunde * From kuchene * to than kinge. An other half was BEDUER, Thas kinges hcege birle.* Mid him weoren eorlene sunen, Of athele s cunne iboren ; And there hehje cnihtene sunen, Tha thider weoren icunen ; 6 Seoven kingene sunen, That mid him quehten. * BEDUER avormest code, 8 Mid guldene bolle : After him a thusend Threaten 9 to hirede ; 1 Their fingers /artened with gold rings.' * That bore sundry things ? or, what was sent? 3 Kitchen. The word seems to have been pronounced cookeene. * On another part was B*dwer, the king's Mgh-butltf (birlian, haurire, Sax.) 5 Of noble kin born. 6 Probably for tcunwn " that thither were come," 7 Marched, cieeten, Sax. * Aforemoit yode, went first, with a gold bowl. 9 Thrust, or pressed forward, to serve. voi,. I. r. C 66 ] And atte thas cunnes 1 drenche, Them cathe on bithenche. And the quene, an hire end, Wifmen stvide hende ;* A thusend hire code bivoren, Riche men and wel icoren, To thainen there quene And than that mid hire weoren. Nes he ncevere iboren, s Of nane cnihte icoren, Ilacred, no tewed, Anauere n'are leode, Tha cuthe him itelle An oeies cunnes spells 1 All hind* of drink that they could think of? or, they can drink all that they could think of? 1 Very beautiful, handsome ; the construction seems to be " And the queen on her part [was with] very beau- " tiful women. A thousand men, rich and well chosen, " (coren, Sax.) went before, to serve the queen, and those " that were with her." 3 " Ne was he never born of none chosen knight, learned " nor lewd (ignorant,) nor any where was there a people " that could tell, in any kind of spell (language), of half " the rich-dom (riches) that was in Caerlion." The second verse seems to have been introduced solely for the sake of the rhyme. [ 67 ] Of halve than richedome The wes inne KAIRLIUNE ; Of seolvere and of golde, And gode iiveden* Of hehje iborene monnen Tha inne hirede wuneden,* Of horsen, and of hqfucken,'- Of hunden to deoren, And of riche iweden, Tha athan hirede weoren. And ofalle thanfolke 4 The wuneden ther onfolde Wes thisses londes folk Leodene hendest itald. And alswa tha wimmen, Wunliclie on heowen, 1 Good weeds, i. e, rich dresses. a " Of high-born men that dwelt in the king's household." The word hirede, Sax. has three interpretations; a house- hold service and a palace. 3 " Hawks, Sax. The next article is deer hounds, * " And of all the folk that dwelt on fold (i. e, on earth) " was this land's folk the handsomest (or noble) people told. " And also the women handsome (mntome, vanlich) of hut 4 , " and highest shrowded (most richly dressed) and best In- " ilructcd. (/fojene, perituf, Sax.) tavghtcn, Lat. decent. [ 68 3 And hahlukest iscrudde, And alre best itogene. For heo hafdenon iguethen atte* By heore quike live That heo wolden of ane heowen Heore clathes hafben. Sum hafde whit, sum hafden Sum hafde god grene aec, And alches cunnes^/aA-clath ; Heom wes wunder uncial fi ; And elche untutle Heo talden nrvworiheS 1 " For they bad declared (iquethcn, Sax.) all, by their ' lives (quike leve, living lives), that they would of one hue * their [intire] dress have. Some had white, some had red, ' some had good green also, and each kind of variable cloth, ' fah-dath, Sax.) They were wonderfully uniform (anelich, 1 Sax.)" It seems, from this passage, that Layamon thought it indecent to wear the different parts of dress of different colours. Wace, indeed, seems to express the same opinion. * The word untutle in this passage, and tuhtle, which oc- curs hereafter, may possibly de derived from tucht, tught, or tuckt, which, in several Gothic dialects, signifies disci- pline, education, and sometimescAasltfy, &c See Ihres'sGloss. in voce Tuckt. The passage seems to mean, that the women- were severe in their manners, and " told (i. e held) as un- " worthy those who were irregular in their conduct or '* dress." t 69 ] Tha hafde cenglene ard* That alrebezte here word, And this Icodisce vole sec Leo/vest than kinge. Tha wifmen hehge iborene* Tha wunedcn athissen londe Hafden iguethen alle On heore guides sothe That man lauerd taken nolde Inne thissere leode Naever nacnne chnit, (Neore he noht swa well idiht) Bute he icostned weoren Thrie inne compe, And his oht scipen icudde^ And ifonded* hine seolve. 1 If this mean English earth, it is certainly a violent ana- chronism ; and yet it seems to mean, " Then had the Eng- " lish earth all that was best worth, and the very commonest " people (teoditcc vole) also thought themselves of more " value than king*" " The women high-born, that dwelt in this land, had " declared all, on their word's truth, that [any] man for " their lord take they ne would among this people, never " none knight (ne were he nought so well idight) unless ' (but) he proved (icostned) were thrice in camp." 3 And his fear escape could. 4 And he tried himself. E 70 ] Baldeliche he mitte thenne j Nen him brude. 1 For ther ilke tuhtle Cnihtes weoren ohte ; * Tha wifmen wel idonc, And tha better biuiitene. 3 Tha tveoren i brutene Blissen ino&e.* Tha the king igeten s hafde And al his mon-tueorede, 6 Tha bugan 1 out of burhje Theines swithen balde. Alle tha kinges, And heore here-thringes.* Alle tha biscopes, And alle tha clarckes, 1 Boldly he might then go, none him upbraided? a For there all the knights were disciplined by the fear of disgrace? (ohtt. Sax. timor.) 3 The women acted well, and were more prudent. 4 Then were the Britons blessed enough ? 5 Eaten. . 6 Multitude of attendants, Sax. 'Fled. Then fled out of thetown the people very quickly. 8 Their throngs of servants. [ 71 ] Alle the eorles, And alle tha beornes, Alle tha theines, Alle the sweines, Feire iscrudde x Helde geondjelde. * Summe heo gunnen 3 ceruen, 4 Summe heo gunnen urnen, s Summe heo gunnen lepen, Summe heo gunnen sceoten, 6 Summe heo wraestleden And neither-game makeden, 7 Summe heo on velde Pleouiveden under scelde, 8 Summe heo driven balles Wide %eond the feldes. 1 Fairly dressed. 1 Held [their way] over the fields ; or, perhaps, covered the fields (Ac/an, Sax.) jrourf is beyond. 3 Began. * To discharge arrows. 5 To run. 6 To shoot or throw darts. 7 Made, or played at, mther-gamcs, Sax. (games of emu- lation), i. e. justed. 8 Some they oo field played under shield ; t. e. fought with swords. [ 72 ] Moni ane kunnes gomeu Ther heo gunnen drinen. * And wha swa mihte iwenne Wurthscipe of his gomene, * Hine me 3 laddc mide songe At foren than leod kinge; And the king, for his gomene, jaf him jevew 4 gode. Alle tha quene * The i cum en weoren there, And alle tha lafdics, Leoneden geond walles, To bihalden tha duge then, And that folc plant-. This ilceste threo dce^es, 6 Swulc gomes and simile pleeghs, Tha, atahan veorthe dale 1 '^Many a kind of game there they gan urge." Dringen, (Dutch) is to urge, press, or drive. 5 And whoso might win worship by his gaming. 3 " Him they led with song before the people's king." Me, a word synonymous with the French on, introduced, perhaps, by the Danes or Normans. 4 Gave him givings, gifts. * " All the queens wha were come to the festival, and all " the ladies, leaned over the walls to behold the nobles there, " and that folk play." 6 This lasted three days, such games and such plays. [ 73 ] The king gon to spekeiie " And a jaf his gode cnihtcn All hcorere rihten ; * He jef seolver, he jaef gold, He jef hors, he jef lond, Castles, and clashes eke ; His monnen he iquende.* The reader is certainly aware that a large pro- portion of the French words which have found their way into our language were introduced through the medium of translations from Norman literature ; and it is evident that such terms are particularly to be expected in descriptions of dress, of feasts, and of amusements ; it is therefore pre- sumed that the foregoing extract, both on account of its subject and its length, may be received as a tolerably fair specimen of Layamon's phraseology. And as it does not contain any word which we are under the necessity of referring to a French origin, we cannot but consider it as simple and unmixed, though very barbarous Saxon. At the same time, the orthography of this MS., in which we see, for the first time, the admission of the soft g together 1 Then, on the fourth day, the king went to council? * And gave his good knights all their rights or rewards. 3 Uf satiified. 3 C 74- ] with the Saxon 5, as well as some other peculiari- ties, seems to prove that the pronunciation of our language had already undergone a considerable change. Indeed, the whole style of this composi- tion, which is broken into a series of short, uncon- nected sentences, and in which the construction is as plain and artless as possible, and perfectly free from inversions, appears to indicate that little more than the substitution of a few French for the pre- sent Saxon words was now necessary to produce an exact resemblance with that Anglo-Norman, or English, of which we possess a few specimens sup- posed to have been written in the early part of the thirteenth century. Layamon's versification also is no less remark- able than his language. Sometimes he seems anxious to imitate the rhymes, and to adopt the regular number of syllables which he had observed in his original ; at other times he disregards both ; either because he did not consider the laws of metre, or the consonance of final sounds, as essential to the gratification of his readers, or because he was un- able to adopt them throughout so long a work, from the want of models in his native language on which to form his style. The latter is, perhaps, the most probaBtBjiftipposition ; but, at all events, it is apparent that the recurrence of his rhymes is [ 75 ] much too frequent to be the result of chance ; so that, upon the whole, it seems reasonable to infer that Layamon's work was composed at or very near the period when the Saxons and Normans in this country began to unite into one nation, and to adopt a common language. As this is a most cu- rious epocha in our literary as well as political his- tory, it is worth while to inquire how far it is ca- pable of being ascertained, if not with precision, at least within some definite limits. Geoffrey of Monmouth's history was written in or about 1138; and we know from Wace's con- cluding words that his translation was not finished till 1155. This appears, at first sight, to be rather a long interval ; because a work containing the whole early history of Britain, supposed to be com- piled from authentic materials, written in Latin, and consequently addressed to all the learned men of the age, could not fail to excite very general curiosity. But before the invention of printing, when books could only be multiplied by transcrip- tion, it must be expected that a considerable time would elapse before a long work would become so popular as to require a translation, or fall in the way of those who had leisure and ability for such a task. If we assume a period- of about 25 years for the completion of Layamon's version, we shall 76 ] fix it at 1180 ; and this is, perhaps, the earliest date that can be assigned to it, because Wace's Brut was longer than Geoffrey's history, and was likely to be less rapidly diffused among the learned ; be- sides which, being written in rhyme, its imitation was accompanied with greater difficulty. It is apparently impossible to establish, with any degree of certainty, a chronological series of those English poems which we still possess in manuscript, or to determine the year in which that series ought to commence ; but if any conclusion can be drawn from internal evidence, arising from a comparison of the many pieces ascribed to the middle of the thirteenth century, it may be presumed, from the facility of rhyming evinced in many of them, and even in the very dull history of Robert of Gloucester, which contains more than thirteen thousand rhymes, that much poetry had been written before this pe- riod, and some probably as early as the accession of Henry III. in 1216. Perhaps, therefore, we may fairly infer, that the Saxon language and lite- rature began to be mixed with the Norman about 1180; and that in 1216 the change may be consi- dered as complete. If, instead of assuming these data for our con- jecture, we should choose to establish it on such documents as can be easily drawn from our political [ 77 ] history, we shall arrive at nearly the same conclu- sion. This will appear from the following consi- derations. It must be remembered that, for many years af- ter the Conquest, the English could not be brought to a quiet acquiescence in William's usurpation ; that the number of his troops bore a very small proportion to the whole population of the island ; and consequently that they could not have been safely scattered over the country, but were, of ne- cessity, collected into garrisons, so as to form at all times the elements of an army, which it was the object of the feudal system to connect and perpe- tuate. There were therefore two classes of per- sons, whose respective languages could not be im- mediately affected by the Conquest ; these were the Norman nobles and the Saxon peasants. The first, immured in fortified castles with their fami- lies; anxiously preserving their original connec- tion with France, inhere many of them possessed estates ; associating only with their own country- men at the state festivals, when they repaired to the court of their sovereign ; and too haughty to converse with their vassals, retained the exclusive use of the French language to a much later period than that with which we are at present occupied. The second, or uplandith men, as they are fre- C 78 1 quently called, (the cities being usually situated in plains, ) having little intercourse with their foreign masters, continued for ages to preserve the Saxon speech with very little adulteration, and in many provinces, retain it to the present day. It is therefore in the towns only that we can ex- pect to find a mixture of speech, resulting from a mixture of inhabitants ; and to their history must we look for the evidence of its operation. But in the first instance, the Norman garrisons, and such colonies of their countrymen as may have been set- tled under their protection, were effectually sepa- rated from the native inhabitants, by contempt on one side, by fear on the other, and on both by op- position of interests. The two nations formed se- parate and hostile societies : they were in a state of juxta-position, but without intercourse. Even their commercial relations were very trifling, the internal as well as external trade of the country be- ing principally carried on by Jews. This mutual hatred was encouraged by the par- tialities, and still more by the policy, of William and his immediate successors. All the towns in the kingdom were attached as demesnes either to the crown or to its tenants in capite ; their inhabitants were subjected to all the feudal services, and, be- ing arbitrarily governed by a regal or baronial of- t V9 3 ficer, were exposed to every exaction of partial and capricious tyranny. Anderson, in his History of Commerce, gives us a curious instance of the general poverty resulting from this system. " We " find in the first volume of Rymer'sFcedera" (p. 80.) says he, " a letter from that king, dated [119i)] at " Haguenau in Germany, where the Imperial Diet " was then assembled, to his mother queen Elinor, " and to the judges of England, earnestly pressing " them to raise the money for his ransom to the said " sordid Emperor, being 70,000 marks of silver, and " urging that/or this end all the money of the churches ** may be borrowed, as also of the barons. HERE is " NOT THE LEAST MENTION OF THE MONEY OF " MERCHANTS OR CITIZENS, which shews the poor " state of England at this time, in point of com- " merce or wealth." He had, however, previously noticed a most material and beneficial change which took place a few years before in the political situa- tion of the citizens and burghers; a change, indeed, so important, that Madox, in his History of the Exchequer, (chap, x.) considers it as the adoption of an entirely new system, and as the foundation of all their future prosperity. This was the grant of various immunities by charter, and the formation of corporate bodies in certain towns and cities ; the earliest of which is assigned to the 26th year of C so ] Henry II. 1 180, when such charters were gran ted to the city of London, and the town of Southampton. The object of Henry's policy in this measure was, by encouraging the growth of the towns, to erect a barrier against the encroachments of the aristocracy; and this policy, in which he persevered during the remainder of his reign, was also adopted by his sons. Several proofs of it are recorded by Anderson, even in the short and busy reign of Rich- ard I., and they are much more numerous in that of his successor. " Notwithstanding all the faults " too justly (it is to be feared) charged on King " John," says this historian, " we find him, in " this very first year of his reign ( 1 199,) beginning " the good purpose as a king, which he farther in- " creased in the course of his reign : this was the " erecting of his demesne towns into free burghs ; " which thereby paved the way for the gradual in- " troduction of commerce into his kingdom," The barons, on the other hand, with no less policy, declared themselves the champions of all the pri- vileges obtained or claimed by the cities, who thus derived a double advantage from the contest for popularity between the king and the aristocracy. It is not our present business to pursue the gradual effects of these measures in disseminating liberty and prosperity, but it seems probable that [ 81 ] their operation on our language must have been immediate and extensive. The Norman and Saxon inhabitants of England were now permanently uni- ted by the bonds of common interest ; and the establishment of a popular form of municipal go- vernment, under an annually elective magistracy, by encouraging the spirit and furnishing the topics of daily discussion, could not fail of giving currency to new forms of speech, and of forming a language adapted to their new situation. It is evident that nothing less than the most minute inquiry into all the circumstances of our history under the first Norman kings would be suf- ficient for the full investigation of this subject; but the preceding observations will perhaps authorize us to assume, that the formation of the English lan- guage took its rise, and was probably far advanced, during the interval of not quite forty years which preceded the accession of Henry III. After quitting Layamon, we shall waste little time n the compositions of his immediate successors. The earliest of these, according to Mr Tyrwhitt, is a paraphrase of the gospel histories called Ormulum, composed by one ORME T ORMIN, which seems to have been considered as mere prose by Hickes and Wanley, who have given extracts from it, but is really written in verse of fifteen syllables, without rhyme, in imitation of the most common form of VOL. I. F C 82 ] the Latin tetrameter iambic. The next is a Moraf Poem on Old Age, written in rhyme, and extracted by Hickes, part of which is to be found in the introduction to Dr Johnson's Dictionary. Ano- ther poem, also transcribed from Hickes's extract, by Dr Johnson, is a Life of St Margaret, which, as Mr Warton tells us, forms part of a volumi- nous MS. in the Bodleian library, containing vari- ous lives of the saints, translated, perhaps, from some earlier Latin or French original. But the most entertaining and curious specimen preserved in Hickes's Thesaurus is one which that learned editor has characterized as a most malevo- lent satire on the religious orders. It, however, by no means deserves this disgraceful appellation, be- cause it does not contain one of those opprobrious expressions which are so liberally employed, as a substitute for wit, by the early satirists. The author, whoever he was, takes advantage of a popular tra- dition respecting the existence of an imaginary terrestrial paradise, in some unknown quarter of the globe, which he calls the land of Cokaygne; in which his houris are nuns, and their happy com- panions white and grey monks ; and his object is to insinuate that the ease and luxury enjoyed in the monasteries had scarcely less effect in peopling the monastic orders than the inducements more usually assigned by the proselytes of zeal and de- [ 83 ] votion. In the Harleian MSS. there is an ancient French poem, quoted by Mr VVarton, on a nearly similar plan, called Le Ordre de bel Eyse. The same idea is also pursued by Rabelais, and seems to have been a great favourite with the early French satirists. The word Cokaygne seems to be Frenchi- fied Latin ; and our poem bears the strongest mark of being a translation ; because the elegance of the sketch, and the refined irony of the general composition, are strongly contrasted with the rude- ness of the language. As the poem is not exces- sively long, it is here printed entire, with such notes as appeared necessary to render it tolerably intelligible. There are, however, some passages, corrupted, perhaps, by the negligence of transcri- bers, the obscurity of which I have not been able to remove. - Far in sea, by West Spain, Is a land ihote* Cokaygne,* 1 Called. CSaxon.) * From coquina; whence cuema, cuisine, &c. and the old English word cockney. In P. Plowman's Vision, fol, zxv. Ed. 1. 1550 (quoted hereafter), P. P. says, 1 have no salt bacon. Ne no cokeney, by Christ ! collopsfor to make. Perhaps the intelligence which the inhabitants of the metro- polis displayed in the culinary art may have procured them the appellation of cockneys from uplandiih or country-man . C 84- ) There n'is land under heaven-rich* Oftoel* of goodness it y-like. Though Paradise be merry and bright, Cokaygne is of fairer sight. What is there in Paradise But grass, and flower, and green-me ? 5 .Though there be joy and great dute * There n'is meat but fruit. There n'is ball, bure s no 6 bench ; But water, man-is thirst to quench. Beth 7 there no men but two, Heli/ s and Enoch also. Clinglich 9 may hi IX> go Where there i/oomith " men no mo." 1 Heaven, the kingdom of heaven. Sax. * Wealth, abundance of goodness. Sax. 3 Branches. Sax. * Pleasure, deduit. Old Fr. 5 Bower, (Sax.) synonimous with chamber. F. 6 No, and sometimes nether, are used for nor. 7 There are. 8 Elias. 9 The sense seems to be, " It is easy for them to be clean '' and of pure heart, because they are only two, and cannot " be corrupted by bad example." Why Paradise should contain only two inhabitants is not very intelligible, but it was thus represented in the pageants, as appears from a pas- sage in Fabian, quoted by Strutt (View of Manners, &c. vol. II. p. 53) : " In the border of this delicious place, [ 85 ] in Cokaygne is meat and drink, Without care, how x and stuink* The meat is trie, 3 the drink so clear, To noon, russin, * and suppere ; I sigge s (for sooth boot laere 6 ) There n'is land on earth is 7 peer. Under heaven n'is land I tviss 9 Of so mochil 9 joy and bliss. There is many swete sight : All is day, n'is there no night ; " which icas named Paradise, stood two forgrowen father*, " resembling Enochs and Hely, the which had this saying " to the king," &c. [Reign of Hen. VI. vol. II. p. 425. Ed. 1559. 10 They. The words they and them, instead of hi and hem, seem to have been introduced, as Mr. Tyrwhitt ob- serves, about the time of Chaucer. 11 Dwell. "More. 1 Anxiety. Sax. * Labour. Sax. Choice, trie. Ft. 4 Rushing is still used in the northern counties for what the French call a pouter, or meal between dinner and supper. Vide Grose's 1'rov. Glossary. Noon was the usual time of dinner. ' I say, or affirm. 6 This kind of phrase is now obsolete ; and yet we might ay, " for falsehood boot-less were." 7 Apparently for hit, instead of its. * I know. Muckle, much. [ 86 ] There n'is baret* nother strife, N'is there no death, ac * ever life. There n'is lack of meat, no cloth ; There n'is man no woman wroth ; There n'is serpent, wolf, no fox, Horse no capil,* cow no ox ; There n'is sheep, no swine, no goat ; No none horvoyla,* God it wot, Nother karate, s nother stud : The land is full of other good. N'is there fly, flea, no louse, In cloth, in town, bed, no house. There n'is dunnir, 6 sleet, no hail ; No none vile worm, no snail : No none storm, rain, no wind : There n'is man no woman blind : Ok 7 all is game, joy, and glee. Well is him that there may be ! There beth rivers, great and fine, Of oil, milk, honey, and wine. * Wrangling. * But. 3 Steed, from caballus. It is used by Chaucer, &c. 4 Probably a groom, as karate and stud are mentioned immediately afterwards : the Saxon word is hors-wtath, 5 Huras. Fr. A place where horses are bred. 6 Thunder. Sax. 7 But. [ 87 ] Water serveth there to no thing But to siyt * and to washing. There is * manner fruit : All is solace and dedute. There is a well-fair Abbey Of white monkes, and of grey ; There beth bowers, and halls ; All of pasties beth the walls, Of flesh, of fish, and a rich meat, The likefullest that man may eat. Flouren-cakes beth the shingles 3 all Of church, cloister, bowers, and hall. The pinties 4 beth fat puddings, Rich meat to princes and kings. 1 To seetb, or boil. 1 Here the word many is, perhaps, omitted. 3 Wooden tiles, for which those of clay were afterwards substituted. Those ships in which the edges of the planks cover each other like tiles, and which we now, with less apparent reason, call clinker-built vessels, were formerly called shingled thipt. " That in thy shingled ship shall be " saved." P. Plowman, fol. xliv. * Pinnacles. Mr Gray, in one of his letters to Mr Mason, seems to say that these ornaments were not introduced into ur Gothic architecture before the reign of Henry III. (Vide quarto Edit. p. 896.) [ 88 ] Man may there of eat enoy, All with riyt, * and nought with woy. All is common to young and old, To stout and stern, meek and bold. There is a cloister fair and light, Broad and long of seemly sight. The pillars of that cloister all Beth y-turned of chrystal, With harlas 3 and capital Of green jaspe and red coral. In the praer 4 is a tree, SiKithe s likeful for to see. The root is ginger and galingale t f The scions beth all seduiale. * 1 * The meaning seems to be, that meat was not weighed out, but in abundance, and at the disposal of all who chose to seize it Eat, meat. Sax, ettc, cibus. 3 Probably the plinth, in Italian orlo. In Cotgrave's Diet, we have orle, for a hem or border ; hence the word curler. * Meadow, prairie, FT. 5 Very. 6 The sweet cyperus, a sort of rush, the roots of which were supposed to be an excellent stomachic. It was pro- bably, like the real galanga, one of the ingredients in the hypocras, or medicated wine, used at the conclusion of their meals. 7 Valerian ; or perhaps the mountain spikenard 5 for Parkinson calls them both by the name of sciwali. C 89 ] Trie T maces beth the flower, The rind canel * of sweet odour ; The fruit gilofre J of good smack. Of cucubes* there n'is no lack, There beth roses of red Uee y 5 And lily, likeful for to see : Theyjallowetk 6 never day no night ; This ought to be a sweet sight. There beth four wells 7 in the abbey Of treacle 8 and halvoei, 9 Of baum, I0 and eke piment, " Ever emend 1J to right rent ; IJ 1 Choice. Fr. * Cinnamon. Fr. 3 Cloves. Fr. They were first introduced into the West in 1 190. Anderson's Hist, of Commerce. 4 Probably cuckoo-llo wers, or lady-smocks. 5 Colour. 6 They fade ; grow yellow. Our word fallow had origi- nally the same meaning. 7 Springs. 8 Any sovereign remedy was at this time called treacle : Venice treacle is still in some repute. The sirop of the su- gar-bakers, now called treacle, cannot have been known so early. 9 Holy-water ? ' Balsam. Fr. " Spiced-wine. Fr. '- Running. Sax. 13 In a full stream. [ 90 ] Of they streames all the mould, Stones precious, and gold. There is sapphire, and untune, * Carbuncle, and astiune, * Smaragde, 3 lugre, 4 and prassiune, s Beryl, onyx, toposiune, Amethyst, and chrysolite, Chalcedon, and epetite. 6 There beth birdes, many andjfafe, 7 Throstle, thrush, and nightingale, Chalandre, s and laood-iaaleS* And other birdes without tale, That stinteth never by har might Merry to sing day and night. \Here a few lines are lost."] Yet I do you mo to wit, The geese y-roasted on the spit i*3456 of these names three only are intelligible ; the unio, or pearl ; the smaragJe, or emerald ; and the prassiune (prasius,) a stone generally found in the emerald mines. Astiune may, perhaps, be the astrios, or astroites, of Pliny ; lugre the leuco-cbrysas, or chrysolite ; and epetite the haematites, or blood-stone. The virtues formerly as- signed to gems will account for the length of this list. 7 Numerous. Sax. 8 Gold-finch. 9 Wood-lark? [ 91 3 Flee to that abbey, God it wot, And greditk,* " Geese all hot ! all hot !" Hi bringeth galek, * great plente, The best y-dight J that man may see. The leverokes 4 that beth couth, 5 Licth adown to man-is mouth, Y-dight in stew full snrithe 6 well, Powder'd with gingelofre and cartel. 7 N'is no speech of no drink ; All take enough without sfuiink. 8 When the monkes geeth 9 to mass, All tliejienestres, 10 that beth of glass, Turneth into chrystal bright, To give monkes more light. When the masses beth isend, x * And the bookes up-ilend, " The chrystal turneth into glass In state that it rather was. The young monkes each day After meat goeth to play ; 1 Cry. Sax. * Singing-birds? 3 Dressed. * Lark.-. * I aught. 6 Quickly. 7 Dinner and cinnamon. * Labour. Go. 10 Windows. " Ended. " Laid up. 8 t 92 ] N'is there hawk no fowl so swift Better fleeing by the lift Than the monkes, high of mood, With har sleeves and har hood. When the abbot seeth ham flee, That he holds for much glee. Ac nathcless, all there among, He biddeth ham 'light to eve song. The monkes 'lighteth nought adown, Ac far fleeth into randun ; * When the abbot him y-seeth That his monkes from him fleeth, He taketh maiden of the route, And turneth up her white t oute ; a And beateth the tabor with his hand, To make his monkes 'light to land. When his monkes that y- seeth, To the maid down hi fleeth, And goeth the wench all aboute, And thwacketh all her white toute : 1 At random. 1 There is much pleasantry in this picture of the young monks taking wing, by means of their sleeves and hoods, and flying like so many Cupids ; and our ancestors were probably not offended by the direct mention of the drum by which the reverend abbot called them back to their devotions. r 93 3 And sith, after her swink, Wendeth meekly home to drink ; And goeth to har collation, A well-fair procession. Another abbey is thereby, Forsooth a great fair nunnery : Up a river of sweet milk, Where is plenty great of silk. When the summer's day is hot, The young nunnes taketh a boat, And doth ham forth in that rivere, Both with oares and with steer. When hi beth far from the abbey, Hi maketh ham naked for to play, And lieth down into the brim. And doth ham slily for to swim. The young monkes that hi * scetli, Hi doth ham up, and forth hi fleeth, And cometh to the nunnes anon. And each monke him taketh one, And snellick * beareth forth har prey To the mochil grey abbey. And teacheth the nunnes an orison With jamblew J up and down. Them. * Swiftly. Gambols. [ 94 ] The monke that wol be staluu * good, And can set aright his hood, He shall have, without dangere, Twelve wives each year ; All through right, and nought through grace, For to do himself solace. And thilk monke that clepith * best, And doth his likam 3 all to rest, Of him is hope, God it wot, To be soon father abbot. Whoso will come that land to, Full great penance he mot do. Seven years in swine's dritte * He mot wade, tool ye y-tKitte, s All anon up to the chin, So he shall the land win, Lordings, good and hend, 6 Mot ye never off world wend, 'Fore ye stand to your chance, And fulfill that penance ; 1 Stout. a Is declared ; or, perhaps, clippeth, i. e. embracetb. 3 He who forces all his likes, or fellows, to take rest 4 Dirt. 5 You must know. Civil, [ 95 ] That ye mot that land y-see, And never more turn aye. * Pray we God so mot it be ! Amen, per saint charite. A great many of our poets in the sixteenth century allude to this story of Cokaygne, but they change its name without much improving it : they call it Lubber-land. In France and Italy the ori- ginal expression is become proverbial. In the second volume of Mr Way's translations from Le Grand's abridgment of the ancient French Fabliaux is a poem on the Pays de Cocagne ; but not at all resembling the work which we have been examining. This was, perhaps, imported by the Crusaders, and bears some resemblance to the story told by Sir J. Maundevile, of the Chief of the Assassins, or Old Man of the Mountain, as he is usually called. " Men clept him," says our tra- veller, " Gatholonabes ; and he was full of cauteles '* and of subtle deceits : and he had a full fair castle, " and a strong, in a mountain And he had let " muren all the mountain about with a strong waU " and a fair. And within the fairest garden that " any man might behold ; and therein were trees 1 A^nin. [ 96 ] " bearing all manner of fruits and all manner " virtuous herbs of good smell, and all other herbs " also that bearen fair flowers. And he had also " many fair wells. And, beside tho wells, he had " let make fair halls and fair chambers, depainted " all with gold and azure. And there weren in that " place many a diverse things, and many diverse " stories : and of beasts, and of birds, that sungen " full delectably, and moveden by craft, that it " seemed that they weren quick. And he had also " in his garden all manner of fowls and of beasts, " that any man might think on, for to have play or " disport to behold them. And the fairest damsels " that might been found under the age of 15 year ; " and the fairest young striplings of that same " age. And he had also let make three wells, fair " and noble ; and all environed with stone of " jasper, of chrystal, diapered with gold, and set " with precious stones, and great orient pearls. " And he had made a conduit under earth, so that " the three wells, at his list, one should run milk, " another wine, and another honey. And that '* place he clept Paradise" (Sir J. Maundevile, p. 336. Ed. 1727- t 97 ] CHAPTER IV. Robert of Gloucester. Various small Poem? apparently written during the latter Part of the thirteenth Century. Robert de Bninnt. W E are now arrived at the poet whom his editor, Mr Hearne, emphatically calls " the British En- nius," but concerning whom we know little more, than that he was a monk of the abbey of Glou- cester ; that his Christian name was ROBERT ; that he lived during the reigns of Henry III. and Ed- ward I. ; and that he wrote in English rhymes a history of England from the days of the imaginary Brutus to his own time. His work seems to have been completed about the year 1280. " This " rhyming chronicle," says Mr Warton, " is totally ** destitute of art or imagination. The author has " clothed the fables of Geoffrey of Monmouth in " rhyme, which have often a more poetical air " in Geoffrey's prose. The language is full of " Saxonisms ; but this obscurity is, perhaps, ow- ** ing to the western dialect, in which our monk " of Gloucester was educated." VOL. I. G [ 98 ] It would be quite hopeless to attempt a defence of ROBERT OF GLOUCESTER'S poetry : perhaps his own wish was merely to render more generally in- telligible a body of history which he considered as curious, and certainly believed to be authentic, because it was written in Latin, the language of truth and religion. Addressing himself to his illi- terate countrymen, he employed the vulgar lan- guage as he found it, without any attempt at embellishment, or refinement ; and, perhaps, wrote in rhyme, only because it was found to be an use- ful help to the memory, and gave his work a chance of being recited in companies where it could not be read. The latter part of his poem, in which he relates the events of his own time, will not appear quite uninteresting to those who prefer the simple and desultory narratives of contemporary writers to the philosophical abridgments of the moderns ; and a great part of his obscurity will be found to result from that unnecessary mixture of the Ger- man, or black letter, with the Saxon characters, in which Mr Hearne, from his inordinate appetite for antiquity, has thought proper to dress this ancient English author. Robert of Gloucester, though cold and prosaic, is not quite deficient in the valuable talent of arresting the attention; and the orations, with C 99 3 which he occasionally diversifies the thread of his story, are, in general, appropriate and dramatic, and not only prove his good sense, but exhibit no unfavourable specimens of his eloquence. In his description of the first crusade he seems to change his usual character, and becomes not only enter- taining, but even animated; and the vision, in which a " holy man" is ordered to reproach the Christians with their departure from their duty, and, at the same time, to promise them the divine intervention, to extricate them from a situation in which the exertions of human valour were appa- rently fruitless, would not, perhaps, to contempo- rary readers appear less poetical, nor less sublime and impressive, than the introduction of the hea- then mythology into the works of the early classics. The expectations awakened by this grand incident are, indeed, miserably disappointed by the strange morality which our monk ascribes to the Supreme Being, who declares himself offended, not by the unnecessary cruelties of the crusaders, nor by the general profligacy of their manners, so much as by the reflection, that they " With women of Paynim did their foul kind, " Whereof the stench came into heaven on high." But these absurdities and inconsistencies present, perhaps, a more lively picture of the reigning man- [ 100 ] ners and opinions than could have been intention- ally delineated by a writer of much superior abili- ties to Robert of Gloucester. Our sententious annalist has given, in the follow- ing few lines, the same description which we have already examined, as exhibited more at length by Wace, and imitated by Layamon : The king was to his palace, tho* the service was y-do, Y-lad with his menye, 1 and the queen to hers also. For hit 3 held the old usages, that men with men were By hem * selve, and women by hem selve also there. Tho hit were each one y-set, as it to her s state become, KAY, king of Anjou, a thousand knights name 6 Of noble men, y-clothed in ermine each one Of one suit, * and served at this noble feast anon. BEDWER the butler, king of Normandy, Norn also in his half* a fair company, Of one suit, for to serve of the butlery. Before the queen it was also of all such courtesy. 1 When, sometimes then, but never though, which our old authors sometimes spell they, sometimes thogh, &c. &c. 2 Fr. Attendants. * They. * Them. S Their. 6 Took. Sax. 7 In the same dress. 8 On his behalf, or on his part. The use of the several prepositions was not fixed as it now is, but many of them C 101 3 For to tell all the nobleye ' that there was y-do, Though my tongue were of steel, me should nought dure * thereto. Women ne kept of* no knight as in druery, * But * he were in arms well y-proved, and at least thrye. 6 That made, lo, the women the chaster life lead, And the knights the stalworder, 7 and the better in her deed. Soon after this noble meat, 8 as right was of such tide, The knights atylcd* hem about, in each side, In fields and in meads to prove her bachelry, * 9 Some with Ian ce, some with sword, without villany :* * With playing at tables, other " at chekere, 1J With casting , other with setting,** other in some ogyrt IS manere. were used indifferently. Repeated proofs of this occur in the present extract, and they are, therefore, marked in italics. I Noble feats. Old Fr. * Endure, last. 3 Took no account of. 4 Gallantry. s Unless. 6 Thrice. 7 Bolder. Sax. 8 Feast. 9 Prepared, or, perhaps, armed. It seems to be the French word atteller ; and the English word harneu was also synonymous with armour. 10 Knighthood. Fr. " Meanness. Fr. II Or. ' J Chess. Chekere is properly a chess-board. 14 This may possibly refer to tric-trac, or back-gammon ; but casting and setting may also relate to throwing the bar. 'S Other. [ 102 ] And which-so of any game had the mastery, The king hem of his gifts did large courtesy. Up the alurs * of the castles the ladies then stood, And beheld this noble game, and which knights were good. All the three hext * days y-laste this nobleye, In halls and in fields, of meat, and eke of play. These men came the fourth day before the king there, And he gave hem large gifts, ever as hii worth were. Bishopricks and churches clerks he gave some, And castles and towns knights that were y-come.* (P. 190.) 1 The walks on the roof of the castle. * Highest, or feast-days. * For the purpose of shewing how exactly Robert of Gloucester translates from his original, I shall here add the whole corresponding passage from Geoffrey of Monmouth. Hex ct regiua diademata sua deponunt, assumptisque levioribus ornamentis, ille ad suum palatium cum viris, hajc ad aliud cum mulieribus, epulatum incedunt: antiquam namque consuetudinem Trojae servantes Britones, consueve- rant mares cum maribus, niulicrcs cum mulieribus, festivos dies separatim celebrare. Collocatis postmodum cunctis ut singulorum dignitas expetebat, Cams dapifer, berminio ornatus, mille vero nobilissimis juvenibus couiitatus est, qui omnes, herminio induti, ferculu cum ipso ministrubnut. Ex al a vero parte Beduerum placeman! totidem vario amicti sequuntur, qui [ 103 ] The reader who compares the foregoing extract with the satirical piece contained in the last chap- ter, will probably think that Robeit of Gloucester's in scyphis diversorum generum multimoda pocula cum ipso distribuebant. In palatio quoque rtginae, innumerabiles mioistri, diversis ornamentis induti, obsequium suura prae- stabant, morem suum exercentes ; quern si omnino descri- bere pergerem, niiniam histuriae prolixitatem generarem. Ad tantuin etenim statum dignitatis Britannia tune pro- vecta crat, quod copi/i divitiarum, luxu ornamentorum, facetia incolarum, cetera regna excellebat. Quicunque ergo famosus probitate miles in eadem crat unius colorii vc.-tihus atque armis utebatur- Facet* autcni muliercs, con- limilia indumenta habentes, nullius amoreni habere digna- bantur, nUi tertio inmilitia approbatus esset. Jifficieban- tur ergo castan muliercs, et milites amore illarum meliores. Refecti tandem epulis, divers! diversos ludos composituri, campos extra civitatem adeunt. Mox milites, simulacrum jiru'lii ciendo, equestrcm ludum componunt : mulieres in dito murorum aspicientes in curiales amoris flammas nore* joci irritant. Alii telis, aiii hast&> alii ponderosorum lapidum jactu, alii sa\i 5 , alii alt-is, cetererumque jocorum diversitate contendentes, quod diei restabat, postposita lite, pnetereunt. Quicunque veroludisui victoriam adeptuserat, ab Arturio largis muneribus ditabatur. Consumptis ergo prim is in hunc modum tribus diebus,instante quarto vocantur cuncti qui ipsi propter honorea obsequium pr;cst:ibant, et inguli singulis possession! bus, civitatibus videlicet, atque * Amore, Ed. 1587. 12 C 10* 1 language very nearly resembles that of his con- temporaries, and is not particularly marked with Saxonisms or provincial phrases. The oddest pe- culiarity in his style is the strange use of the word me, which we have seen once used by Layamon, but which here occurs as a mere expletive in almost every page. There is an instance of it in the fol- lowing couplet, which is not quoted for this reason, but because it relates to our literary history. Our author, speaking of Richard I., says, <* Me ne may not all tell here, ac whoso it will ** y-wite, " In romance of him y-made me it may find " y-write." [P. 487-] The simple meaning of which seems to be, that he refers such of his readers as shall wish for farther details, to the French or Romance history of this monarch. Mr Hearne, however, in his note on this passage, assures us that our grave historian here quotes a. fabulous narrative; that it is in English, in short verse, that he remembers to have seen it castellis, archiepiscopatibus, episcopatibus, abbatiis, ce- 'erisque honoribns dotantur. Galfr. Mon. ed. 1517, p. 77. et ap. Rer. Brit. Script. Vet. 1587, p. 70, 1, 89.] The reader has already seen Wace's curious amplifica- tion of this picture. 4- [ 105 ] in print, and that for this reason, and because it is a very indifferent performance, it is. not worth transcribing from his copy, which he distinguishes as Codex. Ar. and, lest we should doubt the fact, he tells us all this in Latin. If there exist an Eng- lish metrical romance on the life of Richard Coeur de Lion anterior to Robert of Gloucester, it is cer- tainly a great curiosity. It is, however, very probable, that a few of those compositions which we now call metrical romances, and which by older writers are termed gests (from the Latin word gesta, which was become the fa- shionable appellation of every learned story-book) were written about this time ; because Robert de Brunne expressly mentions two poets, ERCELDOUN and KENDALE, as excelling in this mode of writing, and says of the story of Sir Tristram, that Over gestes it has th' esteem : Over all that is or was, If men it said, as made TJtomas.* The bard who is thus distinguished from a crowd of competitors, is supposed to be Thomas Ler- raont of Ercildoun, or Erceldoune, a village in Tweedale, generally known by the honourable ap- pellation of Thomas the Rhymer, who lived in the Jlearne'j Prcf. to Laiigtoft, xcix. C 106 ] reign of Edward I. and was reputed (though it seems falsely) to be the author of some metrical prophecies not yet forgotten in Scotland. His contemporary Kendale is only known by the acci- dental mention of Robert de Brunne. There is, however, an unclaimed metrical romance apparent- ly belonging to this period, which the generosity of future critics may possibly assign to him. This is the Geste of King Horn, preserved in a very cu- rious miscellany in the British Museum, (HarU MSS. No. 2253) and mentioned by Chaucer as one of the romances of price. Mr Warton has given an excellent abridgment of it, together with a considerable extract, in the first volume of liis Hist, of Poetry, p. 38.* In the same manuscript which contains this ro- * Having procured from the Museum a transcript of this very curious work, I should not have failed to insert it en- tire, but that I had reason to hope that the task of editing it would fall into much better hands. The reader will cer- tainly learn with pleasure that Mr Ritson has it in contem- plation to publish a series of our old metrical romances, ma- ny of which exist only in manuscript. Such a work, exe- cuted by him, is likely to prove the most valuable reper- tory of early language and manners that has yet been pre- sented to the public. Since this note was written, Mr Ritson's projected pub- lication has been completed in three volumes, and contains the romance in question. 107 ] mance are found some political satires of consi- derable merit ; one of which was certainly com- posed in the year 1265 : (it is inserted in Percy's Reliques, as is also an elegy on the death of Edward I. written in 1307) another, on the defeat of the French army by the Flemings, in 1301 ; and a ballad against the Scots, composed in 1306. As the first of these pieces may be considered as ante- rior to the composition of Robert of Gloucester's poem, and the others were written very soon after its conclusion, Mr Warton seems to have employed them as terms of comparison, for the purpose of ascertaining by internal evidence the dates of se- veral love-songs, devotional and moral poems, and other smaller pieces contained in the same miscel- lany. He was perhaps mistaken in referring som of these to so early a period as the year 1 200 ; but they certainly appear to have been written near the middle of the thirteenth century; and, as specimens of our earliest lyric compositions are not unworthy of our curiosity, the reader is here presented with two, one of which is a moral ditty, and the other a love-song : both copied from the volume of an- cient songs published by Mr Ritson, who has cor- rected some trifling mistakes committed by Mr Warton in decyphering the obsolete characters of the ancient MS. C 108 ] DITTY Upon the Uncertainty of this Life, and the Approach of Death. Winter wakeneth all my care ; Now these leaves waxeth bare. Oft i sigh, and mourne sare, When it cometh in my thought, Of this world's joy, how it go'th all to nought ! Now it is, and now it n'is, All so l it ne'er n'loere I wis : That many men saith, sooth it is, All go'th * but Codes will : All we shall die, though us like ill. 3 AH that grain me groweth green ; Now, itjdttoiveth 4 all by-dene. 5 Jesu help, that it be seen, 6 And shield us from hell, For I n'ot 7 whither I shall, ne how long here dwell. 1 As if it had never been. 2 Passeth away. 3 Though we may dislike it ? * Fadetb, 5 Presently. 6 The meaning seems to be, " May '* Jesu help us so that his help may be manifest." 7 Ne wot, know net. [ 109 ] SONG In Praise of the Author's Mistress, whose Name teas ALYSOUX. Between March and Averil, When spray beginneth to spring, The little fowl hath hire will On hire lud T to sing. I live in love-longing For seemlolcest * of alle thing She may me blisse bring, I am in her bandoun. J An hendy 4 hap I have y-hent, $ Ichot 6 from heaven it is me sent, From all women my love is lent, And 'light 7 on Alysoun. On hen 8 her hair is fair enough, Her brow brown, her eye black : With lossum ' cheer she on me lough * With middle small and well y-mak. 1 Songs, or odes. The word leudi occurs in the same sense in the barbarous Latin of the times, as Mr Pinkerton has justly observed. * Seemliest, handsomest. 3 Command. 1'r. 4 Lucky. s Caught. * I think. ^ Alighted. 8 This apparently inexplicable phrase is perhaps an error of the transcribers. y Lovesome, lovely. |0 Laughs. C no 3 But f she will me to her take, For to been her owen make, * Long to liven I shall forsake, And, fay ! J fallen adown. An hendy hap, &c Nightes, when I wend and wake, For thee my wonges 4 waxeth wan Lady all for thine sake Longing is y-lent me on ! In world n'is non so tayter s man, That all her bounty 6 telle can : Her stuire * is whiter than the swan, And fairest may 8 in town. An hendy hap, &c. I am, for wooing, all for weak, Weary, so water in 'wore ; 9 Lest any reave Io me my make I shall be y-yearned tl sore. * Unless. * Own mate. 3 In faith. Fr. * Cheeks. Sax. 5 Wise, 6 Excellence, bonie. Fr. 7 Neck, 8 Virgin. Sax. ' Wear, pool. I0 Bereave me of. 11 Vexed, anxious. [ in ] Better is tkolien * while * sore Than mournen evermore. Gainest under gore, 3 Hearken to my roan ! * An hendy hap, &c. It is not impossible that Chaucer, at the same time that he ridiculed the romances, may have in- tended to laugh at the fashionable love-songs of his age ; for in his rhyme of Sir Thopas he has borrowed two apparently affected phrases from the foregoing composition. Sire Thopas fell in love-longing All when he heard the throstle sing. And afterwards : Me dreamed all this night, pardie, An elf-queen shall my lemman be, And sleep under my gore. * To suffer. Sax. * Awhile. 3 Perhaps, " Most graceful in dress." The word gainest eccurs in the same sense in Dunbar's " Twa mariit Women," verse 78. Ungain b still used in the provinces for the oppo- site idea ; and gore appears to be the same with gtar y dtcft, from the Saxon gearwa, vcstis. * Song. C m 3 To the same period with the foregoing we ought, perhaps, to refer the following short descriptive song, preserved by Sir John Hawkins in his History of Music, vol. II. p. 93. Summer is y-comen in, Loude sing cuckoo : Groweth seed, And blotveth ' mead, And spring'th the wood now ; Sing cuckoo! Ewe bleateth after lamb, Low'th after calf cow : Bullock starteth, Buck verteth, z Merry sing cuckoo ! Cuckoo, cuckoo ! Well sings thou cuckoo ! Ne siuick 2 thou never now. The first poet who occurs in the beginning of the fourteenth century is ROBERT MANNYNG, com- monly called ROBERT DE BRUNNE. He was, as far as we know, merely a translator. His first work,says Mr Warton, was a metrical paraphrase of a French 1 Blooms. * Goes to harbour among the fern. 3 Cease. [ 113 ] book, written by Robert Grosthead, bishop of Lin- coln, called Manuele Pecche (Manuel des Peches,) being a treatise on the decalogue, and on the se- ven deadly sins, which are illustrated with many legendary stories. It was never printed, but is pre- served in the Bodleian library, MSS. N. 415, and in the British Museum, MSS. Harl. No. 1701. His second and more important work is a me- trical chronicle of England, in two parts, the former of which (from /Eneas to the death of Cad- wallader) is translated from Wace's Brut d'Angle- terre, and the latter (from Cadwallader to the end of the reign of Edward I.) from a French chroni- cle, written by Peter de Langtoft, an Augustine canon of Bridlington, in Yorkshire, who is suppo- sed to have died in the reign of Edward II. and was, therefore, contemporary with his translator. Robert de Brunne has furnished his biographers with the only particulars that are known concern- ing his life. In the prologue to his first work he says that he had lived fifteen years at Brunne, in the priory of black canons, when he began his translation in 1 303. He was therefore received into the order in 1288, and was probably born before 1270. With respect to his second work, he says, Of Brunne I am, if any me blame, Robert Mannyng is my name : VOL. I. H [ 114- ] Blessed be he of God of heaven That me Robert with good will nevcn. T In the third Edward's time was I When I wrote all this story. In the house of Sixille I was a throw. a Dan Robert of Malton that ye know Did it write for fellows' sake, When they willed solace make. [Hearne's Pref. to Pet. Langt. ci.] By this passage he seems to mean, that he was born at a place called Malton ; that he had resided some time at a house in the neighbourhood called Sixhill ; and that there he, Robert de Brunne, had composed at least a part of his poem during the reign of Edward III. Mr Warton, therefore, is perhaps inaccurate in his account of this author, when he says, -that " he was a Gilbertine monk ** in the monastery of Brunne, or Bourne, near " Depyng in Lincolnshire : but he had been before " professed in the priory of Sixhille, a house of " the same order, and in the same county." Mr Hearne, the editor of Robert de Brunne, has thought fit 1o suppress the whole of his transla- tion from Wace, excepting the prologue, and a few extracts which he found necessary to illustrate his glossary. The learned antiquary perhaps thought 1 .Names. * For some time. [ 115 ] that, having carefully preserved the whole of Ro- bert of Gloucester's faithful and almost literal ver- sion of Geoffrey of Monmouth, it was unnecessary to print the more licentious paraphrase which had passed through the medium of a Norman poet. The following description of the first interview between Vortigern and Rowena is one of the few specimens that he has preserved. It is not given as an example of beautiful poetry, or of refined language, for its style is scarcely to be distinguish- ed from that of the Monk of Gloucester ; but it is a curious description of ancient manners : Of chamber Rouwen so gent, Before the king in hall scho I went; A cup with wine she had in hand, And her attire was voeU-farhnd ; * Before the king one knee set, And on her language scho him gret : " Laverid J king, Wassaille /" said she. The king asked what should be ? On that language the king ne couth. * A knight t her language lend * in youth : Breg hight that knight, born Bretoun, That lend the language of Sessofoi : 6 1 She. a Very becoming. * Lord. * Knew. 5 Learned. * [ 116 ] This Breg was thre latimer, * What scho said told Vortager. " Sir," Breg said, " Rouwen you gretis, " And king calls, and lord you letis. * " This is their custom and their gest, " When they are at the ale, or feast ; " Ilk man that loves where him think, " Shall say, Wassaille ! and to him drink. " He that bids 3 shall say Wassaille ! " The tother shall say again Drinkhaille ! " That says Wassaille ! drinks of the cup ; " Kissand* his fellow he gives it up. " Drinkhaille ! he says, and drinks thereof, " Kissand him in bourd and scoff". " s The king said, as the knight gan ken, 6 " Drinkhaille /" smiland on Rouwen. Rouwen drank, as her list, And gave the king ; sine 7 him kist. 1 Latinier. Ft, ; an interpreter. a Esteems. 3 Invites. 4 Kissing. This is the usual termination of the participle in old English, as it is in French. 5 In sport and in play. 6 " As the knight had signified." The word gan (began) is often used to form the tenses of verbs. 7 Since, afterwards. 12 [ 117 ] There was the first Wassaille in deed, And that first of fame geed. * Of that Wassaitte men told great tale, &c. Fele sithes * that maiden ying WassaiUed, and kist the king. Of body she was right avenant, 3 Of fair colour, with sweet semblant : 4 Her attire full well it seemed ; Marvellich the king she quemed^ Out of measure was he glad, For of that maiden he ixex 6 all mad. Drunkenness the fiend wrought : Of that paen 7 was all his thought. A mischance that time him led ; He asked that paen for to wed, &c. (Glossary to Rob. of Gloucest. p. 695.) It is hoped that the reader will forgive a second extract from this obsolete author, in support of a conjecture started by Mr Hearne, who (as Mr Warton justly observes) is not often fortunate in his conjectures. He supposes that many of our ancient ballads were nothing more than extracts 1 Went. * Many times. * Handsome. Fr. 4 Appearance. S Pleased. 6 Grew. 7 Payenne. Ft. Pagan. [ 118 ] from metrical chronicles written by persons of learning ; and that such relations were styled anci- ent gests, in opposition to romances. It is not in- tended to defend the latter position, because the word gest, which signified an action, or adventure, was never opposed to the word romance, which was originally applied to language only : but a consi- derable part of Robert de Brunne's chronicle is in fact broken into small parts, which have all the appearance of a series of ballads ; and the author, as he proceeded in his work, acquired such a facility in rhyming, as to be enabled to write a consider- able part of his translation from Langtoft in what is now considered as the genuine ballad metre, that is to say, what de Brunne himself calls the rhyme entrelacee. The reader will judge from the follow- ing extract, part of which is printed by Mr Wart on, and given in its original Alexandrine form. It is a chapter beginning at p. 182 of Hearne's edition. Richard at Godis board * His mass had and his rights : Hear now stuilfc * a word He spake to his knights. " Of this king Philip " Have we no manner of help : 1 At the altar, God's table. z Such. [ 119 ] " Together, I rede, * we keep, " That men of us yelp. * " I vow to Saint Michael, " And till hallows J that are, " That, for woe, ne weal, " Hithen'ne shall I fare, n Ne till Acre go, " Till the castle be taken " That Philip went fro, " For us has it s forsaken. " For his own default " With 6 us he has envie. " Go we to the assault, That God us all condie .'" * The dikes were full wide That clos'd the castle about ; 1 I advise. To cry, wail, boast ; the meaning is, " that men may " talk loudly of us." 3 " To the saints that are." 4 Hence, 5 Apparently an error of the transcriber, for he, 6 Against. Sax, In the same sense we should say, he is angry with us. 7 Conduct. [ 120 ] And deep on ilka * side, With bankis high without. Was there none entre That to the castel gan ligge * But a straight cause ; At the end a draw-brigge : With great double chains Drawn over the gate ; And fifty armed swains, Porters at that gate. With slings and magneles 3 They cast to king Richard, Our Christians, by parceles, Casted again-ward. Ten Serjeants, of the best, His targe * gan him bear ; 1 Each. 1 Lay. 3 Mangonels. Fr. A sort of catapulta which threw large stones, and was employed for the purpose of battering walls. 4 Shield ; apparently a sort of mantelet serving as a port- able rampart. [ 121 J That eager were, and prest * To cover him, and to wear* a Himself, as a giant, The chaines in two hew : The targe was his laarrant,* That none 'till him threw. Right unto the gate With the targe they geed:* Fightand on a gate, s Under, him they slew his steed. Therefore ne will'd he cease ; Alone into the castel Through them all will'd press : On foot fought he full well. And when he was within, And fought as a wild liOn, 1 Ready. Fr. * Defend j tea-ran. Sax. 3 Security ; garant ; Fr. * Went ; but geed seems the proper perfect tense of the verb g o, or gee, as went is of wend, (icccndm. Sax.) 5 At tbe gate, says Mr Hearne. Quere if it does not mean on a time? as in all-gates, i. e. (toutu fois. Fr.) at all times, always. [ 122 ] Hefonder'd l the Saracens o'twain, And fought as a dragon. Without, the Christians gan cry, " Alas! Richard is taken !" The Normans were sorry, Of countenance gan blacken. To slay down and to 'stroy, Never will'd they stint : They left for dead no *noy t * Ne for no wound no dint. That in went all their press, Maugre the Saracens all, And found Richard on des 3 Fightand, and won the hall. 1 Forced. (Hearne's Glossary) Perhaps, however, it is a mistake of the transcriber for sonder'd, i. e. sundered, sepa- rated. * " They would not leave off, either on account of the dead " who fell round them, or of the annoyance of the enemy." 3 Probably a platform : and for this reason the principal table in the hall, being elevated above the common floor, was particularly called the des. The canopy placed over such a table afterwards acquired the same name. Hence a good deal of dispute about the meaning of the word ; but the conjecture here given, which is Mr Tyrwhitt's, appears the most reasonable. [ 123 ] Nobody but he alone Unto the Christians came ; And slain he had ilk-trne The lords, but three he name. f With tho three alive His messengers went ; Till Acre gan they drive, To Philip made present. Mr Warton has given us a very long extract from an English translation of a work written by Grosthead, Bishop of Lincoln, in French verse, and called by Leland Chateau d* 'Amour, which he con- jectures to be from the pen of Robert de Brunne ; and Hearne ascribes to him, though perhaps with- out reason, the metrical English romance of Richard Coeur de Lion. He was, upon the whole, an indus- trious and certainly ( for the time ) an elegant wri- ter ; and his extraordinary facility of rhyming (a talent, indeed, in which he has been seldom sur- passed), must have rendered his works an useful Btudy to succeeding versifiers. 1 Took. Sar. CHAPTER V. Reign of Edward 1 1. Change in the Language produced by frequent Translations from the French, Minstrels. Sources of Romance. Adam Davie. Specimens of his Life of Alexander. Robert Baston. JL/URiNG the first period of our poetry, compre- hending the greater part of the thirteenth, and about half of the fourteenth century, our English versifiers are divided into two classes, the ecclesi- astics and lay-minstrels, who are generally dis- tinguished from each other by a very different choice of subjects ; the former exhibiting their ta- lents in metrical lives of the saints, or in rhyming chronicles ; the latter in satirical pieces, and love- songs. Tales of chivalry, being equally the favour- ites of all descriptions of men, were, to a certain degree, the common property of both. There is reason to believe that a marked differ- ence of style and language was apparent in the compositions of these rival poets, because the in- [ 125 ] ferior orders of the priesthood, and the several monastic societies, being chiefly conversant with the inhabitants of the country and of the villages, were likely to retain more of the Saxon phraseo- logy, and to resist the influx of French innovations much longer than their competitors : and it is prin- cipally to this circumstance that it seems reason- able to attribute those peculiarities of style, which Mr Warton thought he discovered in Robert of Gloucester, and which he has ascribed to the pro- vincial situation of the writer. The northern pro* vinces, it is true, on account, perhaps, of their long subjection to the Danes, are represented by John de Trevisa (in a passage often quoted) as differing materially in their pronunciation from those of the south : but Gloucester is not a north- ern county. The charge of provincial barbarism might with more justice be imputed to Robert de Brunne, as being a native of Yorkshire ; but he has taken care to assure us that his simple and un- adorned diction was the result of care and design ; that he considers his " fellows" as the depositaries of pure and true English ; that he " made nought for no disours t l " Ne for no teggers,* no harpours. 1 Ditfun. Fr. Reciters. 2 Sayert, (be Englinh name for tbc tame profestion. [ 126 ^ ] " Butjftr the love of simple men " That strange English cannot ken." [De Brunne's Pro!. Vide. Hearne's Pref. xcix.] These disours, or seggers, he tells us, took the most unwarrantable liberties with the diction of the works they recited ; and he omits no opportunity of pro- testing against their licentious innovations in our language. The reader, who shall take the pains of compa- ring a few pages of the glossary annexed by Mr Tyrwhitt to his edition of Chaucer with that which Mr Hearne has compiled for the illustration of Ro- bert de Brunne, will probably think that our au- thor's complaints were just, and that the language of the city and inns of court was much more infect- ed with Gallicisms than that of the monasteries ; although a rapid change in both appears to have taken place during the reign of Edward III. Many of the Norman words then introduced have, in- deed, long since become obsolete, and the Saxon has recovered its superiority ; because the gradual dissemination of wealth and liberty and learning among the common people has, in sqme measure, blended in our language all the provincial dialects ; but the torrent of fashion, at the period of which we are now treating, was irresistible. It was, perhaps, ia some degree assisted by the practice of the dig- C 127 ] nitied ecclesiastics, who, when they did not write in Latin, universally affected to use the French lan- guage ; but it is principally to be ascribed to the numerous translations which were made at this time from the French writers of those fabulous histories which we now call romances. Such trans- lations were hastily written, because eagerly called for ; and their authors took the liberty ( in which they were imitated by the disours or reciters) of admitting without scruple such " strange" words as happened to suit their rhyme, as well as those for which they could not immediately recollect the correspondent term in English. As the public reciters here mentioned by Robert de Brunne may possibly be unknown to many readers, it will perhaps be proper in this place to take some notice of them, as well as of the min- strels, with whom they were nearly connected. It appears that, during the reign of our Norman kings, a poet, who was also expected to unite with the talent of versifying those of music and recita- tion, was a regular officer in the royal household, as well as in those of the more wealthy nobles, whose courts were composed upon the same model. Thin practice seems to have originated in the admira- tion which all the northern nations entertained for their ancient scalds ; and it gave rise to the appel- [ 128 ] lation of minstrel (ministrellus, an officer or ser- vant), which therefore, as Dr Percy has observed in his learned dissertation on this subject, was not strictly synonymous with that of jongleur, or jon- gleur (joculator), called in old English & glee-man, juggler t or jangler ; because the latter might or might not be attached to a particular patron, and frequently travelled from castle to castle, for the purpose of reciting his compositions during the principal festivals. But as it is very difficult for the same person to attain equal excellence in all the sister arts, the professions of the poet, the harper, and the reciter, were afterwards under- taken by several associates, all of whom, on ac- count of the privileges attached to the official min- strels, thought fit to assume the same honourable but equivocal title. That these purveyors of poetry and music to the king and principal barons were, during the eleventh, twelfth, and thirteenth centuries, a privileged class, is perfectly certain from the universal testimony of contemporary writers. Indeed they were essential, not only to their amusement, but, in a great mea- sure, to their education ; because even the use of arms,and the management of a horse, were scarcely more necessary to a courteous knight than the talent of playing on the harp, and composing a [ 129 ] song in praise of his mistress. But in the course of the fourteenth century the minstrels, in France at least, had greatly declined in talents and repu- tation. There was a street at Paris, called la Rue St Julien des Menetriers, peculiarly appropriated to their habitation ; and they had a fraternity, or confrerie, in the church of that saint, the well-known patron of hospitality : but these minstrels are de- scribed as a set of pantomimical fiddlers, accompa- nied by monkies or bears, who were hired at wed- dings for the amusement of the guests : so much had they degenerated from the ingenious invent- ors of the fabliaux. The history of this order of men in England is, for various reasons, very obscure and embarrassed. On the one hand, it is evident that if English be- gan to be introduced at court as a colloquial lan- guage about the beginning of the fourteenth centu- ry, it was not yet considered, either by our kings, or by the nobles, or by the dignitaries of the church, as fitted for literary purposes : and as our native minstrels, not having yet attempted any original poetry, could only have offered to their courtly audience translations much more barbarous, and at the same time less familiar to their ears, than the compositions of the French trouveurs, it is not YOL. I. J [ 130 ] likely that such rivals could have displaced the Nor- man minstrels, already established in the post for which they were candidates. On the other hand, the testimony of Robert deBrunne to the existence of a body of disours, or seggers, accustomed to re- cite English metrical compositions in public, who were listened to with applause, and habituated to make arbitrary alterations in the language or metre of such compositions, is direct and positive. The most obvious solution of this difficulty would be to suppose, that the more opulent inhabitants of the towns, in imitation of their superiors, had adopted the mode of introducing at their banquets the amusements of music and recitation, and thus laid the foundation of a native minstrelsy on the French model ; and this order of men,being once es- tablished, might,on the decline of the rival language, find their way to the castles of our nobility; to which they would be recommended by their previous ex- hibitions at the neighbouring fairs, where they never failed to appear as attendants on the merchants. Indeed we have numerous proofs of their in- creasing popularity; for Chaucer, in his address to his Troilus and Cressida, tells us that it was in- tended to be read " or elles sung," which must relate to the chanting recitation of the minstrels ; C 13J ] and a considerable part of our old poetry is simply- addressed to an audience, without any mention of readers. That our English minstrels at any time united all the talents of the profession, and were at once poets, and reciters, and musicians, is extremely doubtful : but that they excited and directed the efforts of their contemporary poets to a particular species of composition, is as evident as that a body of actors must influence the exertions of theatri- cal writers. They were, at a time when reading and writing were rare accomplishments, the prin- cipal medium of communication between authors and the public ; and their memory in some mea- sure supplied the deficiency of manuscripts, and probably preserved much of our early literature till the invention of printing : so that their history, if it could be collected, would be by no means unin- teresting. But our materials for this purpose are too scanty to enable us to ascertain the date of their formation, their progress, or their disappear- ance. Judging from external evidence, we should be disposed to place the period of their greatest celebrity a little before the middle of the fifteenth century ; because at that time our language had been successively improved by the writings of Gower, Chaucer, and Lydgate : much wealth and [ 132 ] luxury had been introduced by the two victorious reigns of Edward III. and Henry V., and the country had not yet suffered any distress either from internal revolution, or from the length and disastrous termination of the war with France. The general poverty and discontent that prevailed during the subsequent period, the declension of chivalry, and the almost utter extirpation of our principal nobles, during the contest between the houses of York and Lancaster, must have been fatal to the prosperity of the minstrels ; and two causes of a different nature, viz. the invention of printing in 14-74, and the taste for religious disputation in- troduced by Henry VIII., may have tended to com- plete their ruin. Though the minstrel character be now lost both in England and France, the traces of it are not universally effaced. In Wales, the modern harper is occasionally found to possess the accomplish- ments of the ancient bard ; and among the Ita- lians, the improvisatori of Rome and Florence, who are usually ready to attend the table of a tra- veller, and greet him with an extemporary poem on any subject which he shall prescribe, and pro- tracted to a length which is only measured by his patience, are no bad representations of the antique minstrels ; particularly when they are accompanied C 133 ] (as frequently happens) by an attendant musician, who gives the tone to their recitative, and fills up the pauses between the stanzas by a few notes on his instrument. The third character, or disour, is also to be found in many parts of Italy, but par- ticularly at Venice ; where, mounted on a tem- porary scaffolding, or sometimes on a stool or barrel, he recites from memory whole cantos of Ariosto. The situation of a minstrel prescribed to him the choice of his subject. Addressing himself to an audience who lived only for the purpose of fight- ing, and who considered their time as of little va- lue when otherwise employed, he was sure of be- ing listened to with patience and credulity so long as he could tell of heroes and enchanters : and he could be at no loss for either, because the histo- ries of all the heroes and enchanters that the world had produced were to be found in a few volumes of easy access. As vanity is not easily subdued, a people who are not quite satisfied with their present insigni- ficance will often be tempted to indemnify them- selves by a retrospective warfare on their enemies ; and will be the more prodigal in assigning triumphs to their heroic ancestors, because those who in former ages contested the battle can no longer be brought forward to dispute the claim of victory. This will explain the numerous triumphs of KING ARTHUR. We have already seen, that a book in the British tongue, containing the relation of his ex- ploits, and those of his knights of the round table, and of his faithful enchanter, Merlin, together with the antecedent history of the British kings from the destruction of Troy, was by Walter, Arch- deacon of Oxford, a learned antiquary of those days, confided to GEOFFREY OF MONMOUTH, a Welsh Benedictine monk, afterwards the Bishop St Asaph, who translated it into Latin, with some additions and interpolations. The French transla- tions of Wace and Rusticien de Pise,* and the Saxon and English versions of Layamon and Ro- bert de Brunne, laid open this mass of history to readers of every description. A second work, equally abounding in marvellous adventures, and apparently written about the same time with Geoffrey of Monmouth's chronicle, is THE HISTORY OF CHARLEMAGNE AND THE TWELVE PEERS OF FRANCE, forged under the name of TURPIN, a monk of the eighth century, who, for his services against the Saracens, was raised to the archbishoprick of Rheims. The real author was perhaps a Spaniard. This work was Vide supra, p. 44. [ 135 ] translated from Latin into French by Michael de Harnes, in 1207. * The third source of romantic fiction was THE HISTORY OF TROY. Homer's works were unknown at the period of which we are speaking, but the story was kept alive in two Latin pieces, which passed under the names of DARES PHRYGIUS, and DICTYS CRETENSIS; and from these, as we have already seen, a French poem on the Trojan war had been compiled by Benoit de St More, the con- temporary and rival of Wace. A more improved compilation from the same sources, under the title of Historia de Bella Trojano, comprehending the Theban and Argonautic stories, from Ovid, Sta- tius, and Valerius Flaccus, was written by GUIDO DE COLONNA, a native of Messina, about the year 1260. ALEXANDER THE GREAT was known to the writers of romance not only by translations from Quintus Curtius, an author much admired in the middle ages, but also by a work much better suited to the purposes of the historians of chivalry, origi- * Mr Ritsoo says that Michael de Harnes did not tran- slate the pseudo-Turpin's History of Roland's achievements in Spain, but a very different work, comprehending the ad- ventures of another of Charlemagne'* knights, viz. Kenaud de Montauban. C 136 ] nally written in Persic, and translated into Greek, under the assumed name of Calisthenes, by SIMEON SETH, keeper of the wardrobe at Constantinople to the emperor Michael Ducas, about the year 1070. Such a narrative could not fail of obtain- ing a very general circulation. A Latin transla- tion of it is quoted by Giraldus Cambrensis ; and the famous Roman

. fol. membran.), " has been much da- " maged, and on that account is often illegible." Adam Davie's \york consist of Visions ; The Battle of Jerusalem ; The Legend of St Alexius ; Scripture Histories ; Ofjifteen Tokens before the Day of Judgment ; Lamentations of Souls ; and THE LIFE OF ALEXANDER. This last is his prin- cipal work, and, as we are told, well deserves to be printed entire. It is founded on Simeon Seth's history, lately mentioned, but with many passages * Mr Warton afterwards pointed out another MS. of the Life of Alexander in the library of Lincoln's Inn. (Hist. of ],. P. Vol. III. xxxiii.) from which a transcript has been lately made with a view to publication. 12 C HO ] that are apparently borrowed from the French Ro- man d'Alexandre. The following is the description of a splendid procession made by Queen Olympias : * In this time, fair andjolyf, * Olympias, that faire wife, Woulde make a nchejest Of knightes, and ladies honest, * Of burges, and of jugelers, And of men of each mestirs. s ***** Mickle she desireth to shew her body, Her fair hair, her face rody, To have lees, 4 and all praising : And all is folly ! by heaven king ! ****** In faire attire in diverse quaintise Many there rode in riche wise. So did the dame Olympias For to show her gentil s face. * Mr Warton not having transcribed the MS. correctly, these extracts have been revised from the original in the Bodleian. 1 Pretty. Fr. * Well-bred. Fr. 3 Trade, occupation. Fr. * Commendation. Fr. 5 Elegant. Fr. c HI : A mule also, white so milk, With saddle of gold, sambu l of silk, Was y-brought to the queen, And many bell of silver sheen, Y-fasten'd on orfreys of mound* That hangen nigh down to ground. Forth she fared mid her rout ; A thousand ladies of rich soute. J A sparrow-hawk that was honest So sat on the lady's fist. Four trumps toforne her blew ; Many men that day her knew : An hundred thousand, and eke mo, All alouten her unto. All the town be-hanged was, Against the lady Olympias. Orgues, chymbes, each manner glee, * 1 A saddle-cloth, or housing. Fr. a Orfrais, aurifrigium, is gold embroidery. It appears, however, from a passage in Maundevile to have meant a border of embroidery. " And all tho robes ben orfrayed title " abouten. The second thousand is all clothed in clothes " diapered of red silk, all wrought with gold, and the or- ' frayet set full of great pearl," &c. 8vo. edit. p. 279. The meaning of the word mound is not easy to ascertain : does it relate to raised, or emboucd, work ? or docs it mean em- broidery of pure gold, from the French word wonder ? 3 Suit, apparel. * Organs, cymbals, and all sorts of music 1 . C 1*2 ] Was drynan, T ayein * that lady free. Withouteh the townes murey 3 Was mered 4 each manner play. There was knights tournaying, There was maidens caroling. There was champions skirming, s ------ also wrestling. Of lions* chace, of bear-baiting, A bay of boar, of bull slay ting. All the city was be-hong With rich samytes 6 and pelles 7 long. Dame Olympias among this press Single rode, all mantle-less. #*#### Her yellow hair was fair-attired, Mid riche stringes of golde wired ; It helyd 8 her abouten all To her gentile middle small : Bright and shene was her face ; Every fair-head in her was. 1 Ringing ? drignon, Old Fr. is a chime of bells. Vide La Combe, Diet, du Vieux Lang. * Against ; in the presence of. 3 Walls. Fr. * Probably seen, gazed at ; mir. Fr. 5 Skirmishing. 6 Satins. Fr. 9 Palls, or perhaps furs ; pelisses, Fr. 8 Hid. Halan. Sax. [ 143 ] The following is part of a description of a battle : Alexander made a cry hardy, " Ore tost, aby, aby /" f Then the knights of Achaye Justed with hem of Arabye : ****** Egypt justed with hem of Tyre ; Simple knight with riche sire ; There n'asjbregift neforberyng Between vavasoure* ne king. Tqfore 3 men mighten and behind Cuntek * seek, and cuntek find. With Persians foughten the Gregeys : s There rose cry, and great honteys ! 6 * * * * There might knight find his peer ; There les 7 many his destrere. * There was quick in little thraiuc 9 Many gentil knight y-slawe. Many arme, many heved 19 Sone from the body reaved. Many gentle lavcdy There lese quick her amy, 1 Perhaps (he same as abois; the cry when (lie stag is taken. * Servant. 3 Before. * Contest. 5 Greeks; Grtgeoii. FT. 6 Shame. Fr. ? Lost. Sar. 8 War-horse. Fr.j BO called from its being led on tlic right hand. 9 Time. JJeacl. There was many maym x y-led, Many fair pensel * be-bled ; There was swerdes liklakyng, 5 There was speres bathing, 4 Both kings there sans doute Beeth in dash'd with all her route. * * * * Many landes near and far Lesen her lord in that war. The earth quaked of her riding : The weather thicked of her crying : The blood of hem that weren y-slaive Ran by floodes to the lowe. s The procession of Olympias, described in the first of these specimens, is given by Gower (Conf. Am. fol. 137 ; edit. 1532,) but is by no means equal in spirit, or elegance, to the picture drawn by Adam Davie : and we probably should search in vain among our poets anterior to Chaucer for lines so full of animation as the four last in the preceding extract. The language, as far as we can judge from the specimens selected by Mr Warton, is exactly such as we should expect, and marks that popularity 1 Maimed. * Standard. Fr. 3 Clashing. An unusual word, like cliquetzs, Fr. from which it is, perhaps, derived. * Perhaps here is an omission by the transcriber, and the line should run thus : " There was spears in blood bath- ing," otherwise we do not know what the kings and their route dusitcd into. 5 Low, i. e, to the low grounds. [ 145 ] which French phrases were beginning to acquire, and which continued to increase during the whole of the following reign. Upon the whole, it is cer- tainly to be wished that some editor may be found, who shall have the courage to decipher the obso- lete manuscript of Adi;m Davie's romance of Alex- ander, and give it entire to the public. A poet named ROBERT B ASTON, a carmelite friar of Scarborough, is mentioned as attending Edward II. to the siege of Stirling castle. He was taken prisoner by the Scots, and compelled, for his ransom, to write a panegyric on Robert Bruce. This was probably in English ; and he is described by Bale as the author of " Poemata et Rhythmi, Lib. I." and " Tragaediae Vulgares, Lib. I.;" but his only poem now extant, viz. An Account of the Siege of Stirling Castle, is written in Latin monkish hexameters. It is not easy to understand what Bale meant by " tragaediae," which word does not always imply scenic representations. It appears, indeed, that before the reign of Edward II. many scrip- tural histories in dialogue were exhibited in our churches under the name of mysteries or miracles, but these dialogues were not poems ; on the other hand, many poems were written about this period under the name of tragedies and comedies, but these poems were not in dialogue. VOL. I. K CHAPTER VI. Reign of Edward III. The Hermit of Ham- pole. Laurence Minot. Pierce Plough- man's Vision Specimen of the Vision. Pierce the Ploughman's Creed Specimen. J. HE first English poet that occurs in the reign of Edward III. is RICHARD ROLLE, hermit of theorder of St Augustine, and doctor of divinity, who lived a life of solitude near the nunnery of Hampole, four miles from Doncaster, in Yorkshire. He was a very popular and learned though inelegant writer in Latin on theological subjects; and his pretensions to the character of an English poet are founded on a metrical Paraphrase of the Book of Job, of the Lord's Prayer, of the seven Penitential Psalms, and THE PRICKE OF CONSCIENCE, all of which are in MS. and usually attributed to him. This latter piece is divided into seven parts : I. Of Man's Nature. II. Of the World. III. Of Death. IV. Of Purgatory. V. Of the Day of Judgment. VI. Of the Torments of Hell. VII. Of the Joys of Heaven. Mr Warton, however, suspects that they were all translated by contemporary poets from the Latin prose original composed by him ; and he has proved [ 147 ] by a long extract that they are not worth transcri- bing.* The Hermit of Hampole died in 1349. The next poet in succession is LAURENCE Mi- NOT, whose name was unknown to our antiqua- ries, till Mr Tyrwhitt, in searching after the ma- nuscript of Chaucer,accidentally discovered a copy of his works, consisting of a collection of poems upon the events of the former part of this reign. It is sufficient in this place to have mentioned his name, as a very elegant edition of his works, ac- companied with all the illustrations that could be drawn from contemporary history, has within these very few years been published by Mr Ritson. Laurence Minot appears to have flourished about the year 1350, a few years after which was written the very curious poem called THE VISION OF PIERCE PLOWMAN. Its reputed author is ROBERT LANGLAND, a secular priest, born at Mortimer's Cleobury, in Shropshire, and fellow of Oriel College, Oxford.f His work is divided into twenty distinct * Mr Ilitson, notwithstanding, in his " Bibliographia I'oetica" (where he enumerates no less than seventeen pieces attributed to our author) asserts Haropole's claim* upon the express authority of Lydgate. t That Robert Langlund was the author of this work teems to have been solely admitted on the authority of Crowley, its earliest editor. The only remaining evidence on the subject appears to indicate that the writer's name was William . but a discussion which ran only end iu nncet tainty is not worth undertaking. C 148 ] passus, or breaks, forming a series of visions, which he supposes to have appeared to him while he was asleep after a fatiguing walk amongst the Malvern Hills in Worcestershire. A dream is certainly the best excuse that can be offered for the introduction of allegorical per- sonages, and for any incoherences that may result from the conduct of a dialogue carried on between such fanciful actors : and it must be confessed that this writer has taken every advantage of a plan so comprehensive and convenient, and has dramatized his subject with great ingenuity. His work may be considered as a long moral and religious dis- course, and, as such, is full of good sense and piety ; but it is farther rendered interesting by a succes- sion of incidents, enlivened sometimes by strong satire, and sometimes by the keenest ridicule on the vices of all orders of men, and particularly of the religious. It is ornamented also by many fine specimens of descriptive poetry, in which the genius of the author appears to great advantage. But his most striking peculiarity is the structure of his versification, which is the subject of a very learned and ingenious essay in the second volume of the " Reliques of Ancient English Poetry." His verses are not distinguished from prose either by a determinate number of syllables, or by rhyme, or indeed by any other apparent test, except the stu- [ 149 ] died recurrence of the same letter three times in each line ; a contrivance which we should notsus- spect of producing much harmony, but to which (as Crowley, the original editor of the poem, justly ob- serves) even a modern ear will gradually become accustomed. This measure is referred by Dr Percy to one of the 136 different kinds of metre which Wor- mius has discovered amongst the works of the Islan- dic poets ; but the principal difficulty is to account for its adoption in Pierce Ploughman's Vision. Perhaps this alliterative metre, having become a favourite with the northern scalds during the in- terval which elapsed between the departure of the Anglo-Saxons from Scandinavia and the subse* quent migration of the Danes, may have been in- troduced by the latter into those provinces of Eng- land where they established themselves ; and being adopted by the numerous body of minstrels, for which those provinces were always distinguished, may have maintained a successful struggle against the Norman ornament of rhyme, which was uni- versally cultivated by the poets of the south. This at least seems to be suggested by Mr Tyrwhitt, who observes that Giraldus Cambrensis describes by the name of annomination what we now call alliteration, and informs us that it was highly fa- shionable amongst the English, and even the Welsh [ 150 ] poets of his time. That it effectually stood its ground in some parts of the kingdom during the reign of Edward III. and long afterwards, appears from the numerous imitations of Langland's style which are still preserved ; and it is evident that a sensible and zealous writer in the cause of religion and morality was not likely to sacrifice those great objects, together with his own reputation, to the capricious wish of inventing a new, or of giving currency to an obsolete mode of versification. Mr Warton is of opinion, that " this imposed c'on- " straint of seeking identical initials, and the affec- " tation of obsolete English, by demanding a con- " stant and necessary departure from the natural " and obvious forms of expression, while it cir- " cumscribed the powers of our author's genius, " contributed also to render his manner extremely *' perplexed, and to disgust the reader with obscu- " rities." Bat it may be doubted whether a work apparently addressed to the plain sense of common readers was written with an affectation of obsolete English ; and much of its obscurity may perhaps be ascribed to the negligence of the transcriber of the MS. from which the printed copy is taken. Neither is it certain that the " imposed constraint of seeking identical initials" is at all more embar- rassing to those whose ear is accustomed to such a C 151 ] scheme of poetry, than the imposed constraint of identical Jinal sounds ; a constraint which, by ex- acting from the author greater attention to the mode of expressing his thoughts, is rather likely to increase than to diminish the precision and clear- ness of his language. The following extract will give a good general idea of this author's manner, because it contains some of those practical and simple precepts in which he so much abounds, and a little accidental ridicule of physicians, together with a very curious picture of the domestic economy of the poor of this country in the middle of the fourteenth century. It is a scene in which Pierce Ploughman, the fa- vourite character of the piece, addresses himself to Hunger, and (to use the expressions in the mar- gin of the original) " prayeth Hunger to teach " him a leech-craft for him and for his servant." 1 wot well, quoth Hunger, what sickness you ailetli : Ye have manged ' over much ; and that maketh you groan. And I hole* thee, quoth Hunger, as thou thy heal * wiliest, That thou drink no day ere thou dine somewhat : 1 Eaten, Fr. a Advie, exhort. 3 Health. [ 132 ] Eat not, I hote thee, ere Hunger thee take And send thee of his sauce to saviour with thy lips : And keep some 'till supper-time, and sk not too long, And rise up ere appetite have eaten his fill. Let not Sir Surfeit sit on thy board : Leve J him not, for he is lecherous 'and licorous of tongue, And after many manner of meat his maw is a- hunger'd. And if thou diet thee thus, I dare lay my ears That Physic shall his furred hood for his food sell, And his cloak of Calabrye, * with all his knaps 3 of gold, And be fain, by my faith, his physic to let 4 And learn to labour with hand ; for live-lode s is sweet. For murderers are many leeches : Lord hem amend ! They do men die by their drinks, ere destiny it would. 1 Believe. Sax. a The physicians of the middle ages were principally Jews, who learnt their art from the Arabians. A consi- derable colony of this people was established in the king- dom of JVaples. The medical school of Salerno is well known. 3 Buttons. Sax. ; literally knobs. 4 To leave. 5 Life-leading; we now say livelihood. C 153 ] By St Paul, (quod Pierce) these are profitable words ! Wend thee, Hunger, when thou wilt, yet well be thou ever ! For this is a lovely lesson, Lord it thee fbr-yield ! Bihote 1 God ! (quod Hunger) hence ne will I wend Till I have dined by this day, and drunken both. I have no penny, (quod Pierce) pullets for to buy, Ne neither goose, negrys ; * but two green cheeses, A few curds, and cream, and an haver-cake J And two loaves of beans and bran, bake for my folk. And yety 4 I say by my soul, I have no salt bacon, Ne no cokeney, * by Christ ! collops for to make- And I have parsley, andporets, 6 and many cole- plants, And eke a cow and a calf, and a cart- mare To draw a-field my dung the while the drought lasteth ; And by this live-lod I must live 'till Lammas time. By that, I hope to have harvest in my croft ; And then 1 may dig/it " my dinner as my dear liketh. 1 If God permit? z Gryce, pig. I)anuat\ue Glos. ' Oat-cake. 4 Still farther. * Cook. 6 Leeks, Fr. " Drets tny dinner as me plea&etb." [ 154 ] And all the poor people tho peas-cods fet; Beans and baken apples they brought in her laps, Chyboles, * and chervil, and ripe cherries many, And proffer'd Pierce this present to please with Hunger. (" Poor folk feed Hunger" marginal note.) All Hunger ate in haste, and asked after more. Then poor folk, for fear, fed Hunger yern * With green poret, and peasen ; to poison him they thought. By that it nighed to harvest ; new corn came to- cheaping. 3 Then was folk/azn, 4 and fed Hunger with the best, With good ale, as Glutton taught, and gart s Hunger asleep. And tho would Waster no work, but wandren about ; Ne no beggar eat bread that beans in were, But ofcoket 6 and clermatynej or else of clean wheat; 1 Ciboule. Fr. cipolla. Ital. a species of onion. a Eagerly. Sax. 3 Cheap. 4 Glad. Sax. s Made. Sax. 6 A particular sort of bread. 7 Perhaps another sort of bread used at breakfast. [ 155 ] Ne no half-penny ale in no wise drink, But of the best and of the brownest that in burth * is to sell. Labourers that have no land to live on but her hands Deigned not to dine a day night * old luortes : 3 May no penny-ale hem pay, nor no piece of bacon ; But if it be fresh flesh, other fish fried either or bake, And that chaud or plus chaud, for chilling of her maw, &c. [Crowley's first edition, fol. 35. pass, vi.] The following passage has the marginal admo- nition, " Read this :" indeed the prediction with which it concludes is very curious. And now is Religion a rider, a roamer by street, A leader of lovedays, 4 and a loud beggar, 1 Booth ? or borough ? 1 In some editions the word not is omitted, which will only increase the perplexity. The meaning, as the line stands here (from ed. I. 1550), seems to be, that labourers, &c. refused their usual dinner (or rather supper) of old worts or cabbage ; this, however, is strangely expressed. 3 Cabbage. 4 Loveday (says Tyrwhitt, note on v. 260 Cant. Tales) is a i!a\ appointed for the amicable settlement of differences. C 156 ] A pricker of a palfrey from manor to manor. An heap of hounds at his as he a lord were : And but if hisknave ' kneel that shall his cope bring, He loured on him, and asked, who taught him courtesy ? Little had lords to done to give lands from her heirs To Religious, that have no ruth if it rain on her altars. In many places there the parsons be by hemselfat ease; Of the poor have they no pity : and that is her charity ! And they letten hem as lords, her lands lie so broad. AND THERE SHALL COME A KING and confess you, Religious, And beat you, as the bible telleth, for breaking of your rule, And amend monials, * monks, and canons, And put hem to her penance * * # * * And then shall the Abbot of Abingdon, and all his issue for ever HAVE A KNOCK OF A KING, AND INCURABLE THE WOUND. [fol. 50. pass, x.] *A male servant * Xuus. C 157 ] The limits of the present publication will not admit of many extracts from this curious work, but the following description, in which Nature or Kind is represented as sending forth diseases from the planets, at the command of Conscience, and of his attendants, Age and Death, is too striking to be omitted ; particularly since it appears to have suggested to Milton his sublime description of the lazar-house (Paradise Lost, B. xi. 1. 4-77-) This coincidence is remarked by Mrs Cooper, in her " Muses' Library." Kind i Conscience tho heard, and came out of the planets, And sent forth hisjbrriours, * fevers, and fluxes, Coughs, and cardiacles, 3 cramps, and tooth-aches, ****** Boils, and botches, and burning agues, Phrenesis, and foul evil, foragers of Kind ! ****** There was " Harrow ! and help ! here cometh Kind " With Death that is dreadful to undone us all !" ****** Age the hoar, he was in the va-ward, And bare the banner before Death ; by right he it claimed. 1 Nature. * Foragers, Fr. 3 Cardialgi*, heart-ache, Gr. [ 158 ] Kind came after, with many keen sores, As pox and pestilences, and much people shent. So Kind, through corruptions, killed full many. Death came driving after, and to dust pashed Kings and kaysers, knights and popes. ****** Many a lovely lady and lemans of knights Swoonden and swelten for sorrow of Death's dints, &c. [Fol. 112. pass, xxi.] The editions of Pierce Ploughman that usually occur are those of Crowley, of which, as Dr Percy informs us, there were three published in the same year, 1550. There is also an edition printed in 1561, by Owen Rogers, to which is sometimes an- nexed a poem of nearly the same tendency, and written in the same metre, called PIERCE THE PLOUGHMAN'S CREED. * It was evidently com- posed after the death of Wickliffe, which happen- ed in 1384-, and is therefore more modern than many of the poems of Chaucer, but is noticed here on account of its style and subject. Mr Warton says, that in a copy of the Creed presented to him by the Bishop of Gloucester, and once belonging to Mr Pope, the latter, in his own hand, has inserted the following abstract of its plan. * The first Ed. of P. the IVs Creed was printed by K. Wolfe, in 1553. [ 159 ] " An ignorant plain man having learned his " Paternoster and Ave-mary, wants to learn his " creed. He asks several religious men of the " several orders to teach it him. First of a friar " Minor, who bids him beware of the Carmelites, " and assures him they can teach him nothing, " describing their faults, &c. But that the friars " Minors shall save him, whether he learns his " creed or not. He goes next to the friars Preach- " ers, whose magnificent monastery he describes : " there he meets a fat friar, who declaims against " the Augustines. He is shocked at his pride, and " goes to the Augustines. They rail at the Mino- " rites. He goes to theCarmes ; they abuse theDo- " minicans, but promise him salvation, without the " creed, for money. He leaves them with indigna- " tion, and finds an honest poor PLOWMAN in the " field, and tells him how he was disappointed by " the four orders. The plowman answers with a " long invective against them." For the full explanation of this poem it is essential to premise that, in consequence of the many abuses which had gradually perverted the monastic insti- tutions, it became necessary, about the beginning of the thirteenth century, to establish a new class of friars, who, possessing no regular revenues, and relying for a subsistence on the general reverence [ 160 ] which they should attract by superior talent, or severer sanctity of manners, should become the effectual and permanent support of the papal au- thority against those heresies which were beginning to infect the church, as well as against the jealousy of the civil power. The new institution consisted of four mendicant orders : the Franciscans, who were also called friars-minors, or minorites, or grey-friars : the Augustine, or Austin-friars : the Dominicans, or friars-preachers, or black-friars: and the Carmelites, or white-friars. For the purpose of quicken ing their zeal,thepopes bestowed on them many new and uncommon' pri- vileges ; the right of travelling where they pleased, of conversing with persons of all descriptions, of instructing youth, and of hearing confessions, and bestowing absolution without reserve : and as these advantages naturally attracted to the privileged orders all the novices who were distinguished by zeal or talent, excited their emulation, and ensured the respect of the people, they quickly eclipsed aH their rivals, and realized the most sanguine hopes that had been entertained from their establishment. The mendicant orders of the thirteenth and four- teenth centuries, but particularly the Dominicans, very nearly resembled the Jesuits of modern times. In these orders were found the most learned men, 3 t 161 ] and the most popular preachers of the age. The almost exclusive charge of the national education enabled them to direct the public taste and opi- nions ; the confessional chair placed the consciences of their penitents at their disposal ; and their lead- ing members, having discovered that an association in which individual talents are systematically di- rected to some general purpose is nearly irresisti- ble, soon insinuated themselves into the most im- portant offices of church .and state, and guided at their will the religion and politics of Europe. But prosperity, as usual, made them indolent and im- prudent. They had long been envied and hated, and the progress of general civilization raised up numberless rivals, possessing equal learning, ambi- tion, and versatility of manners, with superior acti- vity and caution. They quarrelled among them- selves, and thus lost the favour and reverence of the people ; and they were at last gradually sink- ing into insignificance, when they were swallowed up in the general wreck of monastic institutions. The magnificence of their edifices, which exci- ted universal envy, was the frequent topic of Wick- liffe's invective ; and this poet, who was apparently much attached to the opinions of that reformer, has given us the following elaborate description of a Dominican convent: VOL. r. r. [ 162 ] Then thought I tofrayne* the first of these four orders ; And pressed to the preachers, to proven her will. Ich hied to her house, to hearken of more, And when I came to that court, I gaped about, Such a build bold y-built upon earth height Saw I not, in certain, sith a long time. I seemed* upon that house, andyern 3 thereonlooked, How the pillars weren y-paint, and pulched* full clean, And quaintly y-carven with curious knots, With windows well y-wrought, wide up aloft ; And then I entered in, and even forth went. And all was walled that toowe, 5 though it wide were, With posterns, in privity to passen when hem list. Orchards and erberes, 6 evesed 7 well clean, And a curious cross craftily entaikd, 8 With tabernacles y-tight 9 to toten I0 all abouten. The price of a plough-land, of pennies so round, To apparel that pillar were pure little. 1 To ask. Sax. * Gazed. 3 Eagerly. Sax. * Polished. 5 Habitation. Sax. 6 Arbours. 7 Turfed ? from waisons (i. e. gazons), old l-'r. ? or is it trimmed, from efecian, tondere. Sax. ? 8 Carved. Fr. Probably for y-dight. 10 Look. E 163 ] Then I tnunte me * forth the minster to knowen, And awaited * tvoon 3 wonderly well y-built. With arches on every half, 4 and bellech J y-carven, With crotchets on corners, with knots of gold. Wide windows y-wrought, y-written full thick, Shining tvith shapen shields, to shewen about, With marks of merchants y-meddled 6 between, Mo than twenty and two, twice y-numbered ; There is none herald that hath half stioich a roll. Right as a rageman 7 hath reckon'd hem new ; Tombs upon tabernacles, tyled upon lofte y 8 Housed in homes 9 hard set abouten, Of armed alabaster clad for the nonce, Made upon marble in many manner wise. 1 Mounted ? * Watched, observed. Fr. 3 One ? or wane, a habitation ? 4 Part. 5 Beautifully. Fr. 6 Y-meddled Is mixed ; the marks of merchants are put in opposition to the shapen shields, because merchants bad no coats of arms. 7 This word sometimes means simply an accompt : but it here seems to allude to the famous Ragman's roll, and to be put as an antithesis to the herald's roll. 8 Raised aloft. 9 Mr Warton supposes that horns may mean irons, i. e, iron rails ; or that, perhaps, we ought to read hurnu, which mean corners, niches, arches. But why not harnft, harness, r. e. armour? [ 164. ] Knights in their conisante* clad for the nonce : All, it seem*d, saints ; y-sacred upon earth ; And lovely ladies y-wrought, layen by her sides, In many gay garments that weren gold-beaten. Though the tax of ten year were truly gathered, N'old it nought maken that house half as I trow. Then came I to that cloister, and gaped abouten, How it was pillar 'd, and paint, and pourtray'd well clean, All y-heled * with lead, low to the stones, And y-paved with poyntil, $ each point after other, With conduits of clean tin, closed all about With lavers of fatten 4 lovely y-greithed. 5 I trow, the gainage of the ground in a great shire N'old apparel that place, oo point till other end. * Then was the chapter-house wrought as a great church, Carven, and cover'd, and quaintly entailed, 1 Cognisances, devices. * Hid, covered. Sax. 3 Probably lozenge-sbaped stones ; pantiles. * A sort of brass. Fr. 5 Prepared, adorned. * From one end to the other. C 165 ] With seemly cielure y-set on loft, As a parliament-house y-painted about. Then fared I vatofraytour, * and found there another ; An hall for an high king, an house-hold to holden ; With broad boards abouten, y-benchcd well clean ; With windows of glass wrought as a church. Then walked Ijhrrer, and went all abouten, And saw halls full high, and houses full noble, Chambers with chimneys, and chapels gay, And kitchens for an high king in castles to holden. And her dortour * y-dight with doors full strong, Fermerye 3 ox\A.fraytour t withye/e 4 mo houses. And all strong stone wall, stern * upon height, With gay garrets, and great, and each hole y-glazed. And other houses enow to harbour the queen. And yet these builders will beggen a bag full of wheat Of a pure poor man, that may unneth * pay Half his rent in a year, and half been behind. [Rogers's ed. sign. A 4. &c.] Mr Warton has transcribed a very large portion 1 Fratry, or common-hall. * Dormitory. Fr. 1 Infirmary. * Many. Sax. ' Strewn, built. G Scarcely. [ 166 ] of this curious poem, which, as he justly observes, is nearly as rare as a manuscript ; but the printed copies, like those of Pierce Ploughman's Vision, seem to be full of typographical errors ; and an editor who should from a collation of MSS. reprint a correct edition of these two forgotten poems would make a valuable addition to our stock of early literature. * Langland's work, whatever may be thought of its poetical merit, cannot fail of being considered as an entertaining and useful commentary on the general histories of the fourteenth century, not only from its almost innumerable pictures of contemporary manners, but also from its connection with the particular feelings and opinions of the time. The reader will recollect that the minds of men were greatly incensed by the glaring contradictions that appeared between the professions and actions of the two great orders of the state. The clergy of a religion founded on humility and * No one is more competent to supply this desideratum than Mr Ritson (vide his Bibliographia Poeticn, pp. 29 and 404, for some very valuable information with respect to the MSS. of P. P.'s Vision) ; and it is much to be wish- ed that he could be prevailed upon to add this to the many obligations he has already conferred on the lovers of an- cient English poetry. [ 167 ] self-denial united the most shameless profligacy of manners with the most inordinate magnificence. An armed aristocracy, who by their oath of knight- hood were bound to the maintenance of order, and to the protection of the helpless and unfortunate, were not satisfied with exercising in their own persons the most intolerable oppression on their vassals, but were the avowed protectors of the subordinate robbers and assassins who infested the roads, and almost annihilated the internal inter- course of every country in Europe. The people were driven to despair, flew to arms, and took a most frightful revenge on their oppressors. Various insurrections in Flanders, those of the Jacquerie in France, and those of Wat Tyler and others in England, were the immediate consequences of this despair ; but the popular discontents had been in a great degree prepared and fomented by a set of itinerant preachers, who inveighed against the lux- ury and crimes of the great, and maintained the inalienable rights and natural equality of man. Langland's poem, addressed to popular readers, written in simple but energetic language, and ad- mirably adapted, by its dramatic form, and by the employment of allegorical personages, to suit the popular taste, though it is free from these extra- vagant doctrines, breathe* only the pure spirit f [ 168 3 the Christian religion, and inculcates the principles of rational liberty. This may possibly have prepared the minds of men for those bolder tenets which, for a series of years, were productive only of national restlessness and misery, but which ulti- mately terminated in a free government and a re- formed religion. The reader who may be desirous of seeing farther specimens of alliterative versification, will find in Mr Warton's history some extracts from a Poem on Alexander, written perhaps by a contemporary of Langland, and a Hymn to the Virgin, of much earlier date, neither of which are mentioned in Dr Percy's Essay. [ 169 ] CHAPTER VII. Reign of Edward III. continued. -John Gower Specimens of his Poetry. 1 HE next place in our poetical history is usually assigned to JOHN GOWER, who is supposed to have been born before Chaucer, although he survived him by two years, and died in 1402. We do not possess any materials for the history of his life ; but it is probable that he was well born ;* and we have * There is a remarkable passage in Sir John Fortescue's treatise " de Landihus Legum Angliie," which tends to confirm the popular opinion, that Gower, Chaucer, and Occleve, all of whom received their education at the Tnns of Court, were of noble origin. It is in the 49th chapter, where, after enumerating the necessary expenses incurred by the students at those seminaries, he sa>s, " Quo fit, ut " viz doctus in legibus illis reperiatur in regno ^ui non " tit nobilis et [out*] de nobilium genere egreuus. In his " revera hospitiis, ultr;i studium legum, est quasi g \mna- " sium omnium morum qui nobiles decent. Ibi cantare ' ipsi addiscunt, similiteret steexercent in omni genere har- " monitc ; ibi etiarn tripudiare, ac jocos singulos nobilibus " convenientes, quainter in domo regid exercere sotent, enutriti. " Ita ut milites, barones, alii quoque magnates et nobiles " regni, in hospitiis illis ponunt filios suos," &c. 8 [ 170 J an indirect proof of his wealth as well as of his munificence, because we know that he contributed largely to rebuild, in its present elegant form, the conventual church of St Mary Overee in South- wark, where his very curious tomb still remains. It is probable that Gower's earliest compositions were his French ballads, of which fifty are still preserved in a folio MS. formerly belonging to Fairfax, Cromwell's general, and now to be found in the library of the Marquis of Stafford, by whom they were communicated to Mr Warton. These juvenile productions are more poetical and more elegant than any of his subsequent compositions in his native language : perhaps they would not suffer by a comparison with the best contemporary sonnets written by professed French poets : at all events they shew extraordinary proficiency in a foreigner ; for which reason, and because they may be useful for the purpose of comparing the state of the two languages at this period, it is hoped that the reader will forgive the insertion of the following short specimen. It is a sonnet on the month of May. Pour comparer ce joli tempts de Mai, Je [le] dirai semblable a Paradis ; Car lors chantoit et merle et pepegai ; C 171 3 Les champs sont verds, les herbes sont flcuries ; Lors est Nature dame du pais ; Dont Venus point 1'amant a tel essai Qu'encontre amour nest quipeut dire nai. [The second stanza, being scarcely intelligible from the mistakes of the transcriber, is omitted.] En lieu de rose ortie cuellerai, Dont mes chapels ferai, par tel devis, Que toute joie et confort je lairrai, Si celle seule en qui j'ai mon cceur mis, Selon le point que j'ai souvent requis Ne daigne alleger les griefs mals que j'ai, Qu'encontre amour n'est quipeut dire nai. Pour pitie querre, et pourchasser intris * Va-t'en, balade, oii je t'envoyerai, Qu'ores en certain je 1'ai tres bien appris Qu'encontrc amour n'est qui peut dire nai. But the three principal works of our author are the SPECULUM MEDITANTIS, the Vox CLA- MANTIS, and the CONFESSIO AMANTIS, which are represented by the three volumes on his tomb. The first of these is in Trench verse : this was ' Entree, i. e. admisbign to the presence of his mistress. C 172 ] never printed.* The Vox CLAMANTIS consists of seven books of Latin elegiacs, written with some degree of purity, and a tolerable attention to the prosody : it is little more than a metrical chronicle * Gower's Speculum Meditantit has never, I believe, been seen by any of our poetical antiquaries ; nor does it exist in the Bodleian library. Campbell, the author of Gower's ar- ticle in the Biograpbia r. and Warton, who profess to give an account of its contents, were deceived by the ambi- guity of a reference in Tanner, and, instead of the work in question, describe a much shorter poem, or balade, by the same author. At the end of three very ancient and valua- ble Bodleian !\1SS of the Confcssia Amantis is subjoined a notice (in the Latin of those days) of Gower's three prin- cipal works, possibly written by himself, from which, as it has never (to the best of my knowledge) been hitherto pub- lished, as much as relates to the Speculum is here given for the satisfaction of the curious reader. These MSS. may be found in the general Cat. for Engl. and Irel. (Oxf. 1697. folio) by the following references : I. Bodl. 3883. Fairfax. MS. 3. [Given by Thos. Lord Fairfax, Cromwell's general. Vide Warton, Emend, and Add. to Vol. II. sign. g. note !>.] II. Bodl. 2449. Fletewood. NE. F. 8. 9. III. Bodl. 2875. [Given by Dr John King, Dean of Ch. Ch.] This, notwithstanding the catalogue, contains only the Confessio ^mantis. A more modern MS. of the Conf. Am. apparently a transcript of this, with the same Latin memorandum of Gower's works, may be seen in the cat. K. 3357. As the three copies vary in the language (though much of the insurrection of the commons, in the reign of Richard II. This, also, exists only in manuscript. The CONFESSIO AMANTIS, which was printed by Caxton, in 1483, and afterwards by Berthelette, in 1532, and 1554, folio, appears to have been composed at the command of Richard II. who less in the account of the French than of the Latin and English poem,) the text of MS. Fairf. is first given, and then the different readings, futile as they may be, from MS. Fletew. and King. Quia unusquisque prout a Deo accepit aliis impcrtiri te- netur, Johannes Gower, super his quae Dens sibi scnsnali- ter ' donavit villicationis suoe rationem, dum temptu iiistat* secundum aliquid alleviare cupiens, inter labores et otia ad aliorum notitiam tres 3 libros* doctrinae causa /br/nd snbse- quenti propterea compusuit. 5 Primus liber, Gallico sermone editus, in dccem dividitur paries, ct tractans de vitiis et virtutibus, necnon et de variis hujus ittciili gradibtu, 6 viam 7 qu& peccator transgresses ad tul Creatoris agnitionem redire defiet recto tremite docere co- notttr. 8 Titulusque libelli istius Speculum Meditantis 9 nun- cnpatus est. 1 Inlellectualiter. King. * These three words wanting in Fletew. 3 TTCS prtecipue libros. Fletew. 4 Per iptum dum viiit doctr. Fletew. 5 Instead of these words, Fletew. has compositos ad alio* rum notitiam in lucem seriose produiit. 6 These words are not in Fletew. 7 Viam prcccipue qua. 8 Fletew. has instead, in penitendo Christi misericordiarr. nuequi polcrit lot& mentit devotione _finaliter contemplatur. 9 Midiantit. Fletew. Hominit. King. C m 3 having met our poet rowing on the Thames near London, invited him into the royal barge, and, af- ter much conversation, requested him to " book " some new thing." It is rather extraordinary that Mr Warton, wh repeats this anecdote, should have passed it over without a comment; because, having previously told us that Gower, " by a critical cultivation of " his native language, laboured to reform its irre- " gularities, and to establish an English style," he might naturally have been tempted to inquire, why this style was never employed till the poet was past fifty years of age. Perhaps the circumstance may be partly explained by a remark of Mr Tyrwhitt, who observes that Edward III. was insensible even to the poetical merits of Chaucer himself, " or at " least had no mind to encourage him in the cul- " tivation or exercise of them." He adds, " It " should seem that Edward, though adorned with " many Royal and Heroic virtues, had not the gift " of discerning and patronizing a great poet ; a gift " which, like that of genuine poetry is only be- " stowed on the chosen few by the peculiar favour " of heaven." It is very certain that the gift of discerning the merits of a great English poet might have been bestowed on Edward by the peculiar favour of heaven, but it ma} 7 be doubted whether [ 175 ] he could reasonably be expected to possess it rttih- out such a special interposition. It is to be remembered, that French had hitherto been the only language that was studied, though English was certainly not quite unknown at court ; that Isabella, the mother of Edward, was a French woman ; that he was sent to Paris at the very ear- ly age of thirteen, to assist her in her negociations with her brother the king of France ; that he was married by her means to Philippa, a princess of Hainault ; that he was only fifteen years old when he mounted the throne ; and that, after this pe- riod, the active scenes in which he was incessantly engaged were not likely to allow him much lei- sure for the purpose of completing his education. He began his reign two years before the birth of Chaucer, and could then have seen no specimens ' of English poetry superior to the dry chronicles of Kobert of Gloucester. It may be presumed, there- fore, that if he read any poetry it would be that of the French minstrels ; and that his preference of their compositions to those of his countrymen was no great disparagement to his taste may be infer- red from the testimony of Chaucer himself, who ays, in the envoi to bis Complaint of Venus, C 176 ] " And eke to me it is a great pentince, " Sith rhyme in English hath such scarcity, " To follow word by word the curiosity " Of Graunson, flower of hem that make in France" What was worth the penance of translating cer- tainly deserved to be consulted in the original. But political motives induced Edward to discou- rage the cultivation of French, the language of his enemies. Our native poetry received considerable improvements in the course of his long reign ; and his grandson, who found it in this cultivated state, and who was, perhaps, acquainted with Gower's poetical talents by means of his French sonnets already mentioned, may have naturally been soli- citous that he should employ them in some English composition. To return to the Confessio Amantis. This poem is a long dialogue between a lover and his confessor, who is a priest of Venus, and is called Genius. As every vice is in its nature unamiable, it ought to follow that immorality is unavoidably punished by the indignation of the fair sex; and that every fortu- nate lover must, of necessity, be a good man and a good Christian ; and upon this presumption, which, perhaps, is not strictly warranted by experience, the confessor passes in review all the defects of the C 177 ] human character, and carefully scrutinizes the heart of his penitent with respect to each, before he will consent to give him absolution. Because example is more impressive than precept, he illustrates his injunctions by a series of apposite tales, with the morality of which our lover professes to be highly edified ; and, being of a more inquisitive turn than lovers usually are, or perhaps hoping to subdue his mistress by directing against her the whole artillery of science, he gives his confessor an opportunity of incidentally instructing him in chemistry and in the Aristotelian philosophy. At length, all the interest that he has endeavoured to excite, by the long and minute details of his suffer- ings, and by manifold proofs of his patience, is rather abruptly and unexpectedly extinguished ; for he tells us, not that his mistress is inflexible or faithless, but that he is arrived at such a good old age that the submission of his fair enemy would not have been sufficient for ensuring his triumph. Through this elaborate work Gower appears to have distributed all the contents of his common- place book, and Mr Warton has traced back many of these fragments to the obscure sources from whence they were derived. These are (besides Colonna's romantic history of Troy, and the Gesta Romanorum, already mentioned, which, with the VOL. I. M C 178 ] romance of Sir Lancelot, though histories of a less general nature, Gower seems more immediately to have followed in some of his tales ;) the Pantheon, or Memoriae Sectdorum, a Latin chronicle, written partly in prose and partly in verse, by Godfrey of Viterbo, who died in 1190 ; the Speculum Regum of the same author ; the Chronicle of Cassiodorus, called Chronicon breve, written at the command of Theodoric king of the Goths ; and the Chronicle of Isidorus, called Hispalensis. " It is extremely pro- " bable," says Mr Warton, " that the plan on " which they are all constructed, that of deducing " a perpetual history from the creation to the wri- " ter's age, was partly taken from Ovid's Meta- " morphoses, and partly from the Bible." For the scieatific part of his work Gower was most probably indebted to a spurious work attri- buted to Aristotle, called Secretum Secretorum, and to the Latin original of a treatise called Les Dictes moraux des Philosophes, les Dictes des Sages, et les Secrets d'Aristote, which was afterwards translated into English by the unfortunate Anthony Widville, first Earl of Rivers. Chaucer, who knew and loved our poet, has comprised his character in a single epithet, and every reader must concur in the judgment of this great contemporary critic. While he is satisfied C 179 ] with being " the moral Gower" he always appears to advantage ; he is wise, impressive, and sometimes almost sublime. The good sense and benevolence of his precepts, the solemnity with which they are enforced, and the variety of learning by which they are illustrated, make us forget that he is preaching in masquerade, and that our excellent instructor is a priest of Venus. But his narrative is often quite petrifying ; and when we read in his work the tales with which we had been familiarized in the poems of Ovid, we feel a mixture of surprize and despair at the perverse industry employed in removing every detail on which the imagination had been accustomed to fasten. The author of the Metamor- phoses was a poet, and at least sufficiently fond of ornament : Gower considers him as a mere anna- list ; scrupulously preserves his facts ; relates them with great perspicuity ; and is fully satisfied when he has extracted from them as much morality as they can be reasonably expected to furnish. The popularity of this writer is, perhaps, not very likely to revive : but, although few modern readers will be tempted to peruse a poem of mere than thirty thousand verses, written in obsolete English, without being allured by the hopes of more entertainment than can easily be derived from the Confessio Amantis, there are parts of the C 180 ] work 1 which might very probably be reprinted with advantage. Such are, the tale in folio 70, (edit. 1532,) beginning, "of Armenye I rede thus:" the tale in folio 85, from which Shakspeare has pro- bably taken his incident of the caskets in the Mer- chant of Venice : a fable in folio 110, beginning, " To speak of an unkind man :" the story of a Faun and Hercules, folio 122, beginning, " The " mightiest of all men ;" that of Nectanabus and Olympias, folio 137 : and the beautiful romantic tale of Appollynus Prince of Tyre, folio 175 to 185. It is also to be observed, that the fourth and seventh books, containing a very good compendium of nearly all the learning of the age, may be worth consulting. It is usual to couple the names of Gower and Chaucer, as if these contemporary poets had pos- sessed similar talents : the fairest method, therefore, to form an estimate of both, will be to give from the one a subject which has been attempted by the other. Gower's Florent, which he appears to have taken from the Gesta Romanorum, is generally supposed to be the original of Chaucer's Wife of Bath's Tak. The story has considerable merit ; and it is told in Gower's best manner. These reasons, it is hoped, will excuse the insertion of so long a specimen from an author who was once extremely popular, and whom we have been accustomed to [ 181 ] venerate, upon trust, as one of the fathers of Eng- lish poetry. * There was, whilom, by dayes old, A worthy knight, as menne told ; He was nephew to the emperor, And of his court a courtier : Wife-less he was, Florent he hight. He was a man that mochel x might : * Of armes he was desirous, Chevalerous, and amorous, And, for the fame of worlde's speech, Strange aventures for to seche, 3 He rode the marches all about. And fell a time, as he was out, Fortune (which may every threde To-break and knit of mannes speed) Shope, as this knight rode in a pass, That he by strength y-taken was ; And to a castle they him lad* Where that he fewe friendes had. * In order to render this extract as correct as possible, the text of edit. 1532 has been collated with three very an- cient and valuable MSS. in the Bodleian library, quoted in the note at the beginning of this chapter. 1 Much. * Could do. 3 seek. * Led. [ 182 ] For so it fell, that ilke stound * That he hath, with a deadly wound, Fighting, [with] bis own hande slain Branchus, which to the captain Was son and heir, whereof ben wroth The father and the mother both ; And fain they woulde do vengeance Upon Florent, but remembrance That they took of his worthiness Of knighthood, and of gentleness, And how he stood of cousinage To th* emperor, made them assuage, And durst not slayen him for fear. In great disputeson they were Among them self, what was the best. There was a lady, the sliest Of all that menne knewe tho : * So old, she might unnethes 3 go, And was grandame unto the dead : And she, with that, began to redef And said how she will bring him in, That she shall him to death win, All only of his owen grant Through strength of very covenant, 1 At that same time. 2 Then. 3 Scarce. * Advise. [ 183 ] Without blame of any wight. Anon she sent for this knight, And of her sonne she aleyd* The death, and thus to him she said . " Florent, howso thou be to-wyte* "Of Branchus' death, men shall respite " As nffw 3 to take avengement, 4 ' Be so thou stand in judgement, " Upon certain condition : " That thou unto a question ' Which I shall aske shalt answere. " And, over this, thou shalt eke swear, " That if thou of the sothe fail, " There shall none other thing avail, " That thou ne shalt thy death receive. " And (for men shall thee nought deceive) " That thou thereof might ben advised, " Thou shalt have day and time assised ; " And leave safely for to wend : " Be so that at thy dayes end " Thou come again with thine avisc." 4 This knight, which worthy was, and wise, This lady pray'th that he may tvyt,* ' Alleged. * Accused. * At prespnl. 4 Opinion. $ Know. C 184 ] And have it under scales writ, What question it shoulde be, For which he shall, in that degree, Stand of his life in jeopardy. With that, she feigneth company, And saith, " Florent, on love it hongeth, " All that to mine askinge Mongeth ; " WHAT 'VLLE WOMEN MOST DESIRE, " This will I ask : and in th' empire, " Whereas thou hast most knowledging " Take counsel upon this asking." Florent this thing hath undertake ; The day was set, the time take : Under his seal he wrote his oath In such a wise, and forth he go'th Home to his erne's * court again : To whom his aventure plain He told of that him is befall ; And upon that they weren all, The wisest of the land, assent ! * But natheless, of one assent They mighte not accorde plat . 3 One saide this, another that. 1 Uncle's. * Sent for. 3 Plainly [ 185 ] After the disposition Of natural complexion, To some woman it is pleasiince, That to another is grievance : But such a thing, in special, Which to them all in general Is most pleasant, and most desired Above all other, and most conspired, Such a thing can they not find, By constellation ne kind ; * And thus Florent, withoute cure, Must stand upon his aventure. ****** When time came, he took his leave, That longer would he not beleve,* And pray'th his erne he be not wroth, For that is a point of his oath, He saith, that no man shall him tvreak t J Though afterward men heare speak That he peraventure die. And thus he wente forth his way Alone as knight aventurous, And in his thought was curious To trite what was best to do. 1 Neither by the stars, nor b> the laws of kind, or nature. * Remain. ' Revenge. [ 186 ] And as he rode alone so, And came nigh there he woulde be, In a forest under a tree, He saw where sat a creature, A loathly womanish figdre, That, for to speak of flesh and bone, So foul yet saw he never none. This knight beheld her readily, And, as he would have passed by, She cleped him, and bade abide ; And he his horse's head aside Tho T turned, and to her he rode, And there he hoved* and abode, To tuite what she woulde mean. And she began him to bemene 3 And saide, " Florent, by thy name ! " Thou hast on hande such a game, " That, but thou be the better avised, " Thy death is shapen and devised, " That all the world ne may thee save " But if that thou my counsel have.'* Florent, when he this tale heard, Unto this olde wight answer'd, 1 Then. a Hover'd. 3 Bemoan. C 187 ] And of her counsel he her pray'd, And she again to him thus said : " Florent, if I for thee so shape, " That thou through me thy death escape, " And take worship of thy deed, " What shall I have to my meed ?" " What thing," quod he, " that thou wilt axe." " I bidde never a better tax, Quod she, " but first, or thou be sped, " Thou shalt me leave such a toed * " That I will have thy troth on hand " That thou shalt be mine houseband." " Nay,'* said Florent, "that may not be !'* " Ride thenne forth thy way! " quod she. " And if thou go forth without rede* " Thou shalt be sekerliche* dead.'* Florent behight* her good enow, Of land, of rent, of park, of plough, But all that counteth she at nought. Tho fell this knight in mochel thought. Now go'th he forth, now com'th again, He wot not what is best to sayn, And thought, as he rode to and fro, That choose he must one of the two ; 1 Pledge. Sax. * Counsel. Sax. a Surely. * Promised. [ 188 3 Or for to take her to his wife, Or elles for to lose his life : And then he cast his avantage, That she was of so great an age, That she may live but a while ; And thought to put her in an isle, Where that no man her shoulde know Till she with death were overthrow. And thus this younge lusty knight Unto this olde loathly wight Tho said : " If that none other chance " May make my deliverance, " But only thilke same speech " Which as thou say'st thou shalt me teach, *' Have here mine hand, I shall thee wed !" And thus his troth he lay'th to wed. With that, shefrounceth* up the brow: " This covenant I will allow;" She saith, " if any other thing " But that thou hast of my teaching, " Fro* death thy body may respite, " I will thee of thy troth acquite : " And elles, by none other way. " Now hearken me what I shall say. " When thou art come into the place ' Wrinkleth. [ 189 3 *' Where now they maken great menace, " And upon thy coming abide : " They will, anon, the same tide 1 " Oppose thee of thine answer. " I wot thou wilt no thing forbear, " Of that thou weenest be thy best, '* And, if thou mightest so find rest, " Well is : for then is there no more ; " And elles, this shall be my lore. " That thou shalt say Upon this mold * " That ALLE WOMEN LIEVEST WOULD " BE SOVEREIGN OF MANNES LOVE : " For, what woman is so above, " She hath (as who sayth) all her will : " And elles may she not fulfill " What thing her were lievest have. " With this answere thou shalt save " Thy self, and otherwise nought : " And when thou hast thine ende wrought, " Come here again, thou shalt me find, " And let no thing out of thy mind." He go'th him forth with heavy cheer, As he that n'ot ' in what manere 1 Time. Sn*. * tartb. 3 Knew not. E 190 ] He may this worldes joy attain. For if he die, he hath a pain : And if he live, he must him bind To such one, which if alle kind Of women is th* unseemliest. Thus wote he not what is the best. But, be him lief, or be him loth, Unto the castle forth he go'th, His full answere for to give, Or for to die, or for to live. Forth with his council came the lord> The thinges stooden of record, He sent up for the lady soon : And forth she came, that olde mone> * In presence of the remenant; The strength of all the covenant Tho was rehearsed openly, And to Florent she badeforthi* . That he shall tellen his avise As he that wote what is the price. Florent saith all that ever he couth, 3 But such word came there none to mouth, 1 Moiuie, a monkey. (Cotgrave's French Dictionary.) * Forthwith. 3 Knew. [ 191 3 That he for gift or for behest Might any wise his death arrest. And thus he tarrieth long and late Till that this lady bade algate That he shall for the doom final Give his answer in special Of that she had him first opposed. And then he hath truly supposed That he him may of nothing yelp * But if so be tho * wordes help Which as the woman hath him taught : Whereof he hath an hope caught That he shall be excused so, And told out plain his vville tho. And when that this matrone heard The manner how this knight answer'd, She said, " Ha ! treason ! woe thee be ! " That hast thus told the privity " Which alle women most desire. " I woulde that thou were a-fire !" But natheless, in such a plight Florent of his answer is quite. And tho began his sorrow new : For he must gone, or be untrue 1 Praf*. * Thosp. [ 192 ] To hire which his trothe had. But he, which alle shame drad, x Go'th forth in stead of his penance, And tak'th the fortune of his chance, As he that was with troth affhyted. * This old wight him hath awaited In place where as he hire left. Florent his woeful head up-lift, And saw this vecke 5 where she sit, Which was the loathlieste wight That ever man cast on his eye. Her nose has, 4 her browes high, Her eyen smalle, and depe-set. Her chekes ben with teres wet, And rivelen s as an empty skin Hangende 6 down unto the chin, Her lippes shrunken ben for age ; There was no grace in her visage. Her front was narrow, her locks hoar ; She looketh forth as doth a Moor. Her neck is short, her shoulders courl, 7 That might a marines lust distourb. 1 Dreaded. a Adorned. Old Fr. 3 Old woman. * Low. * Shrivelled. 6 Hanging. 7 Crooked. 3 C 193 ] Her body, great, and nothing small : And, shortly to describe her all, She hath no lyth ' without a lack, But like unto a wolle-sack. She proffer 'th her unto this knight, And bade him, as he hath behight z ( So as she hath been his warrant, ) That he her holde covenant ; And by the bridle she him seizeth, But God wot how that she him pleaseth ! Of suche wordes as she speaketh Him thinketh well-nigh his heart breaketh For sorrow that he may not flee But if he woulde untrue be. Look how a sick man for his hele 3 Tak'th baldemoyn 4 with the cande? And with the myrrh taketh the sucre ; 6 Right upon such a manner lucre Stands Florent, as, in this diete, He drink'th the bitter with the sweet ; He meddleth 7 sorrow with liking, 1 Limb. a Promise.-). 3 {Cure. * Perhaps a mistake of the copyist for bolearmene, i. e. Armenian bole, once thought a specific against poUon, &r. 5 Cinnnmon. 6 Sugar. 7 Mixrtb. VOL. I. N [ 194 ] And liveth (as who saith) dying. His youthe shall be cast away Upon such one which, as the way, Is old, and loathly over all. But, nede he must that nede shall. He would, algateS his trothe hold, As every knight thereto is hold, What hap soever him is befall. Though she be the foulest of all, Yet, to honour of woman-hed, Him thought he shoulde taken heed : So that, for pure gentiless, As he her couthe best address, In ragges as she was to-tore, He set her on his horse to-fore, And forth he taketh his way soft. No wonder though he sigheth oft ! But, as an owl flyeth by night Out of all other birdes' sight, Right so this knight on dayes broad In close him held, and shope his road On nighte's time, till the tide * That he come there he would abide : And privily, without noise, 1 Always. 2 Time. [ 195 ] He bring'th this foule greate coise * To his castell, in such a wise That no man might her shape avise, Till she into the chamber came, Where he his privy council name,* Of suche men as he most trust ; And told them that he nedes must This beste wedde to his wife, For elles had he lost his life. f The privy women were a-sent, That shoulden ben of his assent : Her ragges they anon off draw, And, as it was that time law, She hadde bath, she hadde rest, And was arrayed to the best. But with no craft of combes brode They might her hore lockes shode, 3 And she ne woulde nought be shore* For no counsel : and they therefore, With such attire as tho was used, Ordainen that it was excused, And hid so craftily about That no man mighte seen them out. 1 Probably incumbrance, from coiner, incommoder. Old Fr. See La Combe's Diet. * Took ; mm. Sax. " Nim a purse," Sbakspeare. 3 Shed, i. e. separate, disentangle. * Shorn. I.I*- I But when she was fully array'4, And her attire .was all assay' d, Tho was she fouler unto see ! But yet it may none other be : They were wedded in the night. So woe-begone Was never knight As he was then of marriage ! And she began to play and rage, As who saith I am well enough. (But he thereof nothing ne lough 1 ) For she took thenne cheer on hand, And clepeth * him her houseband, And saith, " My Lord, go we to bed ! " For I to that intent thee wed, " That thou shalt be my worldes bliss ;" And profFer'th him with that to kiss, As she a lusty lady were. His body mighte well be there ; But as of thought, and of memoire, His hearte was in purgatoire. But yet, for strength of matrimoine, He mighte make none essoine* That he ne mote algates plie * To go to bed of company. 1 Laughed. * Calletb. Sax. 3 Excuse. Fr. * Yield. ,Fr. [ 197 ] And when they were a-bedde naked, Withoute sleep he was awaked ; He turneth on that other side, For that he would his eyen hide Fro looking of that foule wight. The chamber was all full of light ; The curtains were of sendall * thin : This newe bride which lay within, Though it be nought with his accord, In armes she beclipt her lord, And pray'd, as he was turned fro, He would him turn again-ward tho. For " now,'* she saith, " we be both one ;" But he lay still as any stone ; And ever in one she spake and pray'd, And bade him think on that he said When that he took her by the hond. He heard, and understood the bond, How he was set to his penance : And, as it were a man in trance, He turneth him all suddenly, And saw a lady lie him by Of eighteteene winter age,* Which was the fairest of visage 1 Silk. z The Saxons always computed time by winters and nights. [ 198 ] That ever in all the world he sigh ; " And as he would have take her nigh. She put her hand, and by his leve * Besought him that he woulde leave, And say'th, that for to win or lese J He mote one of two thinges chese, 4 Wher s he will have her such o'night, Or elles upon daye's light, For he shall not have bothe two. And he began to sorrow tho, In many a wise, and cast his thought, But for all that, yet could he nought Devise himself which was the best : And she, that would his hearte rest, Pray'th that he shoulde chuse algate : Till at the laste, long and late He said, " O ye, my life's hele, 6 " Say what ye list in my querelej " I n'ot what answer I shall give, " But ever, while that I may live, " I will, that ye be my mistress, " For I can nought myselve guess " Which is the best unto my choice. " Thus grant I you mine whole voice : Saw. * Love. 3 Lose. + Choose. Whether. 6 Medicine. 7 Dispute. [ 199 ] " Chuse for us bothen, I you pray ! " And, what as ever that ye say, " Right as ye wille, so will L" " My lord," she saide, " grand-merci ! * " For of this word that ye now sayn, " That ye have made me sovereign, " My destiny is over passed ; " That never hereafter shall be lassed * " My beauty, which that I now have, " Till I betake unto my grave. " Both night and day, as I am now, " I shall alway be such to you. " The kinges daughter of Sicile " I am ; and Jell 3 but sith a while, " As I was with my father late, " That my step-mother, for an hate " Which toward me she hath begun, " For-shope,' till I hadde won " The love and the sovereinety " Of what knight that in his degree " All other passeth of good name : " And, as men seyn, ye be the same, " The deede proveth it is so. " Thus am I yours for evermo." 1 Many thanks. * Lessened. 3 It befell. * Mis-shaped. 2 Tho wa& pleasance and joy enough ; Each one with other play'd and loug/i ; * They lived Jong, and well they far'dy And clerkes, that this chance heard, They written it in evidence, To teach, how that obedience May well fortune a man to love, And set him in his lust above. [Fol. 15 ; ed. 1532.] 1 Laughed. 201 ] CHAPTER VIII. Reign of Edward III. continued. Geoffrey Chaucer. CJTEOFFREY CHAUCER has had many biographers ; but the authentic documents respecting his life are so few, that his last editor, Mr Tyrvvhitt, to whom this great poet will be principally indebted for the rational admiration of posterity, has contented him- self with a bare recital of the following genuine anecdotes, instead of attempting to work them in- to a connected narrative, in which much must have been supplied by mere conjecture, or by a forced interpretation of the allusions scattered through the works of the poet. The original inscription on his tombstone is said to have proved that he died in 1400, aged 72, so that he was born in 1328 ; and he has himself told us that his birth-place was London. Of his family we know absolutely nothing. From a passage in his Court of Love, where he calls himself " Philo- " genet of Cambridge, clerk," it may be inferred that he was educated in that university ; and it is presumed that he was afterwards entered at the Inner Temple, because the records of that inn r> [ 202 ] are said to state that he was fined two shillings for beating a Franciscan friar in Fleet-street. * By what means, or at what period, he first re- commended himself to his patron, John of Gaunt, whose persevering kindness seems to have accom- panied him through life, is not known ; but the mysterious descriptions in his Dream, are con- sidered as evidence that he enjoyed the confidence and familiarity of that prince during his courtship of Blanche, the heiress of the house of Lancaster, whom he married in 1359 ; and it was probably to their recommendation that our poet owed his in- troduction into the royal household, in which we find him established in the year 1367- In this year (the 41st of Edward III.) a patent occurs, by which the king grants to Chaucer an annuity of 20 marks, by the title of Valettus nos- ter ; an office which, by whatever name we trans- late it, might be held even by persons of the highest rank, because the only science then in request among the nobility was that of etiquette, the knowledge * Mr Ritson (B'. jliogr. Poet. p. 19, note) says that this anecdote is " a hum of Thomas Chatterton." See his Mis- cellanies, p. 137, But as the story is related in Speght's editions of Chaucer (1 598, 1602), on the evidence of a Mas- ter Buckley, it remains for Mr Ritsoa to prove that what he elegantly calls Chatterton's hum has had a retroactive effect on the understanding of the said Master Buckley, who lived, and probably died, in the 16th century. [ 203 ] of which was acquired, together with the habits of chivalry, bypassing in gradation through the several menial offices about the court. Chaucer was at this time thirty-nine years of age, and did not acquire the rank ofscutifer, or esquire, till five years after- wards. By this new title he was appointed, with two others, king's envoy to Genoa, and it was perhaps on this occasion that he made acquaintance with Petrarch, whom he professes to have seen at Padua. The object of this mission is not mentioned, but it may be supposed to have related to some pecu- niary or commercial negotiation ; and it may be farther presumed, that Chaucer acquitted himself much to the king's satisfaction, because from this time we find him distinguished by repeated marks of royal favour. In 1374? he obtained' a grant for life of a pitcher of wine daily ; and was appointed to the office of comptroller of the customs of wool, &c. in the port of London. In the next year the king granted him the wardship of Sir Edmund Staplegate's heir, for which he received >:.lot, and the year following some forfeited wool to the value of 71. 4tf. 6d. : and in the last year of this reign he was sent to France, with Sir Guichard D' Angle, and Richard Stan [or Sturry,] to treat of a marriage between Richard, then prince of Wales, and a daughter of the French king. [ 204 ] Chaucer frequently alludes to a period of his Fife, at which he was possessed of considerable opulence ; and it will appear, by a review of the several grants just mentioned, that he had great reason to be satisfied with the munificence of his royal master. The mark of silver, in which these grants are esti- mated, contained eight ounces, and consequently was equal to 40 shillings, as the pound was to 4, of our present denomination ; and as the repre- sentative value of silver is generally supposed to have been five times greater in the reign of Edward III. than it is at present, it will follow that the value of the mark in our present money may be estimated at 10, and Chaucer's original annuity at j200. The grant of wine was of the same va- lue, because it was afterwards exchanged for an Annuity of 20 marks. The two gratifications in money, amounting together to 115. 4s. Gd. were, upon the same principles of calculation, equivalent to ^3500: so that Chaucer appears to have re- ceived, during the three last years of this reign, a sutti equal) to the present value of 4700, ( inclu- ding the two annuities), without taking into ac- count his receipts as comptroller of the customs, which were probably much greater, nor the re- wards of his mission to France, which may be sup- posed to have been considerable. [ 905 ] It has been already observed that Mr Tyrwhitt was a little displeased with Edward III. for having exposed Chaucer's genius to the petrifying influence of custom-house accounts : but it should be remem- bered that Chaucer voluntarily exposed his talents to an almost equal risk by composing a treatise on the astrolabe ; that his mathematical skill was per- haps not very uselessly employed in unravelling the confusion of the public accounts ; that the task thus imposed upon him was at least no mean compliment to his probity ; and that, after all, it produced no fatal effect on his genius, if, as Mr Tyrwhitt conjectures, it did not prevent him from writing his House of Fame during the intervals of his labour. The succeeding reign was by no means equally propitious to the fortunes of Chaucer. The grant of his pension was, indeed, confirmed to him, and his grant of wine replaced by an equivalent annuity of 20 marks, at the accession of Richard II., but his real or supposed interference in the intrigues of city politics, during the mayoralty of John of Northampton, appears to have drawn upon him the displeasure of the king, and to have involved him in pecuniary distresses from which he was ne- ver after able to extricate himself. In 1388 he was obliged to part with his two pensions, and though, by the intervention, sa it seems, of the Duke [ 206 ] of Lancaster, he was, in 1 390, restored to favour, and successively appointed clerk of the works at West- minster and Windsor, besides which he received, in 1397, a grant of a new pension of 20 marks, we find him obliged to accept, in 1 398, a protection for two years, a proof that he had by no means reco- vered his former affluence. In the last year of this reign he obtained a new annual grant of a pipe of wine, and the revolution in favour of Henry IV., the son of his constant benefactor, would probably have raised him to greater affluence than he had ever enjoyed, but he died in the next year, after having received a confirmation of the last favours / bestowed on him by Richard II., and a farther grant of an annuity of 40 marks. After reading, in the circumstantial accounts of Chaucer's biographers, that he was married in 1360 to Philippa Rouet, by whom he had issue Thomas Chaucer and other children, we are sur- prized to learn that it is doubtful whether Thomas Chaucer was his son ; that the earliest known evi- dence of his marriage is a record of 1381, in which he receives a half-year's payment of an annuity of 10 marks granted by Edward III. to his wife as one of the maids of honour (domicellce) lately in the service of Queen Philippa ; that the name of Philippa Rouet does not occur in the list of these maids of honour, but that Chaucer's wife may pos- [ 207 ] siblyhavebeen PhilippaPykard; that, notwithstand- ing this, his said wife was certainly sister to Catha- rine Rouet, who married a Sir John Swynford, and was the favourite mistress, and ultimately the wife, of the Duke of Lancaster; and that Chaucer him- self mentions no son but Lewis, whom he states to have been born in 1381, a date which seems to agree with the record above-mentioned, and to place the date of his marriage in 1380. The task of unravelling these obscurities must be left to fu- ture biographers. As our principal concern is with the literary character of this poet, it would be unpardonable to omit the following estimate of his writings, ex- tracted from Dr Johnson's introduction to his Dic- tionary. " He may, perhaps, with great justice, be styled " the first of our versifiers who wrote poetically. " He does not, however, appear to have deserved " all the praise which he has received, or all the " censure that he has suffered. Dryden, who, " mistaking genius for learning, and in confidence " of his abilities, ventured to write of what he had " not examined, ascribes toChaucerthe first refine- " ment of our numbers, the first production of easy " and natural rhymes, and the improvement of " our language, by words borrowed from the more " polished languages of the continent. Skinner C 208 ] ** contrarily blames him in harsh terms for having " vitiated his native speech by whole cartloads of "foreign ivords. But he that reads the works of ** Gowerwill find smooth numbers and easy rhymes, '* of which Chaucer is supposed to have been the " inventor, and the French words, whether good " or bad, of which Chaucer is charged as the im- " porter. Some innovations he might probably " make, like others, in the infancy of our poetry, " which the paucity of books does not allow us to " discover with particular exactness ; but the works " of Gower and Lydgate sufficiently evince, that *' his diction was in general like that of his con- " temporaries ; and some improvements he un- " doubtedly made by the various dispositions of " his rhymes, and by the mixture of different num- " bers, in which he seems to have been happy and " judicious." This compendious piece of criticism contains a full refutation of Skinner's veiy absurd charge, at the same time that the severe and unnecessary censure on Dryden exhibits a strong instance of the very haste and inaccuracy which it condemns. It is scarcely credible that Dryden, while he was employed in paraphrasing the Knight's Tale, and the Flower and the Leaf, which are perhaps the most finished specimens of his poetry, and at the same time very faithful copies of his original, [ 209 ] should have entirely neglected to consult the con- temporary poets, whose works were necessary to the explanation of Chaucer's language. Perhaps he was likely to read them in search of those beau- ties which tradition reported them to contain, and which he might hope to appropriate without detec- tion. Dryden, indeed, who was condemned to write in haste, had not leisure, perhaps he would not have had patience, to consult the various manuscripts of his author, and to compare Chaucer with him- self and with the obscure versifitrs who preceded him : his opinion, therefore, is inaccurate ; but he is mistaken in his censure, not in his encomium. The researches of Mr Tyrwhitt have proved what Dryden denied, viz. that Chaucer's versifica- tion, wherever his genuine text is preserved, was uniformly correct ; although the harmony of his lines has in many instances been obliterated by the changes that have taken place in the mode of accenting our language. But Chaucer's reputation as an improver of our versification principally rests on the invention (or at least on the first adoption) of the ten-syllable or heroic verse, of that verse which has been -employed by every poet of eminence from Spenser to Dr Johnson, and in which its original inventor has left many specimens, both in the Knight's Tale and in the VOL. i. o [ 210 ] Flower and the Leaf, which Dryden despaired of improving. With respect to Chaucer's language, it is impos- sible not to feel some disappointment at the cautious and doubtful opinion delivered by the author of our national dictionary, and delivered in the intro- duction to that truly noble monument of his genius. That Chaucer " might probably make some innova- " tions," and that " his diction was in general like " that of his contemporaries," we should have con- jectured without Dr Johnson's assistance ; because a writer of genius and learning will be likely to make some innovations in a barbarous language, but, in so doing, will not choose to become quite unintelligible. From a critic so intimately ac- quainted with the mechanism of language we should have expected to learn, whether Chaucer had in any degree added to the precision of our English idiom by improvements of its syntax, or to its har- mony by the introduction of more sonorous words ; or whether he was solely indebted for the beauty and perspicuity of his style to that happy selec- tion of appropriate expressions which distinguished every writer of original thinking and real genius. All Chaucer's immediate successors, those who studied him as their model, Hoccleve, Lydgate, King James I., &c. speak with rapture of the ele- c 211 : gance and splendour of his diction. He is " the " flower of eloquence ;" " superlative in elo- " quence ;" his words are " the gold dew-drops " of speech." Such exaggerated praises certainly imply an enthusiastic, though, perhaps, absurd ad- miration ; and, as these poets would probably at- tempt to imitate what they considered as eminent- ly beautiful, it seems likely that an examination of their style must enable us to discover what they considered as the improvements introduced by Chaucer. Now the characteristics of our poetry during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries are an exube- rance of ornament, and an affectation of Latinity, neither of which peculiarities are to be found in Robert of Gloucester, Robert de Brunne, Minot, Langland, or indeed in any of the poets anterior to Chaucer. This, therefore, may be supposed to be what Chaucer himself and his successors meant by what they called an ornate style, of which the following stanza, extracted from the Court of Love, is a curious specimen : Honour to thee, celestial and clear, Goddess of love, and to thy celsitude, That giv'st us light so far down from thy sphere, Piercing our heartes with thy pidchritude f [ 212 ] Comparison none of similitude May to thy grace be .made in no degree, That hast us set with love in unity. [St. 88. fol. 330. ed. 1602.] It is not meant that this is an example of Chau- cer's usual style ; indeed no poet is, in general, more free from pedantry : but the attentive reader will find that in the use of words of Latin deriva- tion, most of which are common to the French and Italian languages, he very generally prefers the inflections of the latter, either as thinking therru more sonorous, or because they are nearer to the original ; and that in his descriptive poetry he is very fond of multiplying his epithets, and of copy- ing all the other peculiarities of the Italian poetry (from which his favourite metre is unquestionably derived),with the view of "refining our numbers, and " improving our language by words borrowed from " the more polished languages of the Continent." With respect to his success in these endeavours there has been a considerable difference of opi- nion ; but he has been most admired by those who were best qualified to appreciate his merit. Spen- ser, his warmest panegyrist, had studied him with very minute and particular attention ; and though many readers will not concur with him in thinking C 213 ] that Chaucer's compositions are " the well of Eng- " lish undefiled," they will admit that Spenser formed his judgment with due deliberation, and that he evinced the sincerity of his belief by trust- ing the success of his own poetical reputation to the same antiquated phraseology. From a general review of all Chaucer*s works it will appear that he entertained a very mean opinion of his native language, and of the poets who had employed it ; and that he was, during a great part of his life, incessantly occupied in translating the works of the French, Italian, and Latin poets. His Romaunt of the Rose is a professed transla- tion from William de Lorris and John de Meun : the long and beautiful Romance of Troilus and Creseide is principally imitated from Boccacio's Filostrato : the Legend of Good Women is a free translation from Ovid's Epistles, combined with histories of his heroines derived from various Latin chronicles : the House of Fame is a similar com- pilation : Palamon and Arcite is known to be an imitation of the Teseida ofBoccacio. On the whole, it may be doubted whether he thought himself suf- Bciently qualified to undertake an original compo- sition till he was sixty years of age, at which time it is conjectured that he formed and began to ex- ecute the plan of his Canterbury Tales. [ 214 ] This elaborate work was apparently intended to contain a delineation of all the prominent characters in society ; these were to be sketched oat in an introductory prologue, to be contrasted by cha- racteristic dialogues, and probably to be engaged in incidents which should farther develope their peculiarities of disposition : and, as stories were absolutely necessary in every popular work, an ap- propriate tale was to be assigned to each of the pil- grims. It is not extraordinary that the remainder of Chaucer's life should have been insufficient for the completion of such a plan. What is actually ex- ecuted can only be considered as a fragment ; but, imperfect as it is, it contains more information re- specting the manners and customs of the fourteenth century than could be gleaned from the whole mass of contemporary writers, English or foreign ; and the poetical beauties with which it abounds have ensured to its author the first rank among the Eng- ish poets anterior to Shakespeare. As it would be absurd to crowd the present short sketch with formal extracts from a work so gene- rally known and admired, the following specimens will be principally taken from Chaucer's less popu- lar compositions, and will be selected with an at- tention to other objects than that of exhibiting proofs of his poetical excellence. [ 215 ] Addison has observed that " a reader seldom " peruses a book with pleasure, till he knows whe- " ther the writer of it be a black or a fair man, " of a mild or cholerick disposition, married or a " bachelor, with other particulars of the like na- " ture, that conduce very much to the right un- " derstanding of an author." Montaigne was cer- tainly of the same opinion ; and Chaucer, though he has told us nothing of his birth, has taken care to inform us that he was corpulent, and had a habit of looking on the ground, the result of frequent meditation. our host tojapen * he began, And then at erst * he looked upon me, And saide thus : " What man art thou ?" quod he: " Thou lookest as thou wouldest find a hare ! " For ever upon the ground I see thee stare. " Approche 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 arms to embrace " For any woman, small and fair efface ! " He seemeth elvish by his countenance, " For unto no wight doth he dalliance." [The words of the Host to Chaucer, prefixed to the rime of Sir Thopas.] 1 Jest. * At first. [ 216 ] His love of reading is mentioned repeatedly ; but the following passages are perhaps the most re- markable for the quaint simplicity of the style. Of usage, what for hist, * and what for lore, z On bookes read I oft, as I you told But, wherefore speake I all this ? not yore 3 Agone, it happed [for] to behold Upon a book was y-written with letters old, And thereupon a certain thing to learn, The longe day full fast I red and yern. 4 Four out of the old fieldes, as men saith, Cometh all this new corn fro year to year ; And out of olde bookes, in good faith, Cometh all this new science that men lere : s But now to purpose : as of this mattere To rede forth, it gan me so delight That all that day methought it but a lite. 6 [Assemb. of Fowls, st. 3.] Again, hi the Legend of Good Women : And as for me, though that I can 7 but lite, On bookes for to read I me delight, * Pleasure. * Learning. 3 Far, long. * Eagerly. ? Learn. 6 Little. 7 Ken, know* [ 217 ] And to hem give I faith and full credence, And in mine heart have hem in reverence So heartily, that there is game none That fro my bookes maketh me to gone, But it be seldom, on the holy day ; Save, certainly, when that the month of May Is comen, and that I hear the fowles sing, And that the floures 'ginnen for to spring, Farewell my book and my devotion. [Prologue, verse 29.] To his frequent morning walks we are indebted for the many beautiful specimens of descriptive poetry with which his works abound : as, for in- stance, in the Complaint of the Black Knight : I rose anon, and thought I woulde gone Into the wood, to hear the birdes sing, When that the misty vapour was agone, And clear and faire was the morronyng ; The dew also like silver in shining Upon the leaves as any baume sweet : Till fiery Titan with his persant * heat Had dried up the lusty liquor new Upon the herbes in the grene mead ; And that the flowers, of many divers hue, 1 Piercing. C 218 ] Upon her stalkes gonne* for to spread, And for to 'splaye out her leves in brede* Again the sun, gold-burned 3 in his sphere, That downe to hem cast his bearaes clear. And by a river forth I gan costay * Of water clear as beryl or chrystal, Till, at the last, I found a little way Toward a park, enclosed with a wall In compass round, and by a gate small : Whoso that woulde, freely mighte gone Into this park walled with grene stone. And in I went to hear the birdes' song, Which on the branches, both in plain and vale, So loude sang that all the woode rong Like as it should shiver in pieces smale ; And as methoughte that the nightingale With so great might her voice gan out-wrest Right as her hearte for love woulde brest. The soil was plaine, smooth, and wonder soft, All over-spread with tapets that Nature Had made herself; covered eke aloft With boughes green, the floures for to cure, 1 Began. * Abroad. 3 Gold-burnished. 4 Costoyer, cotoyer. Fr. ; to coast. C 219 ] That in her beauty they may long endure From all assault of Phrebus' fervent/ere, 1 Which in his sphere so hote shone and clear. The air attempre, and the smoothe wind Of Zephyrus among the blossoms white So wholesome was and so nourishing by kind, That smale buddes and round blossoms lite In manner gan of her breathe delight, To give us hope there fruit shall take Against autumne ready for to shake. There saw I eke the fresh haw-thorn, In white motley, that so stvote doeth smell ; Ash, fir, and oak, with many a young acorn, And many a tree mo than I can tell ; And, me before, I saw a little well That had his course, as I gan behold, Under an hill, with quicke streames cold. The gravel gold ; the water pure as glass ; The bankes round the well environing ; And softe as velvet the younge grass That thereupon lustily came springing. The suit of trees aboutc compassing 1 Fire. * In its nature. [ 220 ] Her shadow caste closing the well round, And all the herbes growing on the ground. [St. 4.] Chaucer has also taken care to tell us that he was magnificently lodged : And sooth to sayn, my chamber was Full well depainted, and with glass Were all the tvindotvs well y-glazed Full clear, and not an hole y-crazed, That to behold it was great joy : For wholly all the story of Troy * Was in the glazing y-wrought thus, Of Hector and of king Priamus ; Of Achilles, and of king Lamedon, And eke of Medea and of Jason ; Of Paris, Helen, and of Lavine. And all the walls with colours fine Were painte bothe text and glose, And all the Romaunt of the Rose. [Book of the Duchess, verse 321. fol. 228. ed. 1602.] He mentions another room which was curiously painted : 1 The Painted Chamber, adjoining the House of Lords, represents the siege of Troy ; and the tapestry was placed there at the marriage of Richard II. [ 221 3 on the walls old portraiture Of horsemen, hawkes, and hounds, And hurt deer, full of wounds, Some like bitten, some hurt with shot. [Chaucer's Dream, ad finem. fol. 34-3. ed. 1602.] A modern reader may possibly not be aware that glass windows were so rare in the reign of Edward III. as to merit a particular description ; but it appears from Heywood's " Spider and Flie," that glazed windows were considered as a luxury in the time of Henry VIII. Heywood's window was only lat- ticed. The Trojan war was indeed of little use, ex- cept as a provocative to dreaming, which Chaucer perhaps did not much want ; but, though an unne- cessary, it must have been an expensive ornament. In the Legend of Cleopatras we are surprised by the following description of the battle of Actiura : in the sea it happed hem to meet, Up go'tli the trump, and for to shout, and slide, 1 And painen hem to set on with the sun. .With grisly sound out goeth the GREAT GUN : And heartily they hurtlen in all at once ; And fro the top down cometh the great stones* In go'th the grapenel* so full of crooks, 1 Shoot. * Grappling-iron. Fr. [ 222 3 Among the ropes ran the sheering hooks ; In with the pole-ax presseth he * and he } Behind the mast beginneth he to flee ; ****** He rent the sail with hookes like a scythe ; He bring'th the cup, and biddeth hem be blithe ; He poureth pesen * upon the hatches' slider, With pottes full of lime, they gone together ; And thus the longe day in fight they spend. [Verse 56.] In the Legend of Dido the situation of ^Eneas z at her court is thus curiously described : This JEneas is come to Paradise Out of the swallow of hell : and thus in joy Remembereth him of his estate in Troy. To dancing chambers, full of paraments, * Of riche beddes, and of pavements, This JEneas is led after the meat. And with the quene when that he had seat, And spices parted, and the wine agone, Unto his chamber was he led anon To take his ease, and for to have his rest, With all his folk, to done whatso hem list. 1 This. * Pt.ix, Fr. Pitch. 3 Parement. Fr. ; from purer, to adorn. [ 223 ] There ne was courser well y-bridled none, Ne steede for the justing well to gone, Ne large palfrey, easy for the nonce, Ne jewel fret full of riche stones, Ne sackes full of gold of large weight, Ne ruby none that shineth by fcight, Ne gentil hauten falcon her oner e,* Ne hound for herte, wilde boar, or deer, Ne cup of gold with florins new y-bet * That in the land of Libye may ben get, That Dido ne hath it ./Eneas y-sent : AND ALL IS PAYED, WHAT THAT HE HATH SPENT. Thus can this honourable queen her guestes call, As she that can in freedom passen all. [Ver$e 178. p. 190. ed. 1602.] In the romance of Troilus and Creseide, Chaucer says And after this the story telleth us That she him gave the faire baye steed The which she ones 3 won of Troilus, And eke a broche 4 (and that was little need) That Troilus' was she gave this Diomede ; 1 Gentil, hautaln, heronier. Fr. ' Hi-. it. -ii, stamped, coined. 3 Once. * A clasp, or buckle; any jewel. Fr. [ 224- ] And eke the bet* from sorrow him to relieve, She made him wear a pencil * of her sleeve. [B. V. st. 149. p. 179. ed. 1602.] The attributes of chivalry and the fashions and customs of the middle ages do not, perhaps, sit very gracefully on classical characters ; but we are glad to find them anywhere. The following description of the entry of Troilus into Troy is inserted, because it seems to have suggested to Mr Gray some very beautiful lines in his Latin epistle from Sophonisba to Massinissa ; " Jam flexi regale decus," &c. (Letter to Mr West, May 27, 1742.) This Troilus sat on his baye steed All armed, save his head, full richely, And wounded was his horse, and gan to bleed, On which he rode a pace full softely : But such a knightly sighte, truely, As was on him, was not withouten fail To look on Mars that god is of battayle. So like a man of armes and a knight He was to seen, fulfill'd of high prowess, For both he had a body, and [a] might 1 A small streamer ; pennoncd. Ft. C 225 ] To doen that thing, as well as hardiness ; And eke to seen him in his geare dress, So fresh, so young, so wieldy seemed he, It was an heaven upon him for to see. His helm to-hewen was in twenty places, That by a tissue hung his back behind, His shield to-dash'd with swordes and with maces, In whiche men might many an arrow find, That thirled l had both home, nerve, and rind ; And aye the people cried " Here com'th our joy, " And, next his brother, holder up of Troy.'* For which he wex'd a little red for shame, When he so heard the people upon him cryen, That to behold it was a noble game How soberly he cast adown his eyen, Creseide anon gan all his cheer espyen, And let it so soft in her hearte sink. [B. II. st. 83. foL 151. ed. 1602.] The Romaunt of the Rose furnishes a great va- riety of beautiful descriptions ; but they have been frequently quoted, and are, probably, familiar to the reader, who will, perhaps, be better pleased with the following lines, containing advice on dress, and 1 Pierced through, Sax. Hence our thrill, and drilf. VOL. I. ? [ 226 ] directed to the fine gentlemen of the fourteenth century. And look alway that they be shape (What garment that thou shalt make) Of him that can best do ; With all that pertaineth thereto : ' Pointes and sleeves be well sittand, Right and streight on the hand : Of shone and bootes, new and fair, Look, at the least, thou have a pair, And that they sit sojetously* That these rude [men} may utterly Marvel, sith that they sit so plain, How they come on or off again. Wear streighte gloves, with aumere z Of silk ; and alway with good cheer Thou give, if thou have richess : And if thou have nought, spend the less. Alway be merry if thou may, But waste not thy good alway. Have hat of floures fresh as May ; Chaplet of roses of Whitsunday ; For such array ne costeth but lite. 3 Thine handes wash, thy teeth make white, 1 Neatly; " foot itfeatly." Shakspeare. * 4umenierc, purse. 3 Little. [ 227 ] And let no filth upon thee be. Thy nailes black if thou raay'st see, Void it away deliverly, * And kembe * thine head right jolily. FARCE NOT THY VISAGE IN NO WISE;* For that of love is not th' emprise ; For love doth haten, as I find, A beauty that cometh not of kind. [Rom. of the Rose, fol. 119. ed. 1602.]* 1 Quickly, a Comb. 3 This seems to imply that even the gentlemen of Chau- cer's time were addicted to painting. * The above extracts were in the first intance taken from Urry's edition, in which the measure is, doubtless, more uniformly smooth and harmonious than in the early printed copies. But this agreeable effect having been produced by unwarrantable interpolations, changes, and omissions (on account of which the credit of Mr Urry's book has suffered in the opinion of all good judges), it has been thought better to revert to the bl. letter editions. These, till some able English critic, following the example of the admirable Tyr- whitt in the Canterbury Tales, shall have actually reformed from a collation of MSS. the text of Chaucer's remaining works, can alone J>e safely trusted, rude and faulty as they may appear. [ 228 ] CHAPTER IX. Same Period continued. John Barbour. Re- marks on the Language of Scotland at this Period. Sketch of the Bruce. Extracts from that Poem. AT the same time with Chaucer flourished JOHN BARBOUR, archdeacon of Aberdeen. We learnfrom Wyntown's Chronicle that he was author of a con- siderable historical work, which has not descended to posterity, called the Brute, comprising the whole genealogy of the kings of Scotland, probably com- piled from Geoffrey of Monmouth, or translated from Wace. But he is only known to us by his bio- graphical poem entitled the Bruce, containing a history of the life and reign of Robert I. It is di- vided, by its last editor, into twenty books, and consists of about 14000 eight-syllable verses. It has been already mentioned in the account of Robert de Brunne, that the " Thomas" whom he cites with so much praise, as author of the gest of SirTristrem, is conjectured by Mr Tyrwhitt to be Thomas of Ercildoun ; so that our ancestors appear [ 229 ] to have been indebted to a Scotish poet for the earliest model of a pure English style. But, be this as it may, the very interesting poem now be- fore us, the phraseology of which does not differ in any material point from that of Chaucer and his contemporaries, is a sufficient evidence that in our attempts to trace the history, and mark the grada- tions of our language, we have been much too in- attentive to the progress of that language amongst ur northern neighbours. The learned and ingenious editor of the " Poeti- cal Remains of James the First" has endeavoured to account for the identity of speech in the two coun- tries by a reference to historical documents. He observes, that Malcolm III. (after the murder of his father Duncan) was rescued from the hands of Mac- beth, and carried into England, to the court of Ed- ward the Confessor, where he received his educa- tion ; and was afterwards ( 1057 ) replaced on the throne of Scotland by means of an English army commanded by Siward, earl of Northumberland. Before this time, the residence of the kings of Scot- land had been in the northern parts of the island ; but Malcolm, soon after his restoration, removed his court to Dunfermline, on the north of the Forth ; either with the view of being nearer to a country for which he had contracted a partiality, or, perhaps, [ 230 ] for the purpose of securing himself, by the vicinity of his own subjects in Cumberland, in case any attempts might be made against him by the par- tizans of Macbeth in the north. Not long after this, Edgar Atheling, together with his mother and sister, and a number of their adherents, having been driven by a storm into the mouth of the Forth, were received with great kindness by Mal- colm, who ultimately espoused the princess Mar- garet, and distributed grants of land among the Anglo-Saxon nobles who had accompanied her. From these premises Mr Tytler infers that Mal- colm was the first cause of introducing into Scot- land the Anglo-Saxon language, which he supposes to have been disseminated over the Lowlands, partly by means of these followers of Edgar Athe- ling, and partly by means of the intercourse which prevailed between the inhabitants of Scotland and those of the four northern counties of England, Cumberland, Northumberland, Westmoreland, and Durham, which were held by the kings of Scotland as fiefs of the crown of England. This conjecture, however, does not seem to be perfectly satisfactory ; nor are the causes in them- selves sufficient to have wholly changed the lan- guage of a country. If at the present moment the Celtic language prevailed over the whole of Scot- C 231 ] land, instead of being confined to the Highlands, such a testimony would compel us to admit, either that the Saxons and Danes had been prevented by some unaccountable cause from attempting to form a settlement on the northern shores of this island, or that their attempts had been rendered abortive by the superior bravery and skill of the inhabitants. But, as the same Teutonic dialects are found to form the basis of the language both in England and in the Lowlands of Scotland, Mr Hume has been induced, and apparently with great reason, to infer from this similarity of speech a similar series of successful invasions ; although this success is not recorded by thehistorians of Scotland. If this conclusion be admitted, it is evidently unnecessary to refer us to the much later period of Malcolm's reign ; or to seek in his marriage with an English princess, in his distribution of lands among her followers, or in the policy which in- duced him to change his place of residence, for the establishment of a language which the Saxons and Danes could not fail of bringing with them ; and which, if it had not been thus introduced, the in- habitants of the plains would probably have rejected as obstinately as those of the mountains. But the principal difficulty is to account for the introduc- tion into Scotland, not of the Anglo-Saxon, or C 232 ] Danish, but of the English language ; of that com- pound in which, as Mr Tyrwhitt has justly ob- served, though the scheme andjbrmation were in a great measure Saxon, a large proportion of the elements was French. In the dissemination of this the followers of Edward Atheling were not likely to be instrumental, because, even if it had not been already formed in England, instead of being the result of their expulsion, they could not have wished to introduce into the country which af- forded them an asylum, a language which they must have considered as a badge of slavery. The phraseology of Barbour, of Wyntown, and of James I., (though certainly marked by many peculiarities of dialect) is not less Norman than that of their respective English contemporaries, Chaucer, Hoc- cleve, and Lydgate. In this case, neither the French schools, nor the French laws, nor any part of the tyrannical policy attributed to William the Conqueror, can have had any influence, because Scotland was never reduced under the Norman dominion. As the influx of French words did not begin to produce a sensible change in the language of the English till the beginning, or perhaps the middle, of the thirteenth century, its importation from thence into Scotland ought to be capable of being distinctly [ 233 ] proved. We might expect, too, that as the succes- sive improvements of the common language would pass by slow gradations from the original into the provincial idiom, the compositions of our native bards would be clearly distinguished by superiority of elegance, and that Barbour and Wyntown would, like their successors, avow their obligations to their English models. This, however, is not the case. Wyntown has preserved a short elegiac sonnet on the death of Alexander III. (1285) composed, as it should seem, by a contemporary bard, and far superior to any English song of that early date. It is as follows : When Alexander our king was dead, That Scotland led in love and lee, f Away was sons * of ale and bread, Of wine and wax, ofgamyn and glee : Our gold was changed into lead. Christ ! born into virginity, Succour Scotland and remede, That stad 3 is in perplexity ! [Vol. I. p. 401.] 1 Lie, liasc , joyous, joy, Old Fr. 1 Cent. FT. The gloss, of the Bann. Poems translates it hospitality : cent usually mrans census, tribute ; in some pro- vinces it means a /arm, or tmall domain ; here it seems to mean abundance, or, perhaps, produce. 3 Placed. The noun (stead) still remains in English. [ 234 ] Nether Barbour nor Wyntown make mention of Chaucer or of any anterior English writer, though both are full of references to French authors, whom they seem to consider as perfectly familiar to their readers ; and Barbour expressly terms his poem a romance, a proof that it was written on a French model. Upon the whole, unless we suppose Scotland to have remained perfectly stationary during the pro- gress of all their neighbours in civilization, it is scarcely probable, even if the intercourse with England had never existed, that they could have persevered in retaining without any change the very corrupted Anglo-Saxon dialect of the eleventh century, and which, from that very imperfection, was so susceptible of every necessary addition. If they proceeded to enrich it with new terms, it was natural that they, like the English, should borrow these from the Norman Romance, the most widely diffused and most cultivated language, ex- cepting the Italian, of civilized Europe. It is also evident that> as the French and Scotch were very early united by interest and alliances, the progress of the new language would neither be retarded by that jealousy whichNthe native English entertained of their conquerors, nor would it be checked by a struggle with the Norman, which was spoken at C 235 ] the courts of the English monarch* and of their nobles ; whereas the dialect of the Scotish kings was the same with that of their subjects. This at least may be inferred from the manner in which Wyntown notices the custom of Ed- ward I. of addressing his hearers in French, and from the care with which he records his original words, and afterwards translates them for the be- nefit of his readers. When Sir Anton the Bek had done His speak, the king him answered soon All intUl Prankish, as used he, " Par le sang Dieu, vous avez chante." " By Goddis blood," he said, " ye sang : " So shall not all our gaming gang." (Vol. II. p. 46. See also pages 76, 83, and 87, for similar instances.) Would it be very absurd to suppose that our common language was separately formed in the two countries, and that it has owed its identity to its being constructed of similar materials, by simi- lar gradations, and by nations in the same state of society ? If this opinion should be thought very improbable, must we not, at least, admit that the migration of our language from England into Scot- land has not yet been fully established, and that much remains for the investigation of future anti- quaries ? To return to Barbour. " He seems to have been " born," says Mr Pinkerton, " about the year 1326. " In 1357 it appears, from a passport published by " Rymer, dated the 1 3th day of August in that year, " that he was then archdeacon of Aberdeen. This " passport permits him to go to Oxford, there to " place three scholars to pursue their studies and " scholastic exercises. By a deed, dated the 13th " of September in the same year, also published " by Rymer, we find our author appointed by the " bishop of Aberdeen one of his commissioners " to meet at Edinburgh concerning the ransom of " David II. king of Scotland, then a prisoner in " England. In 1365, Rymer gives us the title of " another passport for John Barbour, archdeacon " of Aberdeen, to go through England, with six " knights in company, to St Denis, near Paris. " All we find further evidenced relating to our " author is, that he died aged, in the year 1396, " as we learn from the chartulary of Aberdeen." Barbour is to be considered in the double cha- racter of historian and poet. In the first, his 12 [ 237 ] authority is quoted by writers who immediately succeeded him as the most authentic that can be adduced ; and Wyntown, in his " Orygynale Cro- nikil," either professedly transcribes, or refers to him, for the whole history of Bruce's reign. But the attentive reader will probably think the au- thenticity of his narrative better established by its own internal evidence than it can be by such ex- ternal testimony. The series of events is not only related with as much attention to chronology as was compatible with any degree of connection, or interest, but is strictly conformable to the known opinions and manners of the time, and clearly il- lustrates the principles of policy by which Ed- ward I. endeavoured to keep possession of Scot- land, and the system of tactics adopted by Bruce, for the purpose of weakening in detail a power which he was unable to combat when united. It is well known that the Anglo-Saxons and Danes, though warlike nations, were very little rersed in the art of constructing or attacking forti- fied places. William the Conqueror, therefore, had filled England with castles, which rendered the position of his forces impregnable ; and Edward I. having over-run the whole low country of Scot- land, adopted the same expedient, and appeared to be equally secure in his usurpation. Here the poem [ 238 ] commences, and Barbour, contemplating the en- slaved condition of his country, breaks out into the following animated lines on the blessings of liberty: Ah ! freedom is a noble thing ! Freedom makes man to have liking ! Freedom all solace to man gives ! He lives at ease, that freely lives ! A noble heart may have none ease, Na ettys * nought that may him please, If freedom fail : for free liking Is yearned* o'er all other thing. Na he that aye has lived free May not know well the property, The anger, na the wretched doom That is coupled to foul thraldom. But, if he had essayed it, Then all perquer 3 he should it toit , And should think freedom more to prize Than all the gold in world that is. Thus contrary things evermare Discoverings of the tother are. (B.I. verse 225.) The misfortunes which attended Bruce during the 1 Nor else. * Eagerly desired. 3 Perfect!? ; parc&ur ? [ 239 ] first years of his reign are well known, but Barbour'* minute details give them a new interest. While his hero is wandering among the mountains after the fatal defeat of Methven, indebted to the ever-in- ventive genius of Sir James Douglas for the scanty supply of game and fish which was barely sufficient for the subsistence of his new adherents ; obliged to separate himself from his queen and family, to traverse the whole country as an outlaw, and to seek an asylum in the unfrequented island of Kuchrin ; his biographer gives a circumstantial detail of his daily difficulties, of his paternal solicitude for his little army, of his personal exploits, and of the pa- tience with which he submitted to more than a soldier's share in the common hardships. In this desperate situation he was relieved from utter ruin by the death of his formidable antagonist Edward I. and the supineness of his successor. But Bruce had already faced his enemies, had formed the plan which he never afterwards abandoned, and had trained his followers to a mode of warfare which could scarcely fail of success. Always watchful, enterprising, and invisible, he fell upon the strag- gling parties of his enemies by rapid and unexpected marches, and easily eluded a contest with dispro- portionate forces, in a country with which he was intimately acquainted, but where they were under [ 240 ] the necessity of trusting to unexperienced or faith- less guides. Though often on the brink of ruin, though actually hunted by blood- hounds, he never despaired. Success gave him new friends, his con- ciliating manners preserved the old ; fort after fort was surprised, or reduced to surrender, and was immediately dismantled, because he was sure of a retreat in his native mountains ; whereas the de- feats of his enemies became irretrievable. It was in these circumstances, and when the whole of Scotland was cleared of his enemies, that he ventured his crown and life in the decisive bat- tle of Bannock-burn, which crushed the whole army, and nearly the courage, of the English. This battle, on which Barbour naturally dwells with considerable exultation, occupies two books, the twelfth and thirteenth ; and the remaining se- ren contain the exploits of Edward Bruce in Ire- land ; the several predatory incursions into Eng- land, which were undertaken by Douglas, Mur- ray, and other leaders ; the death of Douglas in Spain ; and all the remaining incidents of Robert Bruce's reign. In describing the campaign in Ireland, in which the king had marched an army to the assistance of his brother, Barbour suddenly stops to relate an anecdote which a monkish historian would pro- bably have thought beneath the dignity of history ; C i 3 but the simple and affectionate heart of our poet would have prompted him to risk a much greater indecorum for the purpose of illustrating the hu- mane character of his hero. The king was at this time preparing to return with his army from the south of Ireland towards Carrickfergus. And when that they all ready were, The king has heard a woman cry ; He asked what that was in hy. 1 " I^is the layndar,* sir," said one, " That her child-ill right now has tane : " And moo leave now behind us here ; " Therefore she makes yon evil cheer." The king said, " Certs, it were pity " That she in that point left should be ; " For certs, I trow there is no man " That he ne will rue a woman than." His host all there arrested he, And gert 3 a tent soon stinted 4 be ; And gert her gang in hastily, And other women to be her by. While she was delivered, he bade, And syne forth on his way is rade, 1 In haste. a Layndar, or lavender, a laundress, washer-woman. La~ tendiere, Fr. 8 Caused. * Stretched. VOL. I. Q [ 242 ] And, how she forth should carried be, Or ever he forth fur, * ordained he. This was a full great courtesy ! That ftvilk a king and so mighty Gert his men dwell on this manner But for a poor lavender ! [B. XVI. verse 270.] This little incident, and innumerable details con- tained in Barbour's narrative, shew that it must have been very principally compiled from the relations of eye-witnesses. Hence the variety in his descrip- tions of battles, which are as much diversified as the scenery of the country where they were fought. But a soldier will sometimes exaggerate the exploits of a leader in whose glory he participates ; and Barbour was occasionally in a very awkward di- lemma between his love of veracity and his fear of depreciating the value of a hero to whom, in his own opinion, no efforts were impossible. Of this there is a curious instance in the beginning of the sixth Book, where Bruce singly discomfits a body of two hundred men of Galloway, of whom he kills fourteen. Barbour seems to have hesitated ; but fortunately his learning comes in aid of his propen- sity : he recollects a parallel instance in the history of Thebes, relates it much at length, and thus si- 1 Fared. [ 24S ] Icnces all his scruples : those of his readers proba- bly would hive been still more easily satisfied. Barbour's poetical character cannot be more cor- rectly described than in the words of his editor. " Here indeed," says Mr Pinkerton, " the reader " will find few of the graces of fine poetry, little of " the Attic dress of the Muse ; but here are life, and " spirit, and ea^e, and plain sense, and pictures of " real manners, and perpetual incident, and enter- " tainment. The language is remarkably good for " the time ; and far superior, in neatness and ele- " gance, even to that of Gawin Douglas, who " wrote more than a century after/* The following extract from the Bruce is selected, not as giving the most brilliant specimen of Bar- bour's poetical talent, but as forming a distinct epi- sode, and consequently possessing an independent interest ; and because it is sufficiently long to af- ford a fair estimate of the poet's general style and language, and is an example of the fashionable mode of argument in that story-telling age, when apologue was necessary even in the eloquence of the pulpit, and employed in the discussion of the fate of armies and of empires. Douglas is represented as dissuading Murray from hazarding a battle against the superior forces of Edward III. [ 244 ] The Lord Douglas said, " By Saint Bride, " It were great folly at this tide " Till us with stvilk an host to fight : " It growis, ilka day, of might, " And has victual therewith plenty ; " And in their country here are we, " Where there may come us no succours ; " Hard is to make us here rescours ;* " Na we us mayferrar * meat to get : " Swilk as we have here we mon eat. " Do we with our foes therefore, " That are here lyand us before, " As ich heard tell this other year " That a fox did with a fisher." " How did the fox ?" the earl gan say. He said, " A fisher whilom lay " Besides a river, for to get " His nets that he had therin set. " A little lodge thereby he made ; " And there-within a bed he had, And a little fire also. " A door there \vas,jbroutyn 3 mo. " A nighty his nettis for to see, " He rose ; and there well long dwelt he. 1 Rescue. Fr. * Farther. * Without. [ 245 ] " And when he had done his deed, " Toward his lodge again he yeid ,* ' " And, with light of the little fire, " That in the lodge was brynand* sckyr, 3 " Intill his lodge a fox he saw, " That fast on a salmon gan gnaw. " Then till the door he went in hy, " And drew his sword deliverly : " And said, ' Reiffar ! you mon here out 1* " The fox, that was in full great doubt, " Looked about, some hole to see; " But none issue perceive couth he, " But where the man stood sturdily. " A lauchtane* mantle then him by " Lyand upon the bed he saw ; " And with his teeth he gan it draw " Outo'er the fire : and when the man " Saw his mantle lye brynand than, *' To rid it ran he hastily. " The fox got out then in great hy, " And held his way his -warrand 6 till. " The man let him beguiled ill, t ' Went, hied. * Hurning. 3 Clear. Anglo-Sax, seyrc. 4 Be- reaver, reaver, robber. 5 Mr Pinkerton is unable to explain this word. Query, if it be Lout/nan, the place where it was manufactured, or where such mantles were usually worn ? ? Place of security. Garant.fr. Warrant, warren, ling. [ 246 ] " That he his good salmon had tynt, * " And also had his mantle brynt ; * ' " And the fox scaithless 3 got away. " This ensample well I may say " By yon host and us that are here : " We are the fox ; and they the fisher, " That steks *farouth * us the way. " They ween we may na get away, " But right where they lie. But, pardie, " All as they think it shall not be ; " For I have gert see us a gate 6 " (Suppose that it be some deal wet) " A page of ours we shall not tyne. 7 " Our foes, for this small truantine, 8 " Meanis well we shall pride us siaa 9 " That we plainly on hand shall ta I0 " To give them openly bataill : " But at this time their thought shall fail. 1 Lost. * Burnt ; in old English, brent. The place of the vnwel 4D s uch words was, during u long period, undetermined. 3 Without harm. 4 Bars, shuts. 5 Before. 6 Way. 7 Lose. 8 Wandering. Fr. It seems to mean, " Our foes hope " that, to avoid this little circuit, we shall be so proud as to " give them battle." 9 So. 10 Take. C 247 ] " For we tomorn here all the day " Shall make us merry as we may ; " And make us boon again the night ; " And then ger make our fires light, *' And blow our hornys, and make fare " As all the world our owne were, " While that the night well fallen be ; *' And then, with all our harness, we " Shall take our way homeward in hi/. " And we shall gyit * be graithly, * " While we be out of their dangere " That lyes now enclosed here. " Then shall we all be at our will : " And they shall let them trumpet ill, " Fra they tvyt well we be away." To this wholly assented they. [B. XIX. verse 635.] The story here told by Douglas has every ap- pearance of being a French fabliau : and Harbour has unquestionably borrowed from the same lan- guage the romance of Fierabras, which the king relates to his followers during their tedious passage of Loch Lomond (See Book III. v. 435. edit. 1790.) It is not transcribed here, because it 1 GtiUed. * Cautioiul v- 5 [ 248 ] unnecessary to multiply extracts from a work which is so easily attainable : it might, indeed, be proper to apologize for the length of the foregoing speci- men, but that the capricious and obsolete ortho- graphy of the ancient MS. to which Mr Pinker- ton assures us he has (with great propriety) scru- pulously adhered, may possibly have deterred ma- ny readers from attempting to peruse this very cu- rious and entertaining historical poem. 24-9 ] CHAPTER X. Reign of Henry IV. Andrew of Wyntown Extracts from his Chronicle of Scotland. Thomas Hoccleve. Anonymous English Poetry. OF WYNTOWN claims a place in our catalogue of English poets in consequence of ha- ving written, in tolerable eight-syllable verse, and in very pure language, his " Orygynale Cronykil of Scotland" from the creation of the world to the year 14O8. This is a very curious work, of which a most sumptuous and apparently correct edition (in 2 vols. large 8vo,) from a comparison of the best MSS. has lately (1795) been given to the public by Mr Macpherson, together with a list of various readings, many valuable historical notes, a copious index, and a most useful glossary. All the information that the learned editor has been able to collect respecting his author amounts to this : that Andrew of Wyntown was a canon regular of the priory of St Andrews, and that, in or before the year 1395, he was, by the favour of his fellow-canons, elected prior of the monastery [ 250 ] Of St Serf's island, in Loch-Levin, one of the most ancient religious establishments in Scotland. As he was not likely to be chosen for such an office in very early youth, and as he complains much of the infirmities of age while occupied in his Chro- nicle, which appears from internal evidence to have been finished between the years 14-20 and 14-24-, he was probably born not long after the middle of the fourteenth century. With respect to his poetical talents, the opinion of his editor is, that " though his work in general " partakes little or nothing of the nature of poetry, " unless rhyme can be said to constitute poetry, yet " he now and then throws in some touches of true " poetic description." This, indeed, seems to be as much as can be fairly expected from a metrical annalist ; for dates and numerals are of necessity unpoetical ; and, perhaps, the ablest modern versi- fier who should undertake to enumerate in metre the years of our Lord in only one century would feel some respect for the ingenuity with which Wyntown has contrived to vary his rhymes through- out such a formidable chronological series as he has ventured to encounter. His genius is certain- ly inferior to that of his predecessor, Barbour ; but, at least, his versification is easy, his language pure, and his style often animated. As an historian, he [ 251 J is highly valuable ; but, perhaps, it may be more amusing to the reader to examine him both as a narrator and as a poet in the early and nearly fabulous part of his work, for which purpose some extracts are here selected from his history of Macbeth. It is well known that Shakspeare's immediate model was Holinshed, who abridged the work of Bellenden, translated from the Latin of Boyse. Wyntown's narrative is in some respects very dif- ferent, and, in one instance at least, is much more dramatic. This author gives the following as the popular and fabulous account of Macbeth's parentage : But, as we find by some stories, Gotten he was on * ,ferly* wise. His mother to woods made oft repair For the delight of wholesome air. So she past upon a day Til a wood, her for to play; She met of case 3 with a fair man (Ne'er none so fair as she thought fhan Before then had she seen with sight,) Of beauty pleasant, and of height ID. * Wonderful. 3 By chance ; per cat. Fr. 12 C 252 ] Proportion'd well, in all measure, Of limb and lyth T a fair figure. In sivilfc acquaintance so they fell, That, thereof shortly for to tell, (Vol. I. p. 227.) The reader certainly has foreseen that this very, beautiful man was no other than the devil, who became the father of Macbeth, as he had, some centuries before, become the father of Merlin ; and who presented to his paramour a ring, in token that their future son should be a great man, and that " No man should be born of wife " Of power to 'reave him his life." Macbeth's ambition is excited, not by actually meeting the weird sisters, but, by a dream : A night z he thought in his dreaming That sittand 3 he was beside the king At a seat in hunting : so Intil his leash had grey-hounds two. He thought, while he was so sittand, He saw three women by gangand ; *. 1 Joint; lilhaneaso. Goth. 2 t. e. one night. 3 Sitting : and is the old Saxon as well as French termi- nation of the participle. * Going. [ 253 ] And they " women then thought he Three weird sisters most like to be. The first he- heard say, gangand by, '* Lo ! yonder the thane of Crumbauchty !" The 'tother woman said again, " Of Moray yonder I see the thane." The third then said, " I see the king." All this he heard in his dreaming. Soon after that, in his youth-head, Of thyr * thanedoms he thane was made ; Syne next he thought to be king, Fra 3 Duncan's days had ta'en ending. The fantasy thus of his dream Moved him most to slay his emef As he did all forth indeed, As before he heard me rede, And dame Gruok his erne's wife Took, and led with her his life, And held her both his wife and queen. (Vol. I. p. 225.) The story of Lady Macbeth, therefore, seems to have been afterwards added. Duncan's two legi- timate sons and Malcolm (who it seems was illc- 1 These, or those : in the original thai, * TNese. 3 From ; from the time when; as soon as. 4 Uncle. Anglo-Sax. [ 254- ] gitimate) fly to England : but the enmity between the usurper and Macduff has a separate origin. Macbeth, according to Wyntown, meaning to fortify the hill at Dunsinnane, pressed all the teams in the neighbourhood, and having observed some oxen, the property of Macduff, to fail in their work, he threatened " despiteously" to put Macduff J s own neck into the yoke. The subse- quent conduct of the thane of Fife is thus minute- ly and curiously related : Fra the thane Macbeth heard speak That he would put in yoke his neck, Of all his thought he made no song ; But privily out of the throng With slight he got ; and the spensere x A loaf him gave till his suppere. And, as soon as he might see His time and opportunity, Out of the court he past, and ran, And that loaf bare with him than To the water of Erin. That bread He gave the boat-wards, him to lead, And on the south half him to set But * delay or any let. 1 Le dispensier ; the dispenser of provision*. * Without; be-out. Sax. [ 255 ] That passage call'd was after than Longtime PORT NEBARYAN; The HAVEN OF BREAD that should be Called in-tyl property. (Vol. I. p. 230.) Then follows a fine Gothic incident. Macduff, aware that his flight would be discovered, and that he shpuld be immediately pursued, pusses through Fife to his strong castle of Kennauchy, a ; id then proceeds to hasten the march of the English forces ; having first apprised his wife of his intention, and directed her to " hold Macbeth in fair treaty" till she should discover a boat sailing to the south- ward ; at sight of which she should inform the king that his enemy was escaped to England, but would speedily meet him in arms at Dunsinnane. Til Kennauchy Macbeth came soon, Andfehiy ' great there would been done ; But this lady with fair treaty His purpose letted 1 done to be. And soon,y> she the sail up saw Then til Macbeth with little awe She said, " Macbeth look up, and sec, " Under you sail forsooth is he, " The thane of Fife whom thou host sought. " Trow thou well, and doubt right nought, ; Ftlonie. Fr. ; crtieltv. * 1'revi'nti-tl. [ 256 ] " If ever thou shall see him again, " He shall thee set intil great pain ; " Syne thou would have put his neck " Intil the yoke. Now will I speak " With thee no more : fare on thy way, " Either well, or ill, as happen may." (P. 232.) Had Shakspeare met with this spirited scene, he would probably have been glad to contrast the heroine of Fife with the ferocious Lady Macbeth, as well as to have saved the miserable contrivance of sending three murderers to destroy the wife and children of a powerful thane in a fortified and garrisoned castle. The conversation between Malcolm and Mac- duff, (Shaksp. Act IV. Scene I.,) and the incident of Birnam wood, are told nearly in the same way by Holinshed and Wyntown : only the death of Macbeth is attributed not to Macduff, but to a certain knight, who had been brought into the world by means of the Caesarean operation. Thejlyttand 1 wood they called aye That, long time after-hand that day. Of this when he had seen that sight, He was right wo, and took the flight : 1 Moving. C 257 ] And o'er the Mount they chas'd him than Til the wood of Lunfanan. This MacdufF was there most fell, And on that chace then most cruel. * But a knight, that in that chace Til this Macbeth then nearest was, Macbeth turned him again, And said, " Lurdane, 3 thou pricks in vain : " For thou may nought be he, I trow, '* That to dead shall slay me now. " That man is not born of wife " Of power to reave me of my life.*' The knight said, " I was never born, " But of my mother's womb was shorn. " Now shall thy treason here take end, " For to thy father I shall thee send." [P. 239.] The last line seems to contain an allusion to Mac- beth's supposed birth, and to be a return for the injurious appellation of lurdane. Wyntown, in his account of king Arthur, men- tions, among the historians of his gests, an author who is totally unknown to our poetical antiquaries. ' The hill, i. e. the mountains now commonly called tbc Grampian*. * Keen, steady. 3 Clumsy fellow; lour Join. Old FT. VOL. I. R C 258 .3 He calls him " HUCHOWN OF THE AWLE RYALE," and tells us that He made the great gest of Arthure, And the aventure of Gawane ; The 'pistle ah of sweet Susane. [Vol. I. p. 122.] Mr Macpherson seems to think that Huchown ( Hugh ) may be the Christian name of the Clerk of Tranent, " That made the aventures of Sir Gawane."* [D unbar 's Lament, Bannatyne Poems, p. 76.] But perhaps he was the author of the Norman ori- ginal, and Wyntovra's anxiety to establish the au- thenticity of his narrative may be explained by his general fondness for exploits of chivalry, a sub- ject on which he always dwells with pleasure. The love of tournaments, indeed, seems to have been carried almost to madness in Scotland, as well as in England, before the general adoption of fire- arms ; as will appear from Wyntown's account of these exhibitions at Berwick about the year 1338. But we must first exhibit the state of the country at the time of this festivity. * Air Pinkerton, in the " Preliminaries" to his " Scotish " Poems," (p. xxxv. note) suggests, " that this poet is Sir " Hew of Eglinton, mentioned by Dunbar as preceding " Winton in time." [ 259 ] About Perth then was the country So waste, that wonder was to see ; For intil well great space thereby Was neither house left, na kerbry.* Of deer there was then steilkfoyso-uan z That they would near come to the town. So great default was near that stead, That many were in hunger dead. A carl, they said, was near thereby, That would set settys 3 commonly Children and women for to sla, 4 And swains that he might over-ta, * And eat them all that he get might ; Christian Klek tyl name he hight. 6 That sorry life continued he While waste, but 7 folk, was the country. [Vol. II. p. 236.] Such were the consequences of war in the rich neighbourhood of Perth ; and the " Forest," the scene of Douglas's exploits, and the environs of Berwick, were not likely to be much better culti- vated, when Sir Henry of Lancaster, earl of Derby, impatient of the inactivity attendant on a truce, 1 Harbour, lodging ; llcrbcnger. Fr. * Plenty, Fr. 3 Traps. * Slay. 3 Overtake. Was called. 7 WitlioHt. [ 260 ] repaired to the frontiers to request of Douglas " three courses of war." This justing, though it ended without bloodshed, was so satisfactory to all parties, that it produced a second, in which twenty combatants appeared on a side. Upon the morn, when that they * were Makand them boon, z himself* came there, And found all open the entry ; And, nought-worthy ; 4 there knocked he, Without the door all privily ; While Ramsay til him came in hy And gert him enter. Soon then he Said, " God mot at your liking be !" Syne said he, " Lords, on what mannere " Will ye run at this justing here ?" " With plate shieldis," said Ramsay, " As it affairs 5 to this play." " Ah siris, by our Lord," said he, " So should no man here prized be, * f For none til other might do ill : " But, and 6 it likand were you til " As men hostayis 7 for to ryn, 8 " So might men price of worship win." 1 The Scotch knights. * Ready. 3 The earl of Derby. 4 Nevertheless. s Belongs ; afferis, Original. 6 If. 7 Enemies? 8 Run. [ 261 ] Quod Alexander the Ramsay, " It shall like til us all, parfay, " That ilk man ryn his fellow til In kirtle " alone, if that ye will." The earl said then debonairly, " Nay, that is all too hard truly.'* Quod William of the Towers than, *' Sir, gyve ye na will let ilk man " Ryn all bare visage, and ye " Who eschews first right soon shall see." The earl said meekly, " Siris, nay, " Yet that is all too hard, parfay : " But, as i said you, will ye do ? " There should some price follow us to." Thereto they all gave their consent, And he forth til his fellows went. [Vol. II. p. 221.] This tournament, the description of which occu- pies about a hundred lines, must have been very magnificent, for two English knights were killed, one of the Scotish knights died of his wounds, and another, Sir William the Ramsay, had his head pierced with a spear, so that a priest was sent for to receive his confession, which he gave without taking off his helmet ; a circumstance which " the 1 Under-garment ; tunic. Anglo-Sax. [ 262 ] good earl of Derby" considered as so very agree* able, that he exclaimed I would God of his grace would send To me on siilk manere to end ! (P. 223.) But the preceding extract was transcribed chiefly because it gives such a minute description of the ceremonies which constituted the politeness or " courtesy" of our ancestors. The Scotish knights, we see, kept their door constantly open, but Lord Derby was too great a proficient in civility to enter without an express invitation. The open door, it seems, was indispensable on such occasions, as being a symbol of knightly hospitality; and for this reason it is carefully noted by our author on another occasion. In 1408 the Earl of Mar passed ever into France With a noble company Well array 'd and daintily, Knights and squires, great gentlemen, &c. ****** In Paris he held & royal state, At the sign known the Tin-plate ; All the time that he was there Bidandy T twelve weeks full and mare. 1 Abiding, dwelling. [ 263 ] DOOR AND GATE BOTH GERT HE AYE STAND OPEN, that men might se * Enter all time at their pleas ance, Til eat or drink, or sing or dance. Of all nations generally Commended he was greatumly Of wit, virtue, and largess. (Vol. II. p. 4-24. J Many more particulars respecting tournaments may be found in the account of Sir David Lind- say's duel with " the Lord of the Wellis," (Vol. II. p. 353, ) and in other parts of the work. Upon the whole, Wyntown's Chronicle is cer- tainly a valuable acquisition to our stock of early literature. It is a curious specimen of language and poetry, and contains much information for the historical antiquary. The more indolent reader will perhaps be amused to observe the instances of our holy prior's credulity : as, for instance, the miracles related to St Serf (Vol. I. p. 130) ; a still more singular miracle (I. 152) ; the story of Pope Joan (I. 165); the tales in the thirteenth chapter of book vi. (1. 194) ; and the story of Matilda, wife of our Henry I., which is usually applied to the Lady Godiva (II. 50.) Tlu's credulity, however, was the [ 264- ] characteristic of the age rather than of the writer : and a knowledge of the opinions and prejudices of mankind is always a necessary comment on their actions. From a want of this knowledge, which no ingenuity can bestow, and which, from the scantiness of original materials, no diligence can acquire, our modern surveys of history are always to -a certain degree insipid. The distance from which we view the scene of action is too great ; the principal groups may remain, but the features and countenances vanish. Those, therefore, who are so inquisitive as to wish for the portraits of the actors must consult the gossipping histories of contem- porary writers ; must associate with Froissart and Wyntown, submit to the punctilio and formality of the times, and listen to long stories with compla- cency and patience. Of Wyntown's English contemporaries there is only one whose name has descended to posterity. This is THOMAS OCCLEVE, or HOCCLEVE, " a fee- ** ble writer," says Mr Warton, " considered as a " poet : and his chief merit seems to be, that his " writings contributed to propagate and establish " those improvements in our language, which were " now beginning to take place. He was educated " in the municipal law, as were both Chaucer and " Gower ; and it reflects no small degree of ho- 265 ] " nour on that very liberal profession, that its stu- " dents were some of the first who attempted to " polish and adorn the English tongue." Since the publication of Mr Warton's history, a selection from Hoccleve's poems has been printed by Mr Mason, and has proved the justice of the foregoing criticism. The most favourable specimen of Hoccleve's poetry is his Story ofJonathas, which the reader will find in the " Shepherd's Pipe," by William Browne, author of Britannia's Pastorals. As it is not easy to select a tolerable extract from this writer, I shall here insert two specimens of contemporary though anonymous poetry, both of which possess considerable merit. The first is taken from Mr Ritson's very curious collection of Ancient Songs, p. 44. " Again my iciU I take my leave" Now Bairnes buirdes* bold and blithe, To blessen you here now am I bound ; I thank you all a thousand sithe* And pray God save you whole and sound. 1 Bairnt are gentlemen, barons ; buird, bird, or bride, it a common name for young women : but perhaps the word in (his place may be an abbreviation of brydesl. Sax. most noble. * Tiiut-s. [ 266 ] Where'er ye go, on grass of ground, He you govern withouten greve ! * For friendship that I here have found, Again my will I take my leave. For friendship, and for giftes good, For meat and drink so great plenty, That Lord that raught * was on the rood,* He keep this comely company : On sea or land, where that ye be, He govern you withouten greve ; So good disport ye han * made me> Again my will I take my leave. Again my will although I wend, I may not alway dwellen here : For every thing shall have an end, And friendes are not aye y-feref Be we never so lief and dear, Out of this world all shall we meve ; * And when we busk 7 unto our bier Again our will we take our leave. 1 Griefc * Stretched, 3 Cross. 4 Have. 5 Together. * Move, remote, Go. E 267 ] And wend we shall : I wot ne'er when, Ne whither-ward that we shall fare : But endless bliss, or aye to bren,* To every man is yarked yare* For this, I rede, 3 each man beware ; And let our work our wordes preve,* So that no sin our soulforfare 5 When that our life hath taken his leave. When that our life his leave hath lauht, 6 Our body lieth bounden by the w&iue, 7 Our riches all from us be raft, In clottes could our corse is throw. Where are thy friends ? who will thee know ? Let see who will thy soul relieve ? I rede thee, man, ere thou lie low, Be ready aye to take thy leave. Be ready aye, whate'er befall, AH suddenly lest thou be kiht : * Thou tvost 9 ne'er when thy Lord will call ; Look that thy lamp be brenning bright. 1 Burn. 2 Prepared, ready. 3 Advise. 4 Prove. J Forfeit, lose, destroy. 6 Left, i. r. taken. 7 Wow, is care, misery, &c. ; but the construction is by o means clear. * Caugbt. " Known t. C 268 3 For 'leoe l me well, but thou have light, Right foul thy Lord will thee repreve, And fame * thee far out of his sight, For all too late thou took thy leave. Now God that was in Bethlem bore, 3 He give us grace to serve him so, That we may come his face to-fore,* Out of this world when we shall go ; And for to amend that we mis-do, In clay or that we cling and cleave ; And make us even with friend and foe, And in good time to take our leave. Now haveth good day, good men all, Haveth good day, both great and small, Haveth good day, both great and small, And graunt-merci s a thousand fold ! Gif 6 ever I might, full fain I wold Don 7 ought that were unto you levef Christ keep you out of cares cold ! For now is time to take my leave. 1 Believe. * Banish. Sax. 3 Born. * Before. 5 Grand-merci, Fr. gramraercy, thanks. 6 If. 7 Doen, do. 8 Lie/, agreeable. 6 [ 269 ] The second poem is of a very different cast : it is a transcript from the Cotton MS. Galb. E. ix. " perhaps," says Mr Warton, (III. p. 93,) " coeval " with Chaucer, which describes the power of mo- " ney with great humour, and in no common vein " of satire." Incipit Narratio de Domino Denario. In earth it is a little thing, And reigns ah a riche king, Where he is lent in land : SIR PENNY is his name call'd : He makes both young and aid Bow untill his hand. Popes, kings, and emperours, Bishops, abbots, and priours, Parson, priest, and knight, Dukes, earls, and ilk baroiin, To serve him they are full boun f Both by day and night. Sir Penny changes manes mood, And gars * them oft do down their hood, And to rise him again : } 1 Boon, ready. * Cantts. ' Against, before him. 270 ] Men honours him with great reverence, Makes full mickle obedience Unto that little swain. In kinges court is it no boot Against Sir Penny for to moot ; T So mickle is he of might : He is so witty and so strong, That be it never so mickle wrong, He will make it right. With Penny may men women till, * Be they never so strange of will ; So oft may it be seen j Long with him will they not chide, For he may ger them trail side 3 In good scarlet and green. He may buy both heaven and hell, And ilka thing that is to sell, In earth has he sivilk grace : He may lese, and he may bind, The poor are aye put behind Where he comes in place. 1 Plead. * Approach, gain. * Wear trailing gowns ? [ 271 ] When he begins him to mell, He makes meek that ere was fell, And weak that bold has been : All the needs full soon are sped, Both withouten borgh and tued f Where Penny goes between. The domes-men * he makes so blind, That hi may not the right find, Ne the sooth to see ; For to give doom them is full lath, 5 Therewith to make Sir Penny wrath ; Full dear with them is he. There strife was Penny makes peace, Of all angers he may release, In land where he will lend ; Of foes may he make friendes sad, Of counsel there them never be rod* That may have him to friend. That sire is set on high dess, And served with many rich mess At the high board : 1 Borrowing and pledging. * Judgd. ' Loth. * Void. 12 [ 272 3 The more he is to men plenty, The more yernid * alway is he, And holden dear in hoard. He makes many be forsworn, And some life and soul forlorn, Him to get and win : Other good will they none have But that little round knave Their bales * for to blin. 3 On him wholly their heart is set, Him for to love will they not let Neither for good ne ill ; All that he will in earth have done, Ilka man grants it full soon Right at his own will : He may both lend and give, He may ger both slay and live, Both by frith and fell. Penny is a good fellaw, Men welcomes him in deed and sau t s Come he never so oft ; 1 Desired. a Misfortunes. 3 End, terminate. 4 By water and land. 5 Words. [ 273 ] He is not welcom'd as a guest, But evermore serv'd with the best, And made at sit full soft. Whoso is sted in any need, With Sir Penny may they speed, Howsoever they betide : He that Sir Penny is withal, Shall have his will in steed and stall, When other are set beside. Sir Penny gers in rich weed Full many go, and ride on steed, In this world wide ; In ilka gamin and ilka play The mastery is given aye To Penny for his pride. Sir Penny over all gets the gre, ' Both in burgh and in city, In castle and in tower : Withouten either spear or shield, Is he the best in frith or field, And stalworthest * in stour. 3 1 Degree, step: Boldest, strongest, 3 Fight, battle. VOL. I. S r* ] In ilka place the sooth is seen, Sir Penny is over albidene * Master most in mood ; And all is as he will command, Against his steven '' dare no man stand, Neither by land ne flood. Sir Penny may full mickle avail, To them that has need of counsail, As seen is in atsise : 3 He lenkeths 4 life, and saves from dead* s But love it not overwell, 1 rede, For sin of covetise ! If thou have hap tresdur to win, Delight thee not too mickle therein, Ne nything 6 thereof be : But spend it as well as thou can, So that thou love both God and man In perfect charity. God grant us grace, with heart and will, The goods that he has given us til Well and wisely to spend ; * Altogether. a Voice. 3 In courts of judicature. * Lengthens, * Death. 6 Careless. [ 275 } And so our lives here for to lead, That we may have his bliss to meed, Ever, without end. Amen* The praise of Sir Penny appears to have been a favourite subject with the northern minstrels ; for a poem with the same title is to be found in Lord Hailes's Collection, p. 153 ; and another in AJr Ritson's Ancient Songs, p. 76. C 276 ] CHAPTER XI. Reign of Henry V, Life of Lydgate Cha- racter of his Writings Specimens of his Troy Book. AMONG the immediate successors of Chaucer, in England, the celebrated JOHN LYDGATE is con- fessedly the most tolerable. The time of his birth is not exactly known ; but the documents extract- ed by Mr Warton from a register of the church of Bury in the Cotton library will ascertain it with sufficient precision. It appears that he was ordain- ed a sub-deacon in 1389; a deacon in 1393 ; and a priest in 1397 : so that if we suppose him to have received the first ordination at fourteen years of age, he cannot have been born latter than 1375 : that is to say, twenty -five years before the death of Chaucer. This date naturally assigns him to the reign of Henry V., at whose command he under- took his metrical history of the siege of Troy, the best and most popular of his almost innumerable productions. Few writers have been more admired by their contemporaries ; yet none have been treated with C 27? 3 more severity by modern critics. The learned editor of the Reliques of Ancient Poetry men- tions him with compassionate contempt : Mr Ritson ridicules his " cart-loads" of poetical rub- bish : * and Mr Pinkerton considers him as posi- tively stupid. Mr Warton alone has thought it worth while to study him with much attention, or to attempt a general discussion of his literary character; and his opinion is well worth tran- scribing. " He was a monk of the Benedictine abbey of " Bury in Suffolk After a short education at " Oxford, he travelled into France and Italy ; and " returned a complete master of the language and * Habits of closer intimacy do not appear to have alter- ed Mr Ritson's opinion or softened his language with re- spect to the unfortunate L)an John of Bury. Having in a late publication taken the pains to search out and enumerate Lydgale's works, genuine or supposititi- ous, to the almost incredible number of 251, our critic styles him "a most prolix and voluminous poetaster," a" prosaick, " and drivelling monk," and proscribes, " his stupid and " fatiguing productions, which by no means deserve the " name of poetry," " his elaborate drawlings, in which there " are scarcely three lines together of pure and acuratc " metre," " and their stil more stupid and disgusting author, " who disgraces the name and patronage of his master " Chaucer," as " neither worth collecting, nor even wor- " Iliy of preservation." Bibliog. Poet, p. 00, &c. [ 278 ] " the literature of both countries. He chiefly " studied the Italian and French poets, particular- " ly Dante, Boccacio, and Alain Chartier ; and " became so distinguished a proficient in polite " learning, thathe opened a school in his monastery, " for teaching the sons of the nobility the arts of " versification and the elegancies of composition. " Yet, although philology was the object, he was *' not unfamiliar with the fashionable philosophy : " he was not only a poet and a rhetorician, but a " geometrician, an astronomer, a theologist, and a " disputant. On the whole, I am of opinion, that " Lydgate made considerable additions to those " amplifications of our language, in which Chau- " cer, Gower, and Occleve, led the way : and " that he is the first of our writers whose style is " clothed with that perspicuity, in which the " English phraseology appears at this day to an " English reader. " To enumerate Lydgate's pieces would be to " write the catalogue of a little library. No poet " seems to have possessed a greater versatility of " talents. He moves with equal ease in every " mode of composition. ' His hymns and his bal- " lads have the same degree of merit : and whether " his subject be the life of a hermit or a hero, of " Saint Austin or Guy Earl of Warwick, ludicrous C 279 3 u or legendary, religious or romantic, a history " or an allegory, he writes with facility. His " transitions were rapid from works of the most " serious and laborious kind to sallies of levity " and pieces of popular entertainment. His muse 44 was of universal access ; and he was not only ** the poet of his monastery, but of the world in " general. If a disguising was intended by the " company of goldsmiths, a mask before his raajes- " ty at Eltham, a may-game for the sheriffs and " aldermen of London, a mumming before the " lord-mayor, a procession of pageants from the " creation for the festival of Corpus Christi, or a " carol for the coronation, Lydgate was consulted, " and gave the poetry. " His manner is naturally verbose and diffuse. " This circumstance contributed in no small de- " gree to give a clearness and a fluency to his " phraseology. For the same reason he is often " tedious and languid. His chief excellence is in " description, especially where the subject admits " a flowery diction. He is seldom pathetic, or " animated." Lydgate's most esteemed works are, his Story of Thebes, his Fall of Princes, and his History, Siege, and Destruction of Troy. The Story of Thebes, which Speght has printed in his edition of Chaucer, and which was intended C 280 ] as a continuation of the Canterbury Tales; con- tains some poetical passages, which Mr Warton has extracted. But Lydgate's style, though natural, and sometimes rich, does not possess that strength and conciseness which is observable in the works of his master. It is dangerous for a mere versifier to attempt the completion of a plan which has been begun by a poet. Lydgate's poem is not Jong ; but it is possible to be tedious in a very small compass. The Fall of Princes, or " Boke of John Bochas," (first printed in 1494 by Pinson, and several times since,) is a translation from Boccacio, or rather from a French paraphrase of his work " De Casi- bus Virorum et Feminarum illustrium," written by Laurent de Premierfait, which was originally printed at Bruges in 1476, and at Lyons in 1483. Lydgate's poem was probably useful, when first written, as a book of reference, to those who could not consult the original ; but the day of its popu- larity is past. The Troy Book, however, containing (as Marshe's title-page assures us) "the onely trewe and syncere " Chronicle of the warres betwixt the Grecians and " the Troyans/'deservesmore consideration. Being a translation from Colonna's prose history, which contained the substance of Dares Phrygius and Dictys Cretensis, it comprises all the materials of [ 281 ] one class of romantic history, and is valuable as a specimen of the learning, as well as of the cre- dulity, of our ancestors. The story is so much connected with our early studies ; that story is so comically adapted to the usages and manners of chivalry ; its author is so minute and circumstan- tial in describing events which never happened ; is so precise in his dates and numbers ; so full of event and bustle ; and so prodigal of ornament ; that if this poem be no longer resorted to by common readers as a source of amusement, it is, perhaps, only because two close columns of black letter, presenting ninety lines in a page, are too formidable to be encountered by any eyes but those of a veteran in antiquarian researches. The most esteemed edition of this work is that of 1555, printed by Thomas Marshe, under the care of one Robert Braham, who corrected it from many errors of the original edition given by Pin- son in 1513. It has been already observed, that Lydgate undertook this poem at the request of Henry V. when Prinde of Wales : it was begun in 14-12, and finished in 1420. The first of these dates is rather oddly expressed in the following lines : And of the time to maken mention When I began on this translation, 282 j It was the yeare, soothly for to sayn, Fourteen complete tho of his father's reign'. The time of yeare, shortly to conclude, When twenty 'grees was Phebus' altitude. The hour, when he hath made his steedes draw His rosen chariot low under the wawe To bathe his beames, &c. (Prologue.) Here " the year fourteen complete" must mean the fourteenth^ i. e. 1412 ; for Henry IV., who be- gan his reign in September 1399, and died in March 14 13, did not reign fourteen complete years. The remainder of the description, though now rather obscure, was certainly intended to ex- press very exactly the moment at which Lydgate began his poem ; and was probably intelligible to contemporary readers. Judicial astrology was then in vogue ; and he was anxious to prove that he had commenced his operation at a lucky moment. His work, perhaps, may not give us reason to believe in the poetical influence of the stars; but we must at least approve his modesty, in trusting the perfection of his verses to good fortune rather than to genius. Every one knows that Laomedon, King of Troy, had the rashness to offend Jason and Hercules, who stopped in his country on their way to Colchis ; C 283 ] and that Hercules revenged this " uncourtesy" by destroying the city of Troy. Such an episode in the adventures of the Argonauts naturally connects the second Trojan war with their expedition, which is therefore related by Lydgate as minutely as if he had been their ship-mate, and had kept a journal of the voyage. The following lines describe part of the ceremonial used by King Oetes, after Ja- son's first audience : The time approacheth, and gan to nigh fast. That officers full busily the:n cat To m ke ready, with all their busy cure, And in the halle border * for to cure. * For by the dial the hour they gan to mark That Phoebus southward whirled up his ark, So high alofte that it drew to none ; That it was time for the king to gone Unto his meat, and enter into hall. And then Oetes, with his lordes all, And with his knights about him every one, With Hercules, and also with Jason, Is set to meate in his royal see ; And every lorde like to his degree. But first of all, this worthy man Jason Assigned was by the kinge anon I * To arrange and drest tho tnble*. [ 284. 3 For to sitte at his owne board : And Hercules, that was so great a lord, Was sette also faste by his side. And the marshall no longer list abide, To assign estates where they shoulde be ; Like as they were of high or low degree. And after that, on scaffold high aloft, The noise gan loude, and nothinge soft, Of trumpeters, and eke of clarioners : And therewithal, the noble officers Full thriftely served have the hall. ****** I want cunning by order to describe Of every course the diversities, The strange selves, l and the subtleties, * That were that day served in that place, &c. (Cap. V. ed. Marsh, sign. C. 4.) The following picture of Medea's growing pas- sion is net inelegant : 1 Mr Tyrwhitt explains seiees, dishes ; but his quotation from Gower rather proves it to mean broths, or soups, in which sense the word often occurs in ancient cookery- receipts. Sax. Seatee, succus, liquor. (Lye's Diet.) sere. Fr. The Scots still use the word sotmis for a sort of oatmeal broth, or flummery. * These were ornaments placed on the table, and gome- times illustrated with mottos. C 285 ] For as he sat at meat tho in that tide, Her father next, and Jason by her side, All suddenly her fresh and rosen hue Full ofte-time gan changen and renew, An hundred sithes 1 in a little space. For now, the bloode from her goodly face Unto her heart unwarely gan avale : * And therewithal she waxeth dead and pale. And eft 3 anon (who thereto gan take heed) Her hue returneth into goodly red : But still among, t' embellish her colour, The rose was meynt 4 aye with the lily flower ; And though the rose some dele gan to pace, Yet still the lily bideth in his place, Till nature made them eft again to meet. ******** For now she brent, and now she gan to cold. And aye the more that she gan behold This Jason young, the more she gan desire To look on him ; so was she set a-fire With his beaute, and his semelyness, And every tiling she inly gan impress. What that she sawe, both in mind and thought She dl imprinteth, and forgetteth nought. ' Times. * Descend. Ff. 3 Again. Sax. * Mixed. 3 C 286 ] For she considereth every circumstance, Both of his port and [of] his governance ; His sunnish hair, crisped like gold wire, His knightly look, and his manly cheer. (Chap. v. sign. D. i.) The first book concludes with the destruction of Troy by Hercules : the second relates the building of the new city by Priam, the mission of AntenoV into Greece, the predatory expedition of Paris, &c. and ends with the landing of the Greeks before Troy : the third book contains the whole history of the siege till the death of Hector : the fourth relates the election of Palamedes as commander of the Greeks, and the deposition of Agamemnon, as also the remainder of the siege, the story of the " horse of brass," and the destruction of the city : the fifth and last book describes the miseries endured by the Greeks on their passage home, and gives the genealogy of " Pirrhus, how his father hight " Peleus," &c. In this book the poet implores the favour of his readers, assuring them that though so be that they not ne read In all this book no rethorikes newe, Yet this I hope, THAT THEY SHALL FIND ALL TRUE. (Cap. xxxviii. sign. Ee. ii.) [ 287 ] One of the most amusing passages in this poem is contained in the 17th chapter, and relates to a well-known event in the life of Venus. Lydgate thus expresses his indignation against Vulcan : The smotry * smith, this swarte Vulcanus, That whilom in hearte was so jealous Toward Venus, that was his wedded wife, Whereof there rose a deadly mortal strife, When he with Mars gan her first espy Of high malice, and cruel false envy, Through the shining of Phoebus' beames bright, Lying a-bed with Mars her owne knight. For which in heart he brent as any glede* Making the slander all abroad to sprede, And gan thereon falsely for to muse. And God forbid that any man accuse For so LITTLE any woman ever ! Where love is set, hard is to dissever ! For though they do such thing of gentleness, Pass over lightly, and bear none heaviness, Lest that thou be to women odious ! And yet this smith, this false Vulcanus, Albe that he had them thus espied, 1 Smoky, or -mum. * A burning coal. Sax. C 288 J Among Paynims yet was he deified ! And, for that he so FALSELY THEM AWOKE, I have him set last of all my boke, Among the goddes of false mawmentry. 1 &c. (Sign.L.i.) Upon this occasion, the morals of our poetical monk are so very pliant, that it is difficult to sup- pose him quite free from personal motives which might have influenced his doctrine. Perhaps he had been incommoded by some intrusive husband at a moment when he felt tired of celibacy, and wished to indulge in a temporary relaxation from the severity of monastic discipline. z The picture of Venus is thus curiously de- scribed : And she stant naked in a wavy sea, Environ her with goddesses three, 1 Mahometry, i. e. idolatry. It may be proper to ob- serve, that no part of this passage is to be found in Co- lonna's original. In general, indeed, Lydgatc's is by no means a translation, but a very loose paraphrase. z Suspecting that Lydgate nad borrowed this singular passage from some French paraphrase of Colonn >'.- work, I examined the anonymous translation in the Museum (Bibl. Reg. 16. F. ix.), but could not find any traces of such a de- viation from the original. [ 289 ] That be assign'd with busy attendance To wait on her and do her observance. And floures freshe, blue, red, and white, Be her about, the more for to delight. And on her heade she hath a chaplet Of roses red full pleasantly y-set AND FROM THE HEADE DOWN UNTO HER FOOT WlTH SUNDRY GUMS AND OINTEMENTES SOOTE SHE IS ENOINTE, SWEETER FOR TO SMELL. And all alofte, as these poets tell, Be doves white, fleeing, and eke sparrows, And her beside Cupyde with his arrows. (Cap. xvii. Ibid.) The following particulars in the description of Fortune, at the beginning of the second book, are rather singular : t And thus this lady, wilful and reckless, As she that is froward and perverse, HATH IN HER CELLAR DRINKES FULL DIVERSE. For she to some, of fraud and of/a#fls, Ministreth piment, bartme, and ypocras i And suddenly, when the soote is past, She of custome can give him a cast, For to conclude falsely in the fine, Of bitter eyscll* and of eager wine ; 1 Aitil, old Fr. vinegar ("Vide Treiorde Borel.) VOL. I. T [ 290 ] And corrosives that fret and pierce deep ; And narcotics that cause men to sleep. (Cap. 10. sign. F. ii.) These, it is true, are not veiy poetical passages, nor are we to expect from Lydgate much liveli- ness of fancy or brilliancy of expression. His me- rit, such as it is, cannot easily be exemplified in short extracts; and is rather likely to find fa- vour in the eyes of the antiquarian than of the poet. By readers of the former description, the following passages, from the description of Troy, may perhaps be perused with patience : And, as I read, the walles were on height Two hundred cubits ; all of marble grey, Magecolled ' without, for sautes, * and assay : And it to make more pleasant of delight, Among the marble was albaster white^ Meynt in the walls **##** 1 The machecoulis were the openings under the parapets of a gate, or the salient galleries of a tower, to defend the foot of the wall by pouring down hot water, or pitch, w sometimes dropping stones on the heads of the besiegers* * Assaults. [ 291 ] A crown of gold with riche stones y-fret, That shone full bright again the sunne shene ; And every tower bretexed * was so clean Of chose stone that were not far asunder, That to beholde it was very wonder. Thereto his city, compass'd environ, Had gates six to enter into town ****** With square toures set on every side ; At whose corners, of very pomp and pride, The workmen have, with fell and stern visages, Of rich entayle* up-raised great images, Wrought out of stone, and never like to fail, Full curiously enarmed for batayle. And through the wall, their foemen for to let, At every toure were great gunnes set, For assautes and sudden aventures. And on each turrets were raised up figures Of savage beasts, as bears, and of lions, Of tygers, boars, of serpents, and dragons, And hartes eke with their broade horns ; Of elephantes, and large unicorns, Bugles, bulles, and many great griffon, 1 Probably embattled, from the French word bretter, to indent. Cotgrave. Bretucher, fortifier. Diet. Roman. a Sculpture. FT. C 292 ] Forged of brass, of copper, and laton y * That cruelly by signes of their faces Upon their foen made fell menaces. Barbicans, and also bulwarks huge, Afore the towne made for high refuge, When neede should be, early and eke and late ; And portekoles * strong at every gate, That of assautes they need take no charge. And the lockes thicke, broade, and large, Of all the gates well wrought of shining brass. And eke within the mighty shutting was Of iron barres, stronge, square, and round, And great barres pitched in the ground, With huge chaines forged for defence, That ne would breake for no violence, That harde it was through them for to win. And every house that builded was within, Every palace, and every mansion, Of marble were throughout all the town. * . * * * * * And if I should rehearsen by and by The corve 3 knots, by craft of masonry, 1 Lattcn denotes iron plates tinned over. Owen's Diet, of Arts and Sciences. * Portcullices. 3 Carved. [ 293 ] The fresh enlowing * with verges* right as lines, And the housing 3 full of backewines,* The rich coining, 5 the lusty tablcments, Vinettes running in casements, Though the termes in English woulden rhyme, To shew them all I have as now no time. ****** And through the town, with crafty purveyance, By great avise 6 and discreet ordinance, By compass cast, and squared out by squyersj Of polish'd marble, upon strong pillers, Devised were, longe, large, and wide, Of every streete in the fronter side, Fresk alures, with lusty high pinacles, And mounstring 8 outward costly tabernacles : Vaulted above like to reclinatories, That called were deambulatories, [For] men to walk together, twain and twain, To keep them dry when it happed to rain. 1 Arching ? * 3 4 $ I do not quite understand any of these term?. 6 Avis, F. ; counsel. 7 Esguierre, now spelt cqne-rt, the carpenter's tquart. * Exhibiting; monitrant. Old Fr. CoJonna's original only sayt : " In ipsarum vero lateribus platcarum innumerabiles 11 column.-!' marmoreis arcubus circumvolutit erectae, et su- " per ipsorum aiditiciis clevatae." [ 294 ] And every house covered was with lead, And many gargoyle, T and many hideous head, With spouts thorough, and pipes, as they ought, From the stone-worke to the kennel raught, * Voiding filthes low into the ground Thorough grates made of iron pierced round. The streets paved, both in length and brede t 3 In chequer wise, with stones white and reu.de. 4 (Cap. XI. sign. F. v. &c.) After a great deal .more of minute description, Lydgate tells us, that Priam built a sort of circus 5 To give his men in knighthood exercise, Everyche to put other at assay Injustes, listes, and also in tourney ( Sign. F. vi.) As also that there was found by clerkes full prudent 6 Of the CHESS the play most glorious, 1 Gargotiille, Fr. is the end of a spout ; tbej> are usually terminated with heads of animals. * Keached. 3 Breadth. * Red. This pavement is not described in the original. 5 Mot in the original. 6 Ibi priino adinventa fucrunt scaccorum solatia curiosa ; [ 295 j Which is so subtle and so marvellous, * And that at the same time Also in Troy by great avisement The play was founde first of dice, and tables, And castinge the chances deceivables. (Ibid.) He then, after defining tragedy and comedy, de- scribes the theatre, in which a poet delivers from a pulpit his tragedies : And while that he in the pulpit stood, With deadly face all devoid of blood, ****** Amid the theatre shrouded in a tent, There came out men, ghastful of their cheers, Dffigured their faces icith viseres, 1 Playing by signes in the people's sight And proceeds to tell us ibi ludi Mibito irascibiles alearum ; hie repentina damna et lucra moinc ntanca tinillomm. * Lydgate inform- us that this game was " first found in " this city during the siege like as saith Guydo," though he thinks it necessary to add, " Jacobus de Vitriaco is contra- ry in his opinion,'* affirming it to be of Chaldean original. 1 Not in the original. [ 296 ] How Priamus was passing diligent Right desirous and inwardly fervent, If so he might among his workes all Do build a palace, and a riche hall, Which should be his chose chief dungeon, * His royal see, and sovereign mansion. And when he gan to his worke approach, He made it builde high upon a roche, It for to assure in its foundation, And called it the noble Ilion. ****** And high aiuids this noble Ilion, So rich and passing of foundation, Which clerkes yet in their bookes praise, King Priam made a hall for to raise : * * * * * * And, of this hall farther to define, With stones square by level and by line It paved was, with full great diligence Of masonry, and passing excellence; And all above raised was a see Full curiously of stones and perre, * That called was, as chief and principal, Of the reigne 3 the seat most royal. Tofore which was set by great delight * Pro siiae habitations hospitio. a Pierreries, jewels. Fr. 3 Kingdom. [ 297 ] A board l of ebon and of ivory white, So egally y-joined and so clean That in the work there was ryft * y-seen. And sessyons 3 were made on every side Only the estates by order to divide. Eke, in the hall, as it was convenable, On cache partye was a dormant 4 table Of ivory eke, and of this ebon tree. (Sign. F. vi. &c.) The bounds of the present sketch will not permit a farther accumulation of extracts from this obsolete poem ; in which, however, the inqui- sitive reader will find much curious information, though he will not discover such poetical beauties as can justify its original popularity. That popu- larity was, indeed, excessive and unbounded ; and it continued without much diminution during, at least, two centuries. To this the praises of suc- 1 Table. 2 Fissure. 3 Seats. 4 Fixed ready. Tyrwhitt. In Chaucer's prologue, the Frankelein's table . ' dormant in Ail hall alw'ty, " Stood ready covered all the longe day." Perhaps the common tables resembled those still in u.-c in France ( which consist of a few boards nailed together, and placed (when wanted for use) on folding trestles i so that the different parts may be separately removed. [ 298 ] needing writers bear ample testimony ; but it is confirmed by a direct and most singular evidence. An anonymous writer has taken the pains to modernize the entire poem, consisting of about 28000 verses, to change the ancient context and almost every rhyme, and to throw the whole into six-line stanzas ; and yet, so little was he solicitous to raise his own reputation at the expense of the original author, that, though he has altered the title and preface of the work, he has still ascribed it to Lydgate. This strange instance of perverted talents and industry was published under the title of " The " Life and Death of Hector," by Thomas Purfoot, 1614, and is well known to the booksellers. The date of Lydgate's death is doubtful ; at least it is stated differently by different authors. In his Philomela he mentions the decease of an Earl of Warwick, who died in 1446, so that he must have survived that year. Some authorities place his death in 1461, and this date is not improbable. 299 ] CHAPTER XII. Reign of Henry V. continued. James I. King of Scotland. Extract from the King's Quair. W E are probably indebted to an accident which happened in the reign of Henry IV. for the most elegant poem that was produced during the early part of the fifteenth century : it is called the King's Quair, * and was written by JAMES I. KING of SCOTLAND. This prince was the second son of Robert III., and was born in 1305. His elder brother, David, having disgraced himself by the general profligacy of his conduct, was confined, by his father's order, in the palace of Falkland, where he died of a dysen- tery, in 14-01 ; or, as was more generally believed, was starved to death, by order of his uncle the Duke of Albany, to whom Robert had entrusted the administration of the kingdom. After the death of this prince, the king determined to send his surviving son, James, to be educated at the ourt of his ally, Charles VI. King of France; and Cahier, Fr. ; whrncc quire. [ 300 ] James embarked for that country, with his gover- nor the Earl of Orkney, and a numerous train of attendants : but the ship was stopped, on the 12th of April, 14-05, off Flamborough-Head, by an English squadron, and the passengers were, by order of Henry IV., sent as prisoners to London. This happened about a week before the termi- nation of a truce ; and though such infractions of treaties were very common during the barbarous warfare which was at that time carried on between England and Scotland, the capture and subsequent detention of James were attributed to the intrigues of the Duke of Albany, who, in consequence of the death of King Robert, in the following year was nominated regent of Scotland ; and who, by means of the king's long detention in England, not only preserved that dignity to the end of his life, but quietly transmitted it to his son Murdoch, earl of Fife. That Henry had no right to consider as a pri- soner the sovereign of an independent nation, whom an act of insolent violence had placed within his power, is perfectly evident ; but the accident was perhaps ultimately advantageous to the prince him- self, as well as to the nation which he was born to govern. He was at this time only ten years of age ; and Henry, though he treated him with ri- 12 C 301 ] gour, and even kept him confined for two years in the Tower, took the greatest care of his edu- cation, and appointed as his governor Sir John Pelham, a man of worth and learning, under whose tuition he made so rapid a progress, that he soon became a prodigy of talents and accomplishments. His character, as drawn by the historians of that age, is such as we seldom see realized. We are assured that he became a proficient in ever}' branch of polite literature ; in grammar, oratory, Latin, and English poetry, music, jurisprudence, and the philosophy of the times ; and that his dexterity in tilts and tournaments, in wrestling, in archery, and in the sports of the field, was perfectly unrivalled. It might be objected, that those who possess only a part of these accomplishments are apt to gain credit for all the rest ; that the owner of a crown is seldom judged with severity ; that unme- rited misfortune is sure to excite sympathy and commiseration ; and that, as James united all these claims to popular favour, some parts of the pre- ceding description are likely to have been some- what exaggerated. But the excellent laws which he enacted after his return to Scotland, and the happiness which his people enjoyed in consequence of his policy, his firmness, and his justice, bear the most unequivocal testimony to the truth of one [ 302 ] part of the picture ; and his poetical remains are sufficient to evince that his literary talents were not over-rated by his contemporaries. During fifteen years of his captivity, he seemed forgotten, or at least neglected, by his subjects. The admiration of strangers and the consciousness of his own talents only rendered his situation more irksome ; and he had begun to abandon himself to despair, when he was fortunately consoled for his seclusion at Windsor Castle by a passion of which sovereigns, in quiet possession of a throne, have seldom the good fortune to feel the influence. The object of his adoration was the lady Jane Beaufort (daughter of John Beaufort, duke of Somerset, and grand-daughter of John of Guant), whom he after- wards married, and in whose commendation he composed his principal poetical work, called the King's Quair. ?? . This poem, consisting of 197 stanzas, divided by its editor into six cantos, has much allegorical machinery, which was apparently suggested by the study of Boethius, the favourite author of the time ; but it also contains various particulars of his life ; it is full pf simplicity and feeling, and is not inferior in .poetical merit to any similar pro- duction of Chaucer. The following extract is taken from the second canto, in which no allegorical [ 303 ] painting is introduced, and which contains little more than an account of his own adventures. x. The longe dayes and the nightis eke I would bewail my fortune in this wise ; For which again distress comfort to seek, My custom was on mornis for to rise Early as day : O happy excercise ! By thee come I to joy out of torment : But now to purpose of my first intent, xr. Bewailing in my chamber thus alone, Despaired of all joy and remedy, For-tired of my thought, and woe-begone, And to the window gan I walk in hye, To see the world and folk that went forby ; As, for the time (though I of mirthis food Might have no more), to look it did me good. xn. Now was there made, fast by the Touris wall, A garden fair ; ' and in the corners set 1 The gardens of this period seem to have been very smalt. In Chaucer's Troiliu and Cresseide we (mil the same place indifferently called agan/tn and a yard; and thk An herbere I green ; with wandis long and small Railed about, and so with treeis set Was all the place, and hawthorn hedges knet That life * was none [a] walking there forby, That might within scarce any wight espy. XIV. And on the smalle grene twistis sat The little sweete nightingale, and sung So loud and clear the hymnis consecrate Of lovis use, now soft, now loud among, That all the gardens and the wallis rung Right of their song ; and on the couple next 3 Of their sweet harmony : and lo the text ! at Windsor, fast by the Touris wall, was probably either in the yard or on the terrace. ' Adown the stair anon right tJio she went ' Into her garden," &c. ' This yard was large, and railed all the aleyes, ' And shadowed well with blossomy boughs green; ' And benched new, and sanded all the ways, ' In which she walketh," &c. [Troil. and Cr. B. II. st. 110. fol. 152, ed. 1602.] 1 Probably an arbour, though the word is also very fre- quently used for an herbary, or garden of simples. * Living person. 3 Mr Tytler imagines that this relates to the pairing of the birds ; but the word couple seems here to be used as a musical term. [ 305 ] xv. " Worshippe ye that lovere bene this May, " For of your bliss the calends are begun ; " And sing with us, * Away ! winter away ! " Come summer, come ! the sweetseason and sun ! " Awake, for shame! that have your heavens won! 1 " And amorously lift up your headis all ; " Thank Love, that list you to his mercy call !' " XVI. When they this song had sung a little throw * They stent J awhile, and, therewith unafraid As I beheld, and cast mine eyen n-lowe, From bough to bough \heyhipped* and they play'd, And freshly, in their birdis kind, array'd Their feathers new, and fret * them in the sun, And thanked Love that had their maids 6 won. These and a few more stanzas are preparatory to the appearance of his mistress, his first sight of whom is thus described : XXI. And therewith cast I down mine eye again, Whereas I saw, walking under the Tower 1 Mr Tytler explaim this as follows: " Yr that have '' attained your highest bliss, by winning your mates. See " the last line of Hie next stanza." * A little time. 3 Stopped. * Hopped. ' 5 Pecked. 6 Mates. VOL. I. U [ 306 ] Full secretly, new comyn her to pleyne? The fairest, or the freshest younge flower That ever I saw, methought, before that hour For which sudden abate anon astert * The blood of all my body to my heart. And though I stood abased tho a lyte, 3 No wonder was ; for why ? my wittis all Were so o'ercome with pleasance and delight, Only through letting of mine eyen fall, That suddenly my heart become her thrall For ever ; of free will ; for of menace There was no token in her sweete face. XXIII. And in my head I drew right hastily ; And eft-soones I lent it forth again : And saw her walk that very womanly, With no wight mo but only women twain. Then gan I study in myself, and sayn, " Ah sweet, are ye a worldly creature, " Or heavenly thing in likeness of nature ? 1 This seems (omen n complain; but should it not rather be playett, to play or sport ? * Started back. 3 Then a little. [ 307 ] XXIV. " Or are ye god Cupidis own princess, " And comen are to loose me out of band ? " Or are ye very Nature the goddess, " That have depainted with your heavenly hand " This garden full of flouris as they stand ? " What shall I think, alas ! what reverence " Shall I mester T [un] to your excellence ? xxv. " GJ/Ty 6 a goddess be, and that ye like " To do me pain, I may it not astert : ** Giffy Q De worldly wight, that doth me sike* Why lest 3 God make you so, my dearest heart, " To do a silly prisoner thus smart, " That loves you all, and wote of nought but wo ? " And, therefore, mercy sweet ! sen it is so." The dress and figure of his mistress are minute- ly painted as follows : xxvn. Of her array the form gifl shall write, Toward her golden hair and rich attire, 1 Administer ? (Tytltr.) 1 Mr Tytler supposes this word to stand for u'tf, or yt, sig- nify ing tarrou, altered for the sake of the metre: butqu. ? 1 " If thou art a goddess, I cannot resist thy power; but " if only a mortal creature, (jod surely cannot lest or in- " cline you to grieve, or give pain to a poor creature that * loves you." (Tytler.) C 308 ] In fret-wise couched with pearlis white, And greate balas * lemyng * as the fire, With many an eraerant and fair sapphire, And on her head a chaplet fresh of hue Of plumys, parted red, and white, and blue. xxviii. Full of quaking spangis 3 bright as gold, Forged of shape like to the amorettis ; 4 So new, so fresh, so pleasant to behold ; The plumis eke like to thejloure-jonettis, s And other of shape like to \hejloure-jonettis ; 6 And above all this there was, well I wote, Beauty enough to make a world to dote J XXIX. UUH About her neck, white as tliejfyre amaille t '' A goodly chain of small orfeverye ; 8 Whereby there hang a ruby without fail, Like to an heart [y-] shapen verily, That as a spark of /owe, 9 so wantonly 1 A sort of precious stones (says Urry) brought from Hulassia, in India. Tyrwhitt says, that lulu-is, Fr. is a sort of bastard ruby. * Shining. 3 Spangles. 4 " Made in the form of a love-knot or garland." (Tytler.) * Probably thejleur de gent, (genista) broom. 6 The repetition of this word is apparently a mistake of the original transcriber. 7 Qu. Is this an error for fair email, i. e. enamel ? 8 Fr. Goldsmith 's-work. Fire. (Ruddimau's Glossary.) [ 309 ] Seemed burning upon her white throat ; Now g^there was good party, God it wote. XXX. And for to walk, that freshe Maye's morrow, An hook she had upon her tissue white, That goodlier had not been seen to-J arrow, * As I suppose ; and girt she was a lijtc ; * Thus halfling * loose for haste, to such delight It was to see her youth in goodlihead, That, for rudeness, to speak thereof I dread. XXXI. In her was youth, beauty, with humble aport, Bounty, richess, and womanly feature ; God better wote than my pen can report : Wisdom, largess, estate, and cunning sure, In every point so guided her measure, In word, in deed, in shape, in countenance, That Nature might no more her child avance. It would, perhaps, be difficult to select even from Chaucer's most finished works a long spe- cimen of descriptive poetry so uniformly elegant as this : indeed some of the verses are so highly ' Before. 3 Half. [ 310 ] finished, that they would not disfigure the compo- sitions of Dryden, Pope, or Gray. Nor was King James's talent confined to serious and pathetic compositions. Two poems of a ludicrous cast, and which have been the constant favourites of the Scotish people to the present day, are now uni- versally attributed to this monarch. These are Christ' x Kirlf nn the firf.p.n r and Pehlis to the Play ; the first composed in the northern, and the second in the southern dialect of Scotland. A third, called Falkland on the Green, which Mr Pinkerton sup- poses to have described the popular sports of the central district of the kingdom, and to have been written in the Fifeshire dialect, has hitherto eluded the researches of antiquaries. In Mr Pinkerton's Ancient Scotish Poems (London, 1786, p. 214) is found a Song on Absence, which the editor sus- pects to be the same described by Major, as be- ginning with the words Yas sen, &c. Of the King's Quair only one MS. is known to exist : it is a small folio, in the Bodleian library (Seld. Archiv. B. xxiv.) Mr Tytler, having pro- cured a transcript of this MS. published it at Edinburgh, 1783, together with Christ's Kirk on the Green, under the title of " Poetical Remains of James I." The work is illustrated with copious notes, and with two dissertations ; the first on the C 311 ] life and writings of the author, and the second on Scotish music. A strange fatality seems to have attended the literature of this period. It has been just observed, that King James's work was lately recovered by the casual preservation of a single manuscript. His con- temporary, CHARLES DUKE OF ORLEANS, father of Louis XII., is still very imperfectly known to the public by means of some short specimens of his poetry given in the Annaks Poetigues( Paris, 1778), and of a few more published in M. de Paulmy's Melanges d'une grande Dibliotheque. It is singular enough, that the two best poets of the age, both of royal blood, both prisoners at the same court, both distinguished by their mili- tary as well as literary talents, both admired during their lives, and regretted after death, as the brightest ornaments of their respective nations, should have been forgotten by the world during more than three centuries, and at length restored to their reputation at the same period. The Duke of Orleans, who was taken prisoner at the battle of Agincourt, acquired such a proficiency in our lan- guage, during a stay of twenty years in this country, as to write several small pieces of English poetry, which are said to be still preserved in MS. in the Royal Library at Paris. These may possibly not C 312 ] be worth transcribing;* but, whatever be their poetical merit, they may fairly be adduced as a * Mr Ritson has printed (page 47 of his Dissertation on Ancient Songs and Music, prefixed to his Ancient Songs, London, 1792) a specimen of this Prince's English Poetry, coped from No. 688 of the f larleian MSS. It is a dialogue between a lover and his mistress ; but, being founded on a strange sort of pun, or play on words, it is very obscure, and apparently not worth unriddling. Another MS. in the Museum (Bibl. Reg. 16. F. ii.) solely consisting of Poems by the Duke of Orleans, affords three specimens of his attempts at English poetry ; and, as they are very short, and never were printed, I shall here subjoin them all, in their original orthography. CHANSON. Go forth, my hert, with my lady ! Loke that ye spar no bysynes, 1 To serve her with such lolynet z (That 3 ye gette her oftyme* pryvely) That she kepe truly her proines. Go forth, &c. Jniuit as a hells body 5 Abyde alone in hevynes ; And ye shall dwell with your mastres In plaisanns, glad and raery. Go forth, &c. 1 Care, attention. * Lowliness. 3 If that ? * At any time ? 5 I cannot understand the word iniust; perhaps it means exactly. Helit is perhaps hele-less t i. e, unhealthy, diseased. C sis ] proof that our language had at this time acquired some estimation in the eyes of foreigners. CHANSON. My hertly lore it in your governauns, And ever shal, wbill that I lyve may j I pray to God I may see that day That we be koyt with tronthful! alyauos. Ye shal not fynd feynyng or variauns, As in ' my part : that wyl I trewly say. My hertly, &c. CHANSON. Ne were' 1 my trewe innocent hert, How ye hold with her aliauns, That somtym with word of plesauns Desceyved you under covert. Thynke bow the stroke of love com smart, Without warning or deffiaunt. * Ne were my, &c. And 4 ye shall pryvely or appert, See her by me in lore's dauns, With her fair femenyn contenauu? Ye thai! never fro her astert ! Ne were my, &c. The MS. from which the foregoing extracts were made- contains some illuminations of exquisite beauty. One of these represents a person of rank, probably the duke, in the white tower, writing, and attended by guards: at a dis- tance is London bridge, with the houses and chapel built upon it ; and the latter building u so minutely drawn, a to afford a very good idea of what it really was. The MS. was written for the twe of Heury VII. 1 On. * Query, if a. raUtnke of the Iraw- criber, for bcwart t or, perhaps, for nay .' 'warr. 1 Mistrust. Fr. * An, if. [ S14 ] It has been observed, that King James is repre- sented to have been a complete master of music. This art, indeed, was considered, perhaps from some indistinct notion of its effects in humanizing the sa- vage inhabitants of the earth, as a part of educa- tion not only essential to the accomplished knight, but to the sovereign, legislator, and divine : and as closely connected with every branch of learning, whether abstract or practical. In Pierce Plough- man, Study says of Scripture, " Logic I learned her, and many other laws, " And all the unisons in music I made her to know," (Pass, x.) Fordun, in his Scotichronicon, has employed a whole chapter in describing James's uncommon excellence in the art ; and Mr Tytler, combining this testimony with a very curious passage in the works of Alessandro Tassoni, has inferred that James I. was the " reformer, if not the inventor " of the Scotish songs or vocal music." By this he means, not that the peculiar melody of Scotish airs took its rise in the fifteenth century, but that James I. adapted it to modern harmony, and introduced it into regular composition, by which means it became known to the musical professors of Italy and the rest of Europe. Mr Pinkerton, on the contrary, is of opinion that the " Giacomo, [ 315 ] " Re di Scozia" mentioned by Tassoni, is the sixth, and Mr Ritson is of the same opinion. The reader must decide for himself. After the death of the duke of Albany, the inca- pacity of his successor induced the Scotish nobility to enter into serious negotiation for the liberty of their captive sovereign ; who, after agreeing to pay a heavy ransom for his freedom, was married, in 1424, to his beloved mistress, and at the same time restored to his kingdom. In 1437 he was assassinated at Perth, after a reign of twelve years, equally honourable to himself and beneficial to his people. CHAPTER XIII. Reign of Henry VI. Digressiwi on the Pri- vate Life of the English. JL HAT we may not be encumbered by the accu- mulation of our materials, it is obviously necessary to take some opportunity of reviewing those which we have collected ; of comparing them with such descriptions of national manners as are furnished by our professed historians ; and of connecting them with such farther particulars as are to be gleaned from sources of incidental information. For this necessary digression, there is no period more convenient than that on which we are now entering; because the interval between the reigns of Henry V. and Henry VIII., which comprehends near a century, although uncommonly rich in Scotish poets of distinguished excellence, does not furnish us with a single name among the natives of England deserving of much notice. Our survey must, of course, be very rapid and rather desul- tory, but it will at least break the monotony of the narrative, and preclude for the future the ne- cessity of introducing many detached observations, [ 317 ] which, when our extracts become more amusing, would prove a disagreeable interruption to the reader. To begin with the lower classes of society : It- is generally agreed, that before the Norman conquest, and for a long time after, nearly all the lands of the kingdom were cultivated by serfs, whose situation was, in many respects, scarcely distin- guishable from absolute slavery. It may, how- ever, be inferred from the very curious extract al- ready quoted from Pierce Ploughman, that about the middle of the fourteenth century, and probably much earlier, the labouring poor, though still serfs with respect to their feudal lords were perfectly free with respect to their immediate employers. The poet says, " Labourers that have no land to live on, but her hands, &c. " But if he be HIGHLY HIRED else will he chide." ( Pass. vi. ) During a great part of the year, indeed, they were glad to work for a mere subsistence, but \vhen pro- visions were plentiful, they could only be induced to work at all by the temptation of excessive wages. Against this indolence the author inveighs with great vehemence ; but his remonstrances were pro- C 318 ] bably ineffectual, because a stupid insensibility and a heedless profusion are the natural characteristics of an oppressed and degraded people. Besides, their conduct seems to have arisen in some measure from the imperfect state of agricul- ture. Animal food formed a considerable part of the support of the people ; but as the whole of the manure was used on the arable lands, and it was impossible that large numbers of cattle could sub- sist during the cold season on the natural pastures, they were slaughtered and salted in autumn for a winter provision. This is a reason adduced by Sir John Fortescue for rejecting the gabelle or salt-tax, as a source of revenue for England. " In France," says he, " the people salten but little meat, except " their bacon, and therefore they would buy little " salt ; but yet they be artyd (compelled] to buy " more salt than they would. This rule and order " would be sore abhorred in England, as well by the " merchants, that be wonted to have their freedom " in buying and selling of salt, as by the people, that " usen much to salt their meats more than do the " Frenchmen." (Forteseue on Monarchy, Cap. X.) But it appears that, partly from the improvi- dence usual to a barbarous state of society, and partly from the want of those internal means of communication which tend to diffuse general abun- C 319 3 dance, these stores of animal food, as well as the grain, were often consumed before the reproduc- tion of a fresh stock. Hence, in the above-men- tioned extracts from Pierce Ploughman, the poor are represented as reduced to " loaves of beans " and bran," and to " feed hunger with beans and " baken apples, chyboles and chervil," until the return of harvest again enabled them to waste their time in idleness and profusion. Even the farmers themselves, the order to which Pierce the Ploughman apparently belonged, do not seem to have fared very sumptuously during some part of the year ; for he declares that his whole provision consists in two green cheeses, some curds and cream y and an oat cake : but he adds, that after Lammas he may dight his dinner as he likes. The particulars of his wealth are a cffw and calf, and a cart-mare, which he keeps for the purpose of carry- ing manure upon his land. These articles, perhaps, were designed to give an exact statement of his condition in society ; for they seem to agree with what Sir John Fortescue considers as sufficient for the maintenance of a yeoman. It is very honourable to the good sense of the English nation, that our best two early poets, Chaucer, and the author of Pierce Ploughman, have highly extolled this useful body of men, while [ 320 ] the French minstrels of the twelfth, thirteenth, and fourteenth centuries universally seem to approve the supercilious contempt with which the nobles affected to treat them. The absurd prejudices of chivalry on this subject are not ill expressed by Lydgate, where he makes Achilles express his ap- prehensions that " In this rage furious and " Full likely is that all the gentle blood " Throughout this worlde shall destroyed be ; " And rural folk (and that were great pity) *' Shall have lordship, and wholly governance : *' And churles eke, with sorrow and mischance, " In every land shall lordes be alone, " When gentlemen be slayen each one." (Cap. XXX. Sign. U ii. ed. Marsh.) There is a curious chapter in Sir John Fortescue's Treatise de Laudibus Legum Anglwe, which seems to prove that the smaller landholders in England usually enjoyed more comforts than, from the ge- neral language of historians, we should be led to imagine ; for he asserts, that " there is scarce a " small village in which you may not find a knight, " an esquire, or some substantial householder, com- *' monly called afrankleyne; allmen of considerable " estates: there are others who are called free- t 321 ] " holders, and many yeomen of estates sufficient " to make a substantial jury." (Chap. XXIX). This wealth he attributes principally to the enclo- sure of our pasture-lands. The same writer thus describes the comparative poverty of the French common people : " The same " commons be so impoverished and destroyed, that " they may unneth (scarcely) live. They drink " water ; they eat apples, with bread right brown, " made of rye. They eat no flesh, but if it be " seldom a little lard, or of the entrails or heads of " beasts slain for the nobles and merchants of the " land. They wearen no woollen, but if it be a " poor coat under their outermost garment, made " of great canvass, and call it a frock. Their hosen " be of like canvass, and passen not their knee, " wherefore they be gartered and their thighs bare. " Their wives and children gone barefoot ; they " may in none otherwise live. For some of them " that was wont to pay to his lord for his tenement, " which he hireth by the year, a scute (a crown), " payeth now to the king over that scute, five " scutes. Wherethrough they be artyd (compelled) " by necessity so to watch, labour, and grub in the " ground for their sustenance, that their nature is " much wasted, and the kind of them brought to " nought. They gone crooked, and are feeble, not VOL. i. x [ 322 ] " able to fight," &c. (Fortescue on Monarchy, Chap. III.) . But though the lower orders of people in England were so advantageously distinguished from those of other nations by a superiority in food and cloth- ing, their domestic buildings seem to have been much inferior to those on the continent ; and this inferiority continued even down to the reign of Queen Elizabeth, as appears from the confession of Harrison. " In old time," says he, " the houses of the Britons " were slightly set up with a few posts, and many " radels (hurdles), with stable and all offices under " one roof; the like whereof almost is to be seen in " the fenny countries and northern parts unto this " day, where, for lack of wood, they are enforced " to continue this ancient manner of building." " So in the open and champaign countries, they are " enforced, for want of stuff, to use no studs* at all, " but only frank-posts, '* " and such principals ; " with here and there a girding, whereunto they " fasten their splints or radels, and then cast it all " over with thick clay, to keep out the wind, which " otherwise would annoy them. Certes, this rude " kind of building made the Spaniards in Queen " Mary's days to wonder, but chiefly when they * The upright beams. Sai. [ 323 ] " saw what large diet was used in many of these " so homely cottages ; insomuch that one of no " small reputation amongst them said after this " manner : ' These English,' quoth he, ' have their " houses made of sticks and dirt, but they fare " commonly so well as the king.'" (Harrison's Description of England, prefixed to Holinshed, p. 187.) We have already seen that glazed windows* are always mentioned by our- early poets with an air of affectation which evinces their rarity ; so that we are not surprised at being told that the yeomen and farmers were perfectly contented with windows of lattice. Rooms provided with chimnies are also noticed as a luxury by the author of Pierce Plough- man : but it is difficult to read with gravity the sagacious observations of Harrison on the ill con- sequences attending the enjoyment of warmth with- out the risk of suffocation. " Now," says he, " have " we many chimnies, and yet our tenderlings com- " plain of rheums, catarrhs, and poses (colds in " the head). Then had we none but reredosses,\ Anderson (History of Commerce, vol. I. p. 90, edit. 1764) says, that they were first introduced into England in 1180. t This word is sometimes used to express some part of a chimney, and sometimes a substitute for one. It seems [ 324 ] " and our heads did never ache. For as the smoke " in" those days was supposed to be a sufficient " hardening for the timber of the house, so it was " reputed a far better medicine to keep the good " man and his family from the quacke (ague?) or " pose ; wherewith, as then, very few were oft ac- " quainted." (Description of England, p. 212.) After witnessing the indignation which the au- thor has vented against the " tenderlings" of his time, the reader may possibly learn with some sur- prise, that, from the latter end of the thirteenth to near the sixteenth rentury, persons of all ranks, and of both sexes, were universally in the habit of sleeping quite naked. This custom is often alluded to by Chaucer, Gower, Lydgate, and all our an- cient writers. In the Squire of Lota Degree there is a curious instance : " she rose, that lady dear, " To take her leave of that squyere " All so naked as she was born, " She stood her chamber-door before." [Vers. 671.] In the " Aresta Amorum," (Ar. Ill), a lady, who had stipulated to throw a nosegay to her lover to mean a plate of iron, or perhaps a coating of brick, to enable the wall to resist the flame. [ 325 ] on a particular night in each week, complains of the difficulty she found in escaping to the window, " ou par fois etoit toute nue par 1* espace de deux " grosses heures." This strange practice prevailed at a time when the day-dress of both sexes was much warmer than at present ; being generally bordered, and often lined, with furs ; insomuch, that numberless warrens were established in the neighbourhood of London for the purpose of sup- plying its inhabitants with rabbets' skins. Perhaps it was this warmth of clothing that ena- bled our ancestors, in defiance of a northern cli- mate, to serenade their mistresses with as much perseverance as if they had lived under the torrid zone. Chaucer thought he had given us the date of his Dream with sufficient exactness, when he described it as happening " About such hour as lovers weep " And cry after their ladies' grace." [Vers. 55.] In France, as appears from the work already quoted, the lovers were sometimes bound to con- duct " les tabourins et les has menestriers" to the doors of their mistresses between midnight and day-break, on every festival throughout the year ; though the principal season for such gallantry was the beginning of May, when the windows were [ 326 ] ornamented with pots of marjoram, and may-poles hung with garlands carried through the streets, and raised before every door in succession. This was called, reveiller les pots de mariolaine, and planter le mai> The same season appears to have been chosen by English lovers for the purpose of crying after their ladies grace. In houses, of which the walls were made of clay, and the floors of the same materials, and where the stabling was under the same roof with the dwell- ing rooms, the furniture was not likely to be cost- ly. Of this the author just quoted received from some ancient neighbours the following description : " Our fathers (yea and we ourselves also) have " lien full oft upon straw pallets, on rough mats, " covered only with a sheet, under coverlets maid " of dagstoain, or kopharlots* (I use their own " terms), and a good round log under their heads, " instead of a bolster or pillow If it were so " that our fathers, or the good man of the house, " had, within seven years after his marriage, pur- " chased a mattress or flock bed, and thereto a " sack of chaff to rest his head upon, he thought " himself to be as well lodged as the lord of the baj. Sax (from whence daggle or draggle) any thing pendent, a shred. The term therefore seems to mean any patched materials, like those worn by the poorest country people. . 2 [ 327 ] " town ; that, peradventure, lay seldom in a bed of " down or whole feathers." " As for servants, if " they had any sheet above them, it was well ; for " seldom had they any under their bodies, to keep " themfrom the prickings traws that ran oft through " the canvas of the pallet, and rased their hardened hides." (P. 188.) The progress of improvement in building was from clay to lath and plaster, which was formed in- to pannels between the principal timbers ; to floors or pargets (as Harrison calls them, i. e. parquets) coated with plaster of Paris ; and to ceilings over- laid with mortar and washed with lime or plaster " of delectable whiteness." Country houses were generally covered with shingles ; but in towns the danger of fires obliged the inhabitants to adopt the use of tile or slate. These latter buildings were very solid, and consisted of many stories pro- jecting over each other, so that the windows on opposite sides of the street nearly met. " The " walls of our houses on the inner sides (says Har- " rison), be either hanged with tapestry, arras- " work, or painted cloths, wherein either divers " histories, or herbs, beasts, knots, and such like, " are stained, or else they are seeled with oak of " our own, or wainscot brought hither out of the " east countries." (P. 187.) This relates, of course, E 828 ] to the houses of the wealthy, which he also repre- sents as abounding in plate and pewter. In earlier times, wooden platters, bowls, and drinking vessels were universally used, excepting in the houses of the nobles. In France, if we may believe M. de Paul- my (Vie privee des Fra^ois), slices of bread, call- ed, " pains tranchoirs," were used as a substitute for plates till the reign of Louis XII.* Though our readers are not likely to be much enamoured with Lydgate's poetry, they will per- haps pardon the following extract from his " Lon- " don Lyckpenny,"f (Harl. MSS. 367) in fa- * Mr Ritsqn observes (" Ancient Engleish Metrical Ro- maneses," III. 432) that " M. Le Grand d'Ausfy (and not, *' as mister Ellis says, M. de 1'aumy), was the authour of " La vie privee des Fran$o'i9," which has even his name in " the title-page." If Mr Ritson had been as well read in Mr Le Grand's work as he is in the title-page, he would have known that this was not the book I meant to quote : and if he will turn to the " Melanges d'unc grand c Biblio- tbeque," generally attributed to M. de I'aulmy, he will find, in p. 114 of vol. III. containing " La Vie privee des Fran- $ois," the passage I did quote. f " Some call London a lick-penny (as Paris is called, by " some, a pickpurse) because of feastings, with other occa- " sions of expcncc and allurements, which cause so many " unthrifts among country gentlemen, and others, who flock " into her, in such excessive multitudes." Ifowell's Londn- nopolis, p, 406. [ 329 ] vour of some curious particulars which it contains respecting the city of London. The entire poem is to be found in Mr Strutt's View of Manners, &c. vol. III. p. 59, &c. in which, however, there are some trifling errors. Lydgate supposes him- self to have come to town in search of legal re- dress for some wrong, and to have visited succes- sively the King's Bench, the court of Common Pleas, the court of Chancery,and Westminster hall. Within the hall, neither rich, nor yet poor Would do for me ought, although I should die : Which seeing, I gat me out of the door, Where Flemings began on me for to cry, " Master, what will you copen * or buy ? " Fine felt hats ? or spectacles to read ? " Lay down your silver, and here you may speed." Then to Westminster gate I presently went, When the sun was at high prime : Cooks to me they took good intent, * And proffered me bread, with ale, and wine, Ribs of beef, both fat and full fine; A fair cloth they gan for to spread, But, wanting money, I might not be sped. 1 Kooptn, I'lcm. it to buy. * Took notice, paid attention. [ 330 ] Then unto London I did me hie, Of all the land it beareth the price ; " Hot peascods !" one began to cry, " Strawberry ripe, and cherries in the rysc!" * One bade me come near and buy some spice ; Pepper, and saffron they gan me bede ; * But, for lack of money, I might not speed. Then to the Cheap I gan me drawn, Where much people I saw for to stand ; One offered me velvet, silk, and lawn, Another he taketh me by the hand, " Here is Paris thread, the finest in the land !" I never was used to such things, indeed ; .And, wanting money, I might not speed. Then went I forth by London stone, 5 Throughout all Cantvyke street : Drapers much cloth me offered anon ; Then comes me one cried " hot sheep's feet ;" One cried mackerel, rysses green 4 another gan greet, * 1 On the twig. a Bid. 3 A fragment of London stone is still preserved in Can- non-street, formerly called Canwick, or Caudlewick- strcet. Stowe, in his account of Candlewick Ward, refers to this ballad. 4 Green rushes. 5 Cry. [ 331 ] One bade me buy a hood to cover my head ; But, for want of money, I might not be sped. Then I hied me unto East-Cheap, One cries ribs of beef, and many a pie ; Pewter pots they clattered on a heap ; There was harp, pipe, and minstrelsy ; Yea by cock ! nay by cock ! some began cry ; Some sung of Jenken and Julyan for their meed ; But, for lack of money, I might not speed. Then into Cornhill anon I yodt, Where was much stolen gear : among I saw where hung mine owne hood, That I had lost among the throng ; To buy my own hood I thought it wrong : I knew it, well as I did my creed ; But, for lack of money, I could not speed. The taverner took me by the sleeve, " Sir," saith he, " will you our wine assay ?" I answered, " that can not much me grieve, " A penny can do no more than it may ;" I drank a pint, and for it did pay ; Yet, sore a-hungered from thence I yede, And, wanting money, I could not speed, &c. Lydgate has here ridiculed, with more pleasantry C 332 ]} than usually belongs to him, the importunate civi- lity of the lower tradesmen. The attraction of customers seems to have been by the mote opu- lent shopkeepers assigned to their apprentices; for Perlin,a. French physician, who visited England in the reign of Edward VI., says, " Vous verrez a " Londres des apprentifs avec des robes centre " Icurs boutiques, nuds tetes, et contre les murailles " de leurs maisons ; tellement, qu'en passant parmi " les rues, vous en trouverez cinquante ou soixante " contre les murailles, comme idoles, ayant leurs " bonnets a la main." * He seems to have been much surprised at our shops, which he says are always open, like those of the barbers in France, and have glass windows, generally adorned with pots of flowers ; but he particularly notices the wealth of the tavern-keepers, and the neatness of their rooms ; for he says, *' aux tavern es (vous verrez) force " foindessus les planchersde bois,f et force oreillers * " Description des Royaulroes d' Angleterre et d'JZscosse. " Par. 1568." Reprinted with notes, Lond. 1775. 4to. t Erasmus, in a letter to Franciscus, Wolsey's physician, ascribes the plague (then vcr\ common in England) and the sweating sickness to the sluttishness which this custom tended to perpetuate. The floors, he says, are commonly of clay, strewed with rushes ; under which lies unmo- lested a putrid mixture of beer, stinking fragments of food, and all sorts of nastiness. lie also censures the filth of our streets, and even the construction of oar houses, the [ 333 ] " et tapisseries sur lesquels les voyageurs se assis- " ent (asseyent") This practice of spreading hay or rushes on the floors seems to have been at least coeval with the arrival of the Normans. Carpets,* though introduced as early as the Crusades, were hitherto only used as coverings for chairs, or for tables, particularly for side-boards, or (as our an- cestors called them) cup-hordes,-^ on which their plate or pewter was exhibited. rooms of which ooght to have, as he thinks, some windows in every direction. He farther complains, that these window?, though they excluded the w ind, admitted unwholesome cur- rentsofair. To explain this part of his letter, which is rather obscure, it may be proper to observe, that the illumination- in many MSS. represent the windows ae composed of three compartments, of which the lowest consisted of a close lat- tice-work, the upper of glass, while the central compartment was quite open. Two-thirds only of these windows were usually closed with shutters, the upper part being left for the admission of light. Such a partial shelter could not so totally exclude the air as to satisfy ,-uch an invalid as Eras- mus. (See Jorf in's Life of Erasmus, vol. IF. p. 341.) * Gilt and painted leather, being often applied to the same purposes as a carpet, was frequently called by the same name. Among the goods belonging to Henry V. and sold to pay his debts, were some " carpetz de coir," va- lued at 3i. 4d. the piece. (Rolls of Part. A. I) 1423.) t In the inventory of furniture belonging to the bed- chamber of Henry VIII. at Hampton Court, were two C 33* ] The stately castles of our nobility do not require any description here ; because, having been in- tended for the purpose of resisting the attacks of an enemy, they were constructed with such soli- dity as to survive the depredations of time; and are, in some instances, preserved to the present day with little alteration in their external appearance. Their interior furniture, indeed, was of a more perishable nature : but a few oaken benches and tables, raised on strong trestles, sometimes morticed into the floor, and sometimes with folding legs, a bed, a pair of andirons, or dogs, with their accom- paniment of tongs, or a chafer (chafing-dish,) ge- nerally formed the whole inventory of the best furnished apartment. When we consider our great feudal barons, in- habiting their solitary " dungeons," without the use of letters, or the comforts of that mixed so- ciety which civilization has gradually introduced, we shall at first be tempted to suspect that the " sadness of demeanour," which was the charac- teristic of good breeding, arose from the dulness and uniformity of their lives. Yet the list of their amusements, though differing in some particulars from those of their successors, was extremely nu- joined cupbordt. (tern, oaejoyned-stool, &c. (Strutt's Man. ners, &c. vol. III. p. 69.) [ 335 ] merous. Much time must have been dedicated t the practice of fighting, both in jest and in earnest; because romance is principally employed in descri- bing the one, and history contains little more than their exploits in the other. The mystery of the luoods, or science of hunting, required no less study of mind and labour of body than the conduct of a military expedition ; and, at a time of the year when venison was the only fresh meat that could be procured, it was, perhaps, a necessary occupa- tion. Hawking, or the mystery of rivers, by which they principally supplied their tables with wild fowl, and which required little preparation, was an almost daily source of amusement ; and when the weather was such as to preclude the possibility of these exercises, there still remained the sedentary recreations of chess, back-gammon, and various other games on the tables, music, dancing, ques- tions of love, and stories of past, or the anticipa- tion of future tournaments. But a very principal business of life was eating and drinking. It is true that, for some time after the conquest, the Norman nobles were satisfied with two moderate meals in a day ; but it was at length discovered that no less than five might, without much inconvenience, be introduced into the same period ; and that three hours were by ny [ 336 ] means too long for the principal meal, allowing for the ceremonies of washing,* of marshalling the guests and the dishes, and listening to the tales or music of the minstrels. Public suppers were gene- rally followed by dancing ;f and that by the rear- * It seems tbat the whole company washed in succession, and that it was usual for the mistress of the house to lead out for this purpose the guest whom she particularly wish- ed to distinguish. In the fabliau of Lc chevalier quifaisoit parler, &c. the author says Et la comtesse pour laver Frit par les mains le chevalier, * * * Et pnis le comte, et les pucelles, Les dames, et les demoiselles Lavent apres, et 1' autre gent. -- In the same fabliau it is said Avint qu'il fut terns de soupcr, Si s'en rallerent, pair-a-pair, Si comme au matin s'asseoir. Moult furent bien servis le soir De viandes a grant plente I!t de vins a leur volontf . Apres manger chacun commence De faire caroles et danses, Tant qu'il fut heure de concher. Paris emmenent le chevalier En sa chambre, ou fait fut son lit ; Et la, burent par grant delit, Puis prirent conge, &c. C 337 ] supper, or collation, consisting of spiced cakes and medicated wines. In all the above-mentioned amusements (war and tilting only excepted) the ladies appear to have participated : indeed, their will was the motive of every action. And hence, while the stouter knights were exchanging wounds and bruises for their di- version, the less valorous courtiers were employed in devising those astonishing varieties of dress and changes of fashion which distinguished the four- teenth century, to the great scandal of our simple historians, who deplored the waste of time and money, and the distortion of the human shape, produced by modes so " destitute and desert from " all old honest and good usage." The pointed shoes, the trailing sleeves, the party-coloured dou- blets and mantles, and indecorous hose of the men, and the horned-caps, and strait-laced bodices, or stays, of the women, are mentioned by many his- torians with pious horror.* The monk of Glaston- * The most pernicious fashion in nse amongst the women of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries was that of paint- ing. But it may be hoped that it was confined (as it is in Russia) to the lower ranks of the community. In a tiroente, written in ridicule of old ladies, by Augier, a troubadour of the twelfth century, he says, " Je ne peux -outlrir le " tcint blanc et rouge que les vieillei e font avec 1'ongueat VOL. I. Y [ 338 ] bury tells us they wore such strait clothes, that they had long fox tails sewed under their garments, to hold them forth ; and, in his indignation against such an insidious species of lining, exclaims " the " which disguisings, and pride, peradventure, af- " terward brought forth and caused many mishaps " and mischief in the realm of England." (Cax- ton's Chronicle). One of our old minstrels, author of a romance called " The Squyr of Low Degre," having con- trived to enumerate, within a tolerably moderate compass, all the amusements known to the fair sex during the middle ages, it may not be amiss to transcribe the whole passage (as Mr Warton has already done), because the book, though printed, is extremely scarce.* The heroine of the piece, a daughter of the king of Hungary, being plunged " d'un ceuf battu, qu'elles s'appliquent sur le visage, et du " blanc pardessus." Hist. Litt. des Troubadours, Tom. I. p. 345. It appears, from another piece cited in the same work (Tom. III. p. 167), that the ladies used a mixture of quicksilver and various drugs for painting, as well as the common red and white. No MS. of it has been seen, and tbe only printed copy known to exist is among Mr Garrick's old plays in the Bri- tish Museum, from which, however, it is now published en- tire in Mr Ritson's collection, and the subsequent extract has been corrected after his copy. [ 339 ] (in consequence of her love for the squire) in a deep melancholy, the king, her father, endeavours to enliven her imagination by presenting to her the following picture of the amusements that he intends to procure for her : " To-morrow ye shall on hunting fare, " And ride, my daughter, in a chare ; * " It shall be cover'd with velvet red, " And clothes of fine gold all about your head, " With damask white, and azure blue, " Well diapered * with lilies new. " Your pomelles* shall be ended with gold, " Your chains enamell'd, many a fold ; " Your mantle of rich degree, " Purple pall, 4 and ermine./ree. 5 * Jennets of Spain that ben so white, " Trapp'd to the ground with velvet bright. ' Car, or chariot. * Variegated. 3 Pomd is interpreted by La Combe, " sorte d 'ornament " aux habits dYglise." Mr Rilson defines pomels " ball*, " apples." 4 " Fine cloth, usc'd fur the robes of kings, princeei, aud " persons of rank or consequence: generally purpcl or purpur. In Langhams Letter, 1575, we meet with " a pall of " white silk." " It is now confined to velvet, blackness, " and funeral processions." (Kitson.) Noblr. [ 340 ] ** Ye shall have harp, psaltry, and song, " And other mirthes you among. " Ye shall have Rumney,* and Malmesyne^ " Both Ypocrasse, and Vernage J wine, " Mount rose, 4 and wine Greek 5 " Both Algradc, 6 and Respice 7 eke, " Antioche and Bastarde, 8 " Pyment 9 also, and Garnard, l " Wine of Greek, and Muscadell, " 1 Wine of Romance, in Burgundy. * Malmsey, mahoisie. Fr. 3 Wine of Vernou, in Touraine. * Perhaps wine of Montrachet, near Beaume ; still in esti- mation. 5 " Le vin Grec is mentioned by M. Le GrandffAutfy." (Ritson> 6 Does this mean Spanih wine, from Algarva? 7 " A wine now unknown." (Ritson). Query, cCespice, vin d'espices? 8 Junius calls vinum passuui (i. e. raisin wine,) vin bastard. Harrison mentions it as a strong wine, and good for diges- tion. Mr Ritson says Bastarde is " a wine of Corsica, so " call'd, as is conjecture'd, from being mix'd with honey. " It was a common beverage in London, so late as Shak- " speare's time." 9 "Artificial wine, resembleing clary or hippocras; a " mixture, that is, of wine, honey, and spicees." (Ritson). 10 Does this mean choice wine ? wine kept in the garner, or warehouse ? Mr Ritson explains it " a 11 ' A French wine," (Ritson,) [ 341 ] Both Clare, ' Pyment, and Rochett : " The red, your stomach to defy t * " And pots of osey* set you by. " You shall have venison y-bake ; " The best wild-fowl that may be take ; " A leash of grey-hounds with you to strike, " And hart and hind, and other like. " Ye shall be set at such a tryst, * " That hart and hind shall come to your fist ; " Your disease to drive you fro, " To hear the bugles there y-bloir. *** " Homeward thus shall ye ride " On hawking by the rivers side, " With gos-hawk, and with gentil falcon, " With eglehorn, 6 and merlyon. 7 " When you come home your men among, " Ye shall have revel, dances, and song ; 1 " Clary, a mixture of wine and honey : clairet. F." (Ritson.) * Wine of Roc belle. a Defend ? De/aix, tn old Fr. is defence (V. La Combe.) * Qu. oseillc ? (sorrel). 5 A post, or station, in hunting. Tyrwhitt'i Glos*. 6 " An egkyl appears to be a species of hawk : sec Strutt'a " Mannen, &c. III. 1S4." (Ritson). 7 " Jtfcr/jn, a specie* of hawk : emerillo*. F." (Ritson.) C 342 ] " Little children great and smale " Shall sing as doth the nightingale. " Then shall ye go to your even song, " With tenours and trebles among, " Three score of copes of damask bright " Full of pearls they shall be pyght. * * * * * * * " Your censers shall be of gold, " Indent with azure, many a fold. " Your choir nor organ-song shall want " With counter-note and descant, " The other half on organs playing, " With young children full fair singing. " Then shall ye go to your suppere, " And sit in tents in green arbere, " With cloths of Arras pyght to the ground, " With sapphires set, and diamond. ****** " An hundred knightes, truly told, " Shall play with bowls in alleys cold, " Your disease to drive away. " To see the fishes in pools play, ****** 1 Sewed or quilted ; piqut, Fr. [ 343 J " To a draw-bridge then shall ye, " The one half of stone, the other of tree. " A barge shall meet you full right, " With twenty-four oars full bright, " With trumpets and with clarion, " The fresh water to row up and down. ****** " Then shall ye, daughter, ask the wine, " With spices that be good and fine, " Gentil pots with ginger green, " With dates and dainties you between. *' Forty torches, brenyna bright, " At your bridges to bring you light, " Into your chamber they shall you bring " With much mirth and more liking. " Your blankets shall be offustat/ne, l " Your sheets shall be of cloth ofraync,* " Your head-sheet shall be ofpery 3 pyght, " With diamond set, and rubies bright. 1 Futtaine, or futaine, FT. is a thick cotton cloth, of which coverlets are still commonly made. 2 Of Kennes in liritany. " This cloth is noticed l>\ Cli.-iu- " cer for its particular softness." (IlitsonJ. 3 Embroidered with precious stone). C 3M 3 " When you are laid in bed so soft, " A cage of gold shall hang aloft, " With long-pepper fair burning, " And cloves that be sweet smelling, " Frankincense and olibanum, " That when ye sleep the taste may come. " And, if ye no rest may take,- " All night minstrels for you shall wake." A modern princess might possioly object to breathing the smoke of pepper, cloves, and frank- incense during her sleep ; but the fondness of our ancestors for these, and indeed for perfumes of all kinds, was excessive. We have seen that Lydgate thought it necessary that Venus, when rising from the sea, should be enointe inith gums and ointments sweeter for to smell ; and Martial d'Auvergne, a celebrated French poet of the fifteenth century, in his prologue to the Aresta Amorum (Decrees of the Court of Love), observes of the lady-judges of that court, that Leurs habits sentoient le cypres Et le muse si abondamment, Que 1'on n'eut su etre au plus pres Sans eternuer largement. [ 345 ] Outre plus, en lieu d'herbe verd, Qu'on a accoustumS d'espandrc, Tout le parquet etoit couvert De romarin et de lavandre. In the foregoing description of diversions the good king of Hungary has forgotten one, which seems to have been as great a favourite with the English and French as it ever was with the Turkish ladies. This is the bath. It was considered, and with great reason, as the best of all cosmetics ; and Mr Strutt has extracted from an old MS. of prog- nostications, written in the time of Richard II., a medical caution to the women, against " going to " the bath/or beauty" during the months of March and November. But it seems also to have been usual for women to bathe together for the purpose of conversation : for in the fabliau of Constant du Hamel (in Barbazan's collection) an invitation for this purpose occurs to the wife as the most natural device for effecting her purpose, and her three fe- male friends are successfully the dupes of the ar- tifice. The generality* of the fabliaux, however, See Le Grand, Tom. III. p 456; Tom. IV. p. 175,232. Promiscuous bathing IB also exhibited In some of the early specimens of engraving, in which women are often repre- tented as attend ing men to the bath, as they still do at Berne. [ 346 ] while they prove that baths, or at least bathing- tubs, were to be found even in the houses of the poorest tradesmen, evince also that they were not always very innocently employed ; and those of public resort became so infamous, that their very names are expressive of debauchery. The reader may possibly be of opinion that the spectacle of an hundred knights playing at bowls " in alleys cold" would not be so amusing as even the simplest kind of theatrical representations ; and as mysteries, or miracle-plays, are mentioned by Chaucer's Wife of Bath as a common and fashion- able diversion, it may be thought that one of these might have been advantageously' substituted for the regiment of bowling knights. But the mys- teries were for a long time exhibited only on sta- ted festivals ; they were performed solely by eccle- siastics ; they required considerable preparation ; and there did not exist in England (the only coun- try which seems to have been known to the author Wenceslaus, emperor and king of Bohemia, who died in 1418, was much attached to the bathing girl who attended him during his captivity, and for whose sake he is said to have bestowed many privileges and immunities on the owners of the baths at Baden. Her picture occurs very frequently in a finely illuminated bible, written at his instance, and still preserved in the Imperial library at Vienna. This anecdote is mentioned by Lambecius in his account of that library. [ 347 ] of the romance) any company of actors, at the disposal of the couit, till after the middle of the sixteenth century. Mr Warton, in his History of Poetry, has taken great pains to discover the origin, and trace the progress of theatrical entertainments in Europe ; and, though the subject is much too extensive for the present work, it may be worth while to pre- sent to the reader what seems to be the general outline of his opinion. He observes that, as early as the fourth century, Gregory Nazianzen, an archbishop and poet, with a view of banishing pagan plays from the theatre of Constantinople, had composed many sacred dramas, intended to be substituted for the Greek tragedies, with hymns in lieu of the chorus. What- ever may have been the result of this first struggle between piety and taste, a second project of a similar nature is stated to have been successful. Theophylact, another patriarch, invented or adopt- ed, about the year 990, a sort of religious panto- mimes and farces, since known by the names of fete des Fons t Fete de /* Ane, Fete des Innocents, &c. in the hopes of weaning the people from the Bacchanalian and calendary rites, and other pagan ceremonies, by the substitution of Christian spectacles. These farces, passing first into Italy, [ 348 ] suggested the composition of mysteries, which from thence found their way into France, and the rest of Europe ; and were every where eagerly adopted by the clergy, who were glad to have in their own hands the direction of a popular amusement, ca- pable of rivalling the scandalous pantomimes and buffooneries hitherto exhibited at fairs by the jug- glers and itinerant minstrels, whom the merchants carried with them for the purpose of attracting customers. A sort of miracle play, or mystery, is said to have been acted in England by the monks of the abbey of Dunstable in the eleventh century. This was the famous play of the Death of St Chiharine. At this time, the only persons who could read were ecclesiastics ; but, as learning increased, the practice of acting these plays migrated from the monasteries to the universities, which were formed on a monastic plan, and in many respects resem- bled the ecclesiastical bodies. In the statutes of Trinity-hall, Cambridge, an Imperator, orprefectus ludorum (master of the revels) is ordered to be appointed, for the purpose of superintending the amusements and plays at Christmas ; and a Christ- mas-prince, or lord of misrule, corresponding to the Imperator at Cambridge, was a common tem- porary magistrate at Oxford. [ 349 ] The same practice was afterwards introduced into our schools, and from hence into the com- panies of singing-boys in the choirs, and the law societies. All Lylie's plays, and many of Jonson'a and Shakspeare's, were acted by the children of the Chapel-royal, assisted by those of St Paul's. " Ferrex and Porrex" was acted in 1561, by the gentlemen of the Inner Temple, and Gascoigne's " Supposes" in 1566, by those of Gray's-inn. It may be proper to observe, that this sketch, though possibly correct in general, is by no means so in respect to France ; for it appears, that a regular company of players was established at Paris by a reglement of Charles VI. in December 1 4-02, under the title of Les Confreres de la Passion. It is said to have been founded by a set of pilgrims returning from the Holy Land, who used to assem- ble in the public squares to chant, in several parts, the miracles of the Virgin. This company was succeeded, during the same reign, by a new one, composed of lawyers' clerks belonging to the Par- lement and the Chatelet, under the direction of a manager, who called himself le Prince des Sots, and began to exhibit a new and burlesque species of entertainments, which, under the successive names of Softies, Pois-pUes, and lastly Farcff, continued in fashion till the time of Moliere. o . [ 350 ] CHAPTER XIV. Reign of Henry VI. Hugh de Campeden. Thomas Chestre. Scotish Poets. Clerk of Tranent. Holland. Henry the Minstrel. Reigns of Edward IV. and V. Hard- ing. Scogan. Norton. Ripley. Lady Juliana Berners. William of Nass'yngton. Lord Rivers. Scotish Poets Robert Henrysoun. Patrick Johnstoun and Mer- sar. JL HE only poets who can be assigned, with any certainty, to the reign of Henry VI., are HUGH DE CAMPEDEN and THOMAS CHE STUB, both of whom are only known to us as translators ; the former having turned into English verse the ro- mance of Sidrac, and the latter the Lay ofLamal, composed, or rather paraphrased, from the Breton original, by Mademoiselle Marie, a French poetess of the twelfth century. The romance of Sidrac* is represented by Mr Warton as a compendium of Arabian philosophy, * " The history of kyog Boccus and Sydracke," &c. London, printed by Godfray, 1510, 4to. Mr Ritson (Bibl. Poet.) says that MS. copies are not uncommon. There is one in the Bodleian, and another in the British Museum* C 351 ] rather than a fable of chivalry ; and Campeden's translation as exhibiting " no sort of elegance in " the diction, nor harmony in the versification." Chestre's work, on the contrary, besides being very fanciful and entertaining, appears to be writ- ten by an experienced versifier ; because the six- lined stanza, in which it is composed, has not in any degree fettered his expression, which is very generally natural and easy as well as picturesque. It is unnecessary, however, to give any extract from this poem, as it has been very lately submitted to the public in the Appendix to Mr Way's trans- lation of the Fabliaux (Faulder, 1800).* Mr War- ton suspects, that the Earl of Thoulouse, a metrical romance, of which he has given the analysis (Hist. Eng. P. vol. II. p. 103,) may also have been trans- lated by Chestre : but Mr Ritson, who has printed it in his collection, is of a different opinion. The dearth of names in our poetical catalogue towards the middle of the fifteenth century is not a proof that the art of poetry was at this time very little cultivated. The contrary, indeed, is most probably true; because many of the old ballads preserved in Percy's Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, several of the metrical romances, of which a iarge collection still remains in manu- It may now be read to the utmost advantage in Mr Kit son's collection of Ancient English Romances, where it U printed (no doubt) with scrupulous fidelity [ 352 ] script in our public libraries, and the greater part of the fabulous stories of Robin Hood, as well as the tales of Gamelyn and of Beryn, so long attributed to Chaucer, appear to belong to this period. But though Henry VI. was likely to be the patron of a talent to which he had himself some pretensions, 1 the general despondence and discontent which 1 In the Nug.-c Antiques the following wretched lines are ascribed to this wretched prince : Kingdoms are but cares ; State is devoid of stay ; Riches are ready snares, And hasten to decay. Pleasure is a privy prick Which vice doth still provoke ; Pomp unprompt ; and fame a flame ; Power a smouldering smoke. Who meaneth to remove the rock Out of the slimy mud, Shall mire himself, and hardly scape The swelling of the flood. This " prettie verse," as Sir John Harington calls it, must have been known to Baldwin, the first compiler of the Mirror for Magistrates, who, in bis' Tragedy of King Henry VI., puts the following reflection (being the royal language, it appears, almost verbatim) into the mouth of that unfor- tunate monarch : " Our kingdoms are but cares, our state devoid of stay, " Our riches ready snares, to hasten our decay : " Our pleasures privy pricks, our vices to provoke* " Our pomp a pump, our fame a flame, our power a smouldiing smoke." For the ingenious comparison of pomp to a pump Bald- win, and not poor King Henry, must be answerable. C a/a 3 prevailed during a great part of his reign could not but discourage men of rank and learning from em- ploying their leisure in works of imagination. In Scotland, on the contrary, the progress of poetry seems to have been uninterrupted ; for Dunbar has enumerated no less than eighteen dis- tinguished " makers,'* many of whom must have flourished as early as the middle of the fifteenth century. One of these, CLERK OF TRANENT, is celebrated as the author of the Adventures of Sir Gaivain, a romance, of which two cantos appear to be preserved. They are written in stanzas of thir- teen lines, with alternate rhymes, and much alli- teration ; and in a language so very obsolete as to be often quite unintelligible. There is, however, a sort of wildness in the narrative which is very striking. (Vide Pinkerton's Scotish Poems, 3 vols. 1792.) Another Scotish Poet, of the name of HOL- LAND, has left an allegorical satire, called The Hovlat (the Owl,) composed in the same metre with the preceding, and in language equally ob- scure, but far less beautiful. Mr Warton seems to have proved that it was written before 1455. (See the same collection.) But the most interesting composition of this pe- riod is the celebrated metrical History of Sir Wil- liam, Wallace, written by a poet whose surname is not known, but who is distinguished by the fami- TOL. I. 7. liar appellations of HENRY THE MINSTREL and BUND HARRY. * The date of his book," accord- ing to the account prefixed to the edition printed at Perth, 1790, " and consequently the age in " which he lived may be exactly ascertained. In " the time of my infancy," says Major, " Henry, " taho toas Hind from his birth, composed a book " consisting entirely of the Achievements of WUf " Ham Wallace" Major was born at North Ber- " wick, in East Lothian, in 144-6. It was, there- " fore, about the year 1446, that Henry wrote, or " made public, his entire history of Wallace." From the same account it appears that he was a kind of itinerant minstrel, and that " by reciting " his histories before princes or great men, he " gained his food and raiment, of which," says Major very justly, " he was worthy." That a man born blind should excel in any sci- ence is sufficiently extraordinary, though by no means without example ; but that he should be- come an excellent poet is almost miraculous ; be- cause the soul of poetry is description. Perhaps, therefore, it may be easily assumed, that Henry was not inferior in point of genius either to Bar- bour or Chaucer, nor indeed to any poet of any age or country : but it is our present business to estimate the merit of the work rather than the genius of the author. [ 355 ] The similarity of the subject will naturally induce every reader to compare the life of Wallace with Barbour's life of Bruce : and on such a compa- rison, it will probably be found that Henry excels his competitor in correctness of versification, and, perhaps, in perspicuity of language (for both of which he was indebted to the gradual improvements which had taken place during near a century) ; but that in every other particular he is greatly in- ferior to his predecessor. Though Henry did not invent what he relates, but probably employed such materials as he believed to be authentic ; and though this may serve as a general excuse for many exaggerations and false facts, and, among the rest, for his carrying Wallace, at the head of a victorious army, to dictate a peace at St Albans ; yet, to re- present the fierce and politic Edward I. trembling for his safety in the Tower of London, weeping over the body of his nephew, and sending his queen to supplicate for a disgraceful peace, it to con- found all our ideas of historical characters, and to disgust the reader with useless improbability. The Bruce is evidently the work of a politician as well as poet. The characters of a king, of his brother, of Douglas, and of the Earl of Moray, are discriminated, and their separate talents always employed with judgment ; so that every event is prepared and rendered probable by the means to C 656 ] which it is attributed : whereas the life of Wallace is a mere romance, in which the hero hews down whole squadrons with his single arm, and is in- debted for every victory to his own muscular strength. Both poems are filled with descriptions of battles ; but in those of Barbour our attention is successively directed to the cool intrepidity of King Robert, to the brilliant rashness of Edward Bruce, or to the enterprising stratagems of Doug- las: while in Henry we find little more than a disgusting picture of revenge, hatred, and blood. Still, however, it must be confessed that the life of Wallace is a work of very great poetical merit. The following extracts are chosen as specimens of our author's style in different kinds of description : the first representing a visionary spectre seen by Wallace soon after he had put to death one of his own partisans, (of the name of Fawdoun,) whom he suspected of treachery. The scene is a soli- tary castle, called Gask Hall, at which Wallace arrived with a few partisans, after a very distress- ing retreat. In the Gask Hall their lodging have they taen ; Fire gat they soon, but meat than had they Two. sheep they took beside them off a fold ; Ordain'd to sup into that seemly hold, C 357 ] Graithit * in haste some food for them to dight : So heard they blew rude hornis upon height. Twa sent he forth to look what it might be ; They 'bade right long, and no tidings heard he, But boustous * noise so brynity 3 blew 4 and fast. So other twa into the wood forth past. None come again ; but boustously can blmv : Into great ire he sent them forth on raw. s When he 6 alane Wallace was leavyt there, The awful blast aboundyt mickle mair : Than trevoit 7 he weill they 8 had his lodging seen, His sword he drew of noble metal keen, Syne forth he went where that he heard the horn. Without the door Fawdoun was him beforn, (As till his sight) his awn head in his hand. A cross he made, when he saw him so stand. At Wallace in the head he swaket yare, 9 And he in haste soon hijnt * [it] by the hair, Syne out at him again he couth it cast, IntiU his heart he was greatly aghast, 1 Made ready. * Huge, boisterous ? It seems to come from the Goth, tusa, " cum impetu fcrri. 1 ' Vid. Ihre Gloss. * Fiercely. Kuddiraan's Gloss. 4 So MS. Ed. 1790, blow. -In a row, altogether. The edit. 1685 has in row. 6 So MS. Ed. 1790, that. 7 Believed. i. e. the enemy. 9 Threw suddenly. I0 Seized. [ 358 ] Right toeill he trowit that was na spreit of man ; It was some devil that sic malice began ; He wist na tceill there longer for to bide : Up through the hall thus wycht x Wallace can glide To a close stair the boardis raiff* in twin : Fifteen foot large he lap out of that inn. Up the water suddenly he couth fare ; Again he blent 3 what 'perance he saw there ; He thought he saw Fawdoun, that ugly sire, That haill* hall he had set in a fire ; s A great rafter he had intill his hand ; Wallace as than no langer would he stand. Of his good men full great mervail had he, How they were tynt 6 through hisfeyle 7 fantasy. Trust right well that all this was sooth indeed ; Suppose that it no point be of the creed. ******* By sic mischief giff his men might be lost, Drownyt, or slain among the Inglis 8 host, Or what it was in likeness of Fawdoun, 1 Bold. * Split, were riven. 3 Looked. In the edit. 1685, it is blenked. + Whole. 5 " Upon the house, and all the rest on fire." Edit. 1685. 6 Lost. 7 Probably the same as /ey, fatal. (Rudd. Gl.) * English. [ 359 ] Which brought his men to sudden confiisioun, ****## * I cannot speak of sic divinity, &c. (Book V. ver. 175, &c.) The following incident is of a less terrific nature. Wallace had a mistress at Perth, whom he visited in the disguise of a priest; but he was accidentally discovered, and his mistress seized, and prevailed on by threats and promises to betray her gallant admirer. When every preparation lias been made to surprise him he entryt * in the town Wit land no thing of all this false treasoun, TUl her chamber he went but mair abaid. * She welcom'd him, and full great pleasance made. What that they wrought I cannot graithly 3 say ; Right unperfyt I am of Venus' play : But hastily he graithit * him to gang. Than she him took, and speir'dgiffhe thought long? She askyt him that night with her to bide : Soon he said, " Nay ! for chance that may betide ! " My men are left all at mis-rule for me ; 1 Entered. a Without more abode, i. e. delay. 3 Readily. * Made ready, prepared. 5 Asked if he thought tbe time long, i. e, if he was tired. 8 " I may not sleep this night 'while I them see !" Than weepyt she, and said full oft, " Alas ! " That I was made ! iua worth the cursyt cause ! " Now have I lost the best man livand is : " O feeble mind, to do sa foul amiss ! " O luaryit x wit, wicked, and variance. " That me has brought into this myschefull chance ! " Alas," she said, " in world that I was wrought ! " Gyjf&\\ this 1 pain on myself might be brought ! " J have 'sercit to be brynt in a gleid" 3 When Wallace saw she ner qfioitt couth iueid t 4 In his armis he caught her soberly, And said,"Dear heart, ivha has mis-done aught? I?" " Nay, I," quoth she, "has falsely wrought this train, " I have you sold ! right now ye will be slain !" She told him of her treason till an end As I have said ; what needis mair legend ? At s her he speir'dgiff'shejbrthought 6 it sare : " Wa ! yea," she said, " and shall do evermare ! " My luaryed tverd'' in world I mon 8 fulfill : " To mend this 'miss I would burn on a hill !" 1 Cursed. (Werian. Sax.) * So MS. Ed. 1790. his. 3 "Deserved to be burnt in a coal fire. 4 She could not imagine any contrivance ? 5 0/her he asked, &c. 6 Repented. 7 Destiny. 8 Must. 6 [ 361 ] He comfort her, and bade her have no dreid ; <* I will," he said, " have some part of thy tueid." l Her gown he took on him, and courches * als : " Will God I shall escape this treason false, " I thee forgive !'* withoutyn wordis mair, His kissyt her, syne took his leave to fare. His burly 3 brand that help'd him oil in need, Right privily he hid it under that weid* * To the south gate the gaynest * way he drew, Where that he found of armyt men eneu). 6 To them he told, dissemblyt countenance, " To the chamber, where he was upon chance, " Speed fast !" he said " Wallace is lockyt in !" Fra him they sought withoutyn noise or din, To that same house ; about they can them cast. Out at the gate than Wallace gat full fast, Right glad in heart when that he was without, Right fast he yeide, 7 a st6, contains an additional treatise on the art of angling ; as also a sort of lyrical epilogue to the book of hunting, which is not entirely devoid of merit. In the third edition (printed partly by Robert Toy, and partly for him by William Copland), the treatise on he- raldry is wanting ; but the epilogue is preserved. It is as follows : To have a faithful friend.* A faithful friend would I fain find, To find him there he might be found ; But now is the world wext so unkind, That friendship is fall to the ground. THS title is from Toy'i ed.W. de Worde's, from which the text is given, has none. [ 364 ] Now, a friend I have found, That I will neither ban * ne curse ; But, of all friends in field or town, Ever gramercy mine own purse. My purse it is my privy wife : (This song I dare both sing and say :} It parteth men of muche strife, When every man for himself shall pay. As I ride in rich array For gold and silver men will me flourish By this matter I dare well say Ever gramercy mine own purse. As I ride with gold so rede, And have to do with landys law, Men for my money will make me speed, And for my goods they will me knatue : More and less to me will draw, Both the better and the worse : By this matter I say in sawe 3 Ever gramercy mine own purse. It fell by me upon a time, As it hath doo by many one mo, * Execrate. a Probably fatter; but the rhyme is indefensible* * Proverbially. [ 365 ] My horse, my neat, my sheep, my swine, And all my goods they fell me fro : I went to my friends and told them so ; And home again they bade me truss : I said again, when I was wo, Ever gramercy mine own purse. Therefore I rede you, sires all, To assay your friends or ye have need : For, and ye come down and have a fall, Full few of them for you will grede.* Therefore, assay them every one, Both the better and the worse. Our Lord, that shope both sun and moon, Send us spending in our purse ! The treatise on hunting, though written in rhyme, has no resemblance to poetry : the other parts of the work are professedly written in prose. Mr Warton notices, as contemporary with dame Juliana, WILLIAM OF NASSYNGTON, a proctor in the ecclesiastical court of York, who translated, in 1480, into English verse, a Latin essay on the Tri- nity, written by John of IValdenby, an Augustine friar of Yorkshire. About the same time was pub- lished an anonymous work, called THE CALEN- DAR OF SHEPHERDS, translated from the " Calen- 1 Cry, lament. [ 366 ] drier des Bergers." It is a sort of perpetual alma- nack, consisting of mingled prose and verse, and containing, like many of our modern almanacks, a vast variety of heterogeneous matter. A ballad written by ANTHONY WIDVILLE or WOODVYLLE, EARL OF RIVERS, during his con- finement in Pontefract Castle (vide Percy's Re- liques, vol. II. p. 44, last edit, or Ritson's An- cient Songs, p. 87), completes the catalogue of English poetry for this period. Among the minor poets of Scotland, at this timC| the most conspicuous, perhaps, is ROBERT HENRY- SOUN, of whose life, however, no anecdotes are preserved, except that, according to Sir Francis Kinaston, his Latin translator, he was a school- . master at Dunfermling. His Testament and Com- plaint of Cresseide are to be found in Urry's edi- tion of Chaucer, and several of his poems are in- serted in Lord Hailes's extracts from the Banna- tyne MS. Among the best of these is the popular ballad of Robene and MaTcyne ; but the most sin- gular is the following, which is called The Garment of good Ladies. Would my good lady love me best, And work after my will, I should a garment goodliest Gar make her body t ill. 1 Cause to be made to her shape. C 367 ] Of high honour should be her hood, Upon her head to wear, Garnish'd with governance, so good Na deeming should her deir. * Her sark * should be her body next, Of chastity so white ; With shame and dread together mixt, The same should be perfyt. 3 Her kirtle should be of clean Constance, Lacit with lesum * love ; The mailyeis s of continuance, For never to remove. Her gown should be of goodliness, Well ribbon'd with renown ; PurfilPd 6 with pleasure in ilk place, Furrit with fine fashioun. Her belt should be of benignity, About her middle meet ; 1 No opinions should dismay her; i. . she should have no cause to fear censure. * Shift. 3 Perfect. 4 Loyal. 5 Net-work, Fr. ; here it means the eyelet-holes for la- cing her kirtle. 6 Parfile, Fr. ; fringed, or bordered. 7 Each. I 368 ] Her mantle of humility, To tholl 1 both wind and tueit.* Her hat should be of fair having, And her tippet of truth ; Her patelet of good pansing, 3 Her hols-ribbon of ruth.* Her sleeves should be of esperance, To keep her/ra despair : Her glovis of s good governance, To hide her fingers fair. Her shoen should be of sickernesse, 6 In sign that she not slide ; Her hose of honesty, I guess, I should for her provide. Would she put on this garment gay, I durst swear by my seill, * That she wore never green nor gray That set* her half so Lord Hailes, in his notes on this poem, which he supposes to be " a sort of paraphrase of 1 Tim. 1 Suffer. a Wet. 3 Thinking. I do not understand the word patelet (patellette. Fr.) unless it mean lappet. 4 Her neck-ribbon of pity. s So the MS. Lord Hailea inserts the inaccurately. 6 Security, steadiness. 7 Felicity. Became. 9 Well. [ 369 ] M ii. 9 11," observes very justly, that the com- parison between female ornaments and female vir- tues is carried so far as to become " somewhat ridiculous." But this strange conversion of the virtues into the stock in trade of an allegorical mantua-maker was first conceived by Olivier de la Marche, who, in a poem intitled " Le parement et " triomphe des dames d' honneur," recommends to the ladies slippers of humility, shoes of diligence, stockings of perseverance, garters of" ferme pro- pos," (i. e. determination,) a petticoat of chastity, a pin-cushion of patience, &c. Such was the taste of the age : but the following fine moral poem, the next in the same collection, will shew that Henrysoun's talents were fitted for a better employment than that of imitating Olivier de la Marche. The Abbey Walk. i. Alone as I went up and down In an abbey was fair to see, * Lord Hailes gave this title to the succeeding poem from ne mentioned in '' the Complaint of Scotland." He adds, " If the study of Scoiish history should ever revive, a new " edition of Inglis't Complaint would be an acceptable pre- " sent to the public." For this acceptable present we are in- debted to the ingenious Mr Leydeo of Ldinburgh, who has lately reprinted the very curious work in question with the most scrupulous fidelity, and added a preliminary disserta- tion and glossary, abounding with antiquarian learning. VOL. I. 2 A [ 370 ] Thinkand what consolation Was best into adversity ; On case T I cast on side mine ee, * And saw this written upon 3 a wall : " Of what estate, man, that thou be, " Obey, and thank thy God of 4 all"!" n. Thy kingdom, and thy great empire, Thy royalty, nor rich array, Shall nought endure at thy desire, But, as the wind, will wend away. Thy gold, and all thy goodis gay, When fortune list, vfiMfra thee fall : Sen thou sic s samples sees ilk day, Obey, and thank thy God of all ! IV. Though thou be blind, or have an halt, Or in thy face deformit ill, Sa it come not through thy default, Na man should thee repreif 6 by skill. Blame not thy Lord, sa is his will ! Spurn not thy foot against the wall ; But with meek heart, and prayer still, Obey, and thank thy God of all. 1 By chance. * Eye. 3 So MS. not on. * For. 5 Such. 6 Reprove, [ 371 ] God, of his justice, won ' correct ; And, of his mercy, pity have ; He is one judge, to none suspect, To punish sinful man and save. Though thou be lord attour the laif t * And afterward made bound and thrall, Ane poor beggar, with scrip and staiff* Obey, and thank thy God of all. VI. This changing, and great variance Of earthly statis, up and down, ts not but * casualty and chance, (As some men say is without ressffum) s But by the great provisioun Of God above, that rule thee shall ! Therefore, ever thou make thee boun 6 To obey, and thank thy God of all. VII. In wealth be meek, heich 7 not thyself; Be glad in wilful poverty ; Thy power, and thy worldis pelf, Is nought but very vanity. ' Must. l Above the rest : literally, betide the rest. Fr. 3 Staff. * Only. * Reason. ' Ready. r Exalt. [ 372 3 Remember, him * that died on ire * For thy sake tastit the bitter gall : Who. heis 3 low hearts, and latoeis he, 4 Obey ; and thank thy God of all ! (P. 105.) PATRICK JOHNSTOUN is only known to us by a single specimen of 64 lines, printed in Lord Hailes's collection. The following are the most striking stanzas. The three dead Fonts. s i. O sinful man ! into this mortal se, 6 Which is the vale of mourning and of care, With gaistly 7 sight behold our headis three, Our holkit eyn, our peilit powis bare ! * As ye are now, int9 9 this world we were ; Als fresh, als fair, ah lusty to behold. When thou lookis on this sooth exemplair, Of thyself, man, thou may be right un-bold. in. O wanton youth ! als fresh as lusty May, Fairest of 10 flowers renewit white and reid, Behold our heads, O lusty gallants gay ! Full earthly " thus shall lie thy lusty heid t I He. a On the cross. 3 Exalts. * Lowers high. 5 Polls, skulls. 6 Seat, residence. 7 Ghastly, or mental sight ? 8 Bald, bare skulls. 9 In. 10 With. 11 So the MS. Lord liailes prints, inaccurately, loathly. [ 373 ] Holkit, and haras, and toaUoioit as the toeed. " Thy crumplind * hair and eke thy chrystal eyn Full carefully conclude shall duleful deid ; J Thy example here by us it may be seen. IV. O ladies, white in claithis 4 cdruscant * Polish'd with pearl and many precious static, With palpis white, and hah (es) 6 elegant, Circlit with gold and sapphires many one ; Your fingeris small, white as ichalis bane, 7 Array'd with rings and many rubies reid ; As we lie thus, so shall ye lie ilk one With peelit pmvis, and holkit thus your held ! VI. This question who can absolve, let see, What phisnamour 8 or perfyt palmister, 1 Holkit and how are nearly synonymous, both meaning hollow, emaciated : wallomt K faded. * Curled, like tendril*. Lord Hailes prints crampland, inaccurately. 3 Mournful death shall put an end to, &c. * Clothes. 5 Dazzling. Necks. 7 This does not mean what we call whalebone, nor indeed any bone, but the tooth or horn of thcnarval, or unicorn-fish, which was employed for many of the purpose* of ivory. * Physiognomist. C 374 ] Wha was fairest or foulest of us three ? Or which of us of kin was gentiller ? Or maist excellent in science or in lare, In art music, or in astronomy ? Here shoulde be your study and repair, And think as thus all your headis mon be ! (Page 139.) ****** Another Scotish poet of this period is MERSAR, whose Christian name is not known ; and of whose talents the following small poem, extracted from Lord Hailes's collection, affords the only specimen : Peril in Paramours. i. Alas ! so sober 4 is the might Of women for to make debate In contrair mennis subtle slight, Which are fulfillit with dissait ; * With treason so intoxicate Are mennis mouthis at all hours, Whom in to trust no woman wait, 3 Sic peril lies in paramours ! 1 Small, weak. a Deceit. 3 Knows. C 375 ] n. Some swearis that he loves so ivetil That he will die without remeid, But gife that he her friendship feel That garris x him sic languor lead : And though he have no doubt of speed, Yet will he sigh and show great showers, As he would sterf'e into that steid ! J Sic peril lies in paramours ! in. Athis 3 to swear, and gifts to hecht, 4 (More than he has thirty fold ! ) And for her honour for to fecht, While that his blood becomis cold ! But fi /rfl she to his ivillis yold, Adieu, farewell thir summer flowers ! All grows in glass that seem it gold : s Sic peril lies in paramours ! IV. Than turnis he his sail anon, And passes to another port ; 1 Causes. * Die in that place. 3 Oaths. * Promise. ' The substitution of glass for silver or golden drinking vessels suggested this proverbial phrase, which is not un- common amongst our early poets. C 376 ] Though she be never so wo-begone, Her caris cold are his comfort. Herefore I pray in termys short, Christ keep these birdis bright in bowers * Fra false lovers, and their resort ! Sic peril lies in paramours ! (P. 156.) 1 It has been already observed that the expression birds (i. e. brides) bright in bowers was a poetical circumlocution for women. CHAPTER XV. Reign of Henry VII. William Dunbar. Gawin Douglas. Minor Poets of the Reign Stephen Hawes. W ILLIAM DUNBAR, the greatest poet that Scot- land has produced, was born about the year 1465, at Salton, in East Lothian, and became a travel- ling novice of the Franciscan order, in which cha- racter he visited several parts of England and France ; but, disliking this mode of life, he return- ed to Scotland, where he died in old age about 1530. " In his younger years," says Mr Pinker- ton, " he seems to have had great expectations " that his merit would have recommended him to " an ecclesiastical benefice, and frequently in his " small poems addresses the king to that purpose, " but apparently without success. I have in vain " looked over many calendars of charters, &c. of " his period, to find Dunbar's name ; but suspect " that it was never written by a lawyer." Mr Warton, who has bestowed great commen- dations on Dunbar, observes that his genius is pe- culiarly " of a moral and didactic cast ;" and it is certainly in such pieces that he is most confessedly [ 378 ] superior to all who preceded, and to nearly all who have followed him ; but his satires, his allego- rical and descriptive poetry, and his tales, are all admirable, and full of fancy and originality. The following specimen, which was apparently written in his youth, since it is stated to have been composed at Oxford, during his travels in England, is strongly marked by that turn of mind which is attributed to him by Mr Warton. Lair is vain ivithout Governance. * To speak of science, craft, or sapience, Of virtue, moral cunning, z or doctrine ; Of truth, of wisdom, or intelligence; Of every study, lair, or discipline ; All is but tynt, 3 or ready for to tyne y 4 Not using it as it should usit be, The craft exercing, s achieving 6 not the fine : A perilous sickness is vain prosperity ! The curious probation logical ; The eloquence of ornate rhetoric ; The natural science philosophical ; The dark appearance of astronomy ; * Learning is vain without good conduct. z Knowledge. 3 Lost. * Lose. 5 Exercising. 6 So I venture to print it. Mr P. gives eschewing. [ 379 ] The theologue's sermon ; the fable of poetry ; Without good life all in the salf does de, * As Mayis flowers does in September dry : A perilous life is vain prosperity ! Wherefore, ye clerkis, greatest of Constance, Fullest of science and of knowledging, To us be mirrors in your governance ! And in our darkness be lamps of seeing! Or than in vain is all your long lering! * Gyfto your saws your deedis contrair be, Your maist 3 accuser is your own cunning : A perilous sickness is vain prosperity. [Pinkerton's Anc. Scot. Poems, p. 106.] The following is still more beautiful : Meditation written in Winter. i. Into thir 4 dark and drtiblie J days, When sable all the heaven arrays, When misty vapours clouds the skies, 1 I do not understand the word talf ; perhaps it is it If. Ruddiman observes, that (. Douglas, and other authors of- that time, constantly wrote Ihr self for itself. * Learning. " Most, greatest. 4 In these. * Troubled. (I'inkcrton's Glossary.) 6 [ 380 ] Nature all courage me denies Of song, balladis, and of plays. n. When that the night does lengthen hours, With wind, with hail, and heavy showers, My dule spreit x does lurk for schoir ; * My heart for languor does 3 forloir, 4 For lack of Summer with his flowers. in. I wake, I turn ; sleep may I nought ; I vexed am with heavy thought ; This world all o'er I cast about : And aye the mair I am in doubt, The mair that I remeid have sought. IV. I am assay'd on every side. Despair says aye, *' In time provide, " And get something whereon to leif; 3 " Or, with great trouble and mischief, " Thou shall into this court abide." 1 Mournful spirit. 'Terror? (Pink. Gloss.) perhaps it may mean/or sure, i. e. certainly. 3 Ought it not to be is ? + Forlorn. s Live. C.881 ] v. Than Patience says, " Be na aghast ; " Hold hope and truth within thee fast ; " And let Fortune work forth her rage ; " When that no reason may assuage, " While that her glass be run and past." VI. And Prudence in my ear says aye, " Why would you hold what will away ? " Or crave what you may have no space " [To brook, as] to another place " A journey going every day ? VII. And then says Age, " My friend come near, " And be not strange I thee requeir ; " Come brother, by the hand me take ! " Remember, thou has 'compt to make " Of all the time thou spendit here !" VIII. Syne, Deid ' casts up his gatis wide, Saying, " Thir * open shall thee 'bide : ' Then Death. 1 These shall wait for you alwajs open. [ 382 3 " Albeit that thou were ne'er so stout, " Under this h'ntel f shall thou lout : * " There is nane other way beside." IX. For fear of this, all day I droop. No gold in Jcist, 3 nor wine in coop, 4 No lady's beauty, nor love's bliss, May hit s me to remember this, How glad that ever 6 I dine or sup. x. Yet, when the night begins to short, It does my spreit some part 7 comfort, Of thought oppressit with the showers. Come, lusty Summer, with thy flowers, That I may live in some disport ! [Pinkerton, p. 125.] It is pleasant to observe in this fine poem the elastic spirit of D unbar struggling against the pres- sure of melancholy : indeed it appears that his mo- rality was of the most cheerful kind. We have 1 The beam over a door. * Bend, stoop, bow. 3 Chest. 4 In cup ? or barrel ? 5 Prevent. 6 Soever. 7 In some respects, in some degree. [ 383 ] seen the description of his own feelings, and the following stanzas contain his advice to others. No Treasure without Gladness. i. Be merry man ! and take not far in mind The wavering of this wretchit world of sorow ! To God be humble, and to thy friend be kind, And with thy neighbours gladly lend and borrow: His chance to-night, it may be thine to-morrow. Be blithe in heart for any aventure ; For oft with wysure l it has been said a/omnc, * Without gladness availis no treasure. ii. Make thee good cheer of it tliat God thee sends, For worldis ivrak 3 but welfare, nought avails : No. good is thine, save only but thou spends; Remenant all thnu brookis but with bales. 4 Seek to solace when sadness thee assails : In dolour lang thy life may not endure ; Wherefore of comfort set up all thy sails : Without gladness availis no treasure. 1 Wisdom. 1 A-fore, before. 3 Merchandise, treasure. 4 Thou canst eujoy all the remainder only with bale, er sorrow. [ 38* ] in. Follow on pity ; ' flee trouble and debate ; With famous folkis hold thy company ; Be charitable, and humble in thine estate, For worldly honour lastis but a cry ; * For trouble in earth take no melancholy ; Be rich in patience, gif thou in goods be poor; Who livis merry, he livis mightily : Without gladness avai'is no treasure. IV. Thou sees thir wretches set with sorrow and care, To gather goods in all their livis space ; And, when their bags are full, their selves are bare, And of their riches but the keeping has ; While others come to spend it, that has grace, Which of thy winning no labour had nor cure. Take thou example, and spend with merriness : Without gladness availis no treasure. v. Though all the werk 3 that ever had livand wight Were only thine, no more thy part does fall But meat, drink, dais, 4 and of the laif s a sight ! Yet, to the judge thou shall give 'compt of all. 1 Originally pity and piety are the same. (Rudd. Gloss.) z No longer than a sound. 3 Possessions. * Clothes. * Remainder. [ 385 ] Ane reckoning right comes of one ragment f small. Be just, and joyous, and do to none injure, And truth shall make thee strong as any wall ; Without gladness availis no treasure. (Lord Hailes's Anc. Scot. Poems, p. 54.) In these specimens we see much good sense and sound morality, expressed with force and concise- ness. This indeed is Dunbar's peculiar excellence. His style, whether grave or humorous, whether simple or ornamented, is always energetic; and though all his compositions cannot be expected to possess equal merit, we seldom find in them a weak or redundant stanza. But his most admired and most truly poetical works are the Thistle and the Rose, and the Golden Targe. The first of these was composed for the marriage of James IV. of Scotland, with Margaret, eldest daughter of our Henry VII., an event which is likely to have produced many invocations to the Muses, but which probably was hailed by very few panegyrics so delicate and ingenious as this of Dunbar. In the age of allegory and romance, when a knowledge of heraldry was a necessary accom- plishment, it was natural enough to compliment 1 Accompt. i. 2 B [ 386 ] the royal bridegroom, under the character of a lion, (part of the arms of Scotland,) or under that of the thistle ; and to describe the bride as the rose, proceeding from the joint stems of York and Lancaster : but it required considerable ingenuity to call into action these heraldic personages. The poet has recourse to a dream, in which he supposes himself accosted by May, who desires him to ce- lebrate in a poem the return of spring. She then introduces him into a delicious garden, to which all organized beings are summoned to appear before the goddess Nature, who crowns the lion, the eagle, and the thistle, as kings of beasts, birds, and plants, recommending at the same time to each many im- portant moral and political maxims. To the pro- tection of the thistle she particularTy consigns the rose, whom she represents as " above the lily" (the house of Valois,) and whom she also invests with a crown, so brilliant as to illumine all the land with its light at which joyful event, an universal song of gratulation from the birds inter- rupts the progress of the poet's vision. In this singular but ingenious allegory Dunbar has interwoven a number of rich and glowing de- scriptions, much excellent advice, and many deli- cate compliments, without any fulsome adulation. " The Goldin Terge" is, perhaps, still superior to [ 387 ) the Thistle and Rose ; at least such seems to have been the opinion of Sir David Lindsay, who, in estimating the poetical genius of Dunbar, says, that he " language had at large, " As may be seen infill his Golden Targe" [Compl. of the Papingo, Prol.] This poem is a moral allegory, the object of which is to shew the gradual and imperceptible influence of love, which even the golden target of reason cannot always repel. The poet walks out in a vernal morning, which he describes much at large, and in the most glowing language : the second stanza may be taken as a good specimen of his style. Full angel-like thir birdis sang their hours * Within their curtains green, within their bowers, Apparell'd with white and red, with bloomys sweet. EnamelTd was the field with all colours : The pearlit drops shook as m silver showers, While all in balm did branch and leavu < /fcrf. > Depart/ra Phrebus did Aurora greii : * Her chrystal tears I saw king on the flowers, Which he, for love, all drank up with his heat. [Ld. Hailes's Anc. Sc. P. p. 8.] 1 Matins, heura. Fr. * Float. Weep. [ 388 ] After some time What through the merry fowlis harmony, And through the river's sound that ran me by, On Flora's mantle I sleepit where I lay ; Where soon, unto my dreamis fantasy, I saw approach, again the orient sky, Ane sail as blossom [white] upon the spray, With mast of gold, bright as the st erne * of day, Which tended to the land full lustily [With swiftest motion through a chrystal bay.} And, hard on board, into the lilemit * meads, Amangis the green rispis 3 and the reeds, Arrivit she ; where-fro anon there lands An hundred ladies, lusty infill weeds, 4 Als fresh as flowers that in the May up-spreids, In kirtles green, withoutin kell s or bands, Their bright hair hang glitterand on the strand, In tresses clear taypit 6 with golden threids, VfithpatvpisJ white, and middles small as wands. [P. 9] These are allegorical ladies, viz. Nature, Venus, Aurora, &c. 1 Star. a Bloomed. 3 Bulrnshes, * Pleasing in their attire. 5 Cawls, or caps, to confine their hair. 6 Whipped or tied, or inwoTen. 7 Breast^, [ 389 ] Full lustily thir ladies, all in/Hr, 1 Enterit within this park of maist pleseir, Where that I lay heilit a with leavis rank : The merry fowlis, blissfullest of cheer, Salust 3 Nature, methought, in their maneir ; And every bloom on branch and eke on bank Opnit 4 and spread their balmy leavis dank, Full low inclinand to their queen full clear, Whom for their noble nourishing they thank. The ladies are followed by a male group, con- sisting of Cupid and various other gods, who invite them to dance. The poet, quitting his ambush to view this spectacle, is discovered by Venus, who bids her keen archers arrest the intruder. Her attendants, dropping their green mantles, discover their bows, and advance against him. These assail* ants are Youth, Beauty, &c. whose darts are long ineffectual against the golden targe of Reason, till at length Presence (i. e. the habit of seeing the beloved object) throws a magical powder into the eyes of Reason, and the poet is overpowered by his allegorical adversaries, tempted by Dissimu- lance, terrified by Danger, and delivered over to Heaviness ; after which Eolus blotus a bugle ; o storm arises, and the ladies take to their ship, which 1 Together. a Covered. 3 Sainted. * Opened, C 890 ] disappears, after a discharge of artillery so loud that the rainbow seemed to break, while the smoke rose to the firmament. This strangely terrible in- cident seems to have been introduced for the pur- pose of contrasting with the beautiful appearance of real nature, to which the poet is awaked. Sweet was the vapours, and soft the morrowing, Wholesome the vale depaynit with flowers ying, &c. The poem concludes with some laboured compli- ments to Chaucer, Gower, and Lydgate. Of Dunbar's comic pieces, all of which possess Considerable merit, the most excellent are his two tales of the two married Women and the Widow, and the Friars of Berwick. The latter, in parti- cular, is admirable ; but its merit would evidently be lost in an abridgment. I believe that no edition of this elegant and ori- ginal writer has yt been published. GAWIN DOUGLAS, bishop of Dunkeld, was born in the end of 1474, or in the beginning of 1475. He was third son of Archibald, the great Earl of Angus ; was educated at St Andrews, is supposed to liave spent some time in travelling, and on his return to Scotland became provost of St Giles's church in Edinburgh. In 1514, the queen-mother (who afterwards married his nephew the earl of [ 391 ] Angus) presented him to the abbey of Aberbro- thic, and soon after to the archbishopric of St Andrews ; but, the pope having refused to confirm his nomination, he never assumed the title. In the next year ( 1515) he became Bishop of Dun- keld ; and, after some struggle, obtained peaceable possession of that see : but neither his ecclesias- tical character, nor his learning, nor his many virtues, were able to preserve him, in those times of violence, from the proscription which involved the whole family of Douglas ; so that, towards the close of the year 1521, he was compelled, by the persecution of the Duke of Albany, to seek for pro- tection in England, where he died about the month of April, 1522. The only remaining works of this poet are, 1. King Hart ; 2. The Palace of Honour ; and 3. A Trantlation of VirgiPs JEneid. Mr Pinkerton has printed the first of these, from a MS. In the Mail - land collection, in his Ancient Scotish Poems (2 vols. 1786), and the second, from the edition of 1533, in the first volume of his Scotidi Poems, (3 vols. 1792). Of the third there have been two editions, of which the best is that of Edinburgh, 1710, published by Mr Uuddiman, with an excel* lent life of the author (by Bishop Sage), and a very curious and valuable glossary. [ 392 ] King Hart is an allegorical representation of human life. The heart, being the noblest part of man, is represented as his sovereign ; and the court of this imaginary monarch is composed of the se- veral attributes of youth. King Hart is assaulted by Queen Pleasance, whom, after a long resistance, he marries. At length, Age arrives at their castle, and insists on being admitted : Age is immediate- ly followed by Conscience ; queen Pleasance takes her departure ; Decrepitude attacks and wounds the king, who dies, after making his testament. The Palace of Honour is also an allegory ; the general object of which is to represent the vanity and instability of worldly glory, and to shew that virtue is the truest guide to happiness. The plan of this work was, perhaps, suggested by the Sejour d'Honneur of Octavien de St Gelais : but as the merit of such works is now thought to consist only in the accidental beauties which they may be found to possess, their contrivance and fabric is scarcely worth analyzing. St Gelais, who was a great translator, made a French version of the ^Eneid, which, though miserably executed, may possibly have recommended him to his author's notice. Gawin Douglas began his translation of the /Eneid in January, 1512, and finished it, together with the supplement written by Mapheus Vegias, 393 ] in July, 1513- The completion of such a poem in eighteen months, at a time when no metrical ver- sion of a classic (excepting Boethius) had yet ap- peared in English, is really astonishing : for the work is executed with equal fidelity and spirit, and is farther recommended by many beautiful speci- mens of original poetry, which, under the name of prologues, are prefixed to each of the thirteen books, and from which the following specimens of the author's style are selected. The prologue to the seventh book is a descrip- tion of winter, consisting of 165 lines, but the reader will probably be satisfied with a very short sketch of this dismal picture. The time and season bitter, cold, and pale, They short dayis that clerkis ' clepc * bmmale : When brym blastis of the northern art 3 O'erwhelmyt had Neptunus in his cart, And all to-shake the leavys off the trees, The ragcand storms o'er-wclternnd* wally J Rivers ran red on spate, 6 with water brown, And burnis 1 harlis* all their bankis down ; 1 Learned men. * Call. 3 Arcluruj. * Rolling ovrr. 5 Wavy. 6 i'oam. ? Rivulets. 8 Drags. C 394 ] And land'birst f rumbland rudely, with sic Sa loud ne'er rummyst 3 wild lyoun nor bear. Floods monsters, sic as mere stuinis, 4 and whales, For the tempest, low in the deep devales. s ****# The soil y sotupit, into the tuater tvak, 6 The firmament o'ercast with cloudis black The ground fadit, andjauch 7 toox all the fields, Mountain-tops sleekit with snow over-hields. 8 On raggit rockis, of hard harsh txihyn-slane t With frozen fronts, cold clynty 9 clewis I0 shane. Beauty was lost ; and barren shew the lands, With frostis hare" o'erfret** the fieldis stands'. [Sere birtir bubbis, 1J and the shoutis snell,** Seem'd on the sward in similitude of hell; Reducing to our mind, in every stead, Gousty 1S shadows of eild and grisly dead :} Thick drumly* 6 skuggis 1? darken'd so the heaven I Dim skyis oft forth laarpit I8 fearful levin, IJ> &c. In this description, and throughout the whole pro- I Landsprings, accidental torrents. * Noise. 3 Roared. * Sea-hogs, i. e, porpoises. s Descend. Fr. 6 Moist with water. 7 Fauve, Fr. fawn-coloured. 8 Covered. 9 Hard, flinty. J0 Clifis. II Hoar. 12 Embroidered. I3 Many huge blasts. 14 Piercing. 1S Ghastly. l6 Muddy, opaque. ' Shadows. 18 Threw. I9 Lightning. [ 395 J logue, the prospect seems to be designedly crowd ed and even encumbered with dreadful images : but it must be confessed that the English reader finds himself still further bewildered by a number of uncouth words, some of which are scarcely ren- dered intelligible by Ruddiman's excellent glos- sary. It has been observed that, during the fourteenth century, the difference between the Scotish and English dialects was scarcely perceptible ; and that those persons who are familiarized with the phra- seology of Chaucer will find no difficulty in under- standing that of Barbour and Wyntown : whereas the diction of Gawin Douglas is far more obscure, and even in appearance more antiquated and obso- lete, by near a century, than that of writers who preceded him. The fact is notorious ; and its causes may be worth tracing. The Danish and Anglo-Saxon, the supposed pa- rents of the Scotish and English languages, were distinct dialects of the elder Gothic : but, in the infancy of literature, the poets of both countries, being equally dissatisfied with the poverty of their respective jargons, and conscious of the superior elegance which appeared in the French minstrel compositions, vied with each other in borrowing from these favourite models as hiany words and phrases as it was possible to incorporate with [ 396 1 their native forms of speech. In consequents of this practice, the two languages seem to have attained, about the middle of the 14-th century, their greatest degree of similarity. But these fo- reign words, being once naturalized, could not fail of undergoing considerable alterations ; because the broader vowel-sounds, the gutturals, and the strongly aspirated accents of the Scots differed equally from the French and English pronuncia- tion; and this difference was preserved and in- creased, on both sides, by discordant and capri- cious systems of orthography. At the same time, as the number of readers increased, the writers be- came desirous of accommodating themselves to the general taste ; and consequently began to trans- plant from colloquial into literary language a va- riety of popular expressions, which, being pecu* liar to the one country, were obscure, or even un- intelligible, to the natives of the other. Gawin Douglas, indeed, was so far from seeking popularity from English readers, that, in his excuses for his defects of style, he only laments the impos- sibility of making it purely and exclusively Scotish. And yet, forsooth, I set my busy pain (As that I couth) to make it BRACE x AND PLAIN : 1 Broad. [ 397 ] Keepand NO SODROUN, * but CUR OWN LAN- GUAGE, And speak as I learn'd when I was one page. Na yet so clean all sodroun I refuse, But SOME WORD i PRONOUNCE as neighbours does. Like as in Latin bene Grewe * termes some, So me behovit, whilom (or be dumb), Some bastard Latin, French, or Ynglis * ois, 4 Where scant was Scottis : I had none other choice. [Preface.] The most beautiful of all Gawin Douglas's pro- logues is that of the twelfth book : it is hoped there- fore, that the reader will pardon the length of the following extract in favour of the splendid imagery which it exhibits. It is a description of May. As fresh Aurora, to mighty Tithone spouse, Jschit J of her saffron bed, and evyr 6 house, In crammesy 7 clad, and grainit violet, \Vith sanguine cape, the selvage purpurate, Unshut the windows of her large hall Spread all with roses, and full of balm royall: And eke the heavenly portis chrystalline is 8 brade the world till illumene. Southern, English. a Greek. 3 English. 4 use. 5 I8 uctb ' * Ivory. 7 Cramoui, Fr. crimson. 8 Draws up. [ 398 3 Ecus, the steed, with ruby hantmys * red, Above the seals lifts forth his head, Of colour sore, * and some-deal brown as berry, For to alighten and glad our hemispery, The flame out brastin at the neiss-thirlis. 3 ****** While shortly, with the Wesand 4 torch of day, Abulyeit 5 in his lemand 6 fresh array Forth of his palace royal ischit Phebus, With golden crown, and visage glorious ; Crisp hairis, bright as chrysolite, or topase, For tahais hue might nane behold his face ; The fiery sparkis brasting from his een, To purge the air, and gild the tender green. ***** * The aureate fanis of his throne soverane With glitterand glance o'erspread the octiane ; 7 The large floodis lemand all of light, But with one blenk 8 of his supernal sight. For to behold it was one glare 9 to see The stablyt windis, and the calmyt sea, 1 Yoke. Vide Rudd. Gloss. Or qu. arnica ? * Yellowish-brown. Fr. 3 Nostrils. 4 Blazing. 5 Habilte, dressed. The final 6 was in Old Fr. written tit, 6 Gleaming, shining. 7 Ocean. 8 Look, glance. 9 Glory. Fr. 9 [ 399 ] The soft seasoune, the firmament serene, The loun * illuminate air, andjlrtk amene ; * The silver-scalit fishes on the grete, * O'er-thwart clear streams sprinkittand* for the heat, With finnis shinand brown as synopare, 5 And chisel tailis stirrand here and there. ****** And lusty Flora did her bloomes sprede Under the feet of Phebus* sidyeart 6 steed : The swardit soil enbrode" 3 with selcouth* hues, Wood and forest obumbrate with the betas ; 9 Whais blissful branches, portray'd on the ground^ With shadows sheen, shew rochis I0 rubicund, Towers, turrets, kirnals 11 and pinnacles high, Of kirkis, castles, and ilk fair city; Stood paint it every fane, phioll, " and stage, Upon the plain ground by their own umbrage. -***** And blissful blossoms, in thebloomytyarrf,' 3 Submits their heads in the young sun's safe-guard. Ivy leaves rank o'erspread the baimkyn ' 4 wall\ The bloomit hawthorn clad hispylcis' 5 all : 1 Clean. Pleasant water, frith. 3 Gravel. 4 Gliding swiftly with a tremulous motion of their tails. 3 Cinnabar. 6 Sultry 7 tmbroidt-red. 8 Uncommon. Sax. 9 Boughs io Rocks. " Crenelles, FT. battlements. '* Cupola ; fiole, Yr. 1J (Jarden. Vide suprm p. 303-4, note. ** Alound or wall ; from barmc, Old Fr. the bank of a river. 15 Thorns. [ 400 ] Forth of fresh burgeouns ' the wine-grapis ying Endlang the trellis did on twistis king. * The lockit buttons on the gemmyt trees, O'erspreadand leaves of nature's tapestries, Soft grassy verdure, after balmy showers, On curland stalkis smiland to their flowers, Beholdand them sa many divers hue, Somepeirs, 3 somepaleS some burnet, s a.nd some blue, Somegres, some gules, 6 some purpure, some san- guane, Blanchit, 7 or brown, Jauch-yelloiv 8 mamyane ; Some, heavenly-colour'd, in celestial gre, 9 Some, watery-hued, as the haw-wally 10 sea; And some, departs in freckles, red and white. Some bright as gold, with aureate leavis lyte. 11 The daisy did un-braid her crownel smale, And every flower un-lappit in the dale. ****** The flourdelyce forth spread his heavenly hue, Flower damas, 1 * and columbe ' 3 black and blue. Sere downis small on dentilion sprang, The younggreenbloomit&trawbfirry leaves amang; 1 Buds, Fr. a Hang. 3 Light blue, Fr. 4 Light yellow, Fr. 5 Bru.net, Fr. brownish. 6 Red. * Whitish, Fr. 8 Fawn-coloured yellow. 9 Gri$, Fr. ; sky-blue. I0 Dark waved. f* Little, I .* The damask rose. ' 3 Columbine. C 401 ] Gimp * gilliflowers their own leaves wi-schet, * Fresh primrose, and the purpour violet.- The rose-knoppis, tctand* forth their head, Gan chyp, 4 and kyth s their vernal lippis red ; Crisp scarlet leaves some shcddand ; baith at anes, 9 Cast fragrant smell amid fra golden grains. Heavenly lilies, with lokkerand 1 toppis white, Open'd, and shew their crestis redemyte. 8 The balmy vapour from their silken croppis 9 Distittand halcsum I0 sugar'd honey-droppis ****** So that ilk burgeon," scion, herb, or flower, IVox " all embalmyt of the fresh liquour, And bathit hait 1J did in dulce humours^/Zete, M Whereof the bees wrought their honey sweet. ****** On salt streams tcolk 1J Dorida and Thetis ; By rynnand 16 strandis, Nymphs, and Naiades, I Pretty. " Unshut, open. 3 Peeping. * Burst their calix. 5 Shew. 6 Both at once, i. e. while some buds were expanding, other roses were hhrdding their leaves. 7 Curling like locks or ringlets of hair. 8 Crowned. ' iJcads. 10 Wholesome. " Bud, or sprig. Fr. II Grew. '3 Unt. '* Float. 15 Walked ? '6 Running. VOL. I. 2 r [ 402 ] Sic as we clepe wenches and damysellis, In gersy gravis * tvanderand by spring-wellis ; Of bloomed branches, and flouris white and red, Plettand* their lusty chaplets for their head. Some sang ring-songis, 3 dances, ledis, 4 and rounds, With voices shrill while all the dale resounds. Whereso they walk into their caroling For amorous lays does all the rochis ring. Ane sang " The ship sails over the salt fame s " Will bring thir 6 merchants and my leman hame." Some other sings " I will be blithe and light, " My heart is lent upon so goodly wight." And thoughtful lovers rotvnyis * to and fro, To lets 8 their pain, and plene 9 their jolly woe ; After their guise, now singand, now in sorrow, With heartis pensive, the lang summer's morrow. Some ballads list endite of his lady ; Some lives in hope ; and some all utterly Despairit is ; and sa, quite out of grace, His purgatory he finds in every place. Before we proceed to take notice of the English poets of this reign, it will be necessary to mention two more Scotish writers, whom Gawin Douglas has associated with Dunbar in the Palace of Honour. 'Grassy groves. 'Plaiting. 3 Rondeaus ? But vide Rudd. Gloss. 4 Lays ; leid, cantilena. Teut. s Foam. 6 These or those. 7 Whispers. 8 Lose. 9 Complain, lament. [ 403 3 " Of this nation I knew also anon " GREAT KENNEDIE and Dunbar, yet undead, " And QUINTINE, with an huttock * on his head." [P. II. St. xvii.] The first of these, WAITER KENNEDY, a native of Carrick, and the contemporary of Dunbar, is only known to us by two satires on Dunbar in their jlytiug (scolding or lampooning), and by a poem in praise of age, (p. 189 of Lord Hailes's collec- tion), consisting of five stanzas. One of these will be sufficient to give some idea of his style, though it may not quite justify the honourable epithet be- stowed on him by the bishop of Dunkeld. This world is set for to deceive us even, Pride is the net, and covetise is the train : 1 This word, which Mr Pinkertoo leaves unexplained, seems to be two French words in disguise haute toque. Toque is described by Cotgrave to be " a (fashion of) bon- " net or cap, somewhat like our old courtier't velvet cap, " worn ordinarily by scholars, and some old men." I have been favoured by two ingenious friends in Scot* land with different explanations of this obscure term. One of them says " It is the Buchan and east-coast pronuncia- " t\onofhudduck,a. little hood, which was probably a cowl:" the other, " Huttock and huttockie seems to be a dirai- " nutive, formed from Aut or hat in a manner very common " in some provinces of Scotland, particularly the western. " Thus we have hillock and bittockie, lassok and lassokie, " &c. &c. ; I therefore incline to think Quintyn Schaw's " head-dress must have been a small hat, instead of a Aai/fa "toque." [ 4-04. ] For no reward (except the joy of heaven) Would I be young into this world again ! The ship of faith tempestuous wind and rain Drives in the sea of lo!!ardry that blaios : * My youth is gone, and I am glad and fain ; Honour, with age, to every virtue draws. Of the second of these poets, QUINTYN SCHAW, one specimen only remains, which is printed by Mr Pinkerton, from the Maitland MS. Its title is, " Advice to a Courtier" which may possibly account for the head-dress assigned to him in the Palace of Honour. Quintyn's style seems to have been easy and familiar ; but having begun his poem with an idea of the resemblance between the life of a courtier and that of a mariner, he has introduced so many sea-phrases and maritime allusions, as to render his language almost unintelligible. The con- cluding stanza, however, which contains the moral, is sufficiently clear. Dread this danger, good friend and brother, And take example before of other. * Know, courts and wind has oftsys 3 varied : Keep well your course, and rule your rudder; And think with kings ye are not married ! [Anc. Sc. P.p. 134.] 1 Blows. * Of others before you ? 3 Oft-sithes, i. e. oft.time?. C 405 ] Amongst the English contemporaries of Dunbar and Douglas Mr Warton enumerates these fcho follow. HENRY BRADSHAW, monk of the Bene- dictine monastery of St Werburg in Chester, a mi- serable imitator of Lydgate, who wrote in stanzas the life of his patroness saint, daughter of a king of the Mercians : * ROBERT FABIAN, the historical alderman, f who is classed as a poet in consequence of the metrical prologues prefixed to the books of his Chronicle : JOHN WATTON, a priest, who wrote some miserable rhymes for the purpose of enliven- ing his theological traci> called " Speculum Christi- ani" (Machlinia, about 1483) : and WILLIAM CAXTON, the celebrated printer, who, besides his rhyming introductions and epilogues, is supposed by Mr Warton to be the author of a poem of consider- able length, entitled ** The Werkof Sapience"-$. a folio containing 37 leaves, printed by himself. But the only poets who deserve any attention are, ALEXANDER BARCLAY and STEPHEN HAWES ; * " The holy life and history of Saynt Wcrburge, very " frutefull for all christen people to rede." Pinsui,, 1681, It". Vide Kitson's Uibliojiraphia ; and Warton, vol. II. p. 176. Bradshaw died in 1513. f r-ahi.-iii (lied, according to Stow, in 1511. | Mr Kit-on (Uibliogrftpbia) observes, that this is more justly attributed to Lydgate. though from the prologue Cax- ton appears to be Uitt author. Vide also* Herbert's Ames. 9 C 406 1 the first of whom is mentioned with much praise by the ingenious author of" The Muses' Library," and the second by Mr Warton. BARCLAY is by some supposed to have been a native either of Gloucestershire, Somersetshire, or Devonshire ; while others, even among his contem- poraries, assign him to Scotland : indeed, as Mr Ritson observes (Bibl. Poet.), both his name of baptism and the orthography of his surname seem to prove that he was of Scotish extraction. In his youth, perhaps about 1495, he is said to have become a student of Oriel College, Oxford, where he was patronized by the provost, Thomas Cornish, suffragan bishop of Tyne, to whom he afterwards dedicated his Skip of Fools. Having travelled, he became chaplain to the College of St Mary Ottery, Devon, then Benedictine Monk of Ely, and at length took the habit of Franciscans at Canterbury. On the dissolution of his monastery, Wood informs us, he became vicar f Much-Badew in Essex, and in 1546 of St Matthew at Wokey in Somersetshire. Lastly, he had from the dean and chapter of Canterbury the church of All-Saints in Lombard- street,London, which he held till his death in 1552, which took place at Croydon in Surrey, where, from his first eclogue, he appears to have lived in hisyouth. Wood'says, " in his younger days he wa " esteemed a good poet and orator, as several spe- " cimens of his composition in those faculties shew~ " ed, but when years came on, he spent his time " mostly in pious matters and in reading the his- " tories of Saints." He was a voluminous wri- ter, particularly of translations, which were much admired by his contemporaries, as being distin- guished by an ease and fluency which are not to be found in any other author of his age ; but his poetical merit seems to have been a good deal over-rated. His smaller pieces are, I. The Castle of Labour, an allegorical poem from the French, in seven-line stanzas (W. de Worde,1506,4to.) II. The Mirror of good Manners (printed by Pinson), in the bal- lad-stanza, from the Latin elegiacs of Dominions Mancinus de quatuor virtutibus, undertaken to oblige Sir Giles Alyngton, who had wished him to abridge or modernize Gower's Confessio Araantis. III. Five Eclogues, compiled in his youth : the three first, paraphrased with very large additions from the Miseriae Curialium of Eneas Sylvius, treat of " the myseryes of couriers and courtes of all " prynces in general :" the fourth, (in which is a long poem in stanzas, called the Tower of Virtue and Honour, being an elegy on the death of the duke of Norfolk, lord high admiral, introduced a- [ 408 ] a song of one of the shepherds), " conteyniug " the maner of the riche men anenst poets and " other clerkes :" and " the fifth, of the cytezen " and up londyshman :" all printed by Pinson or de Worde, and the three first by Humfrey Powell (4to without date). Besides these, he was the au- thor of some less important pieces, as well as a tract " de Pronuntiatione Gallica," and a prose transla- tion of Sallust's Jugurthine War, at the command of Thomas, duke of Norfolk, twice printed in folio by Pinson. From the eclogues, supposed by Mr Warton to be the first written in English, he has se- lected a number of passages which, though they have no other merit, contain some curious particulars re- lating to the manners and customs of the time (see a long note, vol. II. p. 253, Hist. Eng. P.). But Barclay's principal and most popular work was his Ship of Fools, a poem in the octave-stanza paraphrased " out of Laten, Frenche, and Doche," i. e. from the German original written in 1494 by Sebastian Brandt, a learned civilian and eminent philologist of Basil, and two translations into French and Latin, the latter by James Locher, a scholar of the inventor, printed in 1497. To these, says Mr Warton, he made " considerable additions " gleaned from the follies of his countrymen." " The design was to ridicule the reigning vices and [ 409 ] " follies of every rank and profession, under the " allegory of a ship freighted with Fools of all kinds, " but without any variety of incident, or artificial- " ity of fable." " Our author's stanza is verbose, " prosaic, and tedious : and for many pages toge- " ther, his poetry is little better than a trite ho- " mily in verse. The title promises much charac- " ter and pleasantry : but we shall be disappoint- " ed, if we expect to find the foibles of the crew " of our ship touched by the hand of the autltor of ** the Canterbury Tales, or exposed in the rough, " yet strong satire of Pierce Plowman." The book is not common, though twice printed (by Pinson in 1509, and Cawood 1570, both in folio, the latter containing his Eclogues and Mirror) ; but the reader who shall turn to the extracts from it, contained in Warton's history, and in " the Muses' Library," will probably not much lament their omission in this j,lace. STEPHEN HA WES was a native of Suffolk, and, like Barclay, after an academical education at Ox- ford, travelled (according to Wood) in England, Scotland, France, and Italy, and " became," says Mr Warton, " a complete master of the French " and Italian poetry." On his return to England, he obtained an establishment (as groom of the chamber) in the royal household; a reward, per- [ 410 ] haps, for accomplishments so congenial to the taste of Henry VII., who was a great admirer of French, as well as a patron * of English poetry. Hawes's principal work is the Pastime of Pka- sure t the title of which in Tottel's edition is as follows : " The History of graund Amoure and la " bel Pucell called the Pastime of Pleasure, con- " teyning the knowledge of the seven sciences, " and the course of man's lyfe in this worlde. In- " vented by Stephen Hawes, grome of King Hen- " ry the seventh, his chamber." And Mr War-* ton is of opinion, that " this poem contains no " common touches of romantic and allegoric fic- " tion ;" that " the personifications are often hap- " pily sustained, and indicate the writer's fami- " liarity with the Provencial school ;" and that '* Hawes has added new graces to Lydgate's man- " ner."f It is, however, very doubtful whether * Henry VII. was seldom extravagant in his donations; and yet we find in his household accounts the sum of IOC shillings paid to Master Barnard, a blind poet, in return, as it seems, for his poetical compositions. t Wood says, " he was much esteemed by Henry VII. " for his facetious discourse and prodigious memory ; '' which last did evidently appear in this, that he could " repeat by heart most of our .English poets ; especially Jo. " Lydgate, a monk of Bury, whom he made equal in some " respects with Geff. Chaucer." t every reader will concur in this favourable opinion of Stephen Hawes's merit. Ground Amour (true Gallantry), the hero of the piece, falls asleep and sees a vision. He receives from Fame the first account of La Belle Pucelle ( perfect Beauty ) , and is by her referred for farther particulars to the Tower of Doctrine- Here, cer- tainly, is a beginning very much in the spirit of the times ; but the subsequent conduct of the poem is not very well calculated to gratify the impatience of any reader who shall have taken a lively inte- rest in the success of Ground Amour's passion. An accurate knowledge of the seven sciences, viz. grammar, logic, rhetoric, arithmetic, music, geo- metry and astronomy, does not seem to be indis- pensably requisite to the success of a love adven- ture. These sciences, it is true, are all ladies ; but many of them are dreadfully prolix in their instructions. The two following stanzas are not offered as the best specimen of this author's style, but they are part of the hero's conversation with dame Grammar, who has (as she ought to have) the merit of being more concise than dame Rheto- ric, dame Music, &c. " Madam," quod I, " for as much as there be " Eight partes of speech, I would know right fain 14 What a noun substantive is in his degree, r 2 3 " And wherefore it is so called certain ?" To whom she answer'd right gentely again, Saying alway that a noun substantive Might stand without help of an adjective. iV.Xitt'l (iV^'V-lkl '.{> i, ; ;!.-..S-J.'r j> v " The Latin worde, which that is referred " Unto a thing which is substantial, " For a noun substantive is well averred, " And with a gender is decimal ; '* So all the eight partes in general " Are Latin words annexed properly " To every speech, for to speak formally." [Cap. V.] OO^j 4 3tfiL';;; ,OtJ3//.ff;/fO , '!*fH The education of Ground Amour, which, how-' ever, is somewhat enlivened by a meeting with his mistress, whom he had not hitherto seen, occupies rather more than one half of this pastime of plea- sure ; after which he begins his military career, for the purpose of obtaining Belle Pucelle. But here the attention of the reader is very unexpect- edly diverted to a strange personage, who calls himself Godfrey Gobelive, but who turns out to be False Report disguised as a fool. Godfrey calum- niates the whole female sex, and relates two tales, copied from the French fabliaux. The first is the Lay of Aristotle, the second nearly resembles that of Hippocrates ; but the adventure is attributed t# Virgil the enchanter, who, in return for tlie trick of the basket, inflicts on his fair enemy a punishment too disgusting to mention. After this gross and unnecessary episode, our allegorical 'hero achieves some marvellous adventures, and obtains posses- sion of his mistress. But the story does not stop here ; for Ground Amour proceeds to relate his own death and burial ; and how Remembrance set his epytapliij over his grave ; and how Time came suddenly into the Temple ; and how dame Eternity fame into the Temple, in a fair ivhite vesture, and of the speech she made; after which comes "the excusacion of the aucthoure." Throughout the work, Hawes has studiously imi- tated the style of Lydgate, but he has generally copied his worst manner. He is diffuse, fond of expletives, and his epithets add nothing to the sense. Of his more laboured diction the reader will judge from the following stanza: Her redolent words, of sweet influence, Dcgouted vapour most aromatic, And made conversion of my complacence Her depur'd and her lusty rhetoric My courage rcform'd that was so lunatic, My sorrow defeated, and my mind did modify, And my dolorous heart began to pacify. [Cap. XXXVIIL] The reader, when he has witnessed the final So- lemnities of her " grete manage" with Ground Amour, will perhaps take his leave of La Belle Pu- celle without any extraordinary reluctance. And she took her leave I kist her lovely; I went to bed, but I could not sleep ; For I thought so much upon her inwardly, Her most sweet looks into my heart did creep, Piercing it through with a wound so deep ; For nature thought every hour a day, Till to my lady I should my debt well pay. Then Perseverance, in all goodly haste, Unto the steward, called Liberality, Gave warning for to make ready fast, Against this time of great solemnity, That on the morrow hallowed should be : She warned the cook called Temperance, And after that the sewer Observance, With Pleasance the panter, and dame Courtesy The gentle butler, with the ladies all ; Each in her office was prepared shortly, Against this feast so much triumphal! : And La Belle Pucelle then in speciall Was up betime in the morrow gray, Right so was I when I saw the day. 8 And right anon La Belle Pucelle me sent, Against my wedding, of the satin fine White as the milk, a goodly garment Branded with pearl that clearly did shine ; And so the marriage for to determine Venus me brought to a royal chapel Which of fine gold was wrought every deal. And, after that, the gay and glorious La Belle Pucelle to the chapel was led In a white vesture fair and precious, With a golden chaplet on her yellow head ; And Lex Ecclesice did me to her wed : After which wedding there was a great feast ; Nothing we lacked, but had of the best. What should I tarry by long continuance Of the feast ? for of my joy and pleasure Wisdom can judge withouten variance That nought I lacked, as ye may well be sure, Paying the sweet due debt of nature. Thus with my lady that was so fair and clear, In joy I lived full right many a year. [Cap. XXIX.] The Pastime of Pleasure has been thrice print- ed ; the first time by Wynkyn de Worde, in 1517 ; again by John Wayland, in 155*; and by Richard C 6 3 Tottell, in 1555. The first and last of these are " adorned with wooden cuts, to make the reader " understand the story better," as we are informed by Wood. Hawes's other works are, the Temple of Glass (which however is ascribed to Lydgate in the Pastime of Pleasure, cap. XIV.) ; written, as it appears, in imitation of Chaucer's Temple of Fame : " The Conversion of Swerers" in octave- stanzas, with Latin lemmatta, by W. de Worde, 1509, 4>to. " Ajoyfull Medytacyon to all Englonde " of the Coronacyon of our moost naturaU Sove- " rayne lord kynge Henry the eyght ;" a single sheet in 4to, without date, by the same printer : (this is preserved in the library at Cambridge, and is ornamented with a curious wooden cut of the coronation of Henry VIII. and Catharine of Ar- ragon.) " A compendyous story, and it is called the " Example of Verlu, in the tnhiche ye shall Jynde " many goodly storys, and naturall dysputacyons, " byt-voenefoure ladyes, named Hardynes, Sapyence, " Fortune and Nature ;" printed by ditto, 1530 : The Consolation of Lovers : The Delight of the Soul : Of the Prince's Marriage : The Alphabet of Birds : one or more of. which, according to Wood, were written in Latin, and, perhaps, never printed. C 417 ] Having beenfavoured by a friend, since the present volume luas jinished, with an Extract from the original MS. of R. de Brunne's Translation of Wace, containing the account of Arthur's Coro- nation, "which has been already given in the Latin of Geoffrey of Monmouth, the French of Wace, the Saxon ofLayamon, and the rude English of Robert of Gloucester ; / here subjoin it for the satisfaction of the curious reader, by way of com- pleting the series. WHEN the masses were done, And homeward were all bon, * The king did off his tire * there, That he to the kirk bare, And took another of less price : The queen did the same wise. The king into his paleis, And sate at the meat that ilk tueis : 3 The queen till another yede, And the ladies with her 'gan lead. 1 fioun, ready. 1 Attire ; unless it be a corruption of tiara, as the origi- nal mentions bis crown. 3 At that time ? Hid dee ? VOL, T. 2 D C 418 1 Sometime was custom of Troy, When they made feast of joy, Men together should go to meat ; Ladies by themself should eat. That ilk usage was at the feast, The women come among the guest, The women withouten men should be. But serviters of meyne. x The king was up at the des t * About him th6 mickle press ; About him the lordes sate, Ilka lord after his state. Sir Kay was steward chosen of all, To serve before the king in hall. His clothing was rich and fine, And the pelore 3 of ermine. With him served before the king A thousand in the same clothing. Out of the kitchen served Sir Kay And all his fellows that day. Sir Beduer on that other partie He served of the buttery. With him was clad in ermine A thousand that brought the wine. 1 The household. " The high table. 3 Fur. [ 419 ] The king's cup Sir Beduer bare ; He yede before that there were. After him come all the rout That served the barons all about. The queen was served richly; Her servants was signed* ready In all office for to serve And before tho ladies keroe* * Many vessel was there rich, Of ser 3 colours not all lic/tc. * Of meats many manner service, And ser drinkes on that wise. All the nobley couth I not tell, Ne might stonde thereon to dwell. The names to say of the richess, Ne the men of prowess, Ne the courtesy, ne the honour ; Of christianty there was the flower. Was there no knight so high of blood, Ne had so mickle worldes good, That therefore should be holden of price, But he in deed were proved thrice ; Thrice proved at the least ; Then was he (dosed 5 at the feast : 1 Assigned. a Carve. 3 Sere, many, several. * Alike, uniform. ' I suppose this must mean praised, commended ; from the French and old Eng. word la, but I never saw the verb before. [ 420 ] Then should his armes that men knew And his clothing all o' hue i That same queintise * his armes had, In that same he should be clad : His wife was clad in the same colour, For her lord was of honour. If one were doughty and single man, He should che * him a lemman .- 3 Else should he not be loved, But he had been in battle proved. Tho ladies that were holden chaste, For no thing would no do waste, Tho ladies were clad in one, And by their clothing men knew ilkon. When they had eaten and should rise, Ilk man dight him on that wise That he couth in play : Unto the field he took his way, And parted then in stedes sere * To play ilkon on their manere. Some justed that couth and might, For to show their steedes light : Some skipped, and cast the stone, And some wrestled full good ione t s 1 Device. 1 Che, for chest, i. e. choose. 3 Mistress. * Many places. 5 For a long time. 4 [ 421 ] Darte shotte, lances cast, And tho that couth skinned * fast : Ilkon played the gamen he couth, And waste 1 had used in his youth. That best did in his playing, He was brought before the king, And the king gave him meed, That he was payed or he yede. The ladies on the walls stegh, 3 For to behold all their play. Whoso had leman thore in place Toward him turned the face, On both sides ilk other beheld, Tho on the walls, tho in the/e/tf. Jogelours* weren there enow, That their quaintise 5 forthe drouhe ; 6 Minstrels many with divers glew," 1 SoiiJts of bemes 8 that men blew, Harpes, pipes, and labours, Fithols, 9 citolles, le sautreours, lf Belles, chimes, and synfan, '* Other enow neuen IJ I ne kan ; * 4 Skirmished. * Most. Stood. Juggler*. ' Contrivances, instruments. 6 Drew. 7 Glee, game. 8 Sounds of trumpets 9 Perhaps, fiddles I0 Cymbals." Dulcimers. 11 Symphonier, a sort of drum. l3 Name. l+ Ken not? or, can not? [ 422 ] Songsters, that merry sung, Sound ofglew over all rung ; Disours enow telled fables ; And some played with dice at tables ; And some at the hazard fast, And lost and won by chance of cast. Some, that will'dnot of the tattler,* Drew forth meyne * of the chequer, With draughts quaint of knight and roke, With great slight ilk other snoke ; J At ilk mating they said " check !" That most les sat in his nek. 4 Three days lasted the feste ; I trow was never none as that. And when it come Wednesday, That the folk should part away, The king gave giftes rich. Tho to his service were briche, s And for their service held their fees, He gave them burghs and cites ; 1 This probably signifies, " Some, that did not choose to " attend to the talker, played at chess," 2 The force, retinue. 3 I do not understand this word. * Perhaps " He who lost the most staked his neck V or " sat naked ?" Vide the Fr. of Wace. 5 1 do not understand this word. [ 423 ] Abbot and bishop avanced his rent, Or they fro the court went. That of other loncles were, That for love come there, He gave steeds and cups of gold, (None richer aboun mould 1 ) Some gave he hauberks, * some greyhounds, Some rich robes worth many pounds, Some mantels with veir and gris, 3 And some mazers 4 of rich price, Some helms and hauberks. Good palfreys he gave to clerks ; Bows and arrows he gave archers ; Runces s good unto squiers. Some he gave habergeons, 6 Some plates, and some actons ; 7 Some he gave knives ofplyght, And some swords richly dight. Unto disours, that tell'd them gestes, He gave clothes of wild bestes. 1 Upon the earth. * Qu. Ought this to be " hawkt ?" 1 Veir is a variegated fur; gris, that of the grey squirrel. 4 Cups. O. Fr. 5 Horses. O. Fr. 6 Coats of mail. 7 A strong quilted leathern covering for the body. 4u- queton. O. Fr. [ 424- ] Some gave he pelore of ermine, Some lavaur ' of silver with basin. Was there none ought worthy, That he ne gave him blithely ; After that his state was lyfte y * So he rewarded him with gyft. 1 E-wer. Fr. a Exalted. END OF VOLUME FIRST. EDINBURGH : Printed by James Ballantyne & Co. x- L 005 849 259 6 A A 000056201 7 y