The history of English poetry: from the close of the eleventh to the commencement of the eighteenth century. To which are prefixed, two dissertations. ... By Thomas Warton, ... [pt.1]

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Title
The history of English poetry: from the close of the eleventh to the commencement of the eighteenth century. To which are prefixed, two dissertations. ... By Thomas Warton, ... [pt.1]
Author
Warton, Thomas, 1728-1790.
Publication
London :: printed for, and sold by J. Dodsley; J. Walter; T. Becket; J. Robson; G. Robinson, and J. Bew; and Messrs. Fletcher, at Oxford,
1774-81.
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"The history of English poetry: from the close of the eleventh to the commencement of the eighteenth century. To which are prefixed, two dissertations. ... By Thomas Warton, ... [pt.1]." In the digital collection Eighteenth Century Collections Online. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/004896806.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed May 6, 2025.

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THE HISTORY OF ENGLISH POETRY, FROM THE CLOSE of the ELEVENTH TO THE COMMENCEMENT of the EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. TO WHICH ARE PREFIXED, TWO DISSERTATIONS. I. ON THE ORIGIN OF ROMANTIC FICTION IN EUROPE. II. ON THE INTRODUCTION OF LEARNING INTO ENGLAND.

VOLUME THE FIRST.

By THOMAS WARTON, B. D. FELLOW of TRINITY COLLEGE OXFORD, and of the SOCIETY of ANTIQUARIES.

LONDON: Printed for, and sold by J. DODSLEY, Pall Mall; J. WALTER, Charing Cross; T. BECKET, Strand; J. ROBSON, New Bond-Street; G. ROBINSON, and J. BEW, Pater-noster-Row; and Messrs. FLETCHER, at Oxford. M. DCC. LXXIV.

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TO HIS GRACE GEORGE DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH, MARQUIS OF BLANDFORD, KNIGHT OF THE MOST NOBLE ORDER of the GARTER, A JUDGE AND A PATRON OF THE POLITE ARTS, THIS WORK IS MOST HUMBLY INSCRIBED

By his Grace's most obliged, And most obedient Servant, THOMAS WARTON.

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PREFACE.

IN an age advanced to the highest degree of refinement, that species of curiosity commences, which is busied in contemplating the progress of social life, in displaying the gradations of science, and in tracing the transitions from barbarism to civility.

That these speculations should become the fa|vourite pursuits, and the fashionable topics, of such a period, is extremely natural. We look back on the savage condition of our ancestors with the triumph of superiority; we are pleased to mark the steps by which we have been raised from rudeness to elegance: and our reflections on this subject are accom|panied with a conscious pride, arising in great measure from a tacit comparison of the infinite disproportion between the feeble efforts of remote ages, and our present improvements in knowledge.

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In the mean time, the manners, monuments, customs, practices, and opinions of antiquity, by forming so strong a contrast with those of our own times, and by exhibiting human nature and human inventions in new lights, in in unexpected appearances, and in various forms, are objects which forcibly strike a feeling imagination.

Nor does this spectacle afford nothing more than a fruitless gratification to the fancy. It teaches us to set a just estimation on our own acquisitions; and encourages us to cherish that cultivation, which is so closely connected with the existence and the exercise of every social virtue.

On these principles, to develop the dawnings of genius, and to pursue the progress of our national poetry, from a rude origin and obscure beginnings, to its perfection in a polished age, must prove an interesting and instructive investigation. But a his|tory of poetry, for another reason, yet on the same principles, must be more especially productive of en|tertainment and utility. I mean, as it is an art, whose object is human society: as it has the peculiar merit, in its operations on that object, of faithfully re|cording the features of the times, and of preserving

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the most picturesque and expressive repre|sentations of manners: and, because the first mo|numents of composition in every nation are those of the poet, as it possesses the additional advantage of transmitting to posterity genuine delineations of life in its simplest stages. Let me add, that anec|dotes of the rudiments of a favourite art will always be particularly pleasing. The more early speci|mens of poetry must ever amuse, in proportion to the pleasure which we receive from its finished productions.

Much however depends on the execution of such a design, and my readers are to decide in what degree I have done justice to so specious and promising a disquisition. Yet a few more words will not be perhaps improper, in vindication, or rather in explanation, of the manner in which my work has been conducted. I am sure I do not mean, nor can I pretend, to apologise for its defects.

I have chose to exhibit the history of our poetry in a chronological series: not distributing my mat|ter into detached articles, of periodical divisions, or of general heads. Yet I have not always adhered so scrupulously to the regularity of annals, but that I

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have often deviated into incidental digressions; and have sometimes stopped in the course of my career, for the sake of recapitulation, for the purpose of collecting scattered notices into a single and uniform point of view, for the more exact inspection of a topic which required a separate consideration, or for a comparative survey of the poetry of other nations.

A few years ago, Mr. MASON, with that liberality which ever accompanies true genius, gave me an authentic copy of Mr. POPE'S scheme of a History of English Poetry, in which our poets were classed under their supposed respective schools. The late lamented Mr. GRAY had also projected a work of this kind, and translated some Runic odes for its illustration, now published: but soon relinquishing the prosecution of a design, which would have de|tained him from his own noble inventions, he most obligingly condescended to favour me with the sub|stance of his plan, which I found to be that of Mr. POPE, considerably enlarged, extended, and improved.

It is vanity in me to have mentioned these com|munications. But I am apprehensive my vanity will justly be thought much greater, when it shall appear, that in giving the history of English poetry,

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I have rejected the ideas of men who are its most distinguished ornaments. To confess the real truth, upon examination and experiment, I soon discovered their mode of treating my subject, plausible as it is, and brilliant in theory, to be attended with difficul|ties and inconveniencies, and productive of embarass|ment both to the reader and the writer. Like other ingenious systems, it sacrificed much useful intelli|gence to the observance of arrangement; and in the place of that satisfaction which results from a clearness and a fulness of information, seemed only to substi|tute the merit of disposition, and the praise of contri|vance. The constraint imposed by a mechanical atten|tion to this distribution, appeared to me to destroy that free exertion of research with which such a history ought to be executed, and not easily recon|cileable with that complication, variety, and extent of materials, which it ought to comprehend.

The method I have pursued, on one account at least, seems preferable to all others. My performance, in its present form, exhibits without transposition the gradual improvements of our poetry, at the same time that it uniformly represents the progression of our language.

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Some perhaps will be of opinion, that these annals ought to have commenced with a view of the Saxon poetry. But besides that a legitimate illustration of that jejune and intricate subject would have almost doubled my labour, that the Saxon language is familiar only to a few learned antiquaries, that our Saxon poems are for the most part little more than religious rhapsodies, and that scarce any compositions remain marked with the native images of that people in their pagan state, every reader that reflects but for a mo|ment on our political establishment must perceive, that the Saxon poetry has no connection with the nature and purpose of my present undertaking. Be|fore the Norman accession, which succeeded to the Saxon government, we were an unformed and an unsettled race. That mighty revolution obliterated almost all relation to the former inhabitants of this island; and produced that signal change in our policy, constitution, and public manners, the effects of which have reached modern times. The begin|ning of these annals seems therefore to be most properly dated from that era, when our national character began to dawn.

It was recommended to me, by a person eminent in the republic of letters, totally to exclude from

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these volumes any mention of the English drama. I am very sensible that a just history of our Stage is alone sufficient to form an entire and extensive work; and this argument, which is by no means pre|cluded by the attempt here offered to the public, still remains separately to be discussed, at large, and in form. But as it was professedly my intention to comprise every species of English Poetry, this, among the rest, of course claimed a place in these annals, and necessarily fell into my general design. At the same time, as in this situation it could only become a subordinate object, it was impossible I should examine it with that critical preci|sion and particularity, which so large, so curious, and so important an article of our poetical literature demands and deserves. To have considered it in its full extent, would have produced the unwieldy excrescence of a disproportionate episode: not to have considered it at all, had been an omission, which must detract from the integrity of my intended plan. I flatter myself however, that from evidences hitherto unexplored, I have recovered hints which may facilitate the labours of those, who shall here|after be inclined to investigate the antient state of dramatic exhibition in this country, with due com|prehension and accuracy.

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It will probably be remarked, that the citations in the first volume are numerous, and sometimes very prolix. But it should be remembered, that most of these are extracted from antient manuscript poems never before printed, and hitherto but little known. Nor was it easy to illustrate the darker and more distant periods of our poetry, without producing ample specimens. In the mean time, I hope to merit the thanks of the antiquarian, for enriching the stock of our early literature by these new accessions: and I trust I shall gratify the reader of taste, in having so fre|quently rescued from oblivion the rude inventions and irregular beauties of the heroic tale, or the romantic legend.

The design of the DISSERTATIONS is to prepare the reader, by considering apart, in a connected and comprehensive detail, some material points of a ge|neral and preliminary nature, and which could not either with equal propriety or convenience be intro|duced, at least not so formally discussed, in the body of the book; to establish certain fundamental princi|ples to which frequent appeals might occasionally be made, and to clear the way for various observations arising in the course of my future enquiries.

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CONTENTS OF THE SECTIONS in the FIRST VOLUME.

SECTION I.
STATE of Language. Prevalence of the French language before and after the Norman conquest. Specimens of Norman-Saxon poems. Legends in verse. Earliest love-song. Alexan|drine verses. Satirical pieces. First English metrical romance.
SECTION II.
Satirical ballad in the thirteenth century. The king's poet. Robert of Gloucester. Antient political ballads. Robert of Brunne. The Brut of England. Le Roman le Rou. Gests and jestours. Erceldoune and Kendale. Bishop Grosthead. Monks write for the Minstrels. Monastic libraries full of romances. Minstrels admitted into the monasteries. Regnorum Chronica and Mirabilia Mundi. Early European travellers into the east. Elegy on Edward the first.
SECTION III.
Effects of the increase of tales of chivalry. Rise of chivalry. Crusades. Rise and improvements of Romance. View of the rise of metrical romances. Their currency about the end of the

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SECTION IV.
Examination and specimens of the metrical romance of Richard the First. Greek fire. Military machines used in the crusades. Musical instruments of the Saracen armies. Ignorance of geography in the dark ages.
SECTION V.
Specimens of other popular metrical romances which appeared about the end of the thirteenth century. Sir Guy. The Squier of Low Degree. Sir Degore. King Robert of Sicily. The King of Tars. Ippomedon. La Mort Arthure. Subjects of antient tapestry.
SECTION VI.
Adam Davie flourished in the beginning of the fourteenth century. Specimens of his poetry. His Life of Alexander. Robert Baston's comedies. Anecdotes of the early periods of the English, French, and Italian, drama.
SECTION VII.
Character of the reign of Edward the third. Hampole's Pricke of Conscience.
SECTION VIII.
Pierce Plowman's Visions. Antient state and original institution of fairs. Donat explained. Antichrist.

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SECTION IX.
Pierce the Plowman's Crede. Constitution and character of the four orders of mendicant friars. Wickliffe.
SECTION X.
Various specimens of alliterative poetry. Antient alliterative hymn to the Virgin Mary.
SECTION XI.
John Barbour's History of Robert Bruce, and Blind Harry's Sir William Wallace. Historical romances of recent events com|mence about the close of the fourteenth century. Chiesly composed by heralds. Character and business of antient heralds. Narra|tives written by them. Froissart's History. His life and cha|racter. Retrospective view of manners.
SECTION XII.
General view of the character of Chaucer. Boccacio's Teseide. A Greek poem on that subject. Tournaments at Constantinople. Common practice of the Greek exiles to translate the popular Italian poems. Specimens both of the Greek and Italian Theseid. Critical examination of the Knight's Tale.
SECTION XIII.
The subject of Chaucer continued. His Romaunt of the Rose. William of Lorris and John of Meun. Specimens of the French Le Roman de la Rose. Improved by Chaucer. William of Lorris excells in allegorical personages. Petrarch dislikes this poem.
SECTION XIV.
Chaucer continued. His Troilus and Cresseide. Boccacio's Troilo. Sentimental and pathetic strokes in Chaucer's poem. House of Fame. A Provencial composition. Analysed. Improperly imitated by Pope.

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SECTION XV.
Chaucer continued. The supposed occasion of his Canterbury Tales superior to that of Boccacio's Decameron. Squire's Tale, Chaucer's capital poem. Origin of its fictions. Story of Patient Grisilde. Its origin, popularity, and characteristic excellence. How conducted by Chaucer.
SECTION XVI.
Chaucer continued. Tale of the Nun's Priest. Its origin and allusions. January and May. Its imitations. Licentiousness of Boccacio. Miller's Tale. Its singular humour and ridi|culous characters. Other Tales of the comic species. Their ori|gin, allusions, and respective merits. Rime of Sir Thopas. Its design and tendency.
SECTION XVII.
Chaucer continued. General view of the Prologues to the Can|terbury Tales. The Prioresse. The Wife of Bath. The Frankelein. The Doctor of Physicke. State of medical erudition and practice. Medicine and astronomy blended. Chaucer's physician's library. Learning of the Spanish jews. The Sompnour. The Pardonere. The Monke. Qualifica|tions of an abbot. The Frere. The Parsoune. The Squire. English crusades into Lithuania. The Reeve. The Clarke of Oxenford. The Serjeaunt of Lawe. The Hoste. Supple|mental Tale, or History of Beryn. Analysed and examined.
SECTION XVIII.
Chaucer continued. State of French and Italian poetry: and their influence on Chaucer. Rise of allegorical composition in the dark ages. Love-courts, and Love-fraternities, in France. Tales of the troubadours. Dolopathos. Boccacio, Dante, and Petrarch. Decline of Provencial poetry. Succeeded in France by a new species. Froissart. The Floure and the Leafe. Floral games in France. Allegorical beings.

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OF THE ORIGIN OF ROMANTIC FICTION in EUROPE.

DISSERTATION I.

THAT peculiar and arbitrary species of Fiction which we commonly call Romantic, was entirely unknown to the writers of Greece and Rome. It appears to have been imported into Europe by a people, whose modes of thinking, and habits of invention, are not natural to that country. It is generally supposed to have been borrowed from the Arabians. But this origin has not been hitherto perhaps examined or ascertained with a sufficient degree of accuracy. It is my present design, by a more distinct and extended inquiry than has yet been applied to the subject, to trace the manner and the period of its introduction into the popular belief, the oral poetry, and the literature, of the Europeans.

It is an established maxim of modern criticism, that the fictions of Arabian imagination were communicated to the

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western world by means of the crusades. Undoubtedly those expeditions greatly contributed to propagate this mode of fabling in Europe. But it is evident, although a circum|stance which certainly makes no material difference as to the principles here established, that these fancies were intro|duced at a much earlier period. The Saracens, or Arabians, having been for some time seated on the northern coasts of Africa, entered Spain about the beginning of the eighth cen|tury a 5.1. Of this country they soon effected a complete con|quest: and imposing their religion, language, and customs, upon the inhabitants, erected a royal seat in the capital city of Cordoua.

That by means of this establishment they first revived the sciences of Greece in Europe, will be proved at large in another place b 5.2: and it is obvious to conclude, that at the same time they disseminated those extravagant inventions which were so peculiar to their romantic and creative genius. A manuscript cited by Du Cange acquaints us, that the Spaniards, soon after the irruption of the Saracens, entirely neglected the study of the Latin language; and captivated with the novelty of the oriental books imported by these strangers, suddenly adopted an unusual pomp of style, and an affected elevation of diction c 5.3. The ideal tales of these eastern invaders, recommended by a brilliancy of descrip|tion, a variety of imagery, and an exuberance of invention, hitherto unknown and unfamiliar to the cold and barren conceptions of a western climate, were eagerly caught up, and universally diffused. From Spain, by the communica|tions of a constant commercial intercourse through the ports of Toulon and Marseilles, they soon passed into France and Italy.

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In France, no province, or district, seems to have given these fictions of the Arabians a more welcome or a more early reception, than the inhabitants of Armorica or Basse Bretagne, now Britany; for no part of France can boast so great a number of antient romances c 5.4. Many poems of high antiquity, composed by the Armorican bards, still re|main d 5.5, and are frequently cited by father Lobineau in his learned history of Basse Bretagne e 5.6. This territory was as it were newly peopled in the fourth century by a colony or army of the Welsh, who migrated thither under the con|duct of Maximus a Roman general in Britain f 5.7, and Conan

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lord of Meiriadoc or Denbigh-land g 5.8. The Armoric language now spoken in Britany is a dialect of the Welsh: and so strong a resemblance still subsists between the two languages, that in our late conquest of Belleisle, such of our soldiers as were natives of Wales were understood by the peasantry. Milton, whose imagination was much struck with the old British story, more than once alludes to the Welsh colony planted in Armorica by Maximus and the prince of Meiriadoc.

Et tandem ARMORICOS Britonum sub lege colonos h 5.9.
And in the PARADISE LOST he mentions indiscriminately the knights of Wales and Armorica as the customary retinue of king Arthur.

—What resounds In fable or romance, of Uther's son Begirt with BRITISH and ARMORIC knights i 5.10.

This migration of the Welsh into Britany or Armorica, which during the distractions of the empire, in consequence of the numerous armies of barbarians with which Rome was surrounded on every side, had thrown off its dependence on the Romans, seems to have occasioned a close connection between the two countries for many centuries k 5.11. Nor will

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it prove less necessary to our purpose to observe, that the Cornish Britons, whose language was another dialect of the antient British, from the fourth or fifth century downwards, maintained a no less intimate correspondence with the natives of Armorica: intermarrying with them, and perpetually re|sorting thither for the education of their children, for ad|vice, for procuring troops against the Saxons, for the pur|poses of traffick, and various other occasions. This con|nection was so strongly kept up, that an ingenious French antiquary supposes, that the communications of the Armori|cans with the Cornish had chiefly contributed to give a roughness or rather hardness to the romance or French language in some of the provinces, towards the eleventh century, which was not before discernible l 5.12. And this inter|course will appear more natural, if we consider, that not only Armorica, a maritime province of Gaul, never much frequented by the Romans, and now totally deserted by them, was still in some measure a Celtic nation; but that also the inhabitants of Cornwall, together with those of Devonshire and of the adjoining parts of Somersetshire, intermixing in a very slight degree with the Romans, and having suffered fewer important alterations in their original constitution and customs from the imperial laws and police than any other province of this island, long preserved their genuine manners and British character: and forming a sort of separate princi|pality under the government of a succession of powerful chieftains, usually denominated princes or dukes of Corn|wall, remained partly in a state of independence during the Saxon heptarchy, and were not entirely reduced till the Nor|man conquest. Cornwall, in particular, retained its old Celtic dialect till the reign of Elizabeth m 5.13.

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And here I digress a moment to remark, that in the circum|stance just mentioned about Wales, of its connection with Ar|morica, we perceive the solution of a difficulty which at first sight appears extremely problematical: I mean, not only that Wales should have been so constantly made the theatre of the old British chivalry, but that so many of the favorite fictions which occur in the early French romances, should also be literally found in the tales and chronicles of the elder Welsh bards n 5.14. It was owing to the perpetual com|munication kept up between the Welsh, and the people of Armorica who abounded in these fictions, and who na|turally took occasion to interweave them into the history of their friends and allies. Nor are we now at a loss to give the reason why Cornwall, in the same French romances, is made the scene and the subject of so many romantic adven|tures o 5.15. In the meantime we may observe, what indeed has been already implied, that a strict intercourse was upheld between Cornwall and Wales. Their languages, customs, and alliances, as I have hinted, were the same; and they were separated only by a strait of inconsiderable breadth. Cornwall is frequently styled West-Wales by the British writers. At the invasion of the Saxons, both countries became indiscriminately the receptacle of the fugitive Bri|tons. We find the Welsh and Cornish, as one people, often uniting themselves as in a national cause against the Saxons. They were frequently subject to the same prince p 5.16, who sometimes

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resided in Wales, and sometimes in Cornwall; and the kings or dukes of Cornwall were perpetually sung by the Welsh bards. Llygad Gwr, a Welsh bard, in his sublime and spirited ode to Llwellyn, son of Grunfludd, the last prince of Wales of the British line, has a wish,

"May the prints of the hoofs of my prince's steed be seen as far as CORNWALL q 5.17.
Traditions about king Arthur, to mention no more instances, are as popular in Cornwall as in Wales: and most of the romantic castles, rocks, rivers, and caves, of both nations, are alike at this day distinguished by some noble atchievement, at least by the name, of that celebrated champion. But to return.

About the year 1100, Gualter, archdeacon of Oxford, a learned man, and a diligent collector of histories, travelling through France, procured in Armorica an antient chronicle written in the British or Armorican language, entitled, BRUT|Y-BRENHINED, or THE HISTORY OF THE KINGS OF BRI|TAIN r 5.18. This book he brought into England, and communi|cated it to Geoffrey of Monmouth, a Welsh Benedictine monk, an elegant writer of Latin, and admirably skilled in the British tongue. Geoffrey, at the request and recommen|dation of Gualter the archdeacon, translated this British chronicle into Latin s 5.19, executing the translation with a tole|rable degree of purity and great fidelity, yet not without

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some interpolations s 5.20. It was probably finished after the year 1138 t 5.21.

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It is difficult to ascertain exactly the period at which our translator's original romance may probably be supposed to have been compiled. Yet this is a curious speculation, and will illustrate our argument. I am inclined to think that the work consists of fables thrown out by different rhap|sodists at different times, which afterwards were collected and digested into an entire history, and perhaps with new decorations of fancy added by the compiler, who most pro|bably was one of the professed bards, or rather a poetical historian, of Armorica or Basse Bretagne. In this state, and under this form, I suppose it to have fallen into the hands of Geoffrey of Monmouth. If the hypothesis hereafter ad|vanced concerning the particular species of fiction on which this narrative is founded, should be granted, it cannot, from what I have already proved, be more antient than the eighth century: and we may reasonably conclude, that it was composed much later, as some considerable length of time must have been necessary for the propagation and establish|ment of that species of fiction. The simple subject of this chronicle, divested of its romantic embellishments, is a de|duction of the Welsh princes from the Trojan Brutus to Cadwallader, who reigned in the seventh century u 5.22. It must

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be acknowledged, that many European nations were antiently fond of tracing their descent from Troy. Hunnibaldus Fran|cus, in his Latin history of France, written in the sixth cen|tury, beginning with the Trojan war, and ending with Clovis the first, ascribes the origin of the French nation to Francio a son of Priam w 5.23. So universal was this humour, and car|ried to such an absurd excess of extravagance, that under the reign of Justinian, even the Greeks were ambitious of being thought to be descended from the Trojans, their an|tient and notorious enemies. Unless we adopt the idea of those antiquaries, who contend that Europe was peopled from Phrygia, it will be hard to discover at what period, or from what source, so strange and improbable a notion could take its rise, especially among nations unacquainted with history, and overwhelmed in ignorance. The most rational mode of accounting for it, is to suppose, that the revival of Virgil's Eneid about the sixth or seventh century, which re|presented the Trojans as the founders of Rome, the capital of the supreme pontiff, and a city on various other accounts in the early ages of christianity highly reverenced and dis|tinguished, occasioned an emulation in many other European nations of claiming an alliance to the same respectable origi|nal. The monks and other ecclesiastics, the only readers and writers of the age, were likely to broach, and were in|terested in propagating, such an opinion. As the more bar|barous countries of Europe began to be tinctured with lite|rature, there was hardly one of them but fell into the fashion of deducing its original from some of the nations most cele|brated in the antient books. Those who did not aspire so

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high as king Priam, or who found that claim preoccupied, boasted to be descended from some of the generals of Alexander the Great, from Prusias king of Bithynia, from the Greeks or the Egyptians. It it not in the mean time quite impro|bable, that as most of the European nations were provincial to the Romans, those who fancied themselves to be of Trojan extraction might have imbibed this notion, at least have ac|quired a general knowledge of the Trojan story, from their conquerors: more especially the Britons, who continued so long under the yoke of Rome x 5.24. But as to the story of Brutus in particular, Geoffrey's hero, it may be presumed that his legend was not contrived, nor the history of his successors invented, till after the ninth century: for Nennius, who lived about the middle of that century, not only speaks of Brutus with great obscurity and inconsistency, but seems totally uninformed as to every circumstance of the British affairs which preceded Cesar's invasion. There are other proofs that this piece could not have existed before the ninth century. Alfred's Saxon translation of the Mercian law is mentioned y 5.25. Charlemagne's Twelve Peers, and by an ana|chronism not uncommon in romance, are said to be present at king Arthur's magnificent coronation in the city of Caer|leon z 5.26. It were easy to produce instances, that this chronicle was undoubtedly framed after the legend of saint Ursula, the acts of saint Lucius, and the historical writings of the venerable Bede, had undergone some degree of circulation in the world. At the same time it contains many passages which incline us to determine, that some parts of it at least were written after or about the eleventh century. I will not insist on that passage, in which the title of legate of the apostolic see is attributed to Dubricius in the character of primate of Britain; as it appears for obvious reasons to have been an artful interpolation of the translator, who was an ecclesiastic. But I will select other arguments. Canute's forest, or Cannock-wood

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in Staffordshire occurs; and Canute died in the year 1036 z 5.27. At the ideal coronation of king Arthur, just mentioned, a tournament is described as exhibited in its highest splendor.

"Many knights, says our Armoric fa|bler, famous for feats of chivalry, were present, with ap|parel and arms of the same colour and fashion. They formed a species of diversion, in imitation of a fight on horseback, and the ladies being placed on the walls of the castles, darted amorous glances on the combatants. None of these ladies esteemed any knight worthy of her love, but such as had given proof of his gallantry in three several encounters. Thus the valour of the men encou|raged chastity in the women, and the attention of the wo|men proved an incentive to the soldier's bravery a 5.28."
Here is the practice of chivalry under the combined ideas of love and military prowess, as they seem to have subsisted after the feudal constitution had acquired greater degrees not only of stability but of splendor and refinement b 5.29. And although a species of tournament was exhibited in France at the recon|ciliation of the sons of Lewis the feeble, in the close of the ninth century, and at the beginning of the tenth, the co|ronation of the emperor Henry was solemnized with mar|tial entertainments, in which many parties were introduced fighting on horseback; yet it was long afterwards that these games were accompanied with the peculiar formalities, and ceremonious usages, here described c 5.30. In the mean time, we

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cannot answer for the innovations of a translator in such a description. The burial of Hengist, the Saxon chief, who is said to have been interred not after the pagan fashion, as Geoffrey renders the words of the original, but after the manner of the SOLDANS, is partly an argument that our ro|mance was composed about the time of the crusades. It was not till those memorable campaigns of mistaken devotion had infatuated the western world, that the soldans or sultans of Babylon, of Egypt, of Iconium, and other eastern kingdoms, became familiar in Europe. Not that the notion of this piece being written so late as the crusades in the least invalidates the doctrine delivered in this discourse. Not even if we sup|pose that Geoffrey of Monmouth was its original composer. That notion rather tends to confirm and establish my system. On the whole we may venture to affirm, that this chronicle, supposed to contain the ideas of the Welsh bards, entirely consists of Arabian inventions. And, in this view, no dif|ference is made whether it was compiled about the tenth century, at which time, if not before, the Arabians from their settlement in Spain must have communicated their ro|mantic fables to other parts of Europe, especially to the French; or whether it first appeared in the eleventh cen|tury, after the crusades had multiplied these fables to an ex|cessive degree, and made them universally popular. And al|though the general cast of the inventions contained in this romance is alone sufficient to point out the source from whence they were derived, yet I chuse to prove to a demon|stration what is here advanced, by producing and examining some particular passages.

The books of the Arabians and Persians abound with ex|travagant traditions about the giants Gog and Magog. These they call Jagiouge and Magiouge; and the Caucasian wall,

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said to be built by Alexander the Great from the Caspian to the Black Sea, in order to cover the frontiers of his domi|nion, and to prevent the incursions of the Sythians d 5.31, is cal|led by the orientals the WALL of GOG and MAGOG e 5.32. One of the most formidable giants, according to our Armorican romance,

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which opposed the landing of Brutus in Britain, was Goemagot. He was twelve cubits high, and would unroot an oak as easily as an hazel wand: but after a most obsti|nate encounter with Corineus, he was tumbled into the sea from the summit of a steep cliff on the rocky shores of Corn|wall, and dashed in pieces against the huge crags of the de|clivity. The place where he fell, adds our historian, taking its name from the giant's fall, is called LAM-GOEMAGOT, or GOEMAGOT'S LEAP, to this day f 5.33. A no less monstrous giant, whom king Arthur slew on Saint Michael's Mount in Corn|wall, is said by this fabler to have come from Spain. Here the origin of these stories is evidently betrayed g 5.34. The Ara|bians, or Saracens, as I have hinted above, had conquered Spain, and were settled there. Arthur having killed this redoubted giant, declares, that he had combated with none of equal strength and prowess, since he overcame the mighty giant Ritho, on the mountain Arabius, who had made himself a robe of the beards of the kings whom he had killed. This tale is in Spenser's Faerie Queene. A magician brought from Spain is called to the assistance of Edwin, a prince of Northumberland h 5.35, educated under Solomon king of the Armoricans i 5.36. In the prophecy of Merlin, delivered to Vorti|gern after the battle of the dragons, forged perhaps by the translator Geoffrey, yet apparently in the spirit and manner of the rest, we have the Arabians named, and their situa|tions in Spain and Africa.

"From Conau shall come forth a wild boar, whose tusks shall destroy the oaks of the fo|rests of France. The ARABIANS and AFRICANS shall dread him; and he shall continue his rapid course into the most distant parts of Spain k 5.37."
This is king Arthur. In the same prophecy, mention is made of the
"Woods of

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Africa."
In another place Gormund king of the Africans occurs l 5.38. In a battle which Arthur fights against the Ro|mans, some of the principal leaders in the Roman army are Alifantinam king of Spain, Pandrasus king of Egypt, Boccus king of the Medes, Evander king of Syria, Micipsa king of Babylon, and a duke of Phrygia m 5.39. It is obvious to suppose how these countries became so familiar to the bard of our chronicle. The old fictions about Stonehenge were derived from the same inexhaustible source of extravagant imagina|tion. We are told in this romance, that the giants con|veyed the stones which compose this miraculous monument from the farthest coasts of Africa. Every one of these stones is supposed to be mystical, and to contain a medicinal virtue: an idea drawn from the medical skill of the Arabians n 5.40, and more particularly from the Arabian doctrine of attri|buting healing qualities, and other occult properties, to stones o 5.41. Merlin's transformation of Uther into Gorlois, and of Ulfin into Bricel, by the power of some medical pre|paration, is a species of Arabian magic, which professed to work the most wonderful deceptions of this kind, and is men|tioned at large hereafter, in tracing the inventions of Chaucer's poetry. The attribution of prophetical language to birds was common among the orientals: and an eagle is supposed to speak at building the walls of the city of Paladur, now Shaftesbury p 5.42. The Arabians cultivated the study of philosophy,

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particularly astronomy, with amazing ardour o 5.43. Hence arose the tradition, reported by our historian, that in king Arthur's reign, there subsisted at Caer-leon in Glamorgan|shire a college of two hundred philosophers, who studied astronomy and other sciences; and who were particularly employed in watching the courses of the stars, and predicting events to the king from their observations p 5.44. Edwin's Spanish magician above-mentioned, by his knowledge of the flight of birds, and the courses of the stars, is said to foretell future disasters. In the same strain Merlin, prognosticates Uther's success in battle by the appearance of a comet q 5.45. The same enchanter's wonderful skill in mechanical powers, by which he removes the giant's Dance, or Stonehenge, from Ireland into England, and the notion that this stupendous structure was raised by a PROFOUND PHILOSOPHICAL KNOW|LEDGE OF THE MECHANICAL ARTS, are founded on the Arabic literature r 5.46. To which we may add king Bladud's magical operations s 5.47. Dragons are a sure mark of orientalism. One of these in our romance is a

"terrible dragon flying from the west, breathing fire, and illuminating all the country with the brightness of his eyes t 5.48."
In another place we have a giant mounted on a winged dragon: the dragon erects his scaly tail, and wafts his rider to the clouds with great rapidity u 5.49.

Arthur and Charlemagne are the first and original heroes of romance. And as Geoffrey's history is the grand repository of the acts of Arthur, so a fabulous history ascribed to Turpin is the ground work of all the chimerical legends which have been related concerning the conquests of Charlemagne and his twelve peers. Its subject is the expulsion of the Saracens

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from Spain: and it is filled with fictions evidently cogenial with those which characterise Geoffrey's history w 5.50.

Some suppose, as I have hinted above, this romance to have been written by Turpin, a monk of the eighth century; who, for his knowledge of the Latin language, his sanctity, and gallant exploits against the Spanish Saracens, was pre|ferred to the archbishoprick of Rheims by Charlemagne. Others believe it to have been forged under archbishop Turpin's name about that time. Others very soon after|wards, in the reign of Charles the Bald x 5.51. That is, about the year 870 y 5.52.

Voltaire, a writer of much deeper research than is ima|gined, and the first who has displayed the literature and customs of the dark ages with any degree of penetration and comprehension, speaking of the fictitious tales concern|ing Charlemagne, has remarked,

"Ces fables qu'un moine ecrivit au onzieme siecle, sous le nom de l'archeveque Turpin z 5.53."
And it might easily be shewn that just before the commencement of the thirteenth century, romantic stories about Charlemagne were more fashionable than ever among the French minstrels. That is, on the recent pub|lication of this fabulous history of Charlemagne. Historical evidence concurs with numerous internal arguments to prove, that it must have been compiled after the crusades. In the twentieth chapter, a pretended pilgrimage of Charlemagne to the holy sepulchre at Jerusalem is recorded: a forgery

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seemingly contrived with a design to give an importance to those wild expeditions, and which would easily be believed when thus authenticated by an archbishop a 5.54.

There is another strong internal proof that this romance was written long after the time of Charlemagne. Our his|torian is speaking of the numerous chiefs and kings who came with their armies to assist his hero: among the rest he mentions earl Oell, and adds,

"Of this man there is a song commonly sung among the minstrels even to this day b 5.55."
Nor will I believe, that the European art of war, in the eighth century, could bring into the field such a prodigious parade of battering rams and wooden castles, as those with which Charlemagne is said to have besieged the city Agen|num c 5.56: the crusades seem to have made these huge military machines common in the European armies. However we may suspect it appeared before, yet not long before, Geof|frey's romance; who mentions Charlemagne's TWELVE PEERS, so lavishly celebrated in Turpin's book, as present at king Arthur's imaginary coronation at Caer-leon. Al|though the twelve peers of France occur in chronicles of the tenth century d 5.57; and they might besides have been sug|gested to Geoffrey's original author, from popular traditions and songs of minstrels. We are sure it was extant before the year 1122, for Calixtus the second in that year, by papal

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authority, pronounced this history to be genuine e 5.58. Mon|sieur Allard affirms, that it was written, and in the eleventh century, at Vienna by a monk of Saint Andrew's f 5.59. This monk was probably nothing more than some Latin tran|slator: but a learned French antiquary is of opinion, that it was originally composed in Latin; and moreover, that the most antient romances, even those of the Round Table, were originally written in that language g 5.60. Oienhart, and with the greatest probability, supposes it to be the work of a Spaniard. He quotes an authentic manuscript to prove, that it was brought out of Spain into France before the close of the twelfth century h 5.61; and that the miraculous exploits performed in Spain by Charlemagne and earl Roland, recorded in this romantic history, were unknown among the French before that period: except only that some few of them were obscurely and imperfectly sketched in the metrical tales of those who sung heroic adventures i 5.62. Oienhart's sup|position that this history was compiled in Spain, the centre of oriental fabling in Europe, at once accounts for the na|ture and extravagance of its fictions, and immediately points to their Arabian origin k 5.63. As to the French manuscript of

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this history, it is a translation from Turpin's Latin, made by Michel de Harnes in the year 1207 l 5.64. And, by the way, from the translator's declaration, that there was a great im|propriety in translating Latin prose into verse, we may con|clude, that at the commencement of the thirteenth century the French generally made their translations into verse.

In these two fabulous chronicles the foundations of romance seem to be laid. The principal characters, the leading sub|jects, and the fundamental fictions, which have supplied such ample matter to this singular species of composition, are here first displayed. And although the long continuance of the crusades imported innumerable inventions of a similar complexion, and substituted the atchievements of new cham|pions and the wonders of other countries, yet the tales of Arthur and of Charlemagne, diversified indeed, or enlarged with additional embellishments, still continued to prevail, and to be the favourite topics: and this, partly from their early popularity, partly from the quantity and the beauty of the fictions with which they were at first supported, and especially because the design of the crusades had made those subjects so fashionable in which christians fought with infi|dels. In a word, these volumes are the first specimens

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extant in this mode of writing. No European history before these has mentioned giants, enchanters, dragons, and the like monstrous and arbitrary fictions. And the reason is obvious: they were written at a time when a new and unnatural mode of thinking took place in Europe, intro|duced by our communication with the east.

Hitherto I have considered the Saracens either at their immigration into Spain about the ninth century, or at the time of the crusades, as the first authors of romantic fabling among the Europeans. But a late ingenious critic has advanced an hypothesis, which assigns a new source, and a much earlier date, to these fictions. I will cite his opinion of this matter in his own words.

"Our old romances of chivalry may be derived in a LINEAL DES|CENT from the antient historical songs of the Gothic bards and scalds.—Many of those songs are still preserved in the north, which exhibit all the seeds of chivalry before it became a solemn institution.—Even the com|mon arbitrary fictions of romance were most of them familiar to the antient scalds of the north, long before the time of the crusades. They believed the existence of giants and dwarfs, they had some notion of fairies, they were strongly possessed with the belief of spells and in|chantment, and were fond of inventing combats with dragons and monsters m 5.65."
Monsieur Mallet, a very able and elegant inquirer into the genius and antiquities of the northern nations, mantains the same doctrine. He seems to think, that many of the opinions and practices of the Goths, however obsolete, still obscurely subsist. He adds,
"May we not rank among these, for example, that love and admiration for the profession of arms which prevailed among our ancestors even to fanaticism, and as it were through system, and brave from a point of honour?—

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Can we not explain from the Gothic religion, how judi|ciary combats, and proofs by the ordeal, to the astonish|ment of posterity, were admitted by the legislature of all Europe n 5.66: and how, even to the present age, the people are still infatuated with a belief of the power of magi|cians, witches, spirits, and genii, concealed under the earth or in the waters?—Do we not discover in these religious opinions, that source of the marvellous with which our ancestors filled their romances; in which we see dwarfs and giants, fairies and demons," &c o 5.67.
And in another place.
"The fortresses of the Goths were only rude castles situated on the summits of rocks, and rendered inaccessible by thick misshapen walls. As these walls ran winding round the castles, they often called them by a name which signified SERPENTS or DRAGONS; and in these they usually secured the women and young virgins of distinction, who were seldom safe at a time when so many enterprising heroes were rambling up and down in search of adven|tures. It was this custom which gave occasion to antient romancers, who knew not how to describe any thing simply, to invent so many fables concerning princesses of great beauty guarded by dragons, and afterwards delivered by invincible champions p 5.68.

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I do not mean entirely to reject this hypothesis: but I will endeavour to shew how far I think it is true, and in what manner or degree it may be reconciled with the system delivered above.

A few years before the birth of Christ, soon after Mithri|dates had been overthrown by Pompey, a nation of Asiatic Goths, who possessed that region of Asia which is now called Georgia, and is connected on the south with Persia, alarmed at the progressive encroachments of the Roman armies, re|tired in vast multitudes under the conduct of their leader Odin, or Woden, into the northern parts of Europe, not subject to the Roman government, and settled in Denmark, Norway, Sweden, and other districts of the Scandinavian terri|tory q 5.69. As they brought with them many useful arts, parti|cularly the knowledge of letters, which Odin is said to have invented r 5.70, they were hospitably received by the natives,

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and by degrees acquired a safe and peaceable establishment in the new country, which seems to have adopted their lan|guage, laws, and religion. Odin is said to have been stiled a god by the Scandinavians; an appellation which the supe|riour address and specious abilities of this Asiatic chief easily extorted from a more savage and uncivilised people.

This migration is confirmed by the concurrent testimo|nies of various historians: but there is no better evidence of it, than that conspicuous similarity subsisting at this day between several customs of the Georgians, as described by Chardin, and those of certain cantons of Norway and Swe|den, which have preserved their antient manners in the purest degree s 5.71. Not that other striking implicit and in|ternal proofs, which often carry more conviction than direct historical assertions, are wanting to point out this migration. The antient inhabitants of Denmark and Nor|way inscribed the exploits of their kings and heroes on rocks, in characters called Runic; and of this practice many marks are said still to remain in those countries t 5.72. This art or custom of writing on rocks is Asiatic u 5.73. Modern travel|lers report, that there are Runic inscriptions now existing in the deserts of Tartary x 5.74. The WRITTEN MOUNTAINS of the Jews are an instance that this fashion was oriental. Antiently, when one of these northern chiefs fell honourably in battle, his weapons, his war-horse, and his wife, were consumed with himself on the same funeral pile y 5.75. I need

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not remind my readers how religiously this horrible cere|mony of sacrificing the wife to the dead husband is at present observed in the east. There is a very remarkable corre|spondence, in numberless important and fundamental points, between the Druidical and the Persian superstitions: and notwithstanding the evidence of Cesar, who speaks only from popular report, and without precision, on a subject which he cared little about, it is the opinion of the learned Banier, that the Druids were formed on the model of the Magi z 5.76. In this hypothesis he is seconded by a modern anti|quary; who further supposes, that Odin's followers im|ported this establishment into Scandinavia, from the con|fines of Persia a 5.77. The Scandinavians attributed divine virtue to misletoe; it is mentioned in their EDDA, or system of religious doctrines, where it is said to grow on the west side of Val-hall, or Odin's elysium b 5.78. That Druidical rites existed among the Scandinavians we are informed from many antient Erse poems, which say that the British Druids, in the extremity of their affairs, sollicited and obtained aid from Scandinavia c 5.79. The Gothic hell exactly resembles that which we find in the religious systems of the Persians, the most abounding in superstition of all the eastern nations. One of the circumstances is, and an oriental idea, that it is full of scorpions and serpents d 5.80. The doctrines of Zeno, who borrowed most of his opinions from the Persian philo|sophers, are not uncommon in the EDDA. Lok, the evil

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deity of the Goths, is probably the Arimanius of the Per|sians. In some of the most antient Islandic chronicles, the Turks are mentioned as belonging to the jurisdiction of the Scandinavians. Mahomet, not so great an inventor as is imagined, adopted into his religion many favourite no|tions and superstitions from the bordering nations which were the offspring of the Scythians, and especially from the Turks. Accordingly, we find the Alcoran agreeing with the Runic theology in various instances. I will mention only one. It is one of the beatitudes of the Mahometan paradise, that blooming virgins shall administer the most luscious wines. Thus in Odin's Val-hall, or the Gothic elysium, the departed heroes received cups of the strongest mead and ale from the hands of the virgin-goddesses called Valkyres e 5.81. Alfred, in his Saxon account of the northern seas, taken from the mouth of Ohther, a Norwegian, who had been sent by that monarch to discover a north-east passage into the Indies, constantly calls these nations the ORIENTALS f 5.82. And as these eastern tribes brought with them into the north a certain degree of refinement, of luxury and splendor, which appeared singular and prodigious among barbarians; one of their early historians describes a person better dressed than usual, by saying,

"he was so well cloathed, that you might have taken him for one of the Asiatics g 5.83."
Wor|mius mentions a Runic incantation, in which an Asiatic inchantress is invoked h 5.84. Various other instances might here

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be added, some of which will occasionally arise in the future course of our inquiries.

It is notorious, that many traces of oriental usages are found amongst all the European nations during their pagan state; and this phenomenon is rationally resolved, on the supposition that all Europe was originally peopled from the east. But as the resemblance which the pagan Scandina|vians bore to the eastern nations in manners, monu|ments, opinions, and practices, is so very perceptible and apparent, an inference arises, that their migration from the east must have happened at a period by many ages more recent, and therefore most probably about the time specified by their historians. In the mean time we must re|member, that a distinction is to be made between this expe|dition of Odin's Goths, who formed a settlement in Scandi|navia, and those innumerable armies of barbarous adventu|rers, who some centuries afterwards, distinguished by the same name, at different periods overwhelmed Europe, and at length extinguished the Roman empire.

When we consider the rapid conquests of the nations which may be comprehended under the common name of Scythians, and not only those conducted by Odin, but by Attila, Theodoric, and Genseric, we cannot ascribe such suc|cesses to brutal courage only. To say that some of these irresistible conquerors made war on a luxurious, effeminate, and enervated people, is a plausible and easy mode of ac|counting for their conquests: but this reason will not ope|rate with equal force in the histories of Genghizcan and

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Tamerlane, who destroyed mighty empires founded on arms and military discipline, and who baffled the efforts of the ablest leaders. Their science and genius in war, such as it then was, cannot therefore be doubted: that they were not deficient in the arts of peace, I have already hinted, and now proceed to produce more particular proofs. Innumerable and very fundamental errors have crept into our reasonings and systems about savage life, resulting merely from those strong and undistinguishing notions of barbarism, which our prejudices have hastily formed concerning the character of all rude nations i 5.85.

Among other arts which Odin's Goths planted in Scandi|navia, their skill in poetry, to which they were addicted in a peculiar manner, and which they cultivated with a won|derful enthusiasm, seems to be most worthy our regard, and especially in our present inquiry.

As the principal heroes of their expedition into the north were honourably distinguished from the Europeans, or ori|ginal Scandinavians, under the name of Asae, or Asiatics, so the verses, or language, of this people, were denominated ASAMAL, or ASIATIC speech k 5.86. Their poetry contained not only the praises of their heroes, but their popular traditions and their religious rites; and was filled with those fictions which the most exaggerated pagan superstition would natu|rally implant in the wild imaginations of an Asiatic people. And from this principle alone, I mean of their Asiatic origin, some critics would at once account for a certain capricious spirit of extravagance, and those bold eccentric conceptions, which so strongly distinguish the old northern poetry l 5.87. Nor

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is this fantastic imagery, the only mark of Asiaticism which appears in the Runic odes. They have a certain sublime and figurative cast of diction, which is indeed one of their pre|dominant characteristics m 5.88. I am very sensible that all rude nations are naturally apt to cloath their sentiments in this style. A propensity to this mode of expression is necessarily occasioned by the poverty of their language, which obliges them frequently to substitute similitudes and circumlocu|tions: it arises in great measure from feelings undisguised and unrestrained by custom or art, and from the genuine efforts of nature working more at large in uncultivated minds. In the infancy of society, the passions and the imagination are alike uncontrouled. But another cause seems to have con|curred in producing the effect here mentioned. When ob|vious terms and phrases evidently occurred, the Runic poets are fond of departing from the common and established dic|tion. They appear to use circumlocution and comparisons not as a matter of necessity, but of choice and skill: nor are these metaphorical colourings so much the result of want of words, as of warmth of fancy n 5.89.

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Their warmth of fancy, however, if supposed to have proceeded from the principles above suggested, in a few ge|nerations after this migration into Scandinavia, must have lost much of its natural heat and genuine force. Yet ideas and sentiments, especially of this sort, once imbibed, are long remembered and retained, in savage life. Their reli|gion, among other causes, might have contributed to keep this spirit alive; and to preserve their original stock of images, and native mode of expression, unchanged and una|bated by climate or country. In the mean time we may suppose, that the new situation of these people in Scan|dinavia, might have added a darker shade and a more savage complexion to their former fictions and superstitions; and that the formidable objects of nature to which they became familiarised in those northern solitudes, the piny precipices, the frozen mountains, and the gloomy forests, acted on their imaginations, and gave a tincture of horror to their imagery.

A skill in poetry seems in some measure to have been a national science among the Scandinavians, and to have been familiar to almost every order and degree. Their kings and warriors partook of this epidemic enthusiasm, and on fre|quent occasions are represented as breaking forth into spon|taneous songs and verses o 5.90. But the exercise of the poetical

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talent was properly confined to a stated profession: and with their poetry the Goths imported into Europe a species of poets or singers, whom they called SCALDS or POLISHERS of LANGUAGE. This order of men, as we shall see more distinctly below, was held in the highest honour and vene|ration: they received the most liberal rewards for their verses, attended the festivals of heroic chiefs, accompanied them in battle, and celebrated their victories p 5.91.

These Scandinavian bards appear to have been esteemed and entertained in other countries besides their own, and by that means to have probably communicated their fictions to various parts of Europe. I will give my reasons for this supposition.

In the early ages of Europe, before many regular govern|ments took place, revolutions, emigrations, and invasions, were frequent and almost universal. Nations were alternately

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destroyed or formed; and the want of political security exposed the inhabitants of every country to a state of eternal fluctuation. That Britain was originally peopled from Gaul, a nation of the Celts, is allowed: but that many colonies from the northern parts of Europe were afterwards suc|cessively planted in Britain and the neighbouring islands, is an hypothesis equally rational, and not altogether destitute of historical evidence. Nor was any nation more likely than the Scandinavian Goths, I mean in their early periods, to make descents on Britain. They possessed the spirit of adventure in an eminent degree. They were habituated to dangerous enterprises. They were acquainted with distant coasts, exercised in navigation, and fond of making expe|ditions, in hopes of conquest, and in search of new acqui|sitions. As to Scotland and Ireland, there is the highest probability, that the Scutes, who conquered both those coun|tries, and possessed them under the names of Albin Scutes and Irin Scutes, were a people of Norway. The Caledo|nians are expressly called by many judicious antiquaries a Scandinavian colony. The names of places and persons, over all that part of Scotland which the Picts inhabited, are of Scandinavian extraction. A simple catalogue of them only, would immediately convince us, that they are not of Celtic, or British, origin. Flaherty reports it as a re|ceived opinion, and a general doctrine, that the Picts mi|grated into Britain and Ireland from Scandinavia q 5.92. I for|bear to accumulate a pedantic parade of authorities on this occasion: nor can it be expected that I should enter into a formal and exact examination of this obscure and complicated

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subject in its full extent, which is here only intro|duced incidentally. I will only add, that Scotland and Ire|land, as being situated more to the north, and probably less difficult of access than Britain, might have been objects on which our northern adventurers were invited to try some of their earliest excursions: and that the Orkney-islands remained long under the jurisdiction of the Norwegian potentates.

In these expeditions, the northern emigrants, as we shall prove more particularly below, were undoubtedly attended by their scalds or poets. Yet even in times of peace, and without the supposition of conquest or invasion, the Scan|dinavian scalds might have been well known in the British islands. Possessed of a specious and pleasing talent, they fre|quented the courts of the British, Scottish, and Irish chief|tains. They were itinerants by their institution, and made voyages, out of curiosity, or in quest of rewards, to those islands or coasts which lay within the circle of their mari|time knowledge. By these means, they established an in|terest, rendered their profession popular, propagated their art, and circulated their fictions, in other countries, and at a distance from home. Torfaeus asserts positively, that various Islandic odes now remain, which were sung by the Scandinavian bards before the kings of England and Ireland, and for which they received liberal gratuities r 5.93. They were more especially caressed and rewarded at the courts of those princes, who were distinguished for their warlike character, and their passion for military glory.

Olaus Wormius informs us, that great numbers of the northern scalds constantly resided in the courts of the kings of Sweden, Denmark, and England s 5.94. Hence the tradition in an antient Islandic Saga, or poetical history, may be ex|plained; which says, that Odin's language was originally

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used, not only in Denmark, Sweden and Norway, but even in England t 5.95. Indeed it may be naturally concluded from these suggestions, that the Scandinavian tongue became fami|liar in the British islands by the songs of the scalds: unless it be rather presumed, that a previous knowledge of that tongue in Britain was the means of facilitating the admission of those poets, and preparing the way for their reception.

And here it will be much to our present argument to observe, that some of the old Gothic and Scandinavian su|perstitions are to this day retained in the English language. MARA, from whence our Night-mare is derived, was in the Runic theology a spirit or spectre of the night, which seized men in their sleep, and suddenly deprived them of speech and motion u 5.96. NICKA was the Gothic demon who inha|bited the element of water, and who strangled persons that were drowning w 5.97. BOH was one of the most fierce and formidable of the Gothic generals x 5.98, and the son of Odin: the mention of whose name only was sufficient to spread an immediate panic among his enemies y 5.99.

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The fictions of Odin and of his Scandinavians, must have taken still deeper root in the British islands, at least in England, from the Saxon and Danish invasions.

That the tales of the Scandinavian scalds flourished among the Saxons, who succeeded to the Britons, and became pos|sessors of England in the sixth century, may be justly pre|sumed z 5.100. The Saxons were originally seated in the Cimbric Chersonese, or those territories which have been since called Jutland, Angelen, and Holstein; and were fond of tracing the descent of their princes from Odin a 5.101. They were there|fore a part of the Scandinavian tribes. They imported with them into England the old Runic language and letters. This appears from inscriptions on coins b 5.102, stones c 5.103, and other monuments;

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and from some of their manuscripts d 5.104. It is well known that Runic inscriptions have been discovered in Cum|berland and Scotland: and that there is even extant a coin of king Offa, with a Runic legend e 5.105. But the conversion of the Saxons to christianity, which happened before the seventh century, entirely banished the common use of those cha|racters f 5.106, which were esteemed unhallowed and necromantic; and with their antient superstitions, which yet prevailed for some time in the popular belief, abolished in some measure their native and original vein of poetic fabling g 5.107. They sud|denly became a mild and polished people, addicted to the arts of peace, and the exercise of devotion; and the poems they have left us are chiefly moral rhapsodies, scriptural histories, or religious invocations h 5.108. Yet even in these pieces they have frequent allusions to the old scaldic fables and heroes. Thus, in an Anglo-Saxon poem on Judith, Holofernes is

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called BALDER, or leader and prince of warriors. And in a poetical paraphrase on Genesis, Abimelech has the same ap|pellation i 5.109. This Balder was a famous chieftain of the Asiatic Goths, the son of Odin, and supposed to inhabit a magnificent hall in the future place of rewards. The same Anglo-Saxon paraphrast, in his prosopopea of Satan ad|dressing his companions plunged in the infernal abyss, adopts many images and expressions used in the very sublime des|cription of the Eddic hell k 5.110: Henry of Huntingdon com|plains of certain extraneous words and uncommon figures of speech, in a Saxon ode on a victory of king Athelstan l 5.111. These were all scaldic expressions or allusions. But I will give a literal English translation of this poem, which can|not be well understood without premising its occasion. In the year 938, Anlaff, a pagan king of the Hybernians and the adjacent isles, invited by Constantine king of the Scots, en|tered the river Abi or Humber with a strong fleet. Our Saxon king Athelstan, and his brother Eadmund Clito, met them with a numerous army, near a place called Brunen|burgh; and after a most obstinate and bloody resistance, drove them back to their ships. The battle lasted from day|break till the evening. On the side of Anlaff were slain six petty kings, and seven chiefs or generals.

"King Adelstan, the glory of leaders, the giver of gold chains to his nobles, and his brother Eadmund, both shining with the bright|ness of a long train of ancestors, struck [the adversary] in war; at Brunenburgh, with the edge of the sword, they clove the wall of shields. The high banners fell. The earls of the departed Edward fell; for it was born within them, even from the loins of their kindred, to defend the treasures and the houses of their country, and

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their gifts, against the hatred of strangers. The nation of the Scots, and the fatal inhabitants of ships, fell. The hills resounded, and the armed men were covered with sweat. From the time the sun, the king of stars, the torch of the eternal one, rose chearful above the hills, till he returned to his habitation. There lay many of the northern men, pierced with lances; they lay wounded, with their shields pierced through: and also the Scots, the hateful harvest of battle. The chosen bands of the West-Saxons, going out to battle, pressed on the steps of the detested nations, and slew their flying rear with sharp and bloody swords. The soft effeminate men yielded up their spears. The Mercians did not fear or fly the rough game of the hand. There was no safety to them, who sought the land with Anlaff in the bosom of the ship, to die in fight. Five youthful kings fell in the place of fight, slain with swords; and seven captains of Anlaff, with the innumerable army of Scottish mariners: there the lord of the Normans [Northern-men] was chased; and their army, now made small, was driven to the prow of the ship. The ship sounded with the waves; and the king, marching into the yellow sea, escaped alive. And so it was, the wise northern king Constantine, a veteran chief, returning by flight to his own army, bowed down in the camp, left his own son worn out with wounds in the place of slaughter; in vain did he lament his earls, in vain his lost friends. Nor less did Anlaff, the yellow|haired leader, the battle-ax of slaughter, a youth in war, but an old man in understanding, boast himself a con|queror in fight, when the darts flew against Edward's earls, and their banners met. Then those northern sol|diers, covered with shame, the sad refuse of darts in the resounding whirlpool of Humber, departed in their ships with rudders, to seek through the deep the Irish city and their own land. While both the brothers, the

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king and Clito, lamenting even their own victory, toge|ther returned home; leaving behind them the flesh-de|vouring raven, the dark-blue toad greedy of slaughter, the black crow with horny bill, and the hoarse toad, the eagle a companion of battles with the devouring kite, and that brindled savage beast the wolf of the wood, to be glutted with the white food of the slain. Never was so great a slaughter in this island, since the Angles and Saxons, the fierce beginners of war, coming hither from the east, and seeking Britain through the wide sea, over|came the Britons excelling in honour, and gained pos|session of their land m 5.112."

This piece, and many other Saxon odes and songs now remaining, are written in a metre much resembling that of the scaldic dialogue at the tomb of Angantyr, which has been beautifully translated into English, in the true spirit of the original, and in a genuine strain of poetry, by Gray. The extemporaneous effusions of the glowing bard seem na|turally to have fallen into this measure, and it was probably more easily suited to the voice or harp. Their versification for the most part seems to have been that of the Runic poetry.

As literature, the certain attendant, as it is the parent, of true religion and civility, gained ground among the Saxons, poetry no longer remained a separate science, and the profession of bard seems gradually to have declined among them: I mean the bard under those appropriated characteristics, and that peculiar appointment, which he sustained among the Scandinavian pagans. Yet their na|tional love of verse and music still so strongly predominated, that in the place of their old scalders a new rank of poets arose, called GLEEMEN or Harpers n 5.113. These probably gave

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rise to the order of English Minstrels, who flourished till the sixteenth century.

And here I stop to point out one of the principal reasons, why the Scandinavian bards have transmitted to modern times so much more of their native poetry, than the rest of their southern neighbours. It is true, that the inhabitants of Sweden, Denmark, and Norway, whether or no from their Asiatic origin, from their poverty which compelled them to seek fortunes at foreign courts by the exercise of a popular art, from the success of their bards, the nature of their republican government, or their habits of unsettled life, were more given to verse than any other Gothic, or even Celtic, tribe. But this is not all: they re|mained pagans, and retained their original manners, much longer than any of their Gothic kindred. They were not completely converted to christianity till the tenth century o 5.114. Hence, under the concurrence however of some of the causes just mentioned, their scaldic profession acquired greater degrees of strength and of maturity: and from an uninterrupted pos|session through many ages of the most romantic religious superstitions, and the preservation of those rough manners which are so favourable to the poetical spirit, was enabled to produce, not only more genuine, but more numerous, compo|sitions. True religion would have checked the impetuosity of their passions, suppressed their wild exertions of fancy, and banished that striking train of imagery, which their

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poetry derived from a barbarous theology. This circum|stance also suggests to our consideration, those superior advantages and opportunities arising from leisure and length of time, which they enjoyed above others, of circulating their poetry far and wide, of giving a general currency to their mode of fabling, of rendering their skill in versifica|tion more universally and familiarly known, and a more conspicuous and popular object of admiration or imitation to the neighbouring countries. Hence too it has happened, that modern times have not only attained much fuller information concerning their historical transactions, but are so intimately acquainted with the peculiarities of their character.

It is probable, that the Danish invasions produced a con|siderable alteration in the manners of our Anglo-Saxon an|cestors. Although their connections with England were transient and interrupted, and on the whole scarcely lasted two hundred years, yet many of the Danish customs began to prevail among the inhabitants, which seem to have given a new turn to their temper and genius. The Danish fashion of excessive drinking, for instance, a vice almost natural to the northern nations, became so general among the Anglo-Saxons, that it was found necessary to restrain so pernicious and contagious a practice by a particular statute p 5.115. Hence it seems likely, that so popular an entertainment as their poetry gained ground; especially if we consider, that in their expeditions against England they were of course attended by many northern scalds, who constantly made a part of their military retinue, and whose language was understood by the Saxons. Rogwald, lord of the Orcades, who was also himself a poet, going on an expedition into Palestine, carried with him two Islandic bards q 5.116. The noble ode, called

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in the northern chronicles the ELOGIUM OF HACON r 5.117, king of Norway, was composed on a battle in which that prince, with eight of his brothers fell, by the scald Eyvynd; who for his superior skill in poetry was called the CROSS of POETS, and fought in the battle which he celebrated. Hacon earl of Norway was accompanied by five celebrated bards in the battle of Jomsburgh: and we are told, that each of them sung an ode to animate the soldiers before the en|gagement began s 5.118. They appear to have been regularly brought into action. Olave, a king of Norway, when his army was prepared for the onset, placed three scalds about

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him, and exclaimed aloud,

"You shall not only record in your verses what you have HEARD, but what you have SEEN."
They each delivered an ode on the spot t 5.119. These northern chiefs appear to have so frequently hazarded their lives with such amazing intrepidity, merely in expecta|tion of meriting a panegyric from their poets, the judges, and the spectators of their gallant behaviour. That scalds were common in the Danish armies when they invaded England, appears from a stratagem of Alfred; who, availing himself of his skill in oral poetry and playing on the harp, entered the Danish camp habited in that character, and procured a hospitable reception. This was in the year 878 u 5.120. Anlaff, a Danish king, used the same disguise for re|connoitring the camp of our Saxon monarch Athelstan: tak|ing his station near Athelstan's pavilion, he entertained the king and his chiefs with his verses and music, and was dis|missed with an honourable reward w 5.121. As Anlaff's dialect must have discovered him to have been a Dane; here is a proof, of what I shall bring more, that the Saxons, even in the midst of mutual hostilities, treated the Danish scalds with favour and respect. That the Islandic bards were com|mon in England during the Danish invasions, there are numerous proofs. Egill, a celebrated Islandic poet, having murthered the son and many of the friends of Eric Blodoxe, king of Denmark or Norway, then residing in Northum|berland, and which he had just conquered, procured a pardon by singing before the king, at the command of his queen Gunhilde, an extemporaneous ode x 5.122. Egill compliments the king, who probably was his patron, with the appellation of the

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English chief.

"I offer my freight to the king. I owe a poem for my ransom. I present to the ENGLISH CHIEF the mead of Odin y 5.123."
Afterwards he calls this Danish conqueror the commander of the Scottish fleet.
"The com|mander of the Scottish fleet fattened the ravenous birds. The sister of Nera [Death] trampled on the foe: she trampled on the evening food of the eagle."
The Scots usually joined the Danish or Norwegian invaders in their attempts on the northern parts of Britain z 5.124: and from this circumstance a new argument arises, to shew the close com|munication and alliance which must have subsisted between Scotland and Scandinavia. Egill, although of the enemy's party, was a singular favourite of king Athelstan. Athelstan once asked Egill how he escaped due punishment from Eric Blodoxe, the king of Northumberland, for the very capital and enormous crime which I have just mentioned. On which Egill immediately related the whole of that transaction to the Saxon king, in a sublime ode still extant a 5.125. On another occasion Athelstan presented Egill with two rings, and two large cabinets filled with silver; promising at the same time, to grant him any gift or favour which he should chuse to request. Egill, struck with gratitude, immediately composed a panegyrical poem in the Norwegian language, then com|mon to both nations, on the virtues of Athelstan, which the latter as generously requited with two marcs of pure gold b 5.126. Here is likewise another argument that the Saxons had no small esteem for the scaldic poetry. It is highly rea|sonable to conjecture, that our Danish king Canute; a po|tentate of most extensive jurisdiction, and not only king of

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England, but of Denmark, Sweden, and Norway, was not without the customary retinue of the northern courts, in which the scalds held so distinguished and important a sta|tion. Human nature, in a savage state, aspires to some species of merit; and in every stage of society is alike suscep|tible of flattery, when addressed to the reigning passion. The sole object of these northern princes was military glory. It is certain that Canute delighted in this mode of entertain|ment, which he patronised and liberally rewarded. It is related in KNYTLINGA-SAGA, or Canute's History, that he commanded the scald Loftunga to be put to death, for daring to comprehend his atchievements in too concise a poem.

"Nemo, said he, ante te, ausus est de me BREVES CANTILENAS componere."
A curious picture of the tyrant, the patron, and the barbarian, united! But the bard extorted a speedy pardon, and with much address, by producing the next day before the king at dinner an ode of more than thirty strophes, for which Canute gave him fifty marcs of purified silver c 5.127. In the mean time, the Danish language began to grow perfectly familiar in England. It was eagerly learned by the Saxon clergy and nobility, from a principle of ingratiating themselves with Canute: and there are many manuscripts now remaining, by which it will appear, that the Danish runes were much studied among our Saxon ancestors, under the reign of that monarch d 5.128.

The songs of the Irish bards are by some conceived to be strongly marked with the traces of scaldic imagination; and these traces, which will be reconsidered, are believed still to survive among a species of poetical historians, whom they call TALE-TELLERS, supposed to be the descendants of the original Irish bards e 5.129. A writer of equal elegance and veracity

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city relates,

"that a gentleman of the north of Ireland has often told me of his own experience, that in his wolf|huntings there, when he used to be abroad in the moun|tains three or four days together, and laid very ill in the night, so as he could not well sleep, they would bring him one of these TALE-TELLERS, that when he lay down would begin a story of a KING, or a GIANT, a DWARF, and a DAMSEL f 5.130."
These are topics in which the Runic poetry is said to have been greatly conversant.

Nor is it improbable that the Welsh bards g 5.131 might have been acquainted with the Scandinavian scalds. I mean before

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their communications with Armorica, mentioned at large above. The prosody of the Welsh bards depended much on alliteration h 5.132. Hence they seem to have paid an at|tention to the scaldic versification. The Islandic poets are said to have carried alliteration to the highest pitch of exact|ness in their earliest periods: whereas the Welsh bards of the sixth century used it but sparingly, and in a very imper|fect degree. In this circumstance a proof of imitation, at least of emulation, is implied i 5.133. There are moreover, strong instances of conformity between the manners of the two nations; which, however, may be accounted for on general principles arising from our comparative observations on rude life. Yet it is remarkable that mead, the northern nectar, or favourite liquor of the Goths k 5.134, who seem to have stamped it with the character of a poetical drink, was no less cele|brated among the Welsh l 5.135. The songs of both nations abound

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with its praises: and it seems in both to have been alike the delight of the warrior and the bard. Taliessin, as Lhuyd informs us, wrote a panegyrical ode on this inspring beverage of the bee; or, as he translates it, De Mulsorum HYDROMELI k 5.136. In Hoel Dha's Welsh laws, translated by Wootton, we have,

"In omni convivio in quo MULSUM bibitur l 5.137."
From which passage, it seems to have been served up only at high festivals. By the same constitutions, at every feast in the king's castle|hall, the prefect or marshal of the hall is to receive from the queen, by the hands of the steward, a HORN OF MEAD. It is also ordered, among the privileges annexed to the office of prefect of the royal hall, that the king's bard shall sing to him as often as he pleases m 5.138. One of the stated officers of the king's houshold is CONFECTOR MULSI: and this officer, together with the master of the horse n 5.139, the master of the hawks, the smith of the palace o 5.140, the royal bard p 5.141, the first

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musicianq 5.142, with some others, have a right to ber 5.143 seated in the hall. We have already seen, that the Scandinavian scalds were well known in Ireland: and there is sufficient evidence to prove, that the Welsh bards were early connected with the Irish. Even so late as the eleventh century, the practice continued among the Welsh bards, of receiving instructions in the bardic profession from Ireland. The Welsh bards were reformed and regulated by Gryffyth ap Conan, king of Wales, in the year 1078. At the same time he brought over with him from Ireland many Irish bards, for the infor|mation and improvement of the Welsh s 5.144. Powell acquaints us, that this prince

"brought over with him from Ireland divers cunning musicians into Wales, who devised in a manner all the instrumental music that is now there used: as appeareth, as well by the bookes written of the same,

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as also by the names of the tunes and measures used among them to this daie t 5.145."
In Ireland, to kill a bard was highly criminal: and to seize his estate, even for the public service and in time of national distress, was deemed an act of sacrilege u 5.146. Thus in the old Welsh laws, whoever even slightly injured a bard, was to be fined six cows and one hundred and twenty pence. The murtherer of a bard was to be fined one hundred and twenty-six cows w 5.147. Nor must I pass over, what reflects much light on this reasoning, that the establishment of the houshold of the old Irish chiefs, exactly resembles that of the Welsh kings. For, besides the bard, the musician, and the smith, they have both a physician, a huntsman, and other corresponding officers x 5.148. We must also remember, that an intercourse was necessarily produced between the Welsh and Scandinavians, from the piratical irruptions of the latter: their scalds, as I have already remarked, were respected and patronised in the courts of those princes, whose territories were the prin|cipal objects of the Danish invasions. Torfaeus expressly affirms this of the Anglo-Saxon and Irish kings; and it is

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at least probable, that they were entertained with equal re|gard by the Welsh princes, who so frequently concurred with the Danes in distressing the English. It may be added, that the Welsh, although living in a separate and detached situation, and so strongly prejudiced in favour of their own usages, yet from neighbourhood, and unavoidable communications of various kinds, might have imbibed the ideas of the Scandinavian bards from the Saxons and Danes, after those nations had occupied and overspread all the other parts of our island.

Many pieces of the Scottish bards are still remaining in the high-lands of Scotland. Of these a curious specimen, and which considered in a more extensive and general respect, is a valuable monument of the poetry of a rude period, has lately been given to the world, under the title of the WORKS OF OSSIAN. It is indeed very remarkable, that in these poems, the terrible graces, which so naturally characterise, and so generally constitute, the early poetry of a barbarous people, should so frequently give place to a gentler set of manners, to the social sensibilities of polished life, and a more civilised and elegant species of imagination. Nor is this circumstance, which disarranges all our established ideas concerning the savage stages of society, easily to be accounted for, unless we suppose, that the Celtic tribes, who were so strongly addicted to poetical composition, and who made it so much their study from the earliest times, might by de|grees have attained a higher vein of poetical refinement, than could at first sight or on common principles be expected among nations, whom we are accustomed to call barbarous; that some few instances of an elevated strain of friendship, of love, and other sentimental feelings, ex|isting in such nations, might lay the foundation for intro|ducing a set of manners among the bards, more refined and exalted than the real manners of the country: and that panegyrics on those virtues, transmitted with improvements

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from bard to bard, must at length have formed characters of ideal excellence, which might propagate among the peo|ple real manners bordering on the poetical. These poems, however, notwithstanding the difference between the Gothic and the Celtic rituals, contain many visible vestiges of Scan|dinavian superstition. The allusions in the songs of Ossian to spirits, who preside over the different parts and direct the various operations of nature, who send storms over the deep, and rejoice in the shrieks of the shipwrecked mariner, who call down lightning to blast the forest or cleave the rock, and diffuse irresistible pestilence among the people, beautifully conducted indeed, and heightened, under the skilful hand of a master bard, entirely correspond with the Runic system, and breathe the spirit of its poetry. One fiction in particular, the most EXTRAVAGANT in all Ossian's poems, is founded on an essential article of the Runic belief. It is where Fingal fights with the spirit of Loda. Nothing could aggrandise Fingal's heroism more highly than this marvellous encounter. It was esteemed among the antient Danes the most daring act of courage to engage with a ghost y 5.149. Had Ossian found it convenient, to have introduced religion into his compositions z 5.150, not only a new source had

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been opened to the sublime, in describing the rites of sacri|fice, the horrors of incantation, the solemn evocations of infernal beings, and the like dreadful superstitions, but pro|bably many stronger and more characteristical evidences would have appeared, of his knowledge of the imagery of the Scandinavian poets.

Nor must we forget, that the Scandinavians had con|quered many countries bordering upon France in the fourth century a 5.151. Hence the Franks must have been in some mea|sure used to their language, well acquainted with their man|ners, and conversant in their poetry. Charlemagne is said to have delighted in repeating the most antient and bar|barous odes, which celebrated the battles of antient kings b 5.152.

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But we are not informed whether these were Scandinavian, Celtic, or Teutonic poems.

About the beginning of the tenth century, France was invaded by the Normans, or NORTHERN-MEN, an army of adventurers from Norway, Denmark, and Sweden. And although the conquerors, especially when their success does not solely depend on superiority of numbers, usually assume

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the manners of the conquered, yet these strangers must have still further familiarised in France many of their northern fictions.

From this general circulation in these and other countries, and from that popularity which it is natural to suppose they must have acquired, the scaldic inventions might have taken deep root in Europe c 5.153. At least they seem to have prepared the way for the more easy admission of the Arabian fabling about the ninth century, by which they were, however, in great measure, superseded. The Arabian fictions were of a more splendid nature, and better adapted to the increasing civility of the times. Less horrible and gross, they had a novelty, a variety, and a magnificence, which carried with them the charm of fascination. Yet it is probable, that many of the scaldic imaginations might have been blended with the Arabian. In the mean time, there is great reason to believe, that the Gothic scalds enriched their vein of fabling from this new and fruitful source of fiction, opened by the Arabians in Spain, and afterwards propagated by the crusades. It was in many respects cogenial with their own d 5.154: and the northern bards, who visited the countries

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where these new fancies were spreading, must have been naturally struck with such wonders, and were certainly fond of picking up fresh embellishments, and new strokes of the marvellous, for augmenting and improving their stock of poetry. The earliest scald now on record is not before the year 750. From which time the scalds flourished in the northern countries, till below the year 1157 e 5.155. The celebrated ode of Regner Lodbrog was composed about the end of the ninth century f 5.156.

And that this hypothesis is partly true, may be concluded from the subjects of some of the old Scandic romances, manuscripts of which now remain in the royal library at Stockholm. The titles of a few shall serve for a specimen; which I will make no apology for giving at large.

"SAGAN AF HIALMTER OC OLWER. The History of Hialmter king of Sweden, son of a Syrian princess, and of Olver Jarl. Containing their expeditions into Hunland, and Arabia, with their numerous encounters with the Vikings and the giants. Also their leagues with Alsola, daughter of Ringer king of Arabia, afterwards married to Hervor king of Hunland, &c.—SAGAN AF SIOD. The History of Siod, son of Ridgare king of England; who first was made king of England, afterwards of Babylon and Niniveh.

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Comprehending various occurrences in Saxland, Babylon, Greece, Africa, and especially in Eiriceg 5.157 the region of the giants.—SAGAN AF ALEFLECK. The History of Alefleck, a king of England, and of his expeditions into India and Tartary.—SAGAN AF ERIK WIDFORLA. The History of Eric the traveller, who, with his companion Eric, a Danish prince, undertook a wonderful journey to Odin's Hall, or Oden's Aker, near the river Pison in India h 5.158."
Here we see the circle of the Islandic poetry enlarged; and the names of countries and cities belonging to another quarter of the globe, Arabia, India, Tartary, Syria, Greece, Babylon, and Niniveh, intermixed with those of Hunland, Sweden, and England, and adopted into the northern romantic nar|ratives. Even Charlemagne and Arthur, whose histories, as we have already seen, had been so lavishly decorated by the Arabian fablers, did not escape the Scandinavian scalds i 5.159. Accordingly we find these subjects among their Sagas.
"SAGAN AF ERIK EINGLANDS KAPPE. The History of Eric, son of king Hiac, king Arthur's chief wrestler.—HISTORICAL RHYMES of king Arthur, containing his league with Charlemagne.—SAGAN AF IVENT. The History of Ivent, king Arthur's principal champion, containing his battles with the giants k 5.160.—SAGAN AF

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KARLAMAGNUSE OF HOPPUM HANS. The History of Charle|magne, of his champions, and captains. Containing all his actions in several parts. 1. Of his birth and coronation: and the combat of Carvetus king of Babylon, with Od|degir the Dane l 5.161. 2. Of Aglandus king of Africa, and of his son Jatmund, and their wars in Spain with Charle|magne. 3. Of Roland, and his combat with Villaline king of Spain. 4. Of Ottuel's conversion to christianity, and his marriage with Charlemagne's daughter. 5. Of Hugh king of Constantinople, and the memorable exploits of his champions. 6. Of the wars of Ferracute king of Spain. 7. Of Charlemagne's atchievements in Rounce|valles, and of his death m 5.162."
In another of the Sagas, Jarl, a magician of Saxland, exhibits his feats of necro|mancy before Charlemagne. We learn from Olaus Magnus, that Roland's magical horn, of which archbishop Turpin relates such wonders, and among others that it might be heard at the distance of twenty miles, was frequently celebrated in the songs of the Islandic bards n 5.163. It is not likely that these pieces, to say no more, were composed till the Scandinavian tribes had been converted to christianity; that is, as I have before observed, about the close of the tenth century. These barbarians had an infinite and a national contempt for the christians, whose religion inculcated a spirit of peace, gen|tleness, and civility; qualities so dissimilar to those of their own

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ferocious and warlike disposition, and which they naturally interpreted to be the marks of cowardice and pusillanimity o 5.164. It has, however, been urged, that as the irruption of the Normans into France, under their leader Rollo, did not take place till towards the beginning of the tenth century, at which period the scaldic art was arrived to the highest perfection in Rollo's native country, we can easily trace the descent of the French and English romances of chivalry from the Northern Sagas. It is supposed, that Rollo carried with him many scalds from the north, who transmitted their skill to their children and successors: and that these, adopting the religion, opinions, and language, of the new country, substituted the heroes of christendom, instead of those of their pagan ancestors, and began to celebrate the feats of Charlemagne, Roland, and Oliver, whose true history they set off and embellished with the scaldic figments of dwarfs, giants, dragons, and inchantments p 5.165. There is, however, some reason to believe, that these fictions were current among the French long before; and, if the principles advanced in the former part of this dissertation be true, the fables adhering to Charlemagne's real history must be referred to another source.

Let me add, that the inchantments of the Runic poetry are very different from those in our romances of chivalry. The former chiefly deal in spells and charms, such as would preserve from poison, blunt the weapons of an enemy, pro|cure victory, allay a tempest, cure bodily diseases, or call the dead from their tombs: in uttering a form of mysterious words, or inscribing Runic characters. The magicians of romance are chiefly employed in forming and conducting a train of deceptions. There is an air of barbaric horror in the

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incantations of the scaldic fablers: the magicians of romance often present visions of pleasure and delight; and, although not without their alarming terrors, sometimes lead us through flowery forests, and raise up palaces glittering with gold and precious stones. The Runic magic is more like that of Canidia in Horace, the romantic resembles that of Armida in Tasso. The operations of the one are frequently but mere tricks, in comparison of that sublime solemnity of necromantic machinery which the other so awefully displays.

It is also remarkable, that in the earlier scaldic odes, we find but few dragons, giants, and fairies. These were intro|duced afterwards, and are the progeny of Arabian fancy. Nor indeed do these imaginary beings often occur in any of the compositions which preceded the introduction of that species of fabling. On this reasoning, the Irish tale-teller mentioned above, could not be a lineal descendant of the elder Irish bards. The absence of giants and dragons, and, let me add, of many other traces of that fantastic and bril|liant imagery which composes the system of Arabian ima|gination, from the poems of Ossian, are a striking proof of their antiquity. It has already been suggested, at what period, and from what origin, those fancies got footing in the Welsh poetry: we do not find them in the odes of Taliessin or Aneurin q 5.166. This reasoning explains an observation

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of an ingenious critic in this species of literature, and who has studied the works of the Welsh bards with much attention.

"There are not such extravagant FLIGHTS in any poetic compositions, except it be in the EASTERN; to which, as far as I can judge by the few translated speci|mens I have seen, they bear a near resemblance r 5.167."
I will venture to say he does not meet with these flights in the elder Welsh bards. The beautiful romantic fiction, that king Arthur, after being wounded in the fatal battle of Cam|lan, was conveyed by an Elfin princess into the land of Faery, or spirits, to be healed of his wounds, that he reigns there still as a mighty potentate in all his pristine splendour, and will one day return to resume his throne in Britain, and restore the solemnities of his champions, often occurs in the antient Welsh bards s 5.168. But not in the most antient. It

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is found in the compositions of the Welsh bards only, who flourished after the native vein of British fabling had been tinctured by these FAIRY TALES, which the Arabians had propagated in Armorica, and which the Welsh had received from their connection with that province of Gaul. Such a fiction as this is entirely different from the cast and com|plection of the ideas of the original Welsh poets. It is easy to collect from the Welsh odes, written after the tenth century, many signatures of this EXOTIC imagery. Such as,

"Their assault was like strong lions. He is valourous as a lion, who can resist his lance? The dragon of Mona's sons were so brave in fight, that there was horrible con|sternation, and upon Tal Moelvre a thousand banners. Our lion has brought to Trallwng three armies. A dragon he was from the beginning, unterrified in battle. A dragon of Ovain. Thou art a prince firm in battle, like an elephant. Their assault was as of strong lions. The lion of Cemais fierce in the onset, when the army rusheth to be covered with red. He saw Llewellyn like a burning dragon in the strife of Arson. He is furious in fight like an outrageous dragon. Like the roaring of a furious lion, in the search of prey, is thy thirst of praise."
Instead of producing more proofs from the multitude that might be mentioned, for the sake of illustration of our argument, I will contrast these with some of their natural unadulterated thoughts.
"Fetch the drinking horn, whose gloss is like the wave of the sea. Tudor is like a wolf rushing on his prey. They were all covered with blood when they re|turned, and the high hills and the dales enjoyed the sun equally t 5.169. O thou virgin, that shinest like the snow on the brows of Aran u 5.170: like the fine spiders webs on the grass on a summer's day. The army at Offa's dike panted

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for glory, the soldiers of Venedotia, and the men of Lon|don, were as the alternate motion of the waves on the sea|shore, where the sea-mew screams. The hovering crows were numberless: the ravens croaked, they were ready to suck the prostrate carcases. His enemies are scattered as leaves on the side of hills driven by hurricanes. He is a warrior, like a surge on the beach that covers the wild salmons. Her eye was piercing like that of the hawk w 5.171: her face shone like the pearly dew on Eryri x 5.172. Llewellyn is a hero who setteth castles on fire. I have watched all night on the beach, where the sea-gulls, whose plumes glitter, sport on the bed of billows; and where the herbage, growing in a solitary place, is of a deep green y 5.173."
These images are all drawn from their own country, from their situation and circumstances; and, although highly poetical, are in general of a more sober and temperate colouring. In a word, not only that elevation of allusion, which many suppose to be peculiar to the poetry of Wales, but that fertility of fiction, and those marvellous fables recorded in Geoffrey of Monmouth, which the generality of readers, who do not sufficiently attend to the origin of that historian's ro|mantic materials, believe to be the genuine offspring of the Welsh poets, are of foreign growth. And, to return to the ground of this argument, there is the strongest reason to suspect, that even the Gothic EDDA, or system of poetic mythology of the northern nations, is enriched with those higher strokes of oriental imagination, which the Arabians had communicated to the Europeans. Into this extravagant tissue of unmeaning allegory, false philosophy, and false theology, it was easy to incorporate their most wild and romantic conceptions z 5.174.

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It must be confessed, that the ideas of chivalry, the appen|dage and the subject of romance, subsisted among the Goths. But this must be understood under certain limitations. There is no peculiarity which more strongly discriminates the manners of the Greeks and Romans from those of modern times, than that small degree of attention and re|spect with which those nations treated the fair sex, and that inconsiderable share which they were permitted to take in conversation, and the general commerce of life. For the truth of this observation, we need only appeal to the classic writers: in which their women appear to have been devoted to a state of seclusion and obscurity. One is surprised that barbarians should be greater masters of complaisance than the most polished people that ever existed. No sooner was the Roman empire overthrown, and the Goths had over|powered Europe, than we find the female character assuming an unusual importance and authority, and distinguished with new privileges, in all the European governments established by the northern conquerors. Even amidst the confusions of savage war, and among the almost incredible enormities committed by the Goths at their invasion of the empire, they forbore to offer any violence to the women. This perhaps is one of the most striking features in the new state of manners, which took place about the seventh century: and it is to this period, and to this people, that we must refer the origin of gallantry in Europe. The Romans never intro|duced these sentiments into their European provinces.

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The Goths believed some divine and prophetic quality to be inherent in their women; they admitted them into their coun|cils, and consulted them on the public business of the state. They were suffered to conduct the great events which they predicted. Ganna, a prophetic virgin of the Marcomanni, a German or Gaulish tribe, was sent by her nation to Rome, and admitted into the presence of Domitian, to treat con|cerning terms of peace y 5.175. Tacitus relates, that Velleda, another German prophetess, held frequent conferences with the Roman generals; and that on some occasions, on account of the sacredness of her person, she was placed at a great distance on a high tower, from whence, like an oracular divinity, she conveyed her answers by some chosen messenger z 5.176. She appears to have preserved the supreme rule over her own people and the neighbouring tribes a 5.177. And there are other instances, that the government among the antient Germans was sometimes vested in the women b 5.178. This practice also prevailed among the Sitones or Norwegians c 5.179. The Cimbri, a Scandinavian tribe, were accompanied at their assemblies by venerable and hoary-headed prophetesses, apparelled in long linen vestments of a splendid white d 5.180. Their matrons and daughters acquired a reverence from their skill in studying simples, and their knowledge of healing wounds, arts reputed mysterious. The wives frequently attended their husbands in the most perilous expeditions, and fought with great intre|pidity in the most bloody engagements e 5.181. These nations dreaded

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captivity, more on the account of their women, than on their own: and the Romans, availing themselves of this appre|hension, often demanded their noblest virgins for hostages f 5.182. From these circumstances, the women even claimed a sort of precedence, at least an equality subsisted between the sexes, in the Gothic constitutions.

But the deference paid to the fair sex, which produced the spirit of gallantry, is chiefly to be sought for in those strong and exaggerated ideas of female chastity which prevailed among the northern nations. Hence the lover's devotion to his mistress was encreased, his attentions to her service multiplied, his affection heightened, and his sollicitude ag|gravated, in proportion as the difficulty of obtaining her was enhanced: and the passion of love acquired a degree of delicacy, when controlled by the principles of honour and purity. The highest excellence of character then known was a superiority in arms; and that rival was most likely to gain his lady's regard, who was the bravest champion. Here we see valour inspired by love. In the mean time, the same heroic spirit which was the surest claim to the favour of the ladies, was often exerted in their protection: a protection much wanted in an age of rapine, of plunder, and piracy; when the weakness of the softer sex was exposed to conti|nual dangers and unexpected attacks g 5.183. It is easy to sup|pose the officious emulation and ardour of many a gallant young warrior, pressing forward to be foremost in this ho|nourable service, which flattered the most agreeable of all passions, and which gratified every enthusiasm of the times,

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especially the fashionable fondness for a wandering and mili|tary life. In the mean time, we may conceive the lady thus won, or thus defended, conscious of her own importance, affecting an air of stateliness: it was her pride to have pre|served her chastity inviolate, she could perceive no merit but that of invincible bravery, and could only be approached in terms of respect and submission.

Among the Scandinavians, a people so fond of cloathing adventures in verse, these gallantries must naturally become the subject of poetry, with its fictitious embellishments. Accordingly, we find their chivalry displayed in their odes; pieces, which at the same time greatly confirm these obser|vations. The famous ode of Regner Lodbrog, affords a striking instance; in which, being imprisoned in a loath|some dungeon, and condemned to be destroyed by venomous serpents, he solaces his desperate situation by recollecting and reciting the glorious exploits of his past life. One of these, and the first which he commemorates, was an at|chievement of chivalry. It was the delivery of a beautiful Swedish princess from an impregnable fortress, in which she was forcibly detained by one of her father's captains. Her father issued a proclamation, promising that whoever would rescue the lady, should have her in marriage. Regner suc|ceeded in the attempt, and married the fair captive. This was about the year 860 h 5.184. There are other strokes in Reg|ner's ode, which, although not belonging to this particular story, deserve to be pointed out here, as illustrative of our argument. Such as,

"It was like being placed near a beau|tiful virgin on a couch.—It was like kissing a young widow in the first seat at a feast. I made to struggle in the twilight that golden-haired chief, who passed his mornings among the young maidens, and loved to converse with

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widows.—He who aspires to the love of young virgins, ought always to be foremost in the din of arms i 5.185."
It is worthy of remark, that these sentiments occur to Regner while he is in the midst of his tortures, and at the point of death. Thus many of the heroes in Froissart, in the greatest extremities of danger, recollect their amours, and die think|ing of their mistresses. And by the way, in the same strain, Boh, a Danish champion, having lost his chin, and one of his cheeks, by a single stroke from Thurstain Midlang, only re|flected how he should be received, when thus maimed and disfigured, by the Danish girls. He instantly exclaimed in a tone of savage gallantry,
"The Danish virgins will not now willingly or easily give me kisses, if I should perhaps return home k 5.186."
But there is an ode, in the KNYTLINGA-SAGA, written by Harald the VALIANT, which is professedly a song of chivalry; and which; exclusive of its wild spirit of ad|venture, and its images of savage life, has the romantic air of a set of stanzas, composed by a Provencial troubadour. Harald, appears to have been one of the most eminent ad|venturers of his age. He had killed the king of Drontheim in a bloody engagement. He had traversed all the seas, and visited all the coasts, of the north; and had carried his pira|tical enterprises even as far as the Mediterranean, and the shores of Africa. He was at length taken prisoner, and de|tained for some time at Constantinople. He complains in this ode, that the reputation he had acquired by so many hazardous exploits, by his skill in single combat, riding, swimming, gliding along the ice, darting, rowing, and guiding a ship through the rocks, had not been able to make any impression on Elissiff, or Elisabeth, the beautiful daughter of Jarilas, king of Russia l 5.187.

Here, however, chivalry subsisted but in its rudiments. Under the feudal establishments, which were soon afterwards erected in Europe, it received new vigour, and was invested

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with the formalities of a regular institution. The nature and circumstances of that peculiar model of government, were highly favourable to this strange spirit of fantastic heroism; which, however unmeaning and ridiculous it may seem, had the most serious and salutary consequences in assisting the gene|ral growth of refinement, and the progression of civilisation, in forming the manners of Europe, in inculcating the prin|ciples of honour, and in teaching modes of decorum. The genius of the feudal policy was perfectly martial. A nu|merous nobility, formed into separate principalities, affecting independence, and mutually jealous of their privileges and honours, necessarily lived in a state of hostility. This situa|tion rendered personal strength and courage the most requi|site and essential accomplishments. And hence, even in time of peace, they had no conception of any diversions or public ceremonies, but such as were of the military kind. Yet, as the courts of these petty princes were thronged with ladies of the most eminent distinction and quality, the ruling passion for war was tempered with courtesy. The prize of contending champions was adjudged by the ladies; who did not think it inconsistent to be present or to preside at the bloody spectacles of the times; and who, themselves, seem to have contracted an unnatural and unbecoming ferocity, while they softened the manners of those valorous knights who fought for their approbation. The high notions of a noble descent, which arose from the condition of the feudal constitution, and the ambition of forming an alliance with powerful and opulent families, cherished this romantic system. It was hard to obtain the fair feudatary, who was the object of universal adoration. Not only the splendor of birth, but the magnificent castle surrounded with embattelled walls, guarded with massy towers, and crowned with lofty pinnacles, served to inflame the imagination, and to create an attachment to some illustrious heiress, whose point of honour it was to be chaste and inaccessible. And the difficulty

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of success on these occasions, seems in great measure to have given rise to that sentimental love of romance, which acquiesced in a distant respectful admiration, and did not aspire to possession. The want of an uniform administration of justice, the general disorder, and state of universal anarchy, which naturally sprung from the principles of the feudal policy, presented perpetual oppor|tunities of checking the oppressions of arbitrary lords, of delivering captives injuriously detained in the baronial castles, of punishing robbers, of succouring the distressed, and of avenging the impotent and the unarmed, who were every moment exposed to the most licentious insults and injuries. The violence and injustice of the times gave birth to valour and humanity. These acts conferred a lustre and an im|portance on the character of men professing arms, who made force the substitute of law. In the mean time, the crusades, so pregnant with enterprize, heightened the habits of this warlike fanaticism. And when these foreign expedi|tions were ended, in which the hermits and pilgrims of Palestine had been defended, nothing remained to employ the activity of adventurers but the protection of innocence at home. Chivalry by degrees was consecrated by religion, whose authority tinctured every passion, and was engrafted into every institution, of the superstitious ages; and at length composed that singular picture of manners, in which the love of a god and of the ladies were reconciled, the saint and the hero were blended, and charity and revenge, zeal and gallantry, devotion and valour, were united.

Those who think that chivalry started late, from the na|ture of the feudal constitution, confound an improved effect with a simple cause. Not having distinctly considered all the particularities belonging to the genius, manners, and usages of the Gothic tribes, and accustomed to contemplate nations under the general idea of barbarians, they cannot look for the seeds of elegance amongst men, distinguished

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only for their ignorance and their inhumanity. The rude origin of this heroic gallantry was quickly overwhelmed and extinguished, by the superior pomp which it necessarily adopted from the gradual diffusion of opulence and civility, and that blaze of splendor with which it was surrounded, amid the magnificence of the feudal solemnities. But above all, it was lost and forgotten in that higher degree of embel|lishment, which at length it began to receive from the repre|sentations of romance.

From the foregoing observations taken together, the following general and comprehensive conclusion seems to result.

Amid the gloom of superstition, in an age of the grossest ignorance and credulity, a taste for the wonders of oriental fiction was introduced by the Arabians into Europe, many countries of which were already seasoned to a reception of its extravagancies, by means of the poetry of the Gothic salds, who perhaps originally derived their ideas from the fame fruitful region of invention. These fictions, coinciding with the reigning manners, and perpetually kept up and improved in the tales of troubadours and minstrels, seem to have centered about the eleventh century in the ideal histories of Turpin and Geoffrey of Monmouth, which record the supposititious atchievements of Charlemagne and king Arthur, where they formed the ground-work of that species of fabulous narrative called romance. And from these be|ginnings or causes, afterwards enlarged and enriched by kindred fancies fetched from the crusades, that singular and capricious mode of imagination arose, which at length composed the marvellous machineries of the more sublime Italian poets, and of their disciple Spenser.

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ON THE INTRODUCTION OF LEARNING into ENGLAND.

DISSERTATION II.

THE irruption of the northern nations into the western empire, about the beginning of the fourth century, forms one of the most interesting and im|portant periods of modern history. Europe, on this great event, suffered the most memorable revolutions in its govern|ment and manners; and from the most flourishing state of peace and civility, became on a sudden, and for the space of two centuries, the theatre of the most deplorable devastation and disorder. But among the disasters introduced by these irresistible barbarians, the most calamitous seems to have been the destruction of those arts which the Romans still conti|nued so successfully to cultivate in their capital, and which they had universally communicated to their conquered pro|vinces. Towards the close of the fifth century, very few traces of the Roman policy, jurisprudence, sciences, and literature,

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remained. Some faint sparks of knowledge were kept alive in the monasteries; and letters and the liberal arts were happily preserved from a total extinction during the confusions of the Gothic invaders, by that slender degree of culture and protection which they received from the prelates of the church, and the religious communities.

But notwithstanding the famous academy of Romea 6.1 with other literary seminaries had been destroyed by Alaric in the fourth century; yet Theodoric the second, king of the Ostrogoths, a pious and humane prince, restored in some degree the study of letters in that city, and encouraged the pursuits of those scholars who survived this great and general desolation of learning b 6.2. He adopted into his service Boe|thius, the most learned and almost only Latin philosopher of that period. Cassiodorus, another eminent Roman scholar, was Theodoric's grand secretary: who retiring into a mo|nastery in Calabria, passed his old age in collecting books, and practising mechanical experiments c 6.3. He was the author of many valuable pieces which still remain d 6.4. He wrote with little elegance, but he was the first that ever digested a series of royal charts or instruments; a monument of singular utility to the historian, and which has served to throw the

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most authentic illustration on the public transactions and legal constitutions of those times. Theodoric's patronage of learning is applauded by Claudian, and Sidonius Apollinaris. Many other Gothic kings were equally attached to the works of peace; and are not less conspicuous for their justice, pru|dence, and temperance, than for their fortitude and magna|nimity. Some of them were diligent in collecting the scat|tered remains of the Roman institutes, and constructing a regular code of jurisprudence d 6.5. It is highly probable, that those Goths who became masters of Rome, sooner acquired ideas of civility, from the opportunity which that city above all others afforded them of seeing the felicities of polished life, of observing the conveniencies arising from political economy, of mixing with characters respectable for prudence and learning, and of employing in their counsels men of supe|rior wisdom, whose instruction and advice they found it their interest to follow. But perhaps these northern adventurers, at least their princes and leaders, were not even at their first migrations into the south, so totally savage and uncivilised as we are commonly apt to suppose. Their enemies have been their historians, who naturally painted these violent disturbers of the general repose in the warmest colours. It is not easy to conceive, that the success of their amazing en|terprizes was merely the effect of numbers and tumultuary depredation: nor can I be persuaded, that the lasting and flourishing governments which they established in various parts of Europe, could have been framed by brutal force alone, and the blind efforts of unreflecting savages. Superior strength and courage must have contributed in a consider|able degree to their rapid and extensive conquests; but at the same time, such mighty atchievements could not have been planned and executed without some extraordinary vigour of mind, uniform principles of conduct, and no common talents of political sagacity.

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Although these commotions must have been particularly unfavourable to the more elegant literature, yet Latin poetry, from a concurrence of causes, had for some time begun to relapse into barbarism. From the growing encrease of christianity, it was deprived of its old fabulous embel|lishments, and chiefly employed in composing ecclesiastical hymns. Amid these impediments however, and the necessary degeneration of taste and style, a few poets supported the character of the Roman muse with tolerable dignity, during the decline of the Roman empire. These were Ausonius, Paulinus, Sidonius, Sedulius, Arator, Juvencus, Prosper, and Fortunatus. With the last, who flourished at the be|ginning of the sixth century, and was bishop of Poitiers, the Roman poetry is supposed to have expired.

In the sixth century Europe began to recover some degree of tranquillity. Many barbarous countries during this pe|riod, particularly the inhabitants of Germany, of Friesland, and other northern nations, were converted to the christian faith e 6.6. The religious controversies which at this time di|vided the Greek and Latin churches, roused the minds of men to literary enquiries. These disputes in some measure called forth abilities which otherwise would have been un|known and unemployed; and, together with the subtleties of argumentation, insensibly taught the graces of style, and the habits of composition. Many of the popes were persons of distinguished talents, and promoted useful knowledge no less by example than authority. Political union was by degrees established; and regular systems of government, which alone can ensure personal security, arose in the various provinces of Europe occupied by the Gothic tribes. The Saxons had taken possession of Britain, the Franks be|came masters of Gaul, the Huns of Pannonia, the Goths of

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Spain, and the Lombards of Italy. Hence leisure and re|pose diffused a mildness of manners, and introduced the arts of peace; and, awakening the human mind to a con|sciousness of its powers, directed its faculties to their proper objects.

In the mean time, no small obstruction to the propagation or rather revival of letters, was the paucity of valuable books. The libraries, particularly those of Italy, which abounded in numerous and inestimable treasures of literature, were every where destroyed by the precipitate rage and undistin|guishing violence of the northern armies. Towards the close of the seventh century, even in the papal library at Rome, the number of books was so inconsiderable, that pope Saint Martin requested Sanctamand bishop of Maestricht, if possible to supply this defect from the remotest parts of Ger|many g 6.7. In the year 855, Lupus, abbot of Ferrieres in France, sent two of his monks to pope Benedict the third, to beg a copy of CICERO DE ORATORE, and QUINTILIAN'S INSTITUTES h 6.8, and some other books:

"for, says the abbot,

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although we have part of thse books, yet there is no whole or complete copy of them in all France i 6.9".
Albert abbot of Gemblours, who with incredible labour and immense expence had collected an hundred volumes on theological and fifty on profane subjects, imagined he had formed a splendid library k 6.10. About the year 790, Charlemagne granted an unlimited right of hunting to the abbot and monks of Sithiu, for making their gloves and girdles of the skins of the deer they killed, and covers for their books l 6.11. We may imagine that these religious were more fond of hunting than reading. It is certain that they were obliged to hunt before they could read: and at least it is probable, that under these circumstances, and of such materials, they did not manufacture many volumes. At the beginning of the tenth century books were so scarce in Spain, that one and the same copy of the bible, Saint Jerom's Epistles, and some volumes of ecclesiastical offices and martyrologies, often served several different monasteries m 6.12. Among the constitutions given to the monks of England by archbishop Lanfranc, in the year 1072, the following injunction occurs. At the beginning of Lent, the librarian is ordered to deliver a book to each of the religious: a whole year was allowed for the perusal of this book: and at the returning Lent, those monks who had neglected to read the books they had respectively received, are commanded to prostrate themselves before the

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abbot, and to supplicate his indulgence n 6.13. This regulation was partly occasioned by the low state of literature which Lanfranc found in the English monasteries. But at the same time it was a matter of necessity, and is in great mea|sure to be referred to the scarcity of copies of useful and suitable authors. In an inventory of the goods of John de Pontissara, bishop of Winchester, contained in his capital palace of Wulvesey, all the books which appear are nothing more than

"Septendecem pecie librorum de diversis Scienciis o 6.14."
This was in the year 1294. The same prelate, in the year 1299, borrows of his cathedral convent of St. Swithin at Winchester, BIBLIAM BENE GLOSSATAM, that is, the Bible, with marginal Annotations, in two large folio volumes: but gives a bond for due return of the loan, drawn up with great solemnity p 6.15. This Bible had been bequeathed to the convent the same year by Pontissara's predecessor, bishop Ni|cholas de Ely: and in consideration of so important a bequest, that is,
"pro bona Biblia dicti episcopi bene glosata,"
and one hundred marks in money, the monks founded a daily mass for the soul of the donor q 6.16. When a single book was bequeathed

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to a friend or relation, it was seldom without many restrictions and stipulations r 6.17. If any person gave a book to a religious house, he believed that so valuable a donation merited eternal salvation, and he offered it on the altar with great ceremony. The most formidable anathemas were pe|remptorily denounced against those who should dare to alien|ate a book presented to the cloister or library of a religious house. The prior and convent of Rochester declare, that they will every year pronounce the irrevocable sentence of damnation on him who shall purloin or conceal a Latin translation of Aristotle's PHYSICS, or even obliterate the title s 6.18. Sometimes a book was given to a monastery on con|dition that the donor should have the use of it during his life: and sometimes to a private person, with the reservation that he who receives it should pray for the soul of his benefactor. The gift of a book to Lincoln cathedral, by bishop Repingdon, in the year 1422, occurs in this form and under these curious circumstances. The memorial is written in Latin, with the bishop's own hand, which I will give in English, at the beginning of Peter's BREVIARY OF THE BIBLE.

"I Philip of Repyndon, late bishop of Lincoln, give this book called Peter de Aureolis to the new library to be built within the church of Lincoln: reserving the use and possession of it to Richard Trysely, clerk, canon and pre|bendary of Miltoun, in fee, and to the term of his life: and afterwards to be given up and restored to the said library, or the keepers of the same, for the time being, faithfully and without delay. Written with my own hand, A. D. 1422 t 6.19."
When a book was bought, the

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affair was of so much importance, that it was customary to assemble persons of consequence and character, and to make a formal record that they were present on this occasion. Among the royal manuscripts, in the book of the SENTENCES of Peter Lombard, an archdeacon of Lincoln has left this entry u 6.20.

"This book of the SENTENCES belongs to master Robert, archdeacon of Lincoln, which he bought of Geof|frey the chaplain, brother of Henry vicar of Northelking|ton, in the presence of master Robert de Lee, master John of Lirling, Richard of Luda, clerk, Richard the al|moner, the said Henry the vicar and his clerk, and others: and the said archdeacon gave the said book to God and saint Oswald, and to Peter abbot of Barton, and the con|vent of Barden w 6.21."
The disputed property of a book often occasioned the most violent altercations. Many claims appear to have been made to a manuscript of Matthew Paris, be|longing to the last-mentioned library: in which John Rus|sell, bishop of Lincoln, thus conditionally defends or explains his right of possession.
"If this book can be proved to be or to have been the property of the exempt monastery of saint Alban in the diocese of Lincoln, I declare this to be my mind, that, in that case, I use it at present as a loan under favour of those monks who belong to the said monastery. Otherwise, according to the condition under which this book came into my possession, I will that it shall belong to the college of the blessed Win|chester Mary at Oxford, of the foundation of William Wykham. Written with my own hand at Bukdane, 1 Jan. A. D. 1488. Jo. LINCOLN. Whoever shall obliterate or destroy this writing, let him be anathema x 6.22."
About

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the year 1225, Roger de Insula, dean of York, gave se|veral Latin bibles to the university of Oxford, with a condition that the students who perused them should de|posit a cautionary pledge y 6.23. The library of that university, before the year 1300, consisted only of a few tracts, chained or kept in chests in the choir of St. Mary's church z 6.24. In the year 1327, the scholars and citizens of Oxford assaulted and entirely pillaged the opulent Benedictine abbey of the neighbouring town of Abingdon. Among the books they found there, were one hundred psalters, as many grayles, and forty missals, which undoubtedly belonged to the choir of the church: but besides these, there were only twenty|two CODICES, which I interpret books on common subjects a 6.25.

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And although the invention of paper, at the close of the ele|venth century, contributed to multiply manuscripts, and con|sequently to facilitate knowledge, yet even so late as the reign of our Henry the sixth, I have discovered the following re|markable instance of the inconveniencies and impediments to study, which must have been produced by a scarcity of books. It is in the statutes of St. Mary's college at Oxford, founded as a seminary to Oseney abbey in the year 1446.

"Let no scholar occupy a book in the library above one hour, or two hours at most; so that others shall be hin|dered from the use of the same b 6.26".
The famous library established in the university of Oxford, by that munificent patron of literature Humphrey duke of Gloucester, contained only six hundred volumes c 6.27. About the commencement of the fourteenth century, there were only four classics in the royal library at Paris. These were one copy of Cicero, Ovid, Lucan, and Boethius. The rest were chiefly books of devo|tion, which included but few of the fathers: many treatises of astrology, geomancy, chiromancy, and medicine, originally written in Arabic, and translated into Latin or French: pandects, chronicles, and romances. This collection was principally made by Charles the fifth, who began his reign

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in 1365. This monarch was passionately fond of reading, and it was the fashion to send him presents of books from every part of the kingdom of France. These he ordered to be elegantly transcribed, and richly illuminated; and he placed them in a tower of the Louvre, from thence called, la toure de la libraire. The whole consisted of nine hundred volumes. They were deposited in three chambers; which, on this oc|casion, were wainscotted with Irish oak, and cieled with cypress curiously carved. The windows were of painted glass, fenced with iron bars and copper wire. The English became masters of Paris in the year 1425. On which event the duke of Bedford, regent of France, sent this whole li|brary, then consisting of only eight hundred and fifty-three volumes, and valued at two thousand two hundred and twenty|three livres, into England; where perhaps they became the ground-work of duke Humphrey's library just mentioned e 6.28. Even so late as the year 1471, when Louis the eleventh of France borrowed the works of the Arabian physician Rhasis, from the faculty of medicine at Paris, he not only deposited by way of pledge a quantity of valuable plate, but was obliged to procure a nobleman to join with him as surety in a deed f 6.29, by which he bound himself to return it under a considerable forfeiture g 6.30. The excessive prices of books in the middle ages, afford numerous and curious proofs. I will mention a few only. In the year 1174, Wal|ter prior of St. Swithin's at Winchester, afterwards elected abbot of Westminster, a writer in Latin of the lives of the bishops who were his patrons h 6.31, purchased of the monks of

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Dorchester in Oxfordshire, Bede's Homilies, and saint Austin's Psalter, for twelve measures of barley, and a pall on which was embroidered in silver the history of saint Birinus con|verting a Saxon king h 6.32. Among the royal manuscripts in the British museum there is COMESTOR'S SCHOLASTIC HIS|TORY in French; which, as it is recorded in a blank page at the beginning, was taken from the king of France at the battle of Poitiers; and being purchased by William Montague earl of Salisbury for one hundred mars, was ordered to be sold by the last will of his countess Elizabeth for forty livres i 6.33. About the year 1400, a copy of John of Meun's ROMAN DE LA ROSE, was sold before the palace|gate at Paris for forty crowns or thirty-three pounds six and six-pence k 6.34. But in pursuit of these anecdotes, I am

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imperceptibly seduced into later periods, or rather am deviating from my subject.

After the calamities which the state of literature sustained in consequence of the incursions of the northern nations, the first restorers of the antient philosophical sciences in Europe, the study of which, by opening the faculties and extending the views of mankind, gradually led the way to other parts of learning, were the Arabians. In the beginning of the eighth century, this wonderful people, equally fa|mous for their conquests and their love of letters, in ravaging the Asiatic provinces, found many Greek books, which they read with infinite avidity: and such was the gratification they received from this fortunate acquisition, and so power|fully their curiosity was excited to make further discoveries in this new field of knowledge, that they requested their ca|liphs to procure from the emperor at Constantinople the best Greek writers. These they carefully translated into Arabic k 6.35. But every part of the Grecian literature did not equally gratify their taste. The Greek poetry they rejected, because it inculcated polytheism and idolatry, which were inconsistent with their religion. Or perhaps it was too cold and too correct for their extravagant and romantic conceptions l 6.36.

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Of the Greek history they made no use, because it recorded events which preceded their prophet Mahomet. Accustomed to a despotic empire, they neglected the political systems of the Greeks, which taught republican freedom. For the same reasons they despised the eloquence of the Athenian orators. The Greek ethics were supereded by their Alcoran, and on this account they did not study the works of Plato m 6.37. Therefore no other Greek books engaged their attention but those which treated of mathematical, metaphysical, and phy|sical knowledge. Mathematics coincided with their natural turn to astronomy and arithmetic. Metaphysics, or logic, suited their speculative genius, their love of tracing intricate and abstracted truths, and their ambition of being admired for difficult and remote researches. Physics, in which I in|clude medicine, assisted the chemical experiments to which they were so much addicted n 6.38: and medicine, while it was connected with chemistry and botany, was a practical art of immediate utility o 6.39. Hence they studied Aristotle, Galen,

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and Hippocrates, with unremitted ardour and assiduity: they translated their writings into the Arabic tongue p 6.40, and by degrees illustrated them with voluminous commentaries q 6.41. These Arabic translations of the Greek philosophers produced new treatises of their own, particularly in medicine and me|taphysics. They continued to extend their conquests, and their frequent incursions into Europe before and after the ninth century, and their absolute establishment in Spain, imported the rudiments of useful knowledge into nations in|volved in the grossest ignorance, and unpossessed of the

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means of instruction. They founded universities in many cities of Spain and Africa r 6.42. They brought with them thei books, which Charlemagne, emperor of France and Ger|many, commanded to be translated from Arabic into Latin s 6.43: and which, by the care and encouragement of that liberal prince, being quickly disseminated over his extensive domi|nions, soon became familiar to the western world. Hence it is, that we find our early Latin authors of the dark ages chiefly employed in writing systems of the most abstruse sciences: and from these beginnings the Aristotelic philoso|phy acquired such establishment and authority, that from long prescription it remains to this day the sacred and un|controverted doctrine of our schools t 6.44. From this fountain the infatuations of astrology took possession of the middle ages, and were continued even to modern times. To the peculiar genius of this people it is owing, that chemistry became blended with so many extravagancies, obscured with unintelligible jargon, and filled with fantastic notions, mysterious

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pretensions, and superstitious operations. And it is easy to conceive, that among these visionary philosophers, so fertile in speculation, logic, and metaphysics, contracted much of that refinement and perplexity, which for so many centuries exercised the genius of profound reasoners and captious disputants, and so long obstructed the progress of true knowledge. It may perhaps be regretted, in the mean time, that this predilection of the Arabian scholars for phi|losophic enquiries, prevented them from importing into Europe a literature of another kind. But rude and barba|rous nations would not have been polished by the history, poetry, and oratory of the Greeks. Although capable of comprehending the solid truths of many parts of science, they are unprepared to be impressed with ideas of elegance, and to relish works of taste. Men must be instructed before they can be refined; and, in the gradations of knowledge, polite literature does not take place till some progress has first been made in philosophy. Yet it is at the same time probable, that the Arabians, among their literary stores, brought into Spain and Italy many Greek authors not of the scientific species u 6.45:

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and that the migration of this people into the western world, while it proved the fortunate instrument of introducing into Europe some of the Greek classics at a very early period, was moreover a means of preserving those genuine models of composition, and of transmitting them to the present gene|ration u 6.46. It is certain, that about the close of the ninth cen|tury, polite letters, together with the sciences, began in some degree to be studied in Italy, France, and Germany. Charlemagne, whose munificence and activity in propagating the Arabian literature has already been mentioned, founded the universities of Bononia, Pavia, Paris, and Osnaburgh. Charles the Bald seconded the salutary endeavours of Char|lemagne. Lothaire, the brother of the latter, erected schools in the eight principal cities of Italy w 6.47. The number of mo|nasteries and collegiate churches in those countries was daily encreasing x 6.48: in which the youth, as a preparation to the

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study of the sacred scriptures, were exercised in reading pro|fane authors, together with the antient doctors of the church, and habituated to a Latin style. The monks of Cassino in Italy were distinguished before the year 1000, not only for their knowledge of the sciences, but their attention to polite learning, and an acquaintance with the classics. Their learned abbot Desiderius collected the best of the Greek and Roman writers. This fraternity not only composed learned treatises in music, logic, aftronomy, and the Vitruvian architecture, but likewise employed a portion of their time in transcribing Tacitus y 6.49, Jornandes, Josephus, Ovid's Fasti, Cicero, Seneca, Donatus the grammarian, Virgil, Theocritus, and Homer z 6.50.

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In the mean time England shared these improvements in knowledge: and literature, chiefly derived from the same sources, was communicated to our Saxon ancestors about the beginning of the eighth century c 6.51. The Anglo-Saxons were converted to christianity about the year 570. In consequence of this event, they soon acquired civility and learning. Hence they necessarily established a communication with Rome, and acquired a familiarity with the Latin language. During this period, it was the prevailing practice among the Saxons, not only of the clergy but of the better sort of laity, to make a voyage to Rome d 6.52. It is natural to imagine with what ardour the new converts visited the holy see, which at the same time was fortunately the capital of literature. While they gratified their devotion, undesignedly and im|perceptibly they became acquainted with useful science.

In return, Rome sent her emissaries into Britain. Theo|dore, a monk of Rome, originally a Greek priest, a native of Tarsus in Cilicia, was consecrated archbishop of Canter|bury, and sent into England by pope Vitellian, in the year 688 e 6.53. He was skilled in the metrical art, astronomy, arith|metic, church-music, and the Greek and Latin languages f 6.54. The new prelate brought with him a large library, as it was called and esteemed, consisting of numerous Greek and Latin authors; among which were Homer in a large volume, written on paper with most exquisite elegance, the homi|lies of saint Chrysostom on parchment, the psalter, and Jo|sephus's Hypomnesticon, all in Greek g 6.55. Theodore was accompanied

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into England by Adrian, a Neapolitan monk, and a native of Africa, who was equally skilled in sacred and profane learning, and at the same time appointed by the pope to the abbacy of saint Austin's at Canterbury. Bede informs us, that Adrian requested pope Vitellian to confer the arch|bishoprick on Theodore, and that the pope consented on condition that Adrian,

"who had been twice in France, and on that account was better acquainted with the nature and difficulties of so long a journey,"
would conduct Theo|dore into Britain h 6.56. They were both escorted to the city of Canterbury by Benedict Biscop, a native of Northumber|land, and a monk, who had formerly been acquainted with them in a visit which he made to Rome i 6.57. Benedict seems at this time to have been one of the most distinguished of the Saxon ecclesiastics: availing himself of the arrival of these two learned strangers, under their direction and assistance, he procured workmen from France, and built the monastery of Weremouth in Northumberland. The church he con|structed of stone, after the manner of the Roman architec|ture; and adorned its walls and roof with pictures, which he purchased at Rome, representing among other sacred sub|jects the Virgin Mary, the twelve apostles, the evangelical history, and the visions of the Apocalypse k 6.58. The windows were glazed by artists brought from France. But I mention this foundation to introduce an anecdote much to our purpose.

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Benedict added to his monastery an ample library, which he stored with Greek and Latin volumes, imported by himself from Italy l 6.59. Bede has thought it a matter worthy to be recorded, that Ceolfrid, his successor in the government of Weremouth-abbey, augmented this collection with three volumes of pandects, and a book of cosmography wonderfully enriched with curious workmanship, and bought at Rome m 6.60. The example of the pious Benedict was imme|diately followed by Acca bishop of Hexham in the same pro|vince: who having finished his cathedral church by the help of architects, masons, and glasiers hired in Italy, adorned it, according to Leland, with a valuable library of Greek and Latin authors n 6.61. But Bede, Acca's cotemporary, relates, that this library was entirely composed of the histories of those apostles and martyrs to whose relics he had dedicated se|veral altars in his church, and other ecclesiastical treatises, which he had collected with infinite labour o 6.62. Bede however calls it a most copious and noble library p 6.63. Nor is it foreign to our purpose to add, that Acca invited from Kent into Northumberland, and retained in his service during the space of twelve years, a celebrated chantor named Maban: by the assistance of whose instructions and superintendance he not only regulated the church music of his diocese, but in|troduced the use of many Latin hymns hitherto unknown in the northern churches of England q 6.64. It appears that before

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the arrival of Theodore and Adrian, celebrated schools for educating youth in the sciences had been long established in Kent r 6.65. Literature, however, seems at this period to have flourished with equal reputation at the other extremity of the island, and even in our most northern provinces. Ecbert bishop of York, founded a library in his cathedral, which, like some of those already mentioned, is said to have been replenished with a variety of Latin and Greek books s 6.66. Alcuine, whom Ecbert appointed his first librarian, hints at this library in a Latin epistle to Charlemagne.

"Send me from France some learned treatises, of equal excellence with those which I preserve here in England under my custody, collected by the industry of my master Ecbert: and I will send to you some of my youths, who shall carry with them the flowers of Britain into France. So that there shall not only be an enclosed garden at York, but also at Tours some sprouts of Paradise t 6.67," &c.
William of Malmesbury judged this library to be of sufficient im|portance not only to be mentioned in his history, but to be styled,
"Omnium liberalium artium armarium, nobilissimam bibliothecam u 6.68."
This repository remained till the reign of king Stephen, when it was destroyed by fire, with great part of the city of York w 6.69. Its founder Ecbert died in the year 767 x 6.70. Before the end of the eighth century, the monasteries of Westminster, Saint Alban's, Worcester, Malmesbury, Glas|tonbury, with some others, were founded, and opulently en|dowed. That of Saint Alban's was filled with one hundred monks by king Offa y 6.71. Many new bishopricks were also established in England: all which institutions, by multiplying

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the number of ecclesiastics, turned the attention of many persons to letters.

The best writers among the Saxons flourished about the eighth century. These were Aldhelm, bishop of Shirburn, Ceolfrid, Alcuine, and Bede; with whom I must also join king Alfred. But in an enquiry of this nature, Alfred de|serves particular notice, not only as a writer, but as the illustrious rival of Charlemagne, in protecting and assisting the restoration of literature. He is said to have founded the university of Oxford; and it is highly probable, that in imi|tation of Charlemagne's similar institutions, he appointed learned persons to give public and gratuitous instructions in theology, but principally in the fashionable sciences of logic, astronomy, arithmetic, and geometry, at that place, which was then a considerable town, and conveniently situated in the neighbourhood of those royal seats at which Alfred chiefly resided. He suffered no priest that was illite|rate to be advanced to any ecclesiastical dignity y 6.72. He invited his nobility to educate their sons in learning, and requested those lords of his court who had no children, to send to school such of their younger servants as discovered a pro|mising capacity, and to breed them to the clerical profession z 6.73. Alfred, while a boy, had himself experienced the inconve|niencies arising from a want of scholars, and even of com|mon instructors, in his dominions: for he was twelve years of age, before he could procure in the western kingdom a master properly qualified to teach him the alphabet. But, while yet unable to read, he could repeat from memory a great variety of Saxon songs a 6.74. He was fond of cultivating

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his native tongue: and with a view of inviting the people in general to a love of reading, and to a knowledge of books which they could not otherwise have understood, he tran|slated many Latin authors into Saxon. These, among others, were Boethius OF THE CONSOLATION OF PHILOSO|PHY, a manuscript of which of Alfred's age still remains a 6.75, Orosius's HISTORY OF THE PAGANS, saint Gregory's PASTORAL CARE, the venerable Bede's ECCLESIASTICAL HISTORY, and the SOLILOQUIES of saint Austin. Probably saint Austin was selected by Alfred, because he was the favorite author of Charlemagne b 6.76. Alfred died in the year 900, and was buried at Hyde abbey, in the suburbs of Winchester, under a sumptuous monument of porphyry c 6.77.

Aldhelm, nephew of Ina king of the West Saxons, fre|quently visited France and Italy. While a monk of Malmes|bury in Wiltshire, he went from his monastery to Canter|bury, in order to learn logic, rhetoric, and the Greek lan|guage, of archbishop Theodore, and of Albin abbot of saint Austin's d 6.78, the pupil of Adrian e 6.79. But he had before acquired

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some knowledge of Greek and Latin under Maidulf, an Hi|bernian or Scot, who had erected a small monastery or school at Malmesbury f 6.80. Camden affirms, that Aldhelm was the first of the Saxons who wrote in Latin, and that he taught his countrymen the art of Latin versification g 6.81. But a very intelligent antiquarian in this sort of literature, men|tions an anonymous Latin poet, who wrote the life of Char|lemagne in verse; and adds, that he was the first of the Saxons that attempted to write Latin verse h 6.82. It is however certain, that Aldhelm's Latin compositions, whether in verse or prose, as novelties were deemed extraordinary performan|ces, and excited the attention and admiration of scholars in other countries. A learned cotemporary, who lived in a remote province of a Frankish territory, in an epistle to Ald|helm has this remarkable expression,

"VESTRAE LATINITATIS PANEGYRICUS RUMOR has reached us even at this dis|tance i 6.83, &c."
In reward of these uncommon merits he was made bishop of Shirburn in Dorsetshire in the year 705 k 6.84. His writings are chiefly theological: but he has likewise left in Latin verse a book of AENIGMATA, copied from a work of the same title under the name of Symposius l 6.85, a poem de VIRGINITATE hereafter cited, and treatises on arithmetic, astro|logv, rhetoric, and metre. The last treatise is a proof that the ornaments of composition now began to be studied. Leland mentions his CANTIONES SAXONICAE, one of which continued to be commonly sung in William of Malmesbury's time: and, as it was artfully interspersed with many allusions

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to passages of Scripture, was often sung by Aldhelm him|self to the populace in the streets, with a design of alluring the ignorant and idle, by so specious a mode of instruction, to a sense of duty, and a knowledge of religious subjects o 6.86. Malmesbury observes, that Aldhelm might be justly deemed

"ex acumine Graecum, ex nitore Romanum, et ex pompa Anglum p 6.87."
It is evident, that Malmesbury, while he here characterises the Greeks by their acuteness, took his idea of them from their scientifical literature, which was then only known. After the revival of the Greek philoso|phy by the Saracens, Aristotle and Euclid were familiar in Europe long before Homer and Pindar. The character of Aldhelm is thus drawn by an antient chronicler,
"He was an excellent harper, a most eloquent Saxon and Latin poet, a most expert chantor or singer, a DOCTOR EGREGIUS, and admirably versed in the scriptures and the liberal sciences q 6.88."

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Alcuine, bishop Ecbert's librarian at York, was a cotem|porary pupil with Aldhelm under Theodore and Adrian at Canterbury q 6.89. During the present period, there seems to have been a close correspondence and intercourse between the French and Anglo-Saxons in matters of literature. Al|cuine was invited from England into France, to superintend the studies of Charlemagne, whom he instructed in logic, rhetoric, and astronomy r 6.90. He was also the master of Ra|banus Maurus, who became afterwards the governor and preceptor of the great abbey of Fulda in Germany, one of

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the most flourishing seminaries in Europe, founded by Charlemagne, and inhabited by two hundred and seventy monks s 6.91. Alcuine was likewise employed by Charlemagne to regulate the lectures and discipline of the universities t 6.92, which that prudent and magnificent potentate had newly constituted u 6.93. He is said to have joined to the Greek and Latin, an acquaintance with the Hebrew tongue, which perhaps in some degree was known sooner than we may suspect; for at Trinity college in Cambridge there is an He|brew Psalter, with a Normanno-Gallic interlinear version of great antiquity w 6.94. Homilies, lives of saints, commentaries on the bible, with the usual systems of logic, astronomy, rhetoric, and grammar, compose the formidable catalogue of Alcuine's numerous writings. Yet in his books of the sciences, he sometimes ventured to break through the pedantic formalities of a systematical teacher: he has thrown one of

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his treatises in logic, and I think, another in grammar, into a dialogue between the author and Charlemagne. He first advised Bede to write his ecclesiastical history of England; and was greatly instrumental in furnishing materials for that early and authentic record of our antiquities y 6.95.

In the mean time we must not form too magnificent ideas of these celebrated masters of science, who were thus invited into foreign countries to conduct the education of mighty monarchs, and to plan the rudiments of the most illustrious academies. Their merits are in great measure relative. Their circle of reading was contracted, their systems of phi|losophy jejune; and their lectures rather served to stop the growth of ignorance, than to produce any positive or im|portant improvements in knowledge. They were unable to make xcursions from their circumscribed paths of scientific instruction, into the spacious and fruitful regions of liberal and manly study. Those of their hearers, who had passed through the course of the sciences with applause, and aspired to higher acquisitions, were exhorted to read Cassiodorus and Boethius; whose writings they placed at the summit of profane literature, and which they believed to be the great boundaries of human erudition.

I have already mentioned Ceolfrid's presents of books to Benedict's library at Weremouth abbey. He wrote an account of his travels into France and Italy. But his principal work, and I believe the only one preserved, is his dissrtation con|cerning the clerical tonsure, and the rites of celebrating Easter z 6.96. This was written at the desire of Naiton, a Pictish king, who dispatched ambassadors to Ceolfrid for informa|tion concerning these important articles; requesting Ceolfrid at the same time to send him some skilful architects, who could build in his country a church of stone, after the

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fashion of the Romans a 6.97. Ceolfrid died on a journey to Rome, and was buried in a monastery of Navarre, in the year 706 b 6.98.

But Bede, whose name is so nearly and necessarily connected with every part of the literature of this pe|riod, and which has therefore been often already mentioned, emphatically styled the Venerable by his cotemporaries, was by far the most learned of the Saxon writers. He was of the northern school, if it may be so called; and was educated in the monastery of saint Peter at Weremouth, under the care of the abbots Ceolfrid and Biscop c 6.99. Bale affirms, that Bede learned physics and mathematics from the purest sources, the original Greek and Roman writers on these subjects d 6.100. But this hasty assertion, in part at least, may justly be doubted. His knowledge, if we consider his age, was extensive and profound: and it is amazing, in so rude a period, and during a life of no considerable length, he should have made so suc|cessful a progress, and such rapid improvements, in scientifical and philological studies, and have composed so many elabo|rate treatises on different subjects e 6.101. It is diverting to see the French critics censuring Bede for credulity: they might as well have accused him of superstition f 6.102. There is much

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perspicuity and facility in his Latin style. But it is void of elegance, and often of purity; it shews with what grace and propriety he would have written, had his mind been formed on better models. Whoever looks for digestion of mate|rials, disposition of parts, and accuracy of narration, in this writer's historical works, expects what could not exist at that time. He has recorded but few civil transactions: but besides that his history professedly considers ecclesiastical affairs, we should remember, that the building of a church, the preferment of an abbot, the canonisation of a martyr, and the importation into England of the shin-bone of an apostle, were necessarily matters of much more importance in Bede's conceptions than victories or revolutions. He is fond of minute description; but particularities are the fault and often the merit of early historians r 6.103. Bede wrote many

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pieces of Latin poetry. The following verses from his ME|DITATIO DE DIE JUDICII, a translation of which into Saxon verse is now preserved in the library of Bennet college at Cambridge s 6.104, are at least well turned and harmonious.

Inter florigeras foecundi cespitis herbas, Flamine ventorum resonantibus undique ramis t 6.105.
Some of Aldhelm's verses are exactly in this cast, written on the Dedication of the abbey-church at Malmesbury to saint Peter and saint Paul.

Hic celebranda rudisu 6.106 florescit gloria templi, Limpida quae sacri celebrat vexilla triumphi. Hic Petrus et Paulus, tenebrosi lumina mundi, Praecipui patres populi qui frena gubernant, Carminibus crebris alma celebrantur in aula. Claviger o caeli, portam qui pandis in aethra, Candida qui meritis recludis limina caeli, Exaudi clemens populorum vota tuorum, Marcida qui riguis humectant fletibus ora w 6.107.

The strict and superabundant attention of these Latin poets to prosodic rules, on which it was become fashionable to write didactic systems, made them accurate to excess in the metrical conformation of their hexameters, and produced a faultless and flowing monotony. Bede died in the monastery of Weremouth, which he never had once quitted, in the year 735 x 6.108.

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I have already observed, and from good authorities, that many of these Saxon scholars were skilled in Greek. Yet scarce any considerable monuments have descended to modern times, to prove their familiarity with that language. I will, however, mention such as have occurred to me. Archbishop Parker, or rather his learned scribe Jocelin, affirms, that the copy of Homer, and of some of the other books im|ported into England by archbishop Theodore, as I have above related, remained in his time y 6.109. There is however no allusion to Homer, nor any mention made of his name, in the writings of the Saxons now existing z 6.110. In the Bodleian library are some extracts from the books of the Prophets in Greek and Latin: the Latin is in Saxon, and the Greek in Latino-greek capital characters. A Latino-greek alphabet is prefixed. In the same manuscript is a chapter of Deutero|nomy, Greek and Latin, but both are in Saxon characters a 6.111. In the curious and very valuable library of Bennet college in Cambridge, is a very antient copy of Aldhelm DE LAUDE VIRGINITATIS. In it is inserted a specimen of Saxon poetry full of Latin and Greek words, and at the end of the ma|nuscript some Runic letters occur b 6.112. I suspect that their Grecian literature was a matter of ostentation rather than use. William of Malmesbury, in his life of Aldhelm, cen|sures an affectation in the writers of this age; that they were fond of introducing in their Latin compositions a difficult and abstruse word latinised from the Greek c 6.113. There are many instances of this pedantry in the early charters of Dugdale's Monasticon. But it is no where more visible than in the LIFE of Saint WILFRID, archbishop of Canterbury, written by Fridegode a monk of Canterbury, in Latin

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heroics, about the year 960 d 6.114. Malmesbury observes of this author's style,

"Latinitatem perosus, Graecitatem amat, Grae|cula verba frequentat e 6.115."
Probably to be able to read Greek at this time was esteemed a knowledge of that language. Eginhart relates, that Charlemagne could speak Latin as fluently as his native Frankish: but slightly passes over his accomplishment in Greek, by artfully saying, that he un|derstood it better than he could pronounce it f 6.116. Nor, by the way, was Charlemagne's boasted facility in the Latin so remarkable a prodigy. The Latin language was familiar to the Gauls when they were conquered by the Franks; for they were a province of the Roman empire till the year 485. It was the language of their religious offices, their laws, and public transactions. The Franks who conquered the Gauls at the period just mentioned, still continued this usage, imagining there was a superior dignity in the language of imperial Rome: although this incorporation of the Franks with the Gauls greatly corrupted the latinity of the latter, and had given it a strong tincture of barbarity before the reign of Charlemagne. But while we are bringing proofs which tend to extenuate the notion that Greek was now much known or cultivated, it must not be dissembled, that John Erigena, a native of Aire in Scotland, and one of king Alfred's first lecturers at Oxford g 6.117, translated into Latin from the Greek original four large treatises of Dionysius the Areopagite, about the year 860 h 6.118. This translation, which

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is dedicated to Charles the Bald, abounds with Greek phra|seology and is hardly intelligible to a mere Latin reader. He also translated into Latin the Scholia of saint Maximus on the difficult passages of Gregory Nazianzen i 6.119. He frequently visited his munificent patron Charles the Bald, and is said to have taken a long journey to Athens, and to have spent many years in studying not only the Greek but the Arabic and Chaldee languages k 6.120.

As to classic authors, it appears that not many of them were known or studied by our Saxon ancestors. Those with which they were most acquainted, either in prose or verse, seem to have been of the lower empire; writers who, in the declension of taste, had superseded the purer and more an|tint Roman models, and had been therefore more recenly and frequently transcribed. I have mentioned Alfred's trans|lations of Boethius and Orosius. Prudentius was also per|haps one of their favorites. In the British Museum there is a manuscript copy of that poet's PSYCOMACHIA. It is illustrated with drawings of historical figures, each of which have an explanatory legend in Latin and Saxon letters; the Latin in large red characters, and the Saxon in black, of great anti|quity l 6.121. Prudentius is likewise in Bennet college library at Cambridge, transcribed in the time of Charles the Bald, with several Saxon words written into the text m 6.122. Sedulius's hymns are in the same repository in Saxon characters, in a volume containing other Saxon manuscripts n 6.123. Bede says,

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that Aldhelm wrote his book DE VIRGINITATE, which is both prose and verse, in imitation of the manner of Sedu|lius o 6.124. We learn from Gregory of Tours, what is not foreign to our purpose to remark, that king Chilperic, who began to reign in 562, wrote two books of Latin verses in imitation of Sedulius. But it was without any idea of the com|mon quantities p 6.125. A manuscript of this poet in the British Museum is bound up with Nennius and Felix's MIRACLES OF SAINT GUTHLAC, dedicated to Alfwold king of the East Angles, and written both in Latin and Saxon q 6.126. But these classics were most of them read as books of religion and mo|rality. Yet Aldhelm, in his tract de METRORUM GENERI|BUS, quotes two verses from the third book of Virgil's Georgics r 6.127: and in the Bodleian library we find a manuscript of the first book of Ovid's Art of Love, in very antient Saxon characters, accompanied with a British gloss s 6.128. And the venerable Bede, having first invoked the Trinity, thus begins a Latin panegyrical hymn on the miraculous virgi|nity of Ethildryde.

"Let Virgil sing of wars, I celebrate the gifts of peace. My verses are of chastity, not of the rape of the adulteress Helen. I will chant heavenly bles|sings, not the battles of miserable Troy t 6.129."
These however are rare instances. It was the most abominable heresy to have any concern with the pagan fictions. The graces of composition were not their objects, and elegance found no place amidst their severer pursuits in philosophy and theology * 6.130.

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It is certain that literature was at its height among our Saxon ancestors about the eighth century. These happy be|ginnings were almost entirely owing to the attention of king Alfred, who encouraged learning by his own example, by founding eminaries of instruction, and by rewarding the labours of scholars. But the efforts of this pious monarch were soon blasted by the supineness of his successors, the incursions of the Danes, and the distraction of national af|fairs. Bede, from the establishment of learned bishops in every diocese, and the universal tranquillity which reigned over all the provinces of England, when he finished his ec|clesiastical history, flatters his imagination in anticipating

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the most advantageous consequences, and triumphantly closes his narrative with this pleasing presentiment. The Picts, at this period, were at peace with the Saxons or English, and converted to christianity. The Scots lived contented within their own boundary. The Britons or Welsh, from a natural enmity, and a dislike to the catholic institution of keeping Easter, sometimes attempted to disturb the national repose; but they were in some measure subservient to the Saxons. Among the Northumbrians, both the nobility and private persons rather chose their children should receive the mo|nastic tonsure, than be trained to arms x 6.131.

But a long night of confusion and gross ignorance suc|ceeded. The principal productions of the most eminent monasteries for three centuries, were incredible legends which discovered no marks of invention, unedifying homilies, and trite expositions of the scriptures. Many bishops and abbots began to consider learning as pernicious to true piety, and confounded illiberal ignoance with christian simplicity. Leland frequently laments the loss of libraries destroyed in the Danish invasions y 6.132. Some slight attempts were made for restoring literary pursuits, but with little success. In the tenth century, Oswald archbishop of Canterbury, finding the monasteries of his province extremely ignorant not only in the common elements of grammar, but even in the canonical rules of their respective orders, was obliged to send into France for competent masters, who might remedy these evils z 6.133. In the mean time, from perpetual commotions, the manners of the people had degenerated from that mildness which a short interval of peace and letters had introduced,

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and the national character had contracted an air of rudenes and ferocity.

England at length, in the beginning of the eleventh cen|tury, received from the Normans the rudiments of that cultivation which it has preserved to the present times. The Normans were a people who had acquired ideas of splendor and refinement from their residence in France; and the gallantries of their fudal system introduced new magni|ficence and elegance among our rough unpolished ancestors. The conqueror's army was composed of the flower of the Norman nobility; who sharing allotments of land in different parts of the new territory, diffused a general knowledge of various improvements entirely unknown in the most flou|rishing eras of the Saxon government, and gave a more libe|ral turn to the manners even of the provincial inhabitats. That they brought with them the arts, may yet be seen by the castles and churches which they built on a more extensive and stately plan a 6.134. Literature, in particular, the chief object of our present research, which had long been reduced to the most abject condition, appeared with new lustre in conse|quence of this important revolution.

Towards the close of the tenth century, an event took place, which gave a new and very fortunate turn to the state of letters in France and Italy. A little before that time, there were no schools in Europe but those whic belonged to the monasteries or episcopal churches; and the monks were almost the only masters employed to educate the youth in the principles of sacred and profane erudition. But at the commencement of the eleventh century, many learned per|sons of the laity, as well as of the clergy, undertook in th

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most capital cities of France and Italy this important charge. The Latin versions of the Greek philosophers from the Arabic, had now become so frequent and common, as to fall into the hands of the people; and many of these new preceptors having travelled into Spain with a design of studying in the Arabic schools b 6.135, and comprehending in their course of in|stitution, more numerous and useful branches of science than the monastic teachers were acquainted with, commu|nicated their knowledge in a better method, and taught in a much more full, perspicuous, solid, and rational manner. These and other beneficial effects, arising from this practice of admitting others besides ecclesiastics to the profession of letters, and the education of youth, were imported into Eng|land by means of the Norman conquest.

The conqueror himself patronised and loved letters. He filled the bishopricks and abbacies of England with the most learned of his countrymen, who had been educated at the university of Paris, at that time the most flourishing school in Europe. He placed Lanfranc, abbot of the monastery of Saint Stephen at Caen, in the see of Canterbury; an eminent master of logic, the subtleties of which he employed with great dexterity in a famous controversy concerning the real presence. Anselm, an acute metaphysician and theologist, his immediate successor in the same see, was called from the government of the abbey of Bec in Normandy. Herman, a Norman bishop of Salisbury, founded a noble library in the antient cathedral of that see c 6.136. Many of the Norman prelates

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preferred in England by the conqueror, were polite scholars. Godfrey, prior of Saint Swithin's at Winchester, a native of Cambray, was an elegant Latin epigrammatist, and wrote with the smartness and ease of Martial d 6.137. A circumstance, which by the way shews that the literature of the monks at this period was of a more liberal cast than that which we commonly annex to their character and profession. Geoffrey, a learned Norman, was invited from the university of Paris to superintend the direction of the school of the abbey of Dunstable; where he composed a play called the Play of SAINT CATHARINE e 6.138, which was acted by his scholars. This was perhaps the first spectacle of the kind that was ever at|tempted, and the first trace of theatrical representation which appeared, in England. Mathew Paris, who first records this anecdote, says, that Geoffrey borrowed copes from the sacrist of the neighbouring abbey of saint Alban's to dress his characters. He was afterwards elected abbot of that opulent monastery f 6.139.

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The king himself gave no small countenance to th clergy, in sending his son Henry Beauclerc to the abbey of Abingdon, where he was initiated in the sciences under the care of the abbot Grymbald, and Faice a physician of Ox|ford. Robert d'Oilly, constable of Oxford castle, was ordered to pay for the board of the young prince in the convent, which the king himself frequently visited g 6.140. Nor was Wil|liam wanting in giving ample revenues to learning: he founded the magnificent abbies of Battel and Selby, wit other smaller convents. His nobles and their successors co|operated with this liberal spirit in erecting many monaste|ries. Herbert de Losinga, a monk of Normandy, bishop of Thetford in Norfolk, instituted and endowed with large possessions a Benedictine abbey at Norwich, consisting of sixty monks. To mention no more instances, such great institutions of persons dedicated to religious and literary leisure, while they diffused an air of civility, and softened the manners of the people in their respective circles, must have afforded powerful invitations to studious pursuits, and have consequently added no small degree of stability to the interests of learning.

By these observations, and others which have occurred in the course of our enquiries, concerning the utility of monas|teries, I certainly do not mean to defend the monastic system. We are apt to pass a general and undistinguishing censure on the monks, and to suppose their foundations to have been the retreats of illiterate indolence at every period of time. Bt it should be remembered, that our universities about the time of the Norman conquest, were in a low condition: while the monasteries contained ample endowments and ac|commodations, and were the only respectable seminaries of literature. A few centuries afterwards, as our universities began to flourish, in consequence of the distinctions and

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onours which they conferred on scholars, the establishment of colleges, the introduction of new systems of science, the universal ardour which prevailed of breeding almost all persons to letters, and the abolition of that exclusive right of teaching which the ecclesiastics had so long claimed; the monasteries of course grew inattentive to studies, which were more strongly encouraged, more commodiously pursued, and more successfully cultivated, in other places: they gradually became contemptible and unfashionable as nurseries of learn|ing, and their fraternities degenerated into sloth and igno|rance. The most eminent scholars which England produced, both in philosophy and humanity, before and even below the twelfth century, were educated in our religious houses. The encouragement given in the English monasteries for transcribing books, the scarcity of which in the middle ages we have before remarked, was very considerable. In every great abbey there was an apartment called the SCRIPTORIUM: where many writers were constantly busied in transcribing not only the service-books for the choir, but books for the library h 6.141. The Scriptorium of Saint Alban's abbey was built by abbot Paulin, a Norman, who ordered many vo|lumes to be written there, about the year 1080. Archbishop Lanfranc furnished the copies i 6.142. Estates were often granted for the support of the Scriptorium. That at Saintedmonsbury was endowed with two mills k 6.143. The tythes of a rectory were appropriated to the cathedral convent of saint Swithin at

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Winchester, ad libros transcribendos, in the year 1171 k 6.144. Many instances of this species of benefaction occur from the tenth century. Nigel, in the year 1160, gave the monks of Ely two churches, ad libros faciendos l 6.145. This employment appears to have been diligently practised at Croyland; for Ingulphus relates, that when the library of that convent was burnt in the year 1091, seven hundred volumes were consumed n 6.146. Fifty-eight volumes were transcribed at Glastonbury, during the government of one abbot, about the year 1300 o 6.147. And in the li|brary of this monastery, the richest in England, there were up|wards of four hundred volumes in the year 1248 p 6.148. More than eighty books were thus transcribed for saint Alban's abbey, by abbot Wethamstede, who died about 1440 q 6.149. Some of these instances are rather below our period; but they illustrate the subject, and are properly connected with those of more antient date. I find some of the classics written in the English monasteries very early. Henry, a Benedictine monk of Hyde-abbey near Winchester, transcribed in the year 1178, Terence, Boethius r 6.150, Suetonius s 6.151, and Claudian. Of these he formed one book, illuminating the initials, and

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forming the brazen bosses of the covers with his own handsu 6.152. But this abbot had more devotion than taste: for he exchanged this manuscript a few years afterwards for four missals, the Legend of saint Christopher, and saint Gregory's PASTORAL CARE, with the prior of the neighbour|ing cathedral conventw 6.153. Benedict, abbot of Peterborough, author of the Latin chronicle of king Henry the second, amongst a great variety of scholastic and theological treatises, transcribed Seneca's epistles and tragediesx 6.154, Terence, Martialy 6.155, and Claudian, to which I will add GESTA ALEXANDRIz 6.156, about the year 1180a 6.157. In a catalogue of theb 6.158 books of the

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library of Glastonbury we find Livy b 6.159, Sallust c 6.160, Seneca, Tully DE SENECTUTE and AMICITIA d 6.161, Virgil, Persius, and Claudian, in the year 1248. Among the royal manuscripts of the British Museum, is one of the twelve books of Statius's Thebaid, supposed to have been written in the tenth century, which once belonged to the cathedral convent of Rochester e 6.162. And another of Virgil's Eneid, written in the thirteenth, which came from the library of saint Austin's at Canterbur f 6.163. Wallingford, abbot of saint Alban's, gave or sold from the library of that monastery to Richard of Bury, bishop of Durham, author of the PHILOBIBLON, and a great collector of books, Terence, Virgil, Quintilian, and Jerom against Rufinus, together with thirty-two other volumes valued at fifty pounds of silver g 6.164. The scarcity of

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parchment undoubtedly prevented the transcription of many other books in these societies. About the year 1120, one master Hugh, being appointed by the convent of Saint|edmondsbury in Suffolk to write and illuminate a grand copy of the bible for their library, could procure no parch|ment for this purpose in England h 6.165.

In consequence of the taste for letters and liberal studies introduced by the Normans, many of the monks became almost as good critics as catholics; and not only in France but in England, a great variety of Latin writers, who studied the elegancies of style, and the arts of classical composition, appeared soon after the Norman conquest. A view of the writers of this class who flourished in England for the two

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subsequent centuries, till the restless spirit of novelty brought on an attention to other studies, necessarily follows from what has been advanced, and naturally forms the conclusion of our present investigation.

Soon after the accession of the conqueror, John commonly called Joannes Grammaticus, having studied polite literature at Paris, which not only from the Norman connection, but from the credit of its professors, became the fashionable university of our countrymen, was employed in educating the sons of the Norman and English nobility i 6.166. He wrote an explanation of Ovid's Metamorphoses k 6.167, and a treatise on the art of metre or versification l 6.168. Among the manuscripts of the library of New College in Oxford, I have seen a book of Latin poetry, and many pieces in Greek, attributed to this writer m 6.169. He flourished about the year 1070. In the reign of Henry the first, Laurence, prior of the church of Durham, wrote nine books of Latin elegies. But Leland, who had read all his works, prefers his compositions in oratory; and adds, that for an improvement in rhetoric and eloquence, he frequently exercised his talents in framing Latin defences on dubious cases which occurred among his friends. He likewise, amongst a variety of other elaborate pieces on saints, confes|sors, and holy virgins, in which he humoured the times and his profession, composed a critical treatise on the method of writing Epistles, which appears to have been a favourite

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subject n 6.170. He died in 1154 o 6.171. About the same time Robert Dunstable, a monk of Saint Alban's, wrote an elegant Latin poem in elegiac verse, containing two books p 6.172, on the life of saint Alban q 6.173. The first book is opened thus:

Albani celebrem caelo terrisque triumphum Ruminat inculto carmine Clio rudis.
We are not to expect Leonine rhymes in these writers, which became fashionable some years afterwards r 6.174 Their

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verses are of a higher cast, and have a classical turn. The following line, which begins the second book, is remarkably flowing and harmonious, and much in the manner of Claudian.

Pieridum studiis claustri laxare rigorem.

Smoothness of versification was an excellence which, like their Saxon predecessors, they studied to a fault. Henry of Huntingdon, commonly known and celebrated as an histo|rian, was likewise a terse and polite Latin poet of this pe|riod. He was educated under Alcuine of Anjou, a canon of Lincoln cathedral. His principal patrons were Aldwin and Reginald, both Normans, and abbots of Ramsey. His turn for poetry did not hinder his arriving to the dignity of an archdeacon. Leland mentions eight books of his epi|grams, amatorial verses s 6.175, and poems on philosophical sub|jects t 6.176. The proem to his book DE HERBIS, has this elegant invocation.

Vatum magne parens, herbarum Phoebe repertor, Vosque, quibus resonant Tempe jocosa, deae! Si mihi serta prius hedera florente parastis, Ecce meos flores, serta parate, fero.

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But Leland appears to have been most pleased with Henry's poetical epistle to Elfleda, the daughter of Alfred u 6.177. In the Bodleian library, is a manuscript Latin poem of this writer, on the death of king Stephen, and the arrival of Henry the second in England, which is by no means contemptible w 6.178. He occurs as a witness to the charter of the monastery of Sautree in the year 1147 x 6.179. Geoffrey of Monmouth was bishop of Saint Asaph in the year 1152 y 6.180. He was indefa|tigable in his enquiries after British antiquity; and was patronised and assisted in this pursuit by Walter, archdeacon of Oxford, a diligent antiquarian, and Alexander, bishop of Lincoln y 6.181. His credulity as an historian has been deservedly censured: but fabulous histories were then the fashion, and he well knew the recommendation his work would receive from comprehending all the popular traditions z 6.182. His lati|nity rises far above mediocrity, and his Latin poem on Mer|lin is much applauded by Leland a 6.183.

We must not judge of the general state of society by the more ingenious and dignified churchmen of this period; who seem to have surpassed by the most disproportionate degrees in point of knowledge, all other members of the commu|nity. Thomas of Becket, who belongs to the twelfth cen|tury, and his friends, in their epistles, distinguish each other by the appellation of philosophers, in the course of their correspondence b 6.184. By the present diffusion of literature, even those who are illiterate are yet so intelligent as to stand more on a level with men of professed science and knowledge; but the learned ecclesiastics of those times, as is evident * 6.185

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from many passages in their writings, appear, and not with+out reason, to have considered the rest of the world as totally immersed in ignorance and barbarity. A most distinguished ornament of this age was John of Salisbury b 6.186. His style has a remarkable elegance and energy. His POLICRATICON is an extremely pleasant miscellany; replete with erudition, and a judgment of men and things, which properly belongs to a more sensible and reflecting period, His familiar ac|quaintance with the classics, appears not only from the happy facility of his language, but from the many citations of the purest Roman authors, with which his works are perpetually interspersed. Montfaucon asserts, that some parts of the supplement to Petronius, published as a genuine and valuable discovery a few years ago, but since supposed to be spurious, are quoted in the POLICRATICON c 6.187. He was an illustrious rival of Peter of Blois, and the friend of many learned foreigners d 6.188. I have not seen any specimens of his Latin poetry e 6.189; but an able judge has pronounced, that no|thing can be more easy, finished, and flowing than his verses f 6.190. He was promoted to high stations in the church by Henry the second, whose court was crouded with scho|lars, and almost equalled that of his cotemporary William king of Sicily, in the splendor which it derived from encou|raging erudition, and assembling the learned of various countries g 6.191. Eadmer was a monk of Canterbury, and endeared

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by the brilliancy of his genius, and the variety of his litera|ture, to Anselm, archbishop of that see h 6.192. He was an elegant writer of history, but exceeded in the artifices of composi|tion, and the choice of matter, by his cotemporary William of Malmesbury. The latter was a monk of Malmesbury, and it reflects no small honour on his fraternity that they elected him their librarian i 6.193. His merits as an historian have been justly displayed and recommended by lord Lyttelton k 6.194. But his abilities were not confined to prose. He wrote many pieces of Latin poetry; and it is remarkable, that almost all the professed writers in prose of this age made experiments in verse. His patron was Robert earl of Glo|cester; who, amidst the violent civil commotions which disquieted the reign of king Stephen, found leisure and opportunity to protect and promote literary merit l 6.195. Till Malmesbury's works appeared, Bede had been the chief and principal writer of English history. But a general spirit of writing history, owing to that curiosity which more polished manners introduce, to an acquaintance with the antient histo|rians, and to the improved knowledge of a language in which facts could be recorded with grace and dignity, was now pre|vailing. Besides those I have mentioned, Simeon of Dur|ham, Roger Hoveden, and Benedict abbot of Peterborough, are historians whose narratives have a liberal cast, and whose

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details rise far above the dull uninteresting precision of pa|tient annalists and regular chronologers. John Hanvill, a monk of Saint Alban's, about the year 1190, studied rhe|toric at Paris, and was distinguished for his taste even among the numerous and polite scholars of that flourishing semi|nary m 6.196. His ARCHITRENIUS is a learned, ingenious, and very entertaining performance. It is a long Latin poem in nine books, dedicated to Walter bishop of Rouen. The design of the work may be partly conjectured from its af|fected Greek title: but it is, on the whole, a mixture of satire and panegyric on public vice and virtue, with some historical digressions. In the exordium is the following ner|vous and spirited address.

Tu Cyrrhae latices nostrae, deus, implue menti; Eloquii rorem siccis infunde labllis: Distillaque favos, quos nondum pallidus auro Scit Tagus, aut sitiens admotis Tantalus undis: Dirige quae timide suscepit dextera, dextram Audacem pavidamque juva: Tu mentis habenas Fervoremque rege, &c.

In the fifth book the poet has the following allusions to the fables of Corineus, Brutus, king Arthur, and the popula|tion of Britain from Troy. He seems to have copied these traditions from Geoffrey of Monmouth n 6.197.

—Tamen Architrenius instat, Et genus et gentem quaerit studiosius: illi Tros genus, et gentem tribuit Lodonesia, nutrix Praebuit irriguam morum Cornubia mammam, Post odium fati, Phrygiis inventa: Smaraudus Hanc domitor mundi Tyrinthius, alter Achilles,

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Atridaeque timor Corinaeus, serra gygantum, Clavaque monstrifera, sociae delegit alumnam Omnigenam Trojae, pluvioque fluviflua lacte Filius exilio fessae dedit ubera matri. A quo dicta prius Corineia, dicitur aucto Tempore corrupte Cornubia nominis haeres. Ille gygantaeos attritis ossibus artus Implicuit letho, Tyrrheni littoris hospes, Indomita virtute gygas; non corpore mole Ad medium pressa, nec membris densior aequo, Sarcina terrifica tumuit Titania mente. Ad Ligeris ripas Aquitanos fudit, et amnes Francorum potuit lacrymis, et caede vadoque Sanguinis ense ruens, satiavit rura, togaque Punicea vestivit agros, populique verendi Grandiloquos fregit animosa cuspide fastus. Integra, nec dubio bellorum naufraga fluctu, Nec vice suspecta titubanti saucia fato, Indilata dedit subitam victoria laurum. Inde dato cursu, Bruto comitatus Achate, Gallorum spolio cumulatus, navibus aequor Exarat, et superis auraque faventibus utens, Litora felices intrat Tolonesia portus: Promissumque soli gremium monstrante Diana, Incolumi census loculum ferit Albion alno. Haec eadem Bruto regnante Britannia nomen Traxit in hoc tempus: solis Titanibus illa, Sed paucis, habitata domus; quibus uda ferarum Terga dabant vestes, cruor haustus pocula, trunci Antra lares, dumeta toros, caenacula rupes, Praeda cibos, raptus venerem, spectacula caedes, Imperium vires, animum furor, impetus arma, Mortem pugna, sepulchra rubus: monstrisque gemebat Monticolis tellus: sed eorum plurima tractus

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Pars erat occidui terror; majorque premebat Te furor extremum zephyri, Cornubia, limen. Hos avidum belli Corinaei robur Averno Praecipites misit; cubitis ter quatuor altum Gogmagog Herculea suspendit in aer lucta, Anthaeumque suum scopulo demisit in aequor Potavitque dato Thetis ebria sanguine fluctus, Divisumque tulit mare corpus, Cerberus umbram. Nobilis a Phrygiae tanto Cornubia gentem Sanguine derivat, successio cujus Iulus In generis partem recipit complexa Pelasgam Anchisaeque domum: ramos hinc Pandrasus, inde Sylvius extendit, socioque a sidere sidus Plenius effundit triplicatae lampadis ignes. Hoc trifido sola Corinaei postera mundum Praeradiat pubes, quartique puerpera Phoebi Pullulat Arthurum, facie dum falsus adulter Tintagel irrumpit, nec amoris Pendragon aestu Vincit, et omnificas Merlini consulit artes, Mentiturque ducis habitus, et rege latente Induit absentis praesentia Gorlois ora o 6.198.

There is a false glare of expression, and no great justness of sentiment, in these verses; but they are animated, and flow in a strain of poetry. They are pompous and sonorous; but these faults have been reckoned beauties even in polished ages. In the same book our author thus characterises the different merits of the satires of Horace and Persius.

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Persius in Flacci pelago decurrit, et audet Mendicasse stylum satyrae, serraque cruentus Rodit, et ignorat polientem pectora limam p 6.199.

In the third book he describes the happy parsimony of the Cistercian monks.

O sancta, o felix, albis galeata cucullis, Libera paupertas! Nudo jejunia pastu Tracta diu solvens, nec corruptura palatum Mollitie mensae. Bacchus convivia nullo Murmure conturbat, nec sacra cubilia mentis Inquinat adventu. Stomacho languénte ministrat Solennes epulas ventris gravis hospita Thetis, Et paleis armata Ceres. Si tertia mensae Copia succedat, truncantur oluscula, quorum Offendit macies oculos, pacemque meretur, Deterretque famem pallenti sobria cultu q 6.200.

Among Digby's manuscripts in the Bodleian library, are Hanvill's Latin epigrams, epistles, and smaller poems, many of which have considerable merit r 6.201. They are followed by a metrical tract, entitled DE EPISTOLARUM COMPOSITIONE. But this piece is written in rhyme, and seems to be posterio to the age, at least inferior to the genius, of Hanvill. He

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was buried in the abbey church of saint Alban's, soon after the year 1200 s 6.202. Gyraldus Cambrensis deserves particular regard for the universality of his works, many of which are written with some degree of elegance. He abounds with quotations of the best Latin poets. He was an historian, an antiquary, a topographer, a divine, a philosopher, and a poet. His love of science was so great, that he refused two bishopricks; and from the midst of public business, with which his political talents gave him a considerable connection in the court of Richard the first, he retired to Lincoln for seven years, with a design of pursuing theolo|gical studies t 6.203. He recited his book on the topography of Ireland in public at Oxford, for three days successively. On the first day of this recital he entertained all the poor of the city; on the second, all the doctors in the several faculties, and scholars of better note; and on the third, the whole body of students, with the citizens and soldiers of the gar|rison u 6.204. It is probable that this was a ceremony practised on the like occasion in the university of Paris w 6.205; where Giraldus

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had studied for twenty years, and where he had been elected professor of canon law in the year 1189 x 6.206. His ac|count of Wales was written in consequence of the observa|tions he made on that country, then almost unknown to the English, during his attendance on an archiepiscopal visitation. I cannot resist the pleasure of transcribing from this book his picture of the romantic situation of the abbey of Lantony in Monmouthshire. I will give it in English, as my meaning is merely to shew how great a master the author was of that selection of circumstances which forms an agreeable descrip|tion, and which could only flow from a cultivated mind.

"In the deep vale of Ewias, which is about a bowshot over, and enclosed on all sides with high mountains, stands the abbey church of saint John, a structure covered with lead, and not unhandsomely built for so lonesome a situation: on the very spot, where formerly stood a small chapel dedicated to saint David, which had no other ornaments than green moss and ivy. It is a situation fit for the exer|cise of religion; and a religious edifice was first founded in this sequestered retreat to the honour of a solitary life, by two hermits, remote from the noise of the world, upon the banks of the river Hondy, which winds through the midst of the valley.—The rains which mountainous countries usually produce, are here very frequent, the winds exceedingly tempestuous, and the winters almost

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continually dark. Yet the air of the valley is so happily tempered, as scarcely to be the cause of any diseases. The monks sitting in the cloisters of the abbey, when they chuse for a momentary refreshment to cast their eyes abroad, have on every side a pleasing prospect of moun|tains ascending to an immense height, with numerous herds of wild deer feeding aloft on the highest extremity of this lofty horizon. The body of the sun is not visible above the hills till after the meridian hour, even when the air is most clear."
Giraldus adds, that Roger bishop of Salisbury, prime minister to Henry the first, having visited this place, on his return to court told the king, that all the treasure of his majesty's kingdom would not suffice to build such another cloister. The bishop explained himelf by saying, that he meant the circular ridge of mountains with which the vale of Ewias was enclosed y 6.207. Alexander Neckham was the friend, the associate, and the correspondent of Peter of Blois already mentioned. He received the first part of his education in the abbey of saint Alban's, which he afterwards completed at Paris z 6.208. His compositions are va|rious, and croud the department of manuscripts in our public libraries. He has left nmerous treatises of divinity, philosophy, and morality: but he was likewise a poet, a philologist, and a grammarian. He wrote a tract on the mythology of the antient poets, Esopian fables, and a system of grammar and rhetoric. I have seen his elegiac poem on the monastic life a 6.209, which contains some finished lines. But his capital piece of Latin poetry is On the Praise of DIVINE WISDOM, which consists of seven books. In the introduc|tion h commemorates the innocent and unreturning plea|sures of his early days, which he passed among the learned monks of saint Alban's, in these perspicuous and unaffected elegiacs.

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—Claustrum Martyris Albani sit tibi tuta quies. Hic locus aetatis nostrae primordia novit, Annos felices, laetitiaeque dies. Hic locus ingenuis pueriles imbuit annos Artibus, et nostrae laudis origo fuit. Hic locus insignes magnosque creavit alumnos, Felix eximio martyre, gente, situ. Militat hic Christo, noctuque dieque labori Indulget sancto religiosa cohors b 6.210.

Neckham died abbot of Cirencester in the year 1217c 6.211. He was much attached to the studious repose of the monastic profession, yet he frequently travelld into Italyd 6.212. Walter Mapes, archdeacon of Oxford, has been very happily styled the Anacreon of the eleventh centurye 6.213. He studied at Parisf 6.214. His vein was chiefly festive and satirical g 6.215: and as his wit was frequently levelled against the corruptions of the clergy, his poems often appeared under fictitious names, or have been ascribed to othersh 6.216. The celebrated drinking odei 6.217 of this genial archdeacon has the regular returns of the monkish rhyme: but they are here applied with a characteristical propriety, are so happily invented, and so humourously in|troduced, that they not only suit the genius but heighten the spirit of the piece k 6.218. He boasts that good wine inspires

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him to sing verses equal to those of Ovid. In another Latin ode of the same kind, he attacks with great liveliness the new injunction of pope Innocent, concerning the celibacy of the clergy; and hopes that every married priest with his bride, will say a pater noster for the soul of one who had thus hazarded his salvation in their defence.

Ecce jam pro clericis multum allegavi, Necnon pro presbyteris plura comprobavi: PATER NOSTER nunc pro me, quoniam peccavi, Dicat quisque Presbyter, cum sua Suavi l 6.219.

But a miracle of this age in classical composition was Joseph of Exeter, commonly called Josephus Iscanus. He wrote two epic poems in Latin heroics. The first is on the Trojan War; it is in six books, and dedicated to Baldwin archbishop of Canterbury m 6.220. The second is entitled ANTIOCHEIS, the

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War of Antioch, or the Crusade; in which his patron th archbishop was an actor n 6.221. The poem of the Trojan war is founded on Dares Phrygius, a favorite fabulous historian of that time o 6.222. The diction of this poem is generally pure, the periods round, and the numbers harmonious: and on the whole, the structure of the versification approaches nearly to that of polished Latin poetry. The writer appears to have possessed no common command of poetical phraseology, and wanted nothing but a knowledge of the Virgilian chastity. His style is a mixture of Ovid, Statius, and Claudian, who seem then to have been the popular patterns p 6.223. But a few specimens will best illustrate this criticism. He thus, in a strain of much spirit and dignity, addresses king Henry the second, who was going to the holy war q 6.224, the intended subject of his ANTIOCHEIS.

—Tuque, oro, tuo da, maxime, vati Ire iter inceptum, Trojamque aperire jacentem: Te sacrae assument acies, divinaque bella, Tunc dignum majore tuba; tunc pectore toto Nitar, et immensum mecum spargere per orbem r 6.225,

The tomb or mausoleum of Teuthras is feigned with a brilliancy of imagination and expression; and our poet's

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classical ideas seem here to have been tinctured with the description of some magnificent oriental palace, which he had seen in the romances of his age.

Regia conspicuis moles inscripta figuris Exceptura ducem, senis affulta columnis, Tollitur: electro vernat basis, arduus auro Ardet apex, radioque stylus candescit eburno.
—Gemmae quas littoris Indi Dives arena tegit, aurum quod parturit Hermus, In varias vivunt species, ditique decorum Materie contendit opus: quod nobile ductor Quod clarum gessit, ars explicat, ardua pandit Moles, et totum reserat sculptura tyrannum r 6.226.

He thus describes Penthesilea and Pyrrhus.

Eminet, horrificas rapiens post terga secures, Virginei regina chori: non provida cultus Cura trahit, non forma juvat, frons aspera, vestis Discolor, insertumque armis irascitur aurum. Si visum, si verba notes, si lumina pendas, Nil leve, nil fractum: latet omni foemina facto. Obvius ultrices accendit in arma cohortes, Myrmidonasque suos, curru praevectus anhelo, Pyrrhus, &c.
—Meritosque offensus in hostes Arma patris, nunc ultor, habet: sed tanta recusant Pondera crescentes humeri, majoraque cassis Colla petit, breviorque manus vix colligit hastam s 6.227.

Afterwards a Grecian leader, whose character is invective, insults Penthesilea, and her troop of heroines, with these reproaches.

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Tunc sic increpitans, Pudeat, Mars inclyte, dixit: En!, tua signa gerit, quin nostra effoeminat arma Staminibus vix apta manus. Nunc stabitis hercle Perjurae turres; calathos et pensa puellae Plena rotant, sparguntque colos. Hoc milite Troja, His fidit telis. At non patiemur Achivi: Etsi turpe viris timidas calcare puellas, Ibo tamen contra. Sic ille: At virgo lquacem Tarda sequi sexum, velox ad praelia, solo Respondet jaculo r 6.228, &c.—

I will add one of his comparisons. The poet is speaking of the reluctant advances of the Trojans under their new leader Memnon, after the fall of Hector.

Qualiter Hyblaei mellita pericula reges, Si signis iniere datis, labente tyranno Alterutro, viduos dant agmina stridula questus; Et, subitum vix nacta ducem, metuentia vibrant Spicula, et imbelli remeant in praelia rostro s 6.229.

His ANTIOCHEIS was written in same strain, and had equal merit. All that remains of it is the following fragment t 6.230, in which the poet celebrates the heroes of Britain, and par|ticularly king Arthur.

—Inclyta fulsit Posteritas ducibus tantis, tot dives alumnis, Tot foecunda viris, premerent qui viribus orbem

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Et fama veteres. Hinc Constantinus adeptus Imperium, Roman tenuit, Byzantion auxit. Hinc, Senonum ductor, captiva Brennius urbe u 6.231 Romuleas domuit flammis victricibus arces. Hinc et Scaeva satus, pars non obscura tumultus Civilis, Magnum solus qui mole soluta Obsedit, meliorque stetit pro Caesare murus. Hinc, celebri fato, felici floruit ortu, Flos regum Arthurus w 6.232, cujus tamen acta stupori Non micuere minus: totus quod in aure voluptas, Et populo plaudente favor x 6.233. Quaecunquey 6.234 priorum Inspice: Pellaeum commendat fama tyrannum, Pagina Caesareos loquitur Romana triumphos: Alciden domitis attollit gloria monstris; Sed nec pinetum coryli, nec sydera solem Aequant. Annales Graios Latiosque revolve, Prisca parem nescit, aequalem postera nullum Exhibitura dies. Reges supereminet omnes: Solus praeteritis melior, majorque futuris.

Camden asserts, that Joseph accompanied king Richard the first to the holy land z 6.235, and was an eye-witness of that he|roic monarch's exploits among the Saracens, which after|wards he celebrated in the ANTIOCHEIS. Leland mentions his love-verses and epigrams, which are long since perished a 6.236. Heb 6.237 flourished in the year 1210 c 6.238.

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There seems to have been a rival spirit of writing Latin heroic poems about this period. In France, Guillaume le Breton, or William of Bretagny, about the year 1230, wrote a Latin heroic poem on Philip Augustus king of France, about the commencement of the thirteenth century, in twelve books, entitled PHILIPPIS d 6.239. Barthius gives a prodi|gious character of this poem: and affirms that the author, a few gallicisms excepted, has expressed the facility of Ovid with singular happiness e 6.240. The versification much resembles that of Joseph Iscanus. He appears to have drawn a great part of his materials from Roger Hoveden's annals. But I am of opinion, that the PHILIPPID is greatly exceeded by the ALEXANDREID of Philip Gualtier de Chatillon, who flourished likewise in France, and was provost of the canons of Tournay, about the year 1200 f 6.241. This poem celebrates the actions of Alexander the Great, is founded on Quintus Curtius g 6.242, consists of ten books, and is dedicated to Guillerm archbishop of Rheims. To give the reader an opportunity of comparing Gualtier's style and manner with those of our countryman Josephus, I will transcribe a few specimens from a beautiful and antient manuscript of the ALEXANDREID in the Bodleian library h 6.243. This is the exordium.

Gesta ducis Macedum totum vulgata per orbem, Quam late dispersit opes, quo milite Porum Vicerit et Darium; quo principe Graecia victrix

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Risit, et a Persis rediere tributa Corinthum, Musa, refer h 6.244.

A beautiful rural scene is thus described.

—Patulis ubi frondea ramis Laurus odoriferas celabat crinibus herbas: Saepe sub hac memorat carmen sylvestre canentes Nympharum vidisse choros, Satyrosque procaces. Fons cadit a laeva, quem cespite gramen obumbrat Purpureo, verisque latens sub veste locatur. Rivulus at lento lavat inferiora meatu Garrulus, et strepitu facit obsurdescere montes. Hic mater Cybele Zephyrum tibi, Flora, maritans, Pullulat, et vallem foecundat gratia fontis Qualiter Alpinis spumoso vortice saxis Descendit Rhodanus, ubi Maximianus Eoos Extinxit cuneos, dum sanguinis unda meatum Fluminis adjuvit. i 6.245.—

He excells in similies. Alexander, when a stripling, is thus compared to a young lion.

Qualiter Hyrcanis cum forte leunculis arvis Cornibus elatos videt ire ad pabula cervos, Cui nondum totos descendit robur in artus, Nec bene firmus adhuc, nec dentibus asper aduncis, Palpitat, et vacuum ferit improba lingua palatum; Effunditque prius animis quam dente cruorem k 6.246.

The ALEXANDREID soon became so popular, that Henry of Gaunt, archdeacon of Tournay, about the year 1330, complains that this poem was commonly taught in the

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rhetorical schools, instead of Lucanl 6.247 and Virgil m 6.248. The learned Charpentier cites a passage from the manuscript statutes of the university of Tholouse, dated 1328, in which the professors of grammar are directed to read to their pupils

"De Historiis Alexandri n 6.249."
Among which I include Gualtier's poem o 6.250. It is quoted as a familiar classic by Thomas Rod|burn, a monkish chronicler, who wrote about the year 1420 p 6.251. An anonymous Latin poet, seemingly of the thir|teenth century, who has left a poem on the life and miracles of saint Oswald, mentions Homer, Gualtier, and Lucan, as the three capital heroic poets. Homer, he says, has ce|lebrated Hercules, Gualtier the son of Philip, and Lucan has sung the praises of Cesar. But, adds he, these heroes much less deserve to be immortalised in verse, than the deeds of the holy confessor Oswald.

In nova fert animus antiquas vertere prosas Carmina, &c.

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Alciden hyperbolice commendat HOMERUS, GUALTERUS pingit torvo Philippida vultu, Caesareas late laudes LUCANUS adauget: TRES illi famam meruerunt, tresque poetas Auctores habuere suos, multo magis autem Oswaldi regis debent insignia dici q 6.252.

I do not cite this writer as a proof of the elegant versifica|tion which had now become fashionable, but to shew the popularity of the ALEXANDREID, at least among scholars. About the year 1206, Gunther a German, and a Cistercian monk of the diocese of Basil, wrote an heroic poem in Latin verse entitled, LIGURINUS, which is scarce inferior to the PHILIPPID of Guillaum le Breton, or the ALEXANDREID of Gualtier: but not so polished and classical as the TROJAN WAR of our Josephus Iscanus. It is in ten books, and the subject is the war of the emperor Frederick Barbarossa against

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the Milanese in Liguria q 6.253. He had before written a Latin poem on the expedition of the emperor Conrade against the Saracens, and the recovery of the holy sepulchre at Jerusalem by Godfrey of Bulloign, which he called SOLYMARIUM r 6.254. The subject is much like that of the ANTIOCHEIS; but which of the two pieces was written first it is difficult to ascertain.

While this spirit of classical Latin poetry was universally prevailing, our countryman Geoffrey de Vinesauf, an accom|plished scholar, and educated not only in the priory of saint Frideswide at Oxford, but in the universities of France and Italy, published while at Rome a critical didactic poem en|titled, DE NOVA POETRIA s 6.255. This book is dedicated to pope Innocent the third: and its intention was to recommend and illustrate the new and legitimate mode of versification which had lately begun to flourish in Europe, in opposition to the Leonine or barbarous species. This he compendiously styles, and by way of distinction, The NEW Poetry. We must not be surprised to find Horace's Art of Poetry entitled HORATII NOVA POETRIA, so late as the year 1389, in a catalogue of the library of a monastery at Dover t 6.256.

Even a knowledge of the Greek language imported from France, but chiefly from Italy, was now beginning to be diffused in England. I am inclined to think, that many

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Greek manuscripts found their way into Europe from Con|stantinople in the time of the crusades: and we might ob|serve that the Italians, who seem to have been the most po|lished and intelligent people of Europe during the barbarous ages, carried on communications with the Greek empire as early as the reign of Charlemagne. Robert Grosthead, bishop of Lincoln, an universal scholar, and no less conver|sant in polite letters than the most abstruse sciences, culti|vated and patronised the study of the Greek language. This illustrious prelate, who is said to have composed almost two hundred books, read lectures in the school of the Franciscan friars at Oxford about the year 1230 w 6.257. He translated Dio|nysius the Areopagite and Damascenus into Latin x 6.258. He greatly facilitated the knowledge of Greek by a translation of Suidas's Lexicon, a book in high repute among the lower Greeks, and at that time almost a recent compilation y 6.259. He promoted John of Basingstoke to the archdeaconry of Lei|cester; chiefly because he was a Greek scholar, and possessed many Greek manuscripts, which he is said to have brought from Athens into England z 6.260. He entertained, as a domestic

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in his palace, Nicholas chaplain of the abbot of saint Alban's, surnamed GRAECUS, from his uncommon proficiency in Greek; and by his assistance he translated from Greek into Latin the testaments of the twelve patriarchs a 6.261. Grosthead had almost incurred the censure of excommunication for preferring a complaint to the pope, that most of the opulent benefices in England were occupied by Italians b 6.262. But this practice, although notoriously founded on the monopolising and arbitrary spirit of papal imposition, and a manifest act of injustice to the English clergy, probably contributed to introduce many learned foreigners into England, and to propagate philological literature.

Bishop Grosthead is also said to have been profoundly skilled in the Hebrew language c 6.263. William the conqueror permitted great numbers of Jews to come over from Rouen, and to settle in England about the year 1087 d 6.264. Their mul|titude soon encreased, and they spread themselves in vast bodies throughout most of the cities and capital towns in England, where they built synagogues. There were fifteen hundred at York about the year 1189 e 6.265. At Bury in Suffolk

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is a very complete remain of a Jewish synagogue of stone in the Norman style, large and magnificent. Hence it was that many of the learned English ecclesiastics of these times be|came acquainted with their books and language. In the reign of William Rufus, at Oxford the Jews were remark|ably numerous, and had acquired a considerable property; and some of their Rabbis were permitted to open a school in the university, where they instructed not only their own people, but many christian students, in the Hebrew litera|ture, about the year 1054 f 6.266. Within two hundred years after their admission or establishment by the conqueror, they were banished the kingdom g 6.267. This circumstance was highly favourable to the circulation of their learning in England. The suddenness of their dismission obliged them for present subsistence, and other reasons, to sell their moveable goods of all kinds, among which were large quantities of Rab|binical books. The monks in various parts availed them|selves of the distribution of these treasures. At Huntingdon and Stamford there was a prodigious sale of their effects, containing immense stores of Hebrew manuscripts, which were immediately purchased by Gregory of Hntingdon, prior of the abbey of Ramsey. Gregory speedily became an adept in the Hebrew, by means of these valuable acquisitions, which he bequeathed to his monastery about the year 1250 h 6.268. Other members of the same convent, in consequence of these advantages, are said to have been equal proficients in the same language, soon after the death of prior Gregory: among which were Robert Dodford, librarian of Ramsey, and Laurence Holbech, who compiled a Hebrew Lexicon i 6.269.

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At Oxford, great multitudes of their books fell into the hands of Roger Bacon, or were bought by his brethren the Franciscan friars of that university k 6.270.

But, to return to the leading point of our enquiry, this promising dawn of polite letters and rational know|ledge was soon obscured. The temporary gleam of light did not arrive to perfect day. The minds of scholars were diverted from these liberal studies in the rapidity of their career; and the arts of composition, and the ornaments of language were neglected, to make way for the barbarous and barren subtleties of scholastic divinity. The first teachers of this art, originally founded on that spirit of intricate and metaphysical enquiry which the Arabians had communicated to philosophy, and which now became almost absolutely necessary for defending the doctrines of Rome, were Peter Lombard archbishop of Paris, and the celebrated Abelard: men whose consummate abilities were rather qualified to re|form the church, and to restore useful science, than to cor|rupt both, by confounding the common sense of mankind with frivolous speculation l 6.271. These visionary theologists never explained or illustrated any scriptural topic: on the contrary, they perverted the simplest expressions of the sacred text, and embarrassed the most evident truths of the gospel by laboured distinctions and unintelligible solutions. From the universities of France, which were then filled with mul|titudes of English students, this admired species of sophistry was adopted in England, and encouraged by Lanfranc and Anselm, archbishops of Canterbury m 6.272. And so successful was its progress at Oxford, that before the reign of Edward the second, no foreign university could boast so conspicuous a catalogue of subtle and invincible doctors.

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Nor was the profession of the civil and canonical laws a small impediment to the propagation of those letters which humanise the mind, and cultivate the manners. I do not mean to deny, that the accidental discovery of the imperial code in the twelfth century, contributed in a considerable degree to civilise Europe, by introducing, among other be|neficial consequences, more legitimate ideas concerning the nature of government and the administration of justice, by creating a necessity of transferring judicial decrees from an illiterate nobility to the cognisance of scholars, by lessening the attachment to the military profession, and by giving ho|nour and importance to civil employments: but to suggest, that the mode in which this invaluable system of jurispru|dence was studied, proved injurious to polite literature. It was no sooner revived, than it was received as a scholastic science, and taught by regular professors, in most of the universities of Europe. To be skilled in the theology of the schools was the chief and general ambition of scholars: but at the same time a knowledge of both the laws was become an indispensable requisite, at least an essential re|commendation, for obtaining the most opulent ecclesiastical dignities. Hence it was cultivated with universal avidity. It became so considerable a branch of study in the plan of academical discipline, that twenty scholars out of seventy were destined to the study of the civil and canon laws, in one of the most ample colleges at Oxford, founded in the year 1385. And it is easy to conceive the pedantry with which it was pursued in these seminaries during the middle ages. It was treated with the same spirit of idle speculation which had been carried into philosophy and theology, it was over|whelmed with endless commentaries which disclaimed all elegance of language, and served only to exercise genius, as it afforded materials for framing the flimsy labyrinths of casuistry.

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It was not indeed probable, that these attempts in elegant literature which I have mentioned should have any per|manent effects. The change, like a sudden revolution in go|vernment, was too rapid for duration. It was moreover premature, and on that account not likely to be lasting. The habits of superstition and ignorance were as yet too powerful for a reformation of this kind to be effected by a few polite scholars. It was necessary that many circumstances and events, yet in the womb of time, should take place, before the minds of men could be so far enlightened as to receive these improvements.

But perhaps inventive poetry lost nothing by this relapse. Had classical taste and judgment been now established, ima|gination would have suffered, and too early a check would have been given to the beautiful extravagancies of romantic fabling. In a word, truth and reason would have chased before their time those spectres of illusive fancy, so pleasing to the imagination, which delight to hover in the gloom of ignorance and superstition, and which form so considerable a part of the poetry of the succeeding centuries.

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THE HISTORY OF ENGLISH POETRY.

SECT. I.

THE Saxon language spoken in England, is distin|guished by three several epochs, and may therefore be divided into three dialects. The first of these is that which the Saxons used, from their entrance into this island, till the irruption of the Danes, for the space of three hundred and thirty years a 7.1. This has been called the British Saxon: and no monument of it remains, except a small me|trical fragment of the genuine Caedmon, inserted in Alfred's version of the Venerable Bede's ecclesiastical history b 7.2. The

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second is the Danish Saxon, which prevailed from the Danish to the Norman invasion c 7.3; and of which many con|siderable specimens, both in versed 7.4 and prose, are still pre|served: particularly, two literal versions of the four gos|pels e 7.5, and the spurious Caedmon's beautiful poetical para|phrase of the Book of Genesis f 7.6, and the prophet Daniel. The third may be properly styled the Norman Saxon; which began about the time of the Norman accession, and con|tinued beyond the reign of Henry the second g 7.7.

The last of these three dialects, with which these Annals of English Poetry commence, formed a language extremely bar|barous, irregular, and intractable; and consequently pro|mises no very striking specimens in any species of composi|tion. Its substance was the Danish Saxon, adulterated with French. The Saxon indeed, a language subsisting on uni|form principles, and polished by poets and theologists, how|ever corrupted by the Danes, had much perspicuity, strength, and harmony: but the French imported by the Conqueror and his people, was a confused jargon of Teutonic, Gaulish, and vitiated Latin. In this fluctuating state of our national speech, the French predominated. Even before the conquest the Saxon language began to fall into contempt, and the French, or Frankish, to be substituted in its stead: a circum|stance, which at once facilitated and foretold the Norman accession. In the year 652, it was the common practice of

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the Anglo-Saxons, to send their youth to the monasteries of France for education h 7.8: and not only the language, but the manners of the French, were esteemed the most polite accom|plishments i 7.9. In the reign of Edward the Confessor, the resort of Normans to the English court was so frequent, that the affectation of imitating the Frankish customs became almost universal: and even the lower class of people were ambitious of catching the Frankish idiom. It was no difficult task for the Norman lords to banish that language, of which the na|tives began to be absurdly ashamed. The new invaders com|manded the laws to be administered in French k 7.10. Many char|ters of monasteries were forged in Latin by the Saxon monks, for the present security of their possessions, in consequence of that aversion which the Normans professed to the Saxon tongue l 7.11. Even children at school were forbidden to read in their native language, and instructed in a knowledge of the Norman only m 7.12. In the mean time we should have some re|gard to the general and political state of the nation. The natives were so universally reduced to the lowest condition of neglect and indigence, that the English name became a term of reproach: and several generations elapsed, before one family of Saxon pedigree was raised to any distinguished honours, or could so much as attain the rank of baronage n 7.13. Among

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other instances of that absolute and voluntary submission; with which our Saxon ancestors received a foreign yoke, it appears that they suffered their hand-writing to fall into dis|credit and disuse o 7.14; which by degrees became so difficult and obsolete, that few beside the oldest men could under|stand the characters p 7.15. In the year 1095, Wolstan, bishop of Worcester, was deposed by the arbitray Normans: it was objected against him, that he was

"a superannuated English idiot, who could not speak French q 7.16."
It is true, that in some of the monasteries, particularly at Croyland and Tavis|tocke, founded by Saxon princes, there were regular precep|tors in the Saxon language: but this institution was suffered to remain after the conquest, as a matter only of interest and necessity. The religious could not otherwise have un|derstood their original charters. William's successor, Henry the first, gave an instrument of confirmation to William archbishop of Canterbury, which was written in the Saxon language and letters r 7.17. Yet this is almost a single example. That monarch's motive was perhaps political: and he seems to have practised this expedient with a view of obliging his queen, who was of Saxon lineage; or with a design of flat|tering his English subjects, and of securing his title already strengthened by a Saxon match, in consequence of so specious and popular an artifice. It was a common and indeed a very natural practice, for the transcribers of Saxon books, to change the Saxon orthography for the Norman, and to sub|stitute in the place of the original Saxon, Norman words and

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phrases. A remarkable instance of this liberty, which some|times perplexes and misleads the critics in Anglo-Saxon litera|ture, appears in a voluminous collection of Saxon homilies, preserved in the Bodleian library, and written about the time of Henry the second s 7.18. It was with the Saxon characters, as with the signature of the cross in public deeds; which were changed into the Norman mode of seals and subscrip|tions t 7.19. The Saxon was probably spoken in the country, yet not without various adulterations from the French: the courtly language was French, yet perhaps with some vestiges of the vernacular Saxon. But the nobles, in the reign of Henry the second, constantly sent their children into France, let they should contract habits of barbarism in their speech, which could not have been avoided in an English education u 7.20. Robert Holcot, a learned Dominican friar, confesses, that in the beginning of the reign of Edward the third, there was no institution of children in the old English: he complains, that they first learned the French, and from the French the Latin language. This he observes to have been a practice introduced by the Conqueror, and to have remained ever since w 7.21. There is a curious passage relating to this subject in Trevisa's translation of Hygden's Polychronicon * 7.22.

"Chil|dren in scole, agenst the usage and manir of all other na|tions, beeth compelled for to leve hire owne langage, and for to construe hir lessons and hire thynges in Frenche; and so they haveth sethe Normans came first into Engelond. Also gentilmen children beeth taught to speke Frensche, from the tyme that they bith rokked in here cradell, and kunneth speke and play with a childes broche: and uplondissche

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y 7.23 men will likne himself to gentylmen, and fondethz 7.24 with greet besynesse for to speke Frensche to be told of. This maner was moche used to for first deth a 7.25, and is sith ome dele changed. For John Cornewaile a maister of grammer, changed the lore in grammer scole, and con|struction of Frensche into Englische: and Richard Pen|criche lernede the manere techynge of him as other men of Pencriche. So that now, the yere of oure Lorde a thousand thre hundred and four score and five, and of the seconde Kyng Ri|chard after the conquest nyne, and [in] alle the grammere scoles of Engelond children lereth Frensche and construeth, and lerneth an Englische, &c."
About the same time, or rather before, the students of our universities, were ordered to converse in French or Latin b 7.26. The latter was much af|fected by the Normans. All the Norman accompts were in Latin. The plan of the great royal revenue-rolls, now called the pipe-rolls, were of their construction, and in that language. But from the declension of the barons, and pre|valence of the commons, most of whom were of English ancestry, the native language of England gradually gained ground: till at length the interest of the commons o far succeeded with Edward the third, that an act of parliament was passed, appointing all pleas and proceedings of law to be carried on in English c 7.27: although the same statute decrees,

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in the true Norman spirit, that all such pleas and proceedings should be enrolled in Latin d 7.28. Yet this change did not restore either the Saxon alphabet or language. It abolished a token of subjection and disgrace: and in some degree, contributed to prevent further French innovations in the language then used, which yet remained in a compound state, and retained a considerable mixture of foreign phraseo|logy. In the mean time, it must be remembered, that this corruption of the Saxon was not only owing to the admis|sion of new words, occasioned by the new alliance, but to changes of its own forms and terminations, arising from reasons which we cannot investigate or explain e 7.29.

Among the manuscripts of Digby in the Bodleian library at Oxford, we find a religious or moral Ode, consisting of one hundred and ninety-one stanzas, which the learned Hickes places just after the conquest f 7.30: but as it contains few Norman terms, I am inclined to think it of rather higher an|tiquity. In deference however to so great an authority, I am obliged to mention it here; and especially as it exhibits a regular lyric strophe of four lines, the second and fourth of which rhyme together. Although these four lines may be perhaps resolved into two Alexandrines; a measure concern|ing which more will be said hereafter, and of which it will be sufficient to remark at present, that it appears to have been used very early. For I cannot recollect any strophes of this sort in the elder Runic or Saxon poetry; nor in any of the old Frankish poems, particularly of Otfrid, a monk of Weissenburgh, who turned the evangelical history into Frankish verse about the ninth century, and has left several

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hymns in that language f 7.31, of Stricker who celebrated the atchievements of Charlemagne g 7.32, and of the anonymous au|thor of the metrical life of Anno, archbishop of Cologn. The following stanza is a specimen h 7.33.

i 7.34 Sende God biforen him man The while he may to hevene, For betere is on elmesse biforen Thanne ben after sevene k 7.35.

That is,

"Let a man send his good works before him to heaven while he can: for one alms-giving before death is of more value than seven afterwards."
The verses perhaps might have been thus written as two Alexandrines.
Send God biforen him man the while he may to hevene, For betere is on almesse biforen, than ben after sevene l 7.36.
Yet alternate rhyming, applied without regularity, and as rhymes accidentally presented themselves, was not uncommon in our early poetry, as will appear from other examples.

Hickes has printed a satire on the monastic profession; which clearly exemplifies the Saxon adulterated by the Nor|man, and was evidently written soon after the conquest, at

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least before the reign of Henry the second. The poet begins with describing the land of indolence or luxury.

Fur in see, bi west Spaynge, Is a lond ihote Cokaygne: Ther nis lond under hevenriche a 7.37 Of wel of godnis hit iliche. Thoy paradis bi mirib 7.38 and brigt Cokaygn is of fairir sigt. What is ther in paradis Bot grass, and flure, and greneris? Thoy ther be joy c 7.39, and gret dute d 7.40, Ther nis met, bot frute. Ther nis halle, bure e 7.41, no bench; But watir manis thurst to quench, &c.

In the following lines there is a vein of satirical imagina|tion and some talent at description. The luxury of the monks is represented under the idea of a monastery construc|ted of various kinds of delicious and costly viands.

Ther is a wel fair abbei, Of white monkes and of grei, Ther beth boures and halles: All of pasteus beth the walles, Of fleis of fisse, and a rich met, The likefullist that man mai et. Fluren cakes beth the schinglesf 7.42 alle, Of church, cloister, bours, and halle. The pinnesg 7.43 beth fat podinges Rich met to princes and to kinges.— Ther is a cloyster fair and ligt, Brod and lang of sembli sigt.

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The pilers of that cloister alle eth iturned of cristale, With harlas and capital Of grene jaspe and red coral. In the praer is a tree Swithe likeful for to se, The rote is gingeur and galingale, The siouns beth al sed wale. Trie maces beth the flure, The rind canel of swete odure: The frute gilofre of gode smakke, Of cucubes ther nis no lakke.— There beth iiii willish 7.44 in the abbei Of tracle and halwei, Of baume and eke piement i 7.45, Ever ernendk 7.46 to rigt rent l 7.47; Of thai stremis al the molde, Stonis pretiusem 7.48 and golde, Ther is saphir, and uniune, Carbuncle and astiune, Smaragde, lugre, and prassiune, Beril, onyx, toposiune, Amethiste and crisolite, Calcedun and epetite n 7.49. Ther beth birddes mani and fale Throstill, thruisse, and nigtingale, Chalandre, and wodwale, And othir briddes without tale, That stinteth never bi her migt Miri to sing dai and nigt. [Nonnulla desunt.]

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Yite I do yow mo to witte, The gees irostid on the spitte, Fleey to that abbai, god hit wot, And gredith o 7.50, gees al hote al hote, &c.

Our author then makes a pertinent transition to a convent of nuns; which he supposes to be very commodiously situa|ted at no great distance, and in the same fortunate region of indolence, ease, and affluence.

An other abbai is ther bi For soth a gret nunnerie; Up a river of swet milk Whar is plente grete of silk. When the summeris dai is hote, The yung nunnes takith a bote And doth ham forth in that river Both with oris and with stere: Whan hi beth fur from the abbei Hi makith him nakid for to plei, And leith dune in to the brimme And doth him sleilich for to swimme: The yung monkes that hi seeth Hi doth ham up and forth hi fleeth, And comith to the nunnes anon, And euch monk him takith on, And snellichp 7.51 berith forth har prei To the mochill grei abbei q 7.52, And techith the nonnes an oreisun With jambleusr 7.53 up and dun s 7.54.

Page 12

This poem was designed to be sung at public festivals t 7.55: a practice, of which many instances occur in this work; and concerning which it may be sufficient to remark at present, that a JOCULATOR or bard, was an officer belonging to the court of William the Conqueror u 7.56.

Another Norman Saxon poem cited by the same indus|trious antiquary, is entitled THE LIFE OF SAINT MARGARET. The structure of its versification considerably differs from that in the last-mentioned piece, and is like the French Alexandrines. But I am of opinion, that a pause, or divi|sion, was intended in the middle of every verse: and in this respect, its versification resembles also that of ALBION'S ENG|LAND, or Drayton's POLYOLBION, which was a species very com|mon about the reign of queen Elisabeth w 7.57. The rhymes are also continued to every fourth line. It appears to have been written about the time of the crusades. It begins thus.

Olde antx 7.58 yonge I priety 7.59 ou, our folies for to lete, Thinketh on god that yef ou wite, our sunnes to bete. Here I mai tellen ou, wit wordes faire and swete, The viez 7.60 of one maiden was hotena 7.61 Margarete. Hire fader was a patriac, as ic ou tellen may, In Auntioge wif echesb 7.62 I in the false lay, Deve godesc 7.63 ant dombe, he servid nit and day, So deden mony othere that singeth welaway.

Page 13

Theodosius was is nome, on Criste ne levede he noutt, He levede on the false godes, that weren with honden wroutt. Tho that child sculde cristine ben it com well in thoutt, Ebed wend 7.64 it were ibore, to deth it were ibroutt, &c.

In the sequel, Olibrius, lord of Antioch, who is called a Saracen, falls in love with Margaret: but she being a chris|tian, and a candidate for canonization, rejects his sollicita|tions and is thrown into prison.

Meiden Margarete one nitt in prison lai Ho com biforn Olibrius on that other dai. Meiden Margarete, lef up upon my lay, And Ihu that thou levest on, thou do him al awey. Lef on me ant be my wife, ful wel the mai spede. Auntioge and Asie scaltou han to mede: Ciculautone 7.65 and purpel pall scaltou have to wede: With all the metes of my lond ful vel I scal the f 7.66 fede.

This piece was printed by Hickes from a manuscript in Trinity college library at Cambridge. It seems to belong to the manuscript metrical LIVES OF THE SAINTS g 7.67, which form a very considerable volume, and were probably translated or para|phrased from Latin or French prose into English rhyme before

Page 14

the year 1200 h 7.68. We are sure that they were written after the year 1169, as they contain the LIFE of Saint Tho|mas of Becket i 7.69. In the Bodleian library are three manu|script copies of these LIVES OF THE SAINTS k 7.70, in which the LIFE of Saint Margaret constantly occurs; but it is not always exactly the same with this printed by Hickes. And on the whole, the Bodleian Lives seem inferior in point of anti|quity. I will here give some extracts never yet printed.

Page 15

From the LIFE of Saint Swithin.

l 7.71 Seint Swythan the confessour was her of Engelonde, Bisyde Wynchestre he was ibore, as ich undirstonde: Bi the kynges dei Egbert this goode was ibore, That tho was kyng of Engelonde, and somedele eke bifore; The eihtethe he was that com aftur Kinewolfe the kynge, That seynt Berin dude to cristendome in Engelonde furst brynge: Seynt Austen hedde bifore to cristendom i brouht Athelbryt the goode kynge as al the londe nouht. Al setthem 7.72 hyt was that seynt Berin her bi west wende, And tornede the kynge Kinewolfe as vr lord grace sende: So that Egbert was kyng tho that Swythan was bore The eighth was Kinewolfe that so long was bifore, &c. Seynt Swythan his bushopricke to al goodnesse drough The towne also of Wynchestre he amended inough, Ffor he lette the stronge bruge withoute the toune arere And fond therto lym and ston and the workmen that ther were n 7.73.

From the LIFE of Saint Wolstan.

Seynt Wolston bysscop of Wirceter was then in Ingelonde, Swithe holyman was all his lyf as ich onderstonde: The while he was a yonge childe good lyf hi ladde ynow, Whenne other children orne play toward cherche hi drow. Seint Edward was tho vr kyng, that now in hevene is, And the bisscoppe of Wircester Brytthege is hette I wis, &c. Bisscop hym made the holi man seynt Edward vre kynge And undirfonge his dignite, and tok hym cros and ringe.

Page 16

His bushopreke he wut wel, and eke his priorie, And forcede him to serve wel god and Seinte Marie. Ffour ʒer he hedde bisscop ibeo and not folliche fyve Tho seynt Edward the holi kyng went out of this lyve. To gret reuge to al Engelonde, so welaway the stounde, Ffor strong men that come sithen and broughte Engelonde to grounde. Harald was sithen kynge with tresun, allas! The crowne he bare of England which while hit was. As William bastard that was tho duyk of Normaundye Thouhte to winne Englonde thorusg strength and felonye: He lette hym greith foulke inouh and gret power with him nom, With gret strengthe in the see he him dude and to Engelonde com: He lette ordayne his ost wel and his baner up arerede, And destruyed all that he fond and that londe sore aferde. Harald hereof tell kynge of Engelonde He let garke fast his oste agen hym for to stonde: His baronage of Engelonde redi was ful sone The kyng to helpe and k himself as riht was to done. The warre was then in Engelonde dolefull and stronge inouh And heore either of othures men al to grounde slouh: The Normans and this Englisch men deiy of batayle nom There as the abbeye is of the batayle a day togedre com, To grounde thei smiit and slowe also, as god yaf the cas, William Bastard was above and Harald bi nothe was o 7.74.

From the LIFE of Saint Christopher.

p 7.75 Seynt Cristofre was a Sarazin in the londe of Canaan, In no stud bi him daye mi fond non so strong a man:

Page 17

Ffour and twenti feete he was longe, and thikk and brod inouh, Such a mon but he weore stronge methinketh hit weore wouh: A la cuntre where he was for him wolde fleo, Therfore hym ythoughte that no man ageynst him sculde beo. He seide he wolde with no man beo but with on that were, Hext lord of all men and undir hym non othir were.

Afterwards he is taken into the service of a king.

—Cristofre hym served longe; The kynge loved melodye much of fitheleq 7.76 and of songe: So that his jogeler on a dai biforen him gon to pleye faste, And in a tyme he nemped in his song the devil atte laste: Anon so the kynge that I herde he blesed him anon, &c. r 7.77

From the LIFE of Saint Patrick

Seyn Pateryk com thoru godes grace to preche in Irelonde To teche men ther ryt believe Jehu Cryste to understonde: So ful of wormes that londe he founde that no man ni myghte gon, In som stede for worms that he nas wenemyd anon; Seynt Pateryk bade our lorde Cryst that the londe delyvered were, Of thilke foul wormis that none ne com there s 7.78.

From the LIFE of Saint Thomas of Becket.

Ther was Gilbert Thomas fadir name the trewe man and gode He loved God and holi cherche setthe he witte ondirstode t 7.79. The cros to the holi cherche in his ʒouthe he nom, . . . myd on Rychard that was his mon to Jerlem com,

Page 18

Ther hy dede here pylgrimage in holi stedes fate So that among Sarazyns hy wer nom at laste, &c. u 7.80

This legend of Saint Thomas of Becket is exactly in the style of all the others; and as Becket was martyred in the latter part of the reign of Henry the second from historical evidence, and as, from various internal marks, the language of these legends cannot be older than the twelfth century, I think we may fairly pronounce the LIVES OF THE SAINTS to have been written about the reign of Richard the first x 7.81.

These metrical narratives of christian faith and perse|verance seem to have been chiefly composed for the pious amusement, and perhaps edification, of the monks in their cloisters. The sumptuous volume of religious poems which I have mentioned above y 7.82, was undoubtedly chained in the cloister, or church, of some capital monastery. It is not improbable that the novices were exercised in reciting por|tions from these pieces. In the British Museumz 7.83 there is a set of legendary tales in rhyme, which appear to have been olemnly pronounced by the priest to the people on sundays and holidays. This sort of poetry a 7.84 was also sung to the

Page 19

harp by the minstrels on sundays, instead of the romantic subjects usual at public entertainments b 7.85.

In that part of Vernon's manuscript intitled SOULEHELE, we have a translation of the Old and New Testament into verse; which I believe to have been made before the year 1200. The reader will observe the fondness of our ancestors for the Alexandrine: at least, I find the lines arranged in that measure.

Oure ladi and hre sustur stoden under the roode, And seint John and Marie Magdaleyn with wel sori moode: Vr ladi bi heold hire swete son i brouht in gret pyne, Ffor monnes gultes nouthen her and nothing for myne. Marie weop wel sore and bitter teres leet, The teres fullen uppon the ston doun at hire feet. Alas, my son, for serwe wel off seide heo Nabbe iche bote the one that hongust on the treo; So ful icham of serwe, as any wommon may beo, That ischal my deore child in all this pyne iseo: How schal I sone deore, how hast i yougt liven withouten the, Nusti nevere of serwe nought sone, what seyst you me? Then spake Jhesus wordus gode to his modur dere, Ther he heng uppon the roode here I the take a fere, That trewliche schal serve ye, thin own cosin Jon, The while that you alyve beo among all thi fon: Ich the hote Jon, he seide, you wite hire both day and niht That the Gywes hire fon ne don hire non un riht. Seint John in the stude vr ladi in to the temple nom God to serven he hire dude sone so he thider come, Hole and seeke heo duden good that hes founden thore Heo hire serveden to hond and foot, the lass and eke the more.

Page 20

The pore folke feire heo fedde there, heo sege that hit was neode And the seke heo brougte to bedde and met and drinke gon heom beode. Wy at heore mihte yong and olde hire loveden bothe syke and fer As hit was riht for alle and summe to hire servise hedden mester. Jon hire was a trew feer, and nolde nougt from hire go, He lokid hire as his ladi deore and what heo wolde hit was i do. Now blowith this newe fruyt that lat bi gon to springe, That to his kuynd heritage monkunne schal bringe, This new fruyt of whom I speke is vre cristendome, That late was on erthe isow and latir furth hit com, So hard and luthur was the lond of whom hit scholde springe That wel unnethe eny rote men mougte theron bring, God hi was the gardener,c 7.86 &c.

In the archiepiscopal library at Lambeth, among other Nor|man-Saxon homilies in prose, there is a homily or exhortation on the Lord's prayer in verse: which, as it was evidently transcribed rather before the reign of Richard the first, we may place with some degree of certainty before the year 1185.

Vre feder that in hevene is That is al sothfull I wis. Weo moten to theos weordes iseon That to live and to saule gode beon. That weo beon swa his sunes iborene That he beo feder and we him icorene. That we don alle his ibeden And his wille for to reden, &c. Lauerde God we biddeth thus Mid edmode heorte gif hit us. That vre soule beo to the icore Noht for the flesce for lore.

Page 21

Dole us to biwepen vre sunne That we ne sternen noht therunne And gif us, lauerd, that like gifte Thet we hes ibeten thurh holie scrifte. AMEN d 7.87.

In the valuable library of Corpus Christi college in Cam|bridge, is a sort of poetical biblical history, extracted from the books of Genesis and Exodus. It was probably composed about the reign of Henry the second or Richard the first. But I am chiefly induced to cite this piece, as it proves the excessive attachment of our earliest poets to rhyme: they were fond of multiplying the same final sound to the most tedious monotony; and without producing any effect of legance, strength, or harmony. It begins thus:

Man og to luuen that rimes ren. The wissed wel the logede men. Hu man may him wel loken Thog he ne be lered on no boken. Luuen god and serven him ay For he it hem wel gelden may. And to al cristenei men Boren pais and luue by twem. Than sal him almighti luuven. Here by nethen and thund abuuven, And given him blisse and soules rste. That him sal eavermor lesten. Ut of Latin this song is a dragen On Engleis speche on soche sagen, Cristene men ogen ben so fagen. So fueles arn quan he it sen dagen. Than man hem telled soche tale Wid londes speche and wordes smale Of blisses dune, of sorwes dale,

Page 22

Quhu Lucifer that devel dwale And held him sperred in helles male, Til god him frid in manliched Dede mankinde bote and red. And unswered al the fendes sped And halp thor he sag mikel ned Biddi hie singen non other led. Thog mad hic folgen idel hed. Fader gode of al thinge, Almightin louerd, hegest kinge, Thu give me seli timinge To thau men this werdes bigininge. The lauerd god to wurthinge Quether so hic rede or singe e 7.88.

We find this accumulation of identical rhymes in the Runic odes. Particularly in the ode of Egill cited above, entitled EGILL'S RANSOM. In the Cotton library a poem is preserved of the same age, on the subjects of death, judg|ment, and hell torments, where the rhymes are singular, and deserve our attention.

Non mai longe lives wene Ac ofte him lieth the wrench. Feir weither turneth ofte into reine And thunderliche hit maketh his blench, Tharfore mon thu the biwench At schal falewi thi grene. Weilawei! nis kin ne quene That ne schal drincke of deathes drench, Mon er thu falle of thi bench Thine sunne thu aquench f 7.89.

Page 23

To the same period of our poetry I refer a version of Saint Jerom's French psalter, which occurs in the library of Corpus Christi college at Cambridge. The hundredth psalm is thus translated.

Mirthes to god al erthe that es Serves to louerd in faines. In go yhe ai in his iht, In gladnes that is so briht. Whites that louerd god is he thus He us made and our self noht us, His folk and shep of his fode: In gos his yhates that are gode: In schrift his worches believe, In ympnes to him yhe schrive. Heryhes his name for louerde is hende, In all his merci do in strende and strande g 7.90.

In the Bodleian library there is a translation of the psalms, which much resembles in style and measure this just men|tioned. If not the same, it is of equal antiquity. The hand|writing is of the age of Edward the second: certainly not later than his successor. It also contains the Nicene creed h 7.91, and some church hymns, versified: but it is mutilated and imperfect. The nineteenth psalm runs thus.

Hevenes tellen godes blis And wolken shewes hond werk his Dai to dai word rise riht, And wisdom shewes niht to niht, Of whilke that noht is herde thar steven. In al the world out yhode thar corde And in ende of erthe of tham the worde.

Page 24

. . . sunne he sette his telde to stande And b. bridegroome a. he als of his lourd commande. He gladen als den to renne the wai Ffrem heighist heven hei outcoming ai, And his gairenning tilheht sete, Ne is qwilke mai him from his hete. Lagh of louerd unwenned isse, Turnand saules in to blisse: Witness of lourd is ever trewe Wisdom servand to littell newe: Lourd's rihtwisnesse riht hertes famand, But of lourd is liht eghen sighand, Drede of lourde hit heli es Domes of love ful sori sothe are ai Rihted in thamsalve ar thai, More to be beyorned over golde Or ston derwurthi that is holde: Wel swetter to mannes wombe Ovir honi and to kombe i 7.92.

This is the beginning of the eighteenth psalm.

I sal love the Lourd of lisse And in mine Lourd festnes min esse, And in fleming mn als so And in lesser out of wo k 7.93.

I will add another religious fragment on the crucifixion, in the shorter measure, evidently coeval, and intended to be sung to the harp.

Vyen i o the rode se Jesu nayled to the tre, Jesu mi lefman,* 7.94

Page 25

Ibunder bloe and blodi, An hys moder stant him bi, Wepand, and Johan: Hys bac wid scwrge iswungen, Hys side depe istungen, Ffor sinne and louve of man, Weil anti sinne lete An nek wit teres wete Thif i of love can l 7.95.

In the library of Jesus college at Oxford, I have seen a Norman-Saxon poem of another cast, yet without much invention or poetry m 7.96. It is a contest between an owl and a nightingale, about superiority in voice and singing; the decision of which is left to the judgment of one John de Guldevord n 7.97. It is not later than Richard the first. The rhymes are multiplied, and remarkably interchanged.

Ich was in one sumere dale In one snwe digele hale, I herde ich hold grete tale, An huleo 7.98 and one nightingale.

Page 26

That plait was stif I stare and strong, Sum wile softe I lud among. Another agen other sval I let that wole mod ut al. I either seide of otheres custe, That alere worste that hi wuste I hure and I hure of others songe Hi hold plaidung suthe stronge p 7.99.

The earliest love-song which I can discover in our lan|guage, is among the Harleian manuscripts in the British Museum. I would place it before or about the year 1200. It is full of alliteration, and has a burthen or chorus.

Blow northerne wynd, sent Thou me my suetynge; blow Northerne wynd, blou, blou, blou. Ich ot a burde in boure bryht That fully semly is on syht, Menskful maiden of myht, Feire ant fre to fonde. In al this wurhliche won, A burde of blod and of bon, Neverq 7.100 ʒete y nuster 7.101 non Lussomore in Londe. Blow, &c. With lokkess 7.102 lefliche and longe, With front ant face feir to fonde; With murthes monie mote heo monge That brid so breme in boure; With lossum eie grete and gode, Weth browen blissfoll undirhode, He that rest him on the rode That leflych lyf honoure. Blou,t 7.103 &c.

Page 27

Hire bire limmes liht, Ase a lantern a nyht, Hyr bleo blynkyth so bryht u 7.104. So feore heo is ant fyn, A suetly suyre heo hath to holde, With armes, shuldre as mon wolde, Ant fyngres feyre forte fold: God wolde hue were myn. Middel heo hath menskfull mall, Hire loveliche chere as cristal; Theyes, legges, fit, and al, Ywraught of the best; A lussum ladi lasteless, That sweting is and ever wes; A betere burde never was Yheryed with the heste, Heo ys dere worthe in day, Graciouse, stout, and gaye, Gentil, joly, so the jay, Workliche when she waketh, Maiden murgestw 7.105 of mouth Bi est, bi west, bi north, bi south, That nis ficle ne trouth, That such murthes maketh. Heo is corall of godnesse, Heo is rubie of riche fulnesse, Heo is cristal of clarnesse, Ant baner of bealtie, Heo is lilie of largesse, Heo is parnenke pronesse, Heo is salsecle of suetnesse, Ant ladie of lealtie,

Page 28

To lou that leflich ys in londe Ytolde as hi as ych understonde, &c x 7.106.

From the same collection I have extracted a part of another amatorial ditty, of equal antiquity; which exhibits a stanza of no inelegant or unpleasing structure, and approaching to the octave rhyme. It is, like the last, formed on alliteration.

In a fryhte as y con fare framede Y founde a wet feyr fenge to fere, Heo glystenide ase gold when hit glemed, Nes ner gom so gladly on gere, Y wolde wyte in world who hire kenede This burde bryht, ʒef hire wil were, Heo me bed go my gates, lest hire gremede, Ne kept heo non henynge here y 7.107.

In the following lines a lover compliments his mistress named Alysoun.

Bytween Mershe and Averile when spray beginneth to springe, The lutel fowl hath hyre wyl on hyre lud to synge, Ich libbem lonclonginge for semlokest of all thynge. He may me blysse bringe icham in hire banndonn, An hendy happe ichabbe yhent ichot from hevene it is me sent. From all wymmen mi love is lent and lyht on Alisoun, On hers here is fayre ynoh, hire browe bronne, hire eye blake, With lossum chere he on me lok with middel smal and welymake, Bote he me wolle to hire take, &c z 7.108.

The following song, containing a description of the spring, displays glimmerings of imagination, and exhibits some faint

Page 29

ideas of poetical expression. It is, like the three preceding, of the Norman Saxon school, and extracted from the same inexhaustible repository. I have transcribed the whole.

In May hit murgeth when hit dawes a 7.109 In dounes with this dueres plawes b 7.110, Ant lef is lyht on lynde; Blosmes brideth on the bowes, Al this wylde whytes vowes, So wel ych under-fynde. The thresteleuec 7.111 hym threteth so, Away is huere wynter do, When woderove syngeth ferly fere, And blyleth on huere wynter wele, That al the wode ryngeth; The rose rayleth hir rode, The leves on the lyhte wode Waxen all with will: The mone mandeth hire bleo The lilie is lossum to scho; The fengle and the fille Wowes this wilde drakes, Miles huere makes. As streme that still Mody moneth so doth mo. Ichott ycham on of tho For love that likes ille, The mone mandeth hire liht, When briddes syngeth breme, Deawes donneth the donnes Deores with huere derne ronnes, Domes forte deme, Wormes woweth under cloude, Wymmen waxith wondir proude,

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So wel hyt wol him seme Yef me shall wonte wille of on This weale is wole forgon Ant whyt in wode be fleme.

The following hexastic on a similar subject, is the product of the same rude period, although the context is rather more intelligible: but it otherwise deserves a recital, as it presents an early sketch of a favourite and fashionable stanza.

Lenten ys come with love to tonne, With blosmen and with briddes ronne, That al this blisse bryngeth: Dayes ezes in this dales Notes suete of nightingales, Vch foul songe singeth e 7.112.

This specimen will not be improperly succeeded by the fol|lowing elegant lines, which a cotemporary poet appears to have made in a morning walk from Peterborough on the blessed Virgin: but whose genius seems better adapted to descriptive than religious subjects.

Now skruketh rose and lylie flour, That whilen ber that suete savour In somer, that suete tyde; Ne is no quene so stark ne stour, Ne no luedy so bryht in bour That ded ne shal by glyde:Woso wol fleshye lust for-gon and hevene-blisse abyde On Jhesu be is thoht anon, that tharled was ys side f 7.113.

To which we may add a song, probably written by the same author, on the five joys of the blessed Virgin.

* 7.114

Page 31

Ase y me rod this ender day, By grene wode, to seche play; Mid herte y thohte al on a May. Sueteste of al thinge:Lithe, and ich on tell may al of that suete thinge g 7.115.

In the same pastoral vein, a lover, perhaps of the reign of king John, thus addresses his mistress, whom he supposes to be the most beautiful girl,

"Bituene Lyncolne and Lyn|deseye, Northampton and Lounde h 7.116."
.

When the nytenhale singes the wodes waxen grene, Lef, gras, and blosme, springes in Avril y wene. Ant love is to myn harte gon with one spere so kene Nyht and day my blod hit drynkes myn hart deth me tene i 7.117.

Nor are these verses unpleasing, in somewhat the same measure.

My deth y love, my lyf ich hate for a levedy shene, Heo is brith so daies liht, that is on me wel sene. Al y falewe so doth the lef in somir when hit is grene, Ʒef mi thoht helpeth me noht to whom schal I me mene? Ich have loved at this yere that y may love na more, Ich have siked moni syh, lemon, for thin ore, . . . my love never the ner and that me reweth sore; Suete lemon, thenck on me ich have loved the sore, Suete lemon, I preye the, of love one speche, While y lyve in worlde so wyde other nill I seche k 7.118.

Another, in the following little poem, enigmatically com|pares his mistress, whose name seems to be Joan, to various gems and flowers. The writer is happy in his alliteration, and his verses are tolerably harmonious.

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Ic hot a burde in a bour, ase beryl so bryght, Ase saphyr in selver semely on syht, Ase jaspel 7.119 the gentil that lemethm 7.120 with lyht, Ase gernetn 7.121 in golde and rubye wel ryht, Ase onycleo 7.122 he is on y holden on hyht; Ase diamand the dere in day when he is dyht: He is coral yend with Cayser and knyght, Ase emeraude a morewen this may haveth myht. The myht of the margaryte haveth this mai mere, Ffor charbocele iche hire chase bi chyn and bi chere, Hire rede ys as rose that red ys on ryse p 7.123, With lilye white leves lossum he ys, The primros he passeth, the penenke of prys, With alisaundre thareto ache and anys: q 7.124 Coynte as columbine such hirer 7.125 cande ys, Glad under gore in gro and in grys Heo is blosme upon bleo brihtest under bis With celydone ant sange as thou thi self sys, From Weye he is wisist into Wyrhale, Hire nome is in a note of the nyhtegale; In a note is hire nome nempneth hit non Who so ryht redeth ronne to Johon s 7.126.

The curious Harleian volume, to which we are so largely indebted, has preserved a moral tale, a Comparison between age and youth, where the stanza is remarkably constructed. The various sorts of versification which we have already seen, evidently prove, that much poetry had been written, and that the art had been greatly cultivated, before this period.

Herkne to my ron, As ich ou tell con, Of elde al hou yt ges.

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Of a mody mon, Hihte Maximion, Soth without les.
Clerc he was ful god, So moni mon undirstod. Nou herkne hou it wes t 7.127.

For the same reason, a sort of elegy on our Saviour's cru|cifixion should not be omitted. It begins thus:

I syke when y singe for sorewe that y se When y with wypinge bihold upon the tre, Ant se Jhesu the suete Is hert blod for-lete, For the love of me; Ys woundes waxen wete, Thei wepen, still and mete, Marie reweth me u 7.128.

Nor an alliterative ode on heaven, death, judgement, &c.

Middel-erd for mon was mad, Un-mihti aren is meste mede, This hedy hath on honde yhad, That hevene hem is haste to hede. Ich erde a blisse budel us bade, The dreri domesdai to drede, Of sinful sauhting sone be sad, That derne doth this derne dede, This wrakefall werkes under wede, In soule soteleth sone w 7.129.
That he ben derne done.

Many of these measures were adopted from the French chansons x 7.130. I will add one or two more specimens.

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On our Saviour's Passion and Death.

Jesu for thi muchele might Thou ʒef us of thi grace, That we mowe day and nyht Thenken of thi face. In myn hert it doth me god, When y thenke on Jhesu blod, That ran down bi ys syde; From is harte doune to ys fote, For ous he spradde is harte blod His wondes were so wyde y 7.131.

On the same subject.

Lutel wot hit any mon Hou love hym haveth y bounde, That for us o the rode ron, Ant boht us with is wonde; The love of him us haveth ymaked ound, And y cast the grimly gost to ground: Ever and oo, nyht and day, he haveth us in his thohte, He nul nout leose that he so deore boht z 7.132.

The following are on love and gallantry. The poet, named Richard, professes himself to have been a great writer of love|songs.

Weping haveth myn wonges wet, For wilked worke ant wone of wyt, Unblithe y be til y ha bet, Bruches broken ase bok byt: Of levedis love that y ha let, That lemeth al with luefly lyt, Ofte in songe y have hem set, That is unsemly ther hit syt.

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Hit syt and semethe noht, Ther hit ys seid in song That y have of them wroht, Y wis hit is all wrong a 7.133.

It was customary with the early scribes, when stanzas con|sisted of short lines, to throw them together like prose. As thus:

"A wayle whiyt as whalles bon | a grein in golde that godly shon | a tortle that min hart is on | in tonnes trewe | Hire gladship nes never gon | while y may glewe b 7.134."

Sometimes they wrote three or four verses together as one line.

With longynge y am lad | on molde y waxe mad | a maide marreth me, Y grede y grone un glad | for elden y am ad | that semly for te see. Levedi thou rewe me | to routhe thou havest me rad | be bote of that y bad | my lyf is long on the c 7.135.

Again,

Most i rydden by rybbes dale | widle wymmen for te wale | ant welde wreek ich wolde: Founde were the feirest on | that ever was mad of blod ant bon | in boure best with bolde d 7.136.

This mode of writing is not uncommon in antient manu|scripts of French poetry. And some critics may be inclined to suspect, that the verses which we call Alexandrine, acci|dentally assumed their form merely from the practice of ab|surd transcribers, who frugally chose to fill their pages to the extremity, and violated the metrical structure for the sake

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of saving their vellum. It is certain, that the common stanza of four short lines may be reduced into two Alexandrines, and on the contrary. I have before observed, that the Saxon poem cited by Hickes, consisting of one hundred and ninety one stanzas, is written in stanzas in the Bodleian, and in Alexandrines in the Trinity manuscript at Cambridge. How it came originally from the poet I will not pretend to de|termine.

Our early poetry often appears in satirical pieces on the established and eminent professions. And the writers, as we have already seen, succeeded not amiss when they cloathed their satire in allegory. But nothing can be conceived more scurrilous and illiberal than their satires when they descend to mere invective. In the British Museum, among other ex|amples which I could mention, we have a satirical ballad on the lawyers e 7.137, and another on the clergy, or rather some par|ticular bishop. The latter begins thus:

Hyrd-men hatieth ant vch mones hyne, For ever uch a parosshe heo polketh in pyne Ant clastreth wyf heore celle: Nou wol vch fol clerc that is fayly Wend to the bysshop ant bugge bayly, Nys no wyt in is nolle f 7.138.

The elder French poetry abounds in allegorical satire: and I doubt not that the author of the satire on the monastic profession, cited above, copied some French satire on the subject. Satire was one species of the poetry of the Proven|cial troubadours. Anselm Fayditt a troubadour of the ele|venth century, who will again be mentioned, wrote a sort of satirical drama called the HERESY of the FATHERS, HERE|GIA DEL PREYRES, a ridicule on the council which con|demned the Albigenses. The papal legates often fell under

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the lash of these poets; whose favour they were obliged to court, but in vain, by the promise of ample gratuities g 7.139. Hugues de Bercy, a French monk, wrote in the twelfth cen|tury a very lively and severe satire; in which no person, not even himself, was spared, and which he called the BIBLE, as containing nothing but truth h 7.140.

In the Harleian manuscripts I find an ancient French poem, yet respecting England, which is a humorous pane|gyric on a new religious order called LE ORDRE DE BEL EYSE. This is the exordium.

Qui vodra a moi entendre Oyr purra e aprendre L'estoyre de un ORDRE NOVEL Qe mout est delitous bel.

The poet ingeniously feigns, that his new monastic order consists of the most eminent nobility and gentry of both sexes, who inhabit the monasteries assigned to it promiscu|ously; and that no person is excluded from this establish|ment who can support the rank of a gentleman. They are bound by their statutes to live in perpetual idleness and lux|ury: and the satyrist refers them for a pattern or rule of prac|tice in these important articles, to the monasteries of Sem|pringham in Lincolnshire, Beverley in Yorkshire, the Knights Hospitalers, and many other religious orders then flourish|ing in England i 7.141.

When we consider the feudal manners, and the magnifi|cence of our Norman ancestors, their love of military glory, the enthusiasm with which they engaged in the crusades, and the wonders to which they must have been familiarised from those eastern enterprises, we naturally suppose, what will hereafter be more particularly proved, that their retinues

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abounded with minstrels and harpers, and that their chief entertainment was to listen to the recital of romantic and martial adventures. But I have been much disappointed in my searches after the metrical tales which must have pre|vailed in their times. Most of those old heroic songs are perished, together with the stately castles in whose halls they were sung. Yet they are not so totally lost as we may be apt to imagine. Many of them still partly exist in the old English metrical romances, which will be mentioned in their proper places; yet divested of their original form, polished in their style, adorned with new incidents, successively mo|dernised by repeated transcription and recitation, and retain|ing little more than the outlines of the original composition. This has not been the case of the legendary and other reli|gious poems written soon after the conquest, manuscripts of which abound in our libraries. From the nature of their subject they were less popular and common; and being less frequently recited, became less liable to perpetual innovation or alteration.

The most antient English metrical romance which I can discover, is entitled the GESTE OF KING HORN. It was evi|dently written after the crusades had begun, is mentioned by Chaucer k 7.142, and probably still remains in its original state. I will first give the substance of the story, and afterwards add some specimens of the composition. But I must premise, that this story occurs in very old French metre in the manu|scripts of the British Museum l 7.143, so that probably it is a translation: a circumstance which will throw light on an argument pursued hereafter, proving that most of our me|trical romances are translated from the French.

Mury, king of the Saracens, lands in the kingdom of Sud|dene, where he kills the king named Allof. The queen, Godylt, escapes; but Mury seizes on her son Horne, a beautiful

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youth aged fiteen years, and puts him into a galley, with two of his play-fellows, Achulph and Fykenyld: the vessel being driven on the coast of the kingdom of West|nesse, the young prince is found by Aylmar king of that country, brought to court, and delivered to Athelbrus his steward, to be educated in hawking, harping, tilting, and other courtly accomplishments. Here the princess Rymenild falls in love with him, declares her passion, and is betrothed. Horne, in consequence of this engagement, leaves the princess for seven years; to demonstrate, according to the ritual of chivalry, that by seeking and accomplishing dan|gerous enterprises he deserved her affection. He proves a most valorous and invincible knight: and at the end of seven years, having killed king Mury, recovered his father's king|dom, and atchieved many signal exploits, recovers the prin|cess Rymenild from the hands of his treacherous knight and companion Fykenyld; carries her in triumph to his own country, and there reigns with her in great splendor and prosperity. The poem itself begins and proceeds thus:

Alle heo ben blythe, that to my songe ylythe m 7.144: A songe yet ulle ou singe of Alloff the god kynge, Kynge he was by weste the whiles hit y leste; And Godylt his gode quene, no feyrore myhte bene, Ant huere sone hihte Horne, feyrore childe ne myhte be borne: For reyne ne myhte by ryne ne sonne myhte shine Feyror childe than he was, bryht so ever eny glas, So whyte so eny lilye floure, so rose red was his colour; He was feyre ant eke bold, and of fyfteene wynter old, This non his yliche in none kinges ryche. Tueye ferenn 7.145 he hadde, that he with him ladde, Al rychemenne sonne, and al suyth feyre gromes, Weth hem forte pley anusteo 7.146 he loved tueye,

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That on was hoten Achulph child, and that other Ffykenild, Aculph was the best, and Ffykenyld the werste, Yt was upon a somersday also, as ich one telle may, Allof the gode kynge rode upon his pleying, Bi the se side, there he was woned to ride; With him ne ryde bot tuo, at to felde hue were tho: He fond bi the stronde, aryved on is lond, Shipes systene of Sarazins kene: He asked what hue sohten other on his lond brohten.

But I hasten to that part of the story where prince Horne appears at the court of the king of Westnesse.

The kyng com into hall, among his knyghtes alle, Forth he cleped Athelbrus, his stewarde, him seyde thus: "Steward tal thou here my fundling for to lere, "Of some mystere of woode and of ryvere p 7.147, "And toggen othe harpe with is nayles sharpe q 7.148, "And teche at the listes that thou ever wistes, "Byfore me to kerven, and of my course to serven r 7.149,

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"Ant his feren devyse without other surmise; "Horne-childe, thou understond, teche hym of harpe and songe." Athelbrus gon leren Horne and hyse feren; Horne mid herte laghte al that mon hym taghte, Within court and withoute, and overall aboute, Lovede men Horne-child, and most him loved Ymenild The kinges owne dothter, for he was in hire thohte, Hire loved him in hire mod, for he was faire and eke gode, And that tyne ne dorste at worde and myd hem spek ner a worde, Ne in the halle, amonge the knyhtes alle, Hyre sorewe and hire payne nolde never fayne, Bi daye ne bi nyhte for here speke ne myhte, With Horne that was so feir and fre, tho hue ne myhte with him be; In herte hue had care and wo, and thus hire bihote hire tho: Hue sende hyre sonde Athelbrus to honde, That he come here to, and also childe Horne do, In to hire boure, for hue bigon to loure, And the sonds 7.150 sayde, that seek was the mayde, And bed hym quyke for hue nis non blyke. The stewarde was in huerte wo, for he wist whit he shulde do That Rymenyld bysohte gret wonder him thohte; About Horne he yinge to boure forte bringe, He thohte en his mode hit nes for none gode; He toke with him another, Athulph Horne's brother t 7.151, "Athulph, quoth he, ryht anon thou shalt with me to boure gon, "To speke with Rymenyld stille, and to wyte hire wille, "Thou art Horne's yliche, thou shalt hire by suyke, "Sore me adrede that hire wil Horne mys rede." Athelbrus and Athulf tho to hire boure both ygo,

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Upon Athulf childe Rymenilde con wox wilde, Hue wende Horne it were, that hue hadde there; Hue setten adown stille, and seyden hire wille, In her armes tweye Athulf she con leye, "Horne, quoth heo, wellong I have lovede thee strong, "Thou shalt thy truth plyht in myne honde with ryht, "Me to spouse welde and iche the loverde to helde." "So stille so hit were, Achulf seide in her ere, "Ne tel thou no more speche may y the byseche "Thi tale—thou linne, for Horne his nout his ynne, &c."

At length the princess finds she has been deceived, the steward is severely reprimanded, and prince Horne is brought to her chamber; when, says the poet,

Of is fayre syhte al that boure gan lyhte u 7.152.

It is the force of the story in these pieces that chiefly en|gages our attention. The minstrels had no idea of conduct|ing and describing a delicate situation. The general manners were gross, and the arts of writing unknown. Yet this simplicity sometimes pleases more than the most artificial touches. In the mean time, the pictures of antient manners presented by these early writers, strongly interest the ima|gination: especially as having the same uncommon merit with the pictures of manners in Homer, that of being founded in truth and reality, and actually painted from the life. To talk of the grossness and absurdity of such manners is little to the purpose; the poet is only concerned in the justness and faithfulness of the representation.

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SECT. II.

HITHERTO we have been engaged in examining the state of our poetry from the conquest to the year 1200, or rather afterwards. It will appear to have made no very rapid improvement from that period. Yet as we proceed, we shall find the language losing much of its antient barba|rism and obscurity, and approaching more nearly to the dialect of modern times.

In the latter end of the reign of Henry the third, a poem occurs, the date of which may be determined with some degree of certainty. It is a satirical song, or ballad, written by one of the adherents of Simon de Montfort earl of Lei|cester, a powerful baron, soon after the battle of Lewes, which was fought in the year 1264, and proved very fatal to the interests of the king. In this decisive action, Richard king of the Romans, his brother Henry the third, and prince Edward, with many others of the royal party, were taken prisoners.

I.
Sitteth alle stille, ant herkeneth to me: The kynge of Alemaigne a 8.1, bi mi leaute b 8.2, Thritti thousent pound askede he For te make the peesc 8.3 in the countre d 8.4, And so so he dude more. Richard, thahe 8.5 thou be ever tricchard f 8.6, Tricthen shall thou never more.

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II.
Richard of Alemaigne, whil that he was kying, He spende al is tresour opon swyvyng, Haveth he nout of Walingford oferlyng g 8.7, Let him habbe, ase he brew, bale to dryng h 8.8, Maugre Wyndesore i 8.9. Richard, thah thou, &c,
III.
The kyng of Alemaigne wende do ful wel k 8.10, He saisede the mulne for a castel l 8.11, With harem 8.12 sharpe werdes he grounde the stel, He wende that the sayles were mangonel n 8.13 To help Wyndesore. Richard, thah thou, &c.
IV.
The kyng of Alemaigne gederedeo 8.14 ys ost, Makede hym a castel of a mulne post p 8.15,

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Wende with is prude q 8.16, ant is muckele bost, Brohte from Almayne mony sori gost r 8.17 To store Wyndesore. Richard, thah thou, &c.
V.
By god that is aboven ous he dude muche synne, That let passen over see the erl of Warynne s 8.18: He hath robbed Engelond, the mores, ant the fenne, The gold, ant the selver, and y-boren henne, For love of Wyndesore. Richard, thah thou, &c.
VI.
Syre Simonde de Mountfort hath suore bi ys chyn, Hevedet 8.19 he nou here the erle of Waryn, Shuld he never more come to is yn u 8.20, Ne with shelde, ne with spere, ne with other gyn w 8.21, To help of Wyndesore: Richard, thah thou, &c.
VII.
Syre Simond de Montfort hath swore bi ys fot, Hevede he nou here Sire Hue of de Bigot,

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Al he shulde grante hen twelfemonth scot x 8.22 Shulde he never more with his sot pot, To help Wyndesore. Richard thah thou, &c

These popular rhymes had probably no small influence in encouraging Leicester's partisans, and diffusing his fc|tion. There is some humour in imagining that Richard supposed the windmill to which he retreated, to be a forti|fication; and that he believed the sails of it to be military engines. In the manuscript from which this specimen is tran|scribed, immediately follows a song in French, seemingly written by the same poet, on the battle of Evesham fought the following year; in which Leicester was killed, and his rebellious barons defeated y 8.23. Our poet looks upon his hero as a martyr: and particularly laments the loss of Henry his son, and Hugh le Despenser justiciry of England. He concludes with an English stanza, much in the style and spirit of those just quoted.

A learned and ingenious writer, in a work which places the study of the law in a new light, and proves it to be an entertaining history of manners, has observed, that this ballad on Richard of Alemaigne probably occasioned a statute against libels in the year 1275, under the title,

"Against slanderous reports, or tales to cause discord betwixt king and people z 8.24."
That this spirit was growing to an extra|vagance which deserved to be checked, we shall have occasion to bring further proofs.

I must not pass over the reign of Henry the third, who died in the year 1272, without observing, that this monarch

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entertained in his court a poet with a certain salary, whose name was Henry de Avranches a 8.25. And although this poet was a Frenchman, and most probably wrote in French, yet this first instance of an officer who was afterwards, yet with sufficient impropriety, denominated a poet laureate in the English court, deservedly claims particular notice in the course of these annals. He is called Master Henry the Versi|fier b 8.26: which appellation perhaps implies a different cha|racter from the royal Minstrel or Joculator. The king's treasurers are ordered to pay this Master Henry one hundred shillings, which I suppose to have been a year's stipend, in the year 1251 c 8.27. And again the same precept occurs under the year 1249 d 8.28. Our master Henry, it seems, had in some of his verses reflected on the rusticity of the Cornish men. This insult was resented in a Latin satire now remaining, written by Michael Blaunpayne, a native of Cornwall, and recited by the author in the presence of Hugh abbot of Westminster, Hugh de Mortimer o••••icial of the archbishop of Canterbury, the bishop elect of Winchester, and the bishop of Rochester e 8.29. While we are speaking of the Versifier

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of Henry the third, it will not be foreign to add, that in the thirty-sixth year of the same king, forty shillings and one pipe of wine were given to Richard the king's harper, and one pipe of wine to Beatrice his wife e 8.30. But why this gratuity of a pipe of wine should also be made to the wife, as well as to the husband, who from his profession was a genial cha|racter, appears problematical according to our present ideas.

The first poet whose name occurs in the reign of Edward the first, and indeed in these annals, is Robert of Glocester, a monk of the abbey of Glocester. He has left a poem o considerable length, which is a history of England in verse, from Brutus to the reign of Edward the first. It was evi|dently written after the year 1278, as the poet mentions king Arthur's sumptuous tomb, erected in that year before the high altar of Glastenbury church f 8.31: and he declares him|self a living witness of the remakably dismal weather which distinguished the day on which the battle of Evesham above|mentioned was fought, in the year 1265 g 8.32. From these and other circumstances this piece appears to have been composed about the year 1280. It is exhibited in the manuscripts, is cited by many antiquaries, and printed by Hearne, in the Alexandrine measure: but with equal probability might have been written in four-lined stanzas. This rhyming chronicle is totally destitute of art or imagination. The author has cloathed the fables of Geoffrey of Monmouth in rhyme, which have often a more poetical air in Geoffrey's prose. The

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language is not much more easy or intelligible than that of many of the Norman Saxon poems quoted in the preceding sec|tion: it is full of Saxonisms, which indeed abound, more or less, in every writer before Gower and Chaucer. But this ob|scurity is perhaps owing to the western dialect, in which our monk of Glocester was educated. Provincial barbarisms are naturally the growth of extreme counties, and of such as are situated at a distance from the metropolis: and it is probable, that the Saxon heptarchy, which consisted of a cluster of seven independent states, contributed to produce as many different provincial dialects. In the mean time it is to be considered, that writers of all ages and languages have their affectations and singularities, which occasion in each a peculiar phraseology.

Robert of Gloucester thus describes the sports and solem|nities which followed king Arthur's coronation.

The kyng was to ys paleys, tho the servyse was y do g 8.33, Ylad wyth his menye, and the quene to hire also. Vor hii hulde the olde usages, that men wyth men were By them sulve, and wymmen by hem sulve also there h 8.34. Tho hii were echone ysett, as yt to her stat bycom, Kay, king of Aungeo, a thousand knytes nome Of noble men, yclothed in ermyne echone Of on sywete, and servede at thys noble fest anon. Bedwer the botyler, kyng of Normandye, Nom also in ys half a vayr companye Of one sywytei 8.35 worto servy of the botelerye. Byvore the quene yt was also of al suche cortesye, Vorto telle al the noblye thet ther was ydo, They my tonge were of stel, me ssolde noght dure therto.

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Wymmen ne kepte of no kyngt as in druery k 8.36, Bote he were in armys wel yproved, and atte leste thrye l 8.37. That made, lo, the wymmen the chastore lyf lede, And the kyngtes the stalwordore m 8.38, and the betere in her dede. Sone after thys noble mete n 8.39, as ryght was of such tyde, The kynghts atyled hem aboute in eche syde, In feldys and in medys to prove her bachelerye o 8.40. Somme wyth lance, some wyth suerd, wythoute vylenye, Wyth pleyinge at tables, other atte chekere p 8.41, Wyth castynge, other wyth ssettinge q 8.42, other in some ogyrt manere. And wuch so of eny game adde the maystrye, The kyng hem of ys gyfteth dyde large cortysye. Upe the alurs of the castles the laydes thanne stode, And byhulde thys noble game, and wyche kyngts were god. All the thre hexte dawesr 8.43 ylaste thys nobleye In halles and in veldes, of mete and eke of pleye. Thys men com the verthes 8.44 day byvore the kynge there, And he gef hem large gyftys, evere as hii werthe were. Bisshopryches and cherches clerkes he gef somme, And castles and townes kyngtes that were ycome t 8.45.

Many of these lines are literally translated from Geoffry of Monmouth. In king Arthur's battle with the giant at

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Barbesfleet, there are no marks of Gothic painting. But there is an effort at poetry in the description of the giant's fall.

Tho grislych yal the ssrewe tho, that grislych was his bere, He vel doung as a gret ok, that bynethe ycorve were, That it thogte that al hul myd the vallynge ssok u 8.46.

That is,

"This cruel giant yelled so horribly, and so vehe|ment was his fall, that he fell down like an oak cut through at the bottom, and all the hill shook while he fell."
But this stroke is copied from Geoffry of Monmouth; who tells the same miraculous story, and in all the pomp with which it was perhaps dressed up by his favourite fablers.
"Exclamavit vero invisus ille; et velut quercus ventorum viribus eradi|cata, cum maximo sonitu corruit."
It is difficult to determine which is most blameable, the poetical historian, or the pro|saic poet.

It was a tradition invented by the old fablers, that giants brought the stones of Stonehenge from the most sequestered deserts of Africa, and placed them in Ireland; that every stone was washed with juices of herbs, and con|tained a medical power; and that Merlin the magician, at the request of king Arthur, transported them from Ireland, and erected them in circles on the plain of Amesbury, as a sepulchral monument for the Britons treacherously slain by Hengist. This fable is thus delivered, without decoration, by Robert of Glocester.

"Sire kyng, quoth Merlin tho, suche thynges y wis "Ne bethe for to schewe nogt, but wen gret nede ys, "For gef iche seid in bismare, other bute it ned were, "Sone from me he wold wende the gost, that doth me lere w 8.47:

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The kyng, tho non other nas, bod hym som quoyntise Bithinke about thilk cors that so noble were and wyse x 8.48. "Sire kyng, quoth Merlin tho, gef thou wolt here caste "In the honour of men, a worke that ever schal ylaste y 8.49, "To the hul of Kylarz 8.50 send in to Yrlond, "Aftur the noble stones that ther habbeta 8.51 lenge ystonde; "That was the treche of giandes b 8.52, for a quoynte work ther ys "Of stones al wyth art ymad, in the world such non ys. "Ne ther nys nothing that me scholde myd strengthe adoune cast. "Stode heo here, as heo doth there ever a wolde last c 8.53." The kyng somdele to lyghe d 8.54, tho he herde this tale, "How mygte, he seyde, suche stones so grete and so fale e 8.55, "Be ybrogt of so fer lond? And get mist of were, "Me wolde wene, that in this londe no ston to wonke nere," "Syre kyng, quoth Merlyn, ne make noght an ydel such lyghyng. "For yt nys an ydel noght that ich tell this tythyng f 8.56. "For in the farreste stude of Affric giands while fette g 8.57 "Thike stones for medycyne and in Yrlond hem sette, "While heo wonenden in Yrlond to make here bathes there, "Ther undir forto bathi wen thei syk were. "For heo wuld the stones wasch and ther enne bathe ywis. "For ys no ston ther among that of gret vertu nys h 8.58." The kyng and ys conseil raddei 8.59 the stones forto fette, And with gret power of batail gef any more hem lette

Page 53

Uter the kynges brother, that Ambrose hett also, In another name ychose was therto, And fifteene thousant men this dede for to do And Merlyn for his quointise thider went also k 8.60.

If any thing engages our attention in this passage, it is the wildness of the fiction; in which however the poet had no share.

I will here add Arthur's intrigue with Ygerne.

At the fest of Estre tho kyng sende ys sonde, That heo comen alle to London the hey men of this londe, And the levedys al so god, to ys noble fest wyde, For he schulde crowne here, for the hye tyde. Alle the noble men of this lond to the noble fest come, And heore wyves and heore dogtren with hem mony nome, This fest was noble ynow, and nobliche y do; For mony was the faire ledy, that y come was therto. Ygerne, Gorloys wyf, was fairest of echon, That was contasse of Cornewail, for so fair nas ther non. The kyng by huld hire faste y now, and ys herte on hire caste, And thogte, thay heo were wyf, to do folye atte last.

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He made hire semblant fair y now, to non other so gret. The erl nas not ther with y payed, tho he yt under get. Aftur mete he nom ys wyfe myd stordy med y now, And, with oute leve of the kyng, to ys contrei drow. The kyng sende to hym tho, to by leve al nygt, For he moste of gret consel habbe som insygt. That was for nogt. Wolde he nogt the kyng sende get ys sonde. That he by levede at ys parlemente, for nede of the londe. The kyng was, tho he nolde nogt, anguyssous and wroth. For despyte he wolde a wreke be he swor ys oth, Bute he come to amendement. Ys power atte laste He garkede, and wende forth to Cornewail faste. Gorloys ys casteles a store al a boute. In a strong castel he dude ys wyf, for of hire was al ys doute. In another hym self he was, for he nolde nogt, Gef cas come, that heo were bothe to dethe y brogt. The castel, that the erl inne was, the kyng by segede faste, For he mygte ys gynnes for schame to the oter caste. Tho he was ther sene nygt, and he spedde nogt, Igerne the contesse so muche was in ys thogt, That he nuste nen other wyt, ne he ne mygte for schame Telle yt bute a pryve knygt, Ulfyn was ys name, That he truste mest to. And tho the knygt herde this, "Syre, he seide, y ne can wyte, wat red here of ys, "For the castel ys so strong, that the lady ys inne, "For ich wene al the lond ne schulde yt myd strengthe wynne. "For the se geth al aboute, but entre on ther nys, "And that ys up on harde rockes, and so narw wei it ys, "That ther may go bote on and on, that thre men with inne "Mygte sle al the londe, er heo com ther inne. "And nogt for than, gef Merlyn at thi conseil were, "Gef any mygte, he couthe the best red the lere."

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Merlyn was sone of send, pleid yt was hym sone, That he schulde the beste red segge, wat were to done. Merlyn was sory ynow for the kynge's folye, And natheles, "Sire kyng, he seide, there mot to maistrie, "The erl hath twey men hym nert, Brygthoel and Jordan. "Ich wol make thi self gef thou wolt, thoru art that y can, "Habbe al tho fourme of the erl, as thou were rygt he, "And Olfyn as Jordan, and as Brithoel me." This art was al clene y do, that al changet he were, Heo thre in the otheres forme, the selve at yt were. Ageyn even he wende forth, nuste nomon that cas, To the castel heo come rygt as yt evene was. The porter y se ys lord come, and ys moste privey twei, With god herte he lette ys lord yn, and ys men beye. The contas was glad y now, tho hire lord to hire com And eyther other in here armes myd gret joye nom. Tho heo to bedde com, that so longe a two were, With hem was so gret delyt, that bitwene hem there Bi gete was the beste body, that ever was in this londe, Kyng Arthure the noble mon, that ever worthe understonde. Tho the kynge's men nuste amorwe, wer he was bi come, Heo ferde as wodemen, and wende he were ynome. Heo a saileden the castel, as yt schulde a doun anon, Heo that with inne were, garkede hem echon, And smyte out in a fole wille, and fogte myd here fon: So that the erl was y slave, and of ys men mony on, And the castel was y nome, and the folk to sprad there, Get, tho thei hadde al ydo, heo ne fonde not the kyng there. The tything to the contas sone was y come, That hie lord was y slawe, and the castel y nome. Ac tho the messinger hym sey the erl, as hym thogte, That he hadde so foule plow, ful sore hym of thogte, The contasse made som del deol, for no sothnesse heo nuste. The kyng, for to glade here, bi clupte hire and cust.

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"Dame, he seide, no sixt thou wel, that les yt ys al this: "Ne wost thou wel ich am olyue. Ich wole the segge how it ys. "Out of the castel stilleiche ych wende al in privete, "That none of myne men yt nuste, for to speke with the. "And tho heo miste me to day, and nuste wer ich was, "Heo ferden rigt as gydie men, myd wam no red nas, "And fogte with the folk with oute, and habbeth in this manere "Y lore th castel and hem slue, ac wel thou wost y am here. "Ac for my castel, that is ylore, sory ich am y now, "And for myn men, that the kyng and ys power slog. "Ac my power is now to lute, ther fore y drede sore, "Leste the kyng us nyme here, and sorwe that we were more. "Ther fore ich wole, how so yt be, wende agen the kynge, "And make my pays with hym, ar he us to schame brynge." Forth he wende, and het ys men that gef the kyng come, That hei schulde hym the castel gelde, ar he with strengthe it nome. So he come toard ys men, ys own forme he nom, And levede the erle's fourme, and the kyng Uter by com. Sore hym of thogte the erle's deth, ac in other half he fonde Joye in hys herte, for the contasse of spoushed was unbonde, Tho he hadde that he wolde, and paysed with ys son, To the contasse he wende agen, me let hym in a non. Wat halt it to talle longe: bute heo were seth at on, In gret loue longe y now, wan yt nolde other gon; And hadde to gedere this noble sone, that in the world ys pere nas, The kyng Arture, and a dogter, Anne hire name was i 8.61.

In the latter end of the reign of Edward the first, many officers of the French king having extorted large sums of

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money from the citizens of Bruges in Flanders, were mur|thered: and an engagement succeeding, the French army, commanded by the count du Saint Pol, was defeated; upon which the king of France, who was Philip the Fair, sent a strong body of troops, under the conduct of the count de Artois, against the Flemings: he was killed, and the French were almost all cut to pieces. On this occasion the follow|ing ballad was made in the year 1301 m 8.62.

Lusteneth, lordinges, bothe ʒonge and olde, Of the Freynshe men that were so proude ante bolde, How the Flemmyshe men bohten hem ante solde, Upon a Wednesday, Betere hem were at home in huere londe, Than force seche Flemishe bi the sea stronde Whare rouch moni Frensh wyf wryngeth hire honde, And syngeth welaway. The kynge of Ffrance made statutes newe, In the londe of Flaundres among false ant trewe, That the communs of Bruges ful sore can arewe, And seiden among hem, Gedere we us to gedere hardilyche at ene, Take we the bailifs by twenty and bi tene, Clappe we of the hevedes an oven o the grene, Ant cast we in the fen. The webbes ant the fullaris assembled hem alle, And makeden huere counsail in huere commune halle, Token Peter conyng huere kynge to call Ant be huere cheveteyne, &c n 8.63.

These verses shew the familiarity with which the affairs of France were known in England, and display the dispo|sition of the English towards the French, at this period. It

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It appears from this and previous instances, that political bal|lads, I mean such as were the vehicles of political satire, prevailed much among our early ancestors. About the pre|sent era, we meet with a ballad complaining of the exhor|bitant fees extorted, and the numerous taxes levied, by the king's officers o 8.64. There is a libel remaining, written indeed in French Alexandrines, on the commission of trayl-baston p 8.65, or the justices so denominated by Edward the first, during his absence in the French and Scotch wars, about the year 1306. The author names some of the justices or commis|sioners, now not easily discoverable: and says, that he served the king both in peace and war in Flanders, Gascony, and Scotland q 8.66. There is likewise a ballad against the Scots, trai|tors to Edward the first, and taken prisoners at the battles of Dunbar and Kykenclef, in 1305, and 1306 r 8.67. The licen|tiousness of their rude manners was perpetually breaking out in these popular pasquins, although this species of pe|tulance usually belongs to more polished times.

Nor were they less dexterous than daring in publishing their satires to advantage, although they did not enjoy the many conveniencies which modern improvements have afforded for the circulation of public abuse. In the reign of Henry the sixth, to pursue the topic a little lower, we find a ballad of this species stuck on the gates of the royal palace, severely reflecting on the king and his counsellors then sitting in par|liament. This piece is preserved in the Ashmolean museum, with the following Latin title prefixed.

"Copia scedule valvis domini regis existentis in parliamento suo tento apud Westmonas|terium mense marcii anno regni Henrici sexti vicesimo octavo."
But the antient ballad was often applied to better purposes: and it appears from a valuable collection of these little pieces,

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lately published by my ingenious friend and fellow-labourer doctor Percy, in how much more ingenuous a strain they have transmitted to posterity the praises of knightly he|roism, the marvels of romantic fiction, and the complaints of love.

At the close of the reign of Edward the first, and in the year 1303, a poet occurs named Robert Mannyng, but more commonly called Robert de Brunne. 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. He was merely a translator. He translated into English metre, or rather paraphrased, a French book, written by Grosthead bishop of Lincoln, entitled, MANUEL PECHE, or MANUEL de PECHE, that is, the MANUAL OF SINS. This translation was never printed s 8.68. It is a long work, and treats of the decalogue, and the seven deadly sins, which are illustrated with many legendary stories. This is the title of the translator.

"Here bygynneth the boke that men clepyn in Frenshe MANUEL PECHE, the which boke made yn Frenshe Robert Groosteste byshop of Lyncoln."
From the Prologue, among other circumstances, it appears that Robert de Brunne designed this performance to be sung to the harp at public entertainments, and that it was written or begun in the year 1303 t 8.69.

For lewedu 8.70 men I undyrtoke, In Englyshe tonge to make this boke: For many beyn of suche manere That talys and rymys wyle blethly w 8.71 here,

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In gamys and festys at the ale x 8.72 Love men to lestene trotonale y 8.73: To all crystyn men undir sunne, And to gode men of Brunne; And specialli al bi name The felaushipe of Symprynghame z 8.74, Roberd of Brunne greteth yow, In alle godenesse that may to prow a 8.75. Of Brymwake yn Kestevene b 8.76 Syxe myle besyde Sympryngham evene, Y dwelled in the priorye Fyftene yere in cumpanye, In the tyme of gode Dane Jone Of Camelton that now is gone; In hys tyme was I ther ten yeres And knewe and herde of hys maneres; Sythyn with Dan Jon of Clyntone Fyve wyntyr wyth hym gan I wone, Dan Felyp was maystyr in that tyme That I began thys Englyssh ryme, The yeres of grace fydc 8.77 than to be A thousand and thre hundred and thre. In that tyme turned y thys In Englysh tonge out of Frankys.

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From the work itself I am chiefly induced to give the fol|lowing specimen; as it contains an anecdote relating to bishop Grosthead his author, who will again be mentioned, and on that account.

Y shall you tell as I have herd Of the bysshop seynt Roberd, Hys tonamed 8.78 is Grosteste Of Lyncolne, so seyth the geste. He lovede moche to here the harpe, For mans witte yt makyth sharpe. Next hys chamber, besyde hys study, Hys harper's chamber was fast the by. Many tymes, by nightes and dayes, He hadd solace of notes and layes, One askede hem the resun why He hadde delyte in mynstrelsy? He answerde hym on thys manere Why he helde the harpe so dere. "The virtu of the harp, thurgh skyle and ryght, "Wyll destrye the fendyse 8.79 myght; "And to the cros by gode skeyl "Ys the harpe lykened weyl.— "Thirefore, gode men, ye shall lere, "When ye any glemanf 8.80 here, "To worshepe god at your power, "And Davyd in the sauter g 8.81. "Yn harpe and tabour and symphan gle h 8.82 "Worship God in trumpes ant sautre:

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"Yn cordes, yn organes, and bells ringyng, "Yn all these worship the hevene kyng, &c i 8.83."

But Robert de Brunne's largest work is a metrical chro|nicle of England k 8.84. The former part, from Aeneas to the death of Cadwallader, is translated from an old French poet called MAISTER WACE or GASSE, who manifestly copied Geof|fry of Monmouth l 8.85, in a poem commonly entitled ROMAN DE ROIS D'ANGLETERRE. It is esteemed one of the oldest of the French romances; and begun to be written by Eustace, sometimes called Eustache, Wistace, or Huistace, who finished his part under the title of BRUT D'ANGLETERRE, in the year 1155. Hence Robert de Brunne, somewhat in|accurately, calls it simply the BRUT m 8.86. This romance was

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soon afterwards continued to William Rufus, by Robert Wace or Vace, Gasse or Gace, a native of Jersey, educated at Caen, canon of Bayeux, and chaplain to Henry the second, under the title of LE ROMAN LE ROU ET LES VIES DES DUCS DE NORMANDIE, yet sometimes preserving its original one, in the year 1160 n 8.87. Thus both parts were blended, and became one work. Among the royal manuscripts in the British Museum it is thus entitled:

"LE BRUT, ke maistre Wace translata de Latin en Franceis de tutt les Reis de Brit|taigne o 8.88."
That is, from the Latin prose history of Geoffry of Monmouth. And that master Wace aimed only at the merit of a translator, appears from his exordial verses.
Maistre Gasse l' a translatè Que en conte le veritè.
Otherwise we might have suspected that the authors drew their materials from the old fabulous Armoric manuscript, which is said to have been Geoffry's original.

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Alhough this romance, in its antient and early manu|scripts, has constantly passed under the name of its finisher, Wace; yet the accurate Fauchett cites it by the name of its first author Eustace p 8.89. And at the same time it is extraor|dinary, that Robert de Brunne, in his Prologue, should not once mention the name of Eustace, as having any concern in it: so soon was the name of the beginner superseded by that of the continuator. An ingenious French antiquary very justly supposes, that Wace took many of his descrip|tions from that invaluable and singular monument the Tapestry of the Norman conquest, preserved in the treasury of the ca|thedral of Bayeux q 8.90, and lately engraved and explained in the learned doctor Du Carell's Anglo-Norman ANTIQUITIES. Lord Lyttleton has quoted this romance, and shewn that im|portant facts and curious illustrations of history may be drawn from such obsolete but authentic resources r 8.91.

The measure used by Robert de Brunne, in his translation of the former part of our French chronicle or romance, is exactly like that of his original. Thus the Prologue.

Lordynges that be now here, If ye wille listene and lere, All the story of Inglande, Als Robert Mannyng wryten it fand, And on Inglysch has it schewed, Not for the lered but for the lewed; For tho that on this lond wonn That the Latin ne Frankys conn, For to half solace and gamen In felauschip when tha sitt samen And it is wisdom forto wytten The state of the land, and hef it wryten,

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What manere of folk first it wan, And of what kynde it first began. And gude it is for many thynges, For to here the dedis of kynges, Whilk were foles, and whilk were wyse, And whilk of tham couth most quantyse; And whylk did wrong, and whilk ryght, And whilk mayntened pes and fyght. Of thare dedes sall be mi sawe, In what tyme, and of what law, I sholl yow from gre to gre, Sen the tyme of Sir Noe: From Noe unto Eneas, And what betwixt tham was, And fro Eneas till Brutus tyme, That kynde he tells in this ryme. For Brutus to Cadweladres, The last Briton that this lande lees. Alle that kynd and alle the frute That come of Brutus that is the Brute; And the ryght Brute is told no more Than the Brytons tyme wore. After the Bretons the Inglis camen, The lordschip of this land thai namen; South, and north, west, and east, That call men now the Inglis gest. When thai first among the Bretons, That now ere Inglis than were Saxons, Saxons Inglis hight all oliche. Thai aryved up at Sandwyche, In the kynges synce Vortogerne That the lande wolde tham not werne, &c. One mayster WACE the Frankes telles The Brute all that the Latin spelles,

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Fro Eneas to Cadwaladre, &c. And ryght as mayster Wace says, I telle myne Inglis the same ways, &c s 8.92.

The second part of Robert de Brunne's CHRONICLE, be|ginning from Cadwallader, and ending with Edward the first, is translated, in great measure, from the second part of a French metrical chronicle, written in five books, by Peter Langtoft, an Augustine canon of the monastery of Brid|lington in Yorkshire, who wrote not many years before his translator. This is mentioned in the Prologue preceding the second part.

Frankis spech is cald romance t 8.93, So sais clerkes and men of France. Pers of Langtoft, a chanon Schaven in the house of Bridlyngton On Frankis style this storie he wrote Of Inglis kinges, &c u 8.94.

As Langtoft had written his French poem in Alexan|drines w 8.95, the translator, Robert de Brunne, has followed him, the Prologue excepted, in using the double distich for one line, after the manner of Robert of Gloucester. As in the first part he copied the metre of his author Wace. But I will exhibit a specimen from both parts. In the first, he gives

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us this dialogue between Merlin's mother and king Vortigern, from Master Wace.

Dame, said the kyng, welcom be thow: Nedeli at the I mette witte how x 8.96 Who than gatey 8.97 thi sone Merlyn And on what maner was he thin? His moder stode a throwez 8.98 and thought Are schoa 8.99 to the kyng ansuerd ouht: When scho had standen a litelle wight b 8.100, Scho said, by Jhesu in Mari light, That I ne saugh hym never ne knewe That this knavec 8.101 on me sewe d 8.102. Ne I wist, ne I herd, What maner schap with me so ferd e 8.103. But this thing am I wole ograunt f 8.104, That I was of elde avenaunt g 8.105: One com to my bed I wist, With force he me haisedh 8.106 and kist: Alsi 8.107 a man I him felte, Als a man he me welte k 8.108; Als a man he spake to me. Bot what he was, myght I not se l 8.109.

The following, extracted from the same part, is the speech of the Romans to the Britons, after the former had built a wall against the Picts, and were leaving Britain.

We haf closed ther most nede was; And yf ye defend wele that pas

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With archersm 8.110 and with magnels n 8.111, And kepe wele the kyrnels; Ther may ye bothe schote and cast Waxes bold and fend you fast. Thinkes your faders wan franchise, Be ye no more in other servise: Bot frely lyf to your lyves end: We fro you for ever wende o 8.112.

Vortigern king of the Britons, is thus described meeting the beautiful princess Rouwen, daughter of Hengist, the Rosamond

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of the Saxon ages, at a feast of wassaile. It is a cu|rious picture of the gallantry of the times.

Hengest that day did his might, That alle were glad, king and knight, And as thei were best in glading, Andp 8.113 wele cop schotin knight and king, Of chambir Rouewen so gent, Be fore the king in halle scho went. A coupe with wyne sche had in hand, And hirq 8.114 hatire was weler 8.115 farand. Be fore the king on kne sett, And on hir langage scho him grett. "Lauerids 8.116 king, Wassaille," seid sche. The king asked, what suld be. On that langage the kingt 8.117 ne couthe. A knightu 8.118 ther langagew 8.119 lerid in youthe. Bregx 8.120 hiht that knight born Bretoun, That lerid the langage ofy 8.121 Sessoun. This Breg was the z 8.122 latimer. What scho said told Vortager.

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"Sir, Breg seid, Rowen yow gretis, "And king callis and lord yowa 8.123 letis. "This es ther custom and ther gest, "Whan thei are atte the ale or fest. "Ilk man that louis quare him think, "Salle say Wosseille, and to him drink. "He that bidis salle say, Wassaille, "The tother salle say again, Drinkhaille. "That sais Wosseille drinkis of the cop, "Kissandb 8.124 his felaw he gives it up. "Drinkheille, he sais, and drinke ther of, "Kissand him in bourd andc 8.125 skof." The king said, as the knight gand 8.126 ken, Drinkheille, smilnd on Rouewen. Rouwen drank as hire list, And gave the king,e 8.127 sine him kist. There was the first wassaille in dede, And that first of famef 8.128 gede. Of that wassaille men told grete tale, And wassaille whan thei were at ale. And drinkheille to tham that drank, Thus was wassailleg 8.129 tane to thank.
Feleh 8.130 sithes that maidini 8.131 ying, Wassailed and kist the king. Of bodi sche was rightk 8.132 avenant, Of fair colour, with swetel 8.133 semblaunt.

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Hirm 8.134 hatire fulle wele it semed, Mervelikn 8.135 the king scheo 8.136 quemid. Oute of messure was he glad, For of that maidin he wer alle mad. Drunkenes the feend wroght, Of thatp 8.137 paen was al his thoght. A meschaunche that time him led. He asked that paen for to wed. Hengistq 8.138 wild not draw a lite, Bot graunted him alle so tite. And Hors his brother consentid sone. Her frendis said, it were to done. Thei asked the king to gife hir Kent, In douary to take of rent. O pon that maidin his hert so cast, That thei askid the king made fast. I wene the king toke her that day, And wedded hirer 8.139 on paiens lay. Of prest was ther nos 8.140 benison No mes songen, no orison. In seisine he had her that night. Of Kent he gave Hengist the right. The erelle that time, that Kent alle held, Sir Goragon, that had the scheld, Of that gift no thingt 8.141 ne wist Tou 8.142 he was cast outew 8.143 with Hengist x 8.144.

In the second part, copied from Peter Langtoft, the at|tack of Richard the first, on a castle held by the Saracens, is thus described.

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The dikes were fulle wide that closed the castle about, And depe on ilka side, with bankis hie without. Was ther non entre that to the castelle gan ligge x 8.145, Bot a streiht kauce y 8.146; at the end a drauht brigge. With grete duble cheynes drauhen over the gate, And fifti armed suyenesz 8.147 porters at that yate. With slenges and magnelesa 8.148 thei kastb 8.149 to kyng Rychard Our cristen by parcelles kasted ageynward c 8.150. Ten sergeauns of the best his targe gan him bere That egre were and prest to covere hym and to were d 8.151. Himself as a geaunt the cheynes in tuo hew, The targe was his warant e 8.152, that non tille him threw. Right unto the gate with the targe thei yede Fightand on a gate, undir him the slouh his stede, Therfor ne wild he sesse f 8.153, alone into the castele Thorgh tham all wild presse on fote faught he fulle wele. And whan he was withinne, and fauht as a wilde leon, He fondred the Sarazins otuynne g 8.154, and fauht as a dragon, Without the cristen gan crie, allas! Richard is taken, Tho Normans were sorie, of contenance gan blaken, To slo downe and to stroye never wild thei stint Thei left for dede no noye h 8.155, ne for no wound no dynt, That in went alle their pres, maugre the Sarazins alle, And fond Richard on des fightand, and wonne the halle i 8.156.

From these passages it appears, that Robert of Brunne has scarcely more poetry than Robert of Glocester. He has however taken care to acquaint his readers, that he avoided

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high description, and that sort of phraseology which was then used by the minstrels and harpers: that he rather aimed to give information than pleasure, and that he was more studious of truth than ornament. As he intended his chronicle to be sung, at least by parts, at public festivals, he found it expedient to apologise for these deficiencies in the prologue; as he had partly done before in his prologue to the MANUAL OF SINS.

I mad noght for no disours k 8.157 Ne for seggers no harpours, Bot for the luf of symple men, That strange Inglis cannot ken l 8.158: For many it erem 8.159 that strange Inglis In ryme waten 8.160 never what it is. I made it not for to be praysed, Bot at the lewed men were aysed o 8.161.

He next mentions several sorts of verse, or prosody; which were then fashionable among the minstrels, and have been long since unknown.

If it were made in ryme couwce, Or in strangere or enterlacè, &c.
He adds, that the old stories of chivalry had been so disguised by foreign terms, by additions and alterations, that they

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were now become unintelligible to a common audience: and particularly, that the tale of SIR TRISTRAM, the noblest of all, was much changed from the original composition of its first author THOMAS.

I see in ong in sedgeying tale p 8.162 Of Erceldoune, and Kendale, Non tham says as thai tham wroght q 8.163, Andr 8.164 in ther saying it semes noght, That may thou here in Sir Tristram s 8.165; Over gestes t 8.166 it has the steem u 8.167, Over all that is or was, If men yt sayd as made Thomas.—

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Thai sayd in so quaynte Inglis That manyonew 8.168 wate not what it is.— And forsooth I couth nought So strange Inglis as thai wroght.

On this account, he says, he was persuaded by his friends to write his chronicle in a more popular and easy style, that would be better understood.

And men besought me many a time, To turn it bot in light ryme. Thai said if I in strange it turne To here it manyon would skurne x 8.169, For it are names fulle selcouthe y 8.170 That ere not used now in mouth.— In the hous of Sixille I was a throwe z 8.171 Danz Robert of Meltone,a 8.172 that ye knowe, Did it wryte for felawes sake, When thai wild solace make b 8.173.

Erceldoune and Kendale are mentioned, in some of these lines of Brunne, as old romances or popular tales. Of the latter I can discover no traces in our antient literature. As to the former, Thomas Erceldoun, or Ashelington, is said to have written Prophecies, like those of Merlin. Leland, from the Scalae Chronicon c 8.174, says, that

"William Banastre d 8.175, and

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Thomas Erceldoune, spoke words yn figure as were the prophecies of Merlin e 8.176."
In the library of Lincoln cathe|dral, there is a metrical romance entitled, THOMAS OF ER|SELDOWN, which begins with the usual address,
Lordynges both great and small.
In the Bodleian library, among the theological works of John Lawern, monk of Worcester, and student in theology at Oxford, about the year 1448, written with his own hand, a fragment of an English poem occurs, which begins thus:
Joly chepert [sheperd] of Askeldowne f 8.177.
In the British Museum a manuscript English poem occurs, with this French title prefixed,
"La Countesse de Dunbar, demanda a Thomas Essedoune quant la guere d' Escoce prendret fyn g 8.178."
This was probably our prophesier Tho|mas of Erceldown. One of his predictions is mentioned in an antient Scots poem entitled, A NEW YEAR'S GIFT, writ|ten in the year 1562, by Alexander Scott h 8.179. One Thomas Leirmouth, or Rymer, was also a prophetic bard, and lived at Erslingtoun, sometimes perhaps pronounced Erseldoun.

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This is therefore probably the same person. One who per|sonates him, says,

In ERSLINGTOUN I dwell at hame, THOMAS RYMER men call me.
He has left vaticinal rhymes, in which he predicted the union of Scotland with England, about the year 1279 i 8.180. For|dun mentions several of his prophecies concerning the future state of Scotland k 8.181.

Our author, Robert de Brunne, also translated into English rhymes the treatise of cardinal Bonaventura, his cotemporary l 8.182, De coena et passione domini et poenis S. Mariae Virginis, with the following title.

"Medytaciuns of the Soper of our Lorde Jhesu, and also of hys Passyun, and eke of the Peynes of hys swete Modyr mayden Marye, the whyche made yn Latyn Bonaventure Cardynall m 8.183."
But I forbear to give further extracts from this writer, who appears to have pos|sessed much more industry than genius, and cannot at pre|sent be read with much pleasure. Yet it should be remem|bered, that even such a writer as Robert de Brunne, uncouth and unpleasing as he naturally seems, and chiefly employed in turning the theology of his age into rhyme, contributed to form a style, to teach expression, and to polish his native tongue. In the infancy of language and composition, no|thing is wanted but writers: at that period even the most artless have their use.

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Robert Grosthead, bishop of Lincoln n 8.184, who died in 1253, is said in some verses of Robert de Brunne, quoted above, to have been fond of the metre and music of the minstrels. He was most attached to the French minstrels, in whose lan|guage he has left a poem, never printed, of some length. This was probably translated into English rhyme about the reign of Edward the first. Nor is it quite improbable, if the translation was made at this period, that the translator was Robert de Brunne; especially as he translated another of Grosthead's pieces. It is called by Leland Chateau d'Amour o 8.185. But in one of the Bodleian manuscripts of this book we have the following title, Romance par Mestre Robert Grosseteste p 8.186. In another it is called, Ce est la vie de D. Jhu de sa humanite fet a ordine de Saint Robert Grosseteste ke fut eveque de Nichole q 8.187. And in this copy, a very curious apology to the clergy is prefixed to the poem, for the language in which it is writ|ten r 8.188.

"Et quamvis lingua romana [romance] coram CLE|RICIS SAPOREM SUAVITATIS non habeat, tamen pro laicis qui minus intelligunt opusculum illud aptum est s 8.189."
This piece professes to treat of the creation, the redemption, the day of judgment, the joys of heaven, and the torments of hell: but the whole is a religious allegory, and under the ideas of chivalry the fundamental articles of christian belief are represented. It has the air of a system of divinity written

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by a troubadour. The poet, in describing the advent of Christ, supposes that he entered into a magnificent castle, which is the body of the immaculate virgin. The structure of this castle is conceived with some imagination, and drawn with the pencil of romance. The poem begins with these lines.

Ki pense ben, ben peut dire: Sanz penser ne poet suffise: De nul bon oure commencer Deu nos dont de li penser De ki par ki, en ki, sont Tos les biens ki font en el mond.

But I hasten to the translation, which is more immediately connected with our present subject, and has this title.

"Her bygenet a tretys that ys yclept CASTEL OF LOVE that biscop Grosteyzt made ywis for lewde mennes byhove t 8.190."
Then follows the prologue or introduction.

That good thinketh good may do, And God wol help him thar to: Ffor nas never good work wrougt With oute biginninge of good thougt. Ne never was wrougt non vuelu 8.191 thyng That vuel thougt nas the biginnyng. God ffuder, and sone and holigoste That alle thing on eorthe sixtw 8.192 and wost, That one God art and thrillihod x 8.193, And threo persones in one hod y 8.194, Withouten end and bi ginninge, To whom we ougten over alle thinge,

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Worschepe him with trewe love, That kineworthe king art us above, In whom, of whom, thorw whom beoth, Alle the good schipes that we hire i seoth, He leve us thenche and worchen so, That he us schylde from vre fo, All we habbeth to help neode That we ne beth all of one theode, Ne i boren in one londe, Ne one speche undirstonde, Ne mowe we al Latin wite z 8.195 Ne Ebreu ne Grua 8.196 that beth i write, Ne Ffrench, ne this other spechen, That me mihte in worlde sechen. To herie god our derworthi drihte b 8.197, As vch mon ougte with all his mihte; Loft song syngen to god ʒerne c 8.198, With such speche as he con lerne: Ne monnes mouth ne be i dut Ne his ledened 8.199 i hud, To serven his god that him wrougte, And maade al the worlde of nougte. Of Englische I shal nir resun schowen Ffor hem that can not i knowen, Nouther French ne Latyn On Englisch I chulle tullen him. Wherefor the world was i wroht, Ther after how he was bi tauht,

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Adam vre ffader to ben his, With al the merthe o paradys To wonen and welden to such ende Til that he scholde to hevene wende, And hou sone he hit fu les And seththen hou for bouht wes, Thurw the heʒe kynges sone That here in eorthe wolde come, Ffor his sustren that were to boren, And ffor a prison thas was for loren And hou he made as ʒe schal heren That heo i cust and sauht weren And to wruche a castel he alihte, &c.

But the following are the most poetical passages of this poem.

God nolde a lihte in none manere, But in feir studee 8.200 and in clere, In feir and clene siker hit wes, Ther god almihti his in ches f 8.201 In a CASTEL well comeliche, Mucheg 8.202 and ffeire, and loveliche, That is the castell of alle floure, Of solas and of socour, In the mere he stont bi twene two, Ne hath he forlak for no fo: For the tourh 8.203 is so wel with outen, So depe i diched al abouten, That non kunnes asayling, Ne may him derven fer no thing; He stont on heiʒ rocke and sound, And is y planed to the ground,

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That ther may won non vueli 8.204 thing, Ne derve ne gynnes castyng; And thaug he be so lovliche, He is so dredful and hatcliche, To all thulke that ben his fon, That heo flen him everichon; Ffor smal toures that beth abouten, To witen the heige toure withouten, Sethek 8.205 beoth thre bayles withalle l 8.206, So feir i diht with strunge walle, As heo beth here after I write, Ne may no man them 8.207 feirschipe i wite, Ne may no tongue ne may hit telle, Ne thougt thincke, ne mouthe spelle: On trusti rocke heo stondeth fast, And with depe diches bethe bi cast, And the carnelsn 8.208 so stondeth upright, Wel I planed, and feir i dight: Seven barbicanes ther beth i wrouht With gret ginne al bi thouht o 8.209, And evrichon hath gat and toure, Ther never fayleth ne socoure. Never schal fo him stonde with That thider wold flen to sechen grith p 8.210. This castel is siker fair abouten, And is al depeynted withouten, With threo heowes that wel beth sene q 8.211; So is the foundement al grene,

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That to the rock fast lith. Wel is that ther murthe i sith, Ffor the greneschip lasteth evere, And his heuh ne leoseth nevere, Sethen abouten that other heug So is ynde so ys blu r 8.212. That the midel heug we clepeth ariht And schyneth so faire and so briht. The thridde heug an ovemast Over wrigeth al and so ys i cast That withinnen and withouten, The castel lihteth al abouten, And is raddore than eny rose schal That shunneth as hit barnds 8.213 were t 8.214. Withinne the castel is whit schinynge Sou 8.215 the snows that is snewynge, And casteth that liht so wyde, After long the tour and be syde, That never cometh ther wo ne woug, As swetnesse ther is ever i noug. Amydde w 8.216 the heige toure is springynge A well that ever is eorninge x 8.217 With four stremes that striketh wel, And erneth upon the gravel, And fulleth the duches about the wal, Much blisse ther is over al, Ne dar he seeke non other leche That mai riht of this water eleche.

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In y 8.218 thulke derworthi faire toure Ther stont a trone with much honour, Of whit yvori and feirore of liht Than the someres day when heis briht, With cumpas i throwen and with gin al i do Seven steppes ther beoth therto, &c. The ffoure smale toures abouten, That with the heige tour withouten, Ffour had thewes that about hire i seoth, Ffoure vertus cardinals beoth, &c. And z 8.219 which beoth threo bayles get, That with the carnels ben so wel i set, And i cast with cumpas and walled abouten That wileth the heihe tour with outen: Bote the inmost bayle i wote Bitokeneth hire holi maydenhode, &c. The middle bayle that wite ge, Bitokeneth hire holi chastite And sethen the overmast bayle Bitokeneth hire holi sposaile, &c. The seven kernels abouten, That with greot gin beon y wrought withouten, And witeth this castel so well, With arwe and with quarrel a 8.220, That beoth the seven vertues with wunne To overcum the seven deadly sinne, &c. b 8.221

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It was undoubtedly a great impediment to the cultivation and progressive improvement of the English language at these early periods, that the best authors chose to write in French. Many of Robert Grosthead's pieces are indeed in Latin; yet where the subject was popular, and not imme|diately addressed to learned readers, he adopted the Romance or French language, in preference to his native English. Of this, as we have already seen, his MANUEL PECHE, and his CHATEAU D' AMOUR, are sufficient proofs, both in prose and verse: and his example and authority must have had consi|derable influence in encouraging this practice. Peter Lang|toft, our Augustine canon of Bridlington, not only compiled the large chronicle of England, above recited, in French; but even translated Herbert Boscam's Latin Life of Thomas of Beckett into French rhymes c 8.222. John Hoveden, a native of London, doctor of divinity, and chaplain to queen Elea|nor mother of Edward the first, wrote in French rhymes a book entitled, Rosarium de Nativitate, Passione, Ascensione, Jhesu Christi d 8.223. Various other proofs have before occurred. Lord Lyttelton quotes from the Lambeth library a manuscript poem in French or Norman verse on the subject of king Der|mod's expulsion from Ireland, and the recovery of his king|dom e 8.224. I could mention many others. Anonymous French

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pieces both in prose and verse, and written about this time, are innumerable in our manuscript repositories f 8.225. Yet this fashion proceeded rather from necessity and a principle of convenience, than from affectation. The vernacular English, as I have before remarked, was rough and unpolished: and al|though these writers possessed but few ideas of taste and ele|gance, they embraced a foreign tongue, almost equally familiar, and in which they could convey their sentiments with greater ease, grace, and propriety. It should also be considered, that our most eminent scholars received a part of their education at the university of Paris. Another, and a very material circm|stance, concurred to countenance this fashionable practice of composing in French. It procured them readers of rank and distinction. The English court, for more than two hundred years after the conquest, was totally French: and our kings, either from birth, kindred, or marriage, and from a perpe|tual intercourse, seem to have been more closely connected with France than with England. It was however fortunate that these French pieces were written, as some of them met

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with their translators: who perhaps unable to aspire to the praise of original writers, at least by this means contributed to adorn their native tongue: and who very probably would not have written at all, had not original writers, I mean their cotemporaries who wrote in French, furnished them with models and materials.

Hearne, to whose diligence even the poetical antiquarian is much obliged, but whose conjectures are generally wrong, imagines, that the old English metrical romance, called RY|CHARDE CUER DE LYON, was written by Robert de Brunne. It is at least probable, that the leisure of monastic life pro|duced many rhymers. From proofs here given we may fairly conclude, that the monks often wrote for the minstrels: and although our Gilbertine brother of Brunne chose to relate true stories in plain language, yet it is reasonable to suppose, that many of our antient tales in verse containing fictitious adventures, were written, although not invented, in the reli|gious houses. The romantic history of Guy earl of Warwick, is expressly said, on good authority, to have been written by Walter of Exeter, a Franciscan Friar of Carocus in Cornwall, about the year 1292 g 8.226. The libraries of the monasteries were full of romances. Bevis of Southampton, in French, was in the

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library of the abbey of Leicester h 8.227. In that of the abbey of Glastonbury, we find Liber de Excidio Trojae, Gesta Ricardi Regis, and Gesta Alexandri Regis, in the year 1247 i 8.228. These were some of the most favorite subjects of romance, as I shall shew here|after. In a catalogue of the library of the abbey of Peterborough are recited, Amys and Amelion k 8.229, Sir Tristram, Guy de Burgoyne, and Gesta Osuelis l 8.230, all in French: together with Merlin's Pro|phecies, Turpin's Charlemagne, and the Destruction of Troy m 8.231. Among the books given to Winchester college by the foun|der William of Wykeham, a prelate of high rank, about the year 1387, we have Chronicon Trojae n 8.232. In the library of Windsor college, in the reign of Henry the eighth, were discovered in the midst of missals, psalters, and homilies, Duo libri Gallici de Romances, de quibus unus liber de ROSE, et alius difficilis materiae o 8.233. This is the language of the king's commissioners, who searched the archives of the college: the first of these two French romances is perhaps John de Meun's Roman de la Rose. A friar, in Pierce Plowman's Vi|sions, is said to be much better acquainted with the Rimes of

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Robin Hood, and Randal of Chester, than with his Pater-noster p 8.234. The monks, who very naturally sought all opportunities of amusement in their retired and confined situations, were fond of admitting the minstrels to their festivals; and were hence familiarised to romantic stories. Seventy shillings were expended on minstrels, who accompanied their songs with the harp, at the feast of the installation of Ralph abbot of Saint Augustin's at Canterbury, in the year 1309. At this mag|nificent solemnity, six thousand guests were present in and about the hall of the abbey q 8.235. It was not deemed an occur|rence unworthy to be recorded, that when Adam de Orleton, bishop of Winchester, visited his cathedral priory of Saint Swithin in that city, a minstrel named Herbert was intro|duced, who sung the Song of Colbrond a Danish giant, and the tale of Queen Emma delivered from the plough-shares, in the hall of the prior Alexander de Herriard, in the year 1338. I will give this very curious article, as it appears in an an|tient register of the priory.

"Et cantabat Joculator quidam nomine Herebertus CANTICUM Colbrondi, necnon Gestum Emme regine a judicio ignis liberate, in aula prioris r 8.236."
In an an|nual accompt-roll of the Augustine priory of Bicester in Oxfordshire, for the year 1431, the following entries relating to this subject occur, which I chuse to exhibit in the words of the original.
"DONA PRIORIS. Et in datis cuidam cithari|zatori in die sancti Jeronimi, viii. d.—Et in datis altri citharizatori

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in ffesto Apostolorum Simonis et Jude cognomine Hendy, xii d.—Et in datis cuidam minstrallo domini le Talbot infra natale domini, xii. d.—Et in datis ministrallis domini le Straunge in die Epiphanie, xx. d.—Et in datis duobus mi|nistrallis domini Lovell in crastino S. Marci evangeliste, xvi. d.—Et in datis ministrallis ducis Gloestrie in ffesto nativitatis beate Marie, iii s. iv d."
I must add, as it likewise paints the manners of the monks,
"Et in datis cuidam Ursario, iiii d. s 8.237"
In the prior's accounts of the Augustine canons of Maxtoke in Warwickshire, of various years in the reign of Henry the sixth, one of the styles, or general heads, is DE JOCULATORIBUS ET MIMIS. I will, without apology, produce some of the particular articles; not distinguishing between Mimi, Joculatores, Jocatores, Lusores, and Citharistae: who all seem alternately, and at different times, to have exercised the same arts of popular entertainment.
"Jocu|latori in septimana S. Michaelis, iv d.—Cithariste tempore na|talis domini et aliis jocatoribus, iv d.—Mimis de Solihull, vi d.—Mimis de Coventry, xx d.—Mimo domini Ferrers, vi d.—Lusoribus de Eton, viii d.—Lusoribus de Coventry, viii d.—Lusoribus de Daventry, xii d.—Mimis de Coventry, xii d.—Mimis domini de Asteley, xii d.—Item iiii. mimis domini de Warewyck, x d.—Mimo ceco, ii d.—Sex mimis domini de Clynton.—Duobus Mimis de Rugeby, x d.—Cuidam cithariste, vi d.—Mimis domini de Asteley, xx d.—Cuidam cithariste, vi d.—Cithariste de Coventry, vi. d.—Duobus citharistis de Coventry, viii d.—Mimis de Rugeby, viii d.—Mimis domini de Buckeridge, xx d.—Mimis domini de Stafford, ii s.—Lu|soribus de Coleshille, viii d. t 8.238"
Here we may observe, that

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the minstrels of the nobility, in whose families they were constantly retained, travelled about the county to the neigh|bouring monasteries; and that they generally received better gratuities for these occasional performances than the others. Solihull, Rugby, Coleshill, Eton, or Nun-Eton, and Co|ventry, are all towns situated at no great distance from the priory u 8.239. Nor must I omit that two minstrels from Coven|try made part of the festivity at the consecration of John, prior of this convent, in the year 1432, viz.

"Dat. duobus mimis de Coventry in die consecrationis prioris, xii d. w 8.240"
Nor is

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it improbable, that some of our greater monasteries kept minstrels of their own in regular pay. So early as the year 1180, in the reign of Henry the second, Jeffrey the harper received a corrody, or annuity, from the Benedictine abbey of Hide near Winchester x 8.241; undoubtedly on condition that he should serve the monks in the profession of a harper on public occasions. The abbies of Conway and Stratflur in Wales respectively maintained a bard y 8.242: and the Welsh mo|nasteries in general were the grand repositories of the poetry of the British bards z 8.243.

In the statutes of New-college at Oxford, given about the year 1380, the founder bishop William of Wykeham orders his scholars, for their recreation on festival days in the hall after dinner and supper, to entertain themselves with songs, and other diversions consistent with decency: and to recite poems, chronicles of kingdoms, the wonders of the world, together with the like compositions, not misbecoming the clerical character. I will transcribe his words.

"Quando ob dei reverentiam aut sue matris, vel alterius fancti cujus|cunque, tempore yemali, ignis in aula sociis ministratur; tunc scolaribus et sociis post tempus prandii aut cene, li|ceat gracia recreationis, in aula, in Cantilenis et aliis so|laciis honestis, moram facere condecentem; et Poemata, regnorum Chronicas, et mundi hujus Mirabilia, ac cetera

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que statum clericalem condecorant, seriosius pertractare a 8.244."
The latter part of this injunction seems to be an explication of the former: and on the whole it appears, that the Canti|lenae which the scholars should sing on these occasions, were a sort of Poemata, or poetical Chronicles, containing general histories of kingdoms b 8.245. It is natural to conclude, that they preferred pieces of English history: and among Hearne's manuscripts I have discovered some fragments on vellum c 8.246, containing metrical chronicles of our kings; which, from the nature of the composition seem to have been used for this purpose, and answer our idea of these general Chronicae regnorum. Hearne supposed them to have been written about the time of Richard the first d 8.247: but I rather assign them to the reign of Edward the first, who died in the year 1307. But the reader shall judge. The following fragment begins abruptly with some rich presents which king Athel|stan received from Charles the third, king of France: a nail which pierced our Saviour's feet on the cross, a spear with which Charlemagne fought against the Saracens and which some supposed to be the spear which pierced our Saviour's side, a part of the holy cross enclosed in crystal, three of the thorns from the crown on our Saviour's head, and a crown formed entirely of precious stones, which wer endued with a mystical power of reconciling enemies.

Ther in was closyd a nayle grete That went thorw oure lordis fete.

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Gyte 8.248 he presentyd hym the spere That Charles was wont to bere Agens the Sarasyns in batayle; Many swore and sayde saunfayle f 8.249, That with that spere smerte g 8.250 Our lorde was stungen to the herte. And a partyh 8.251 of the holi crosse In crystal done in a cloos. And three of the thornes kene That was in Cristes hede sene, And a ryche crowne of golde Non rycher kyng wer y scholde, Y made within and withowt With pretius stonys alle a bowte, Of eche manir vertu thry i 8.252 The stonys hadde the maystry To make frendes that evere were fone, Such a crowne was never none, To none erthelyche mon y wrogth Syth God made the world of nogth. Kyng Athelstune was glad and blythe, And thankud the kynge of Ffraunce swythe, Of gyfts nobul and ryche In crystiante was no hym leche. In his tyme, I understonde, Was Guy of Warwyk yn Inglonde, And ffor Englond dede batayle With a mygti gyande, without fayle; His name was hote Colbrond Gwy hym slough with his hond.

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Seven yere kyng Athelston Held this his kyngdome In Inglond that ys so mury, He dyedde and lythe at Malmesbury k 8.253. After hym regned his brother Edmond And was kyng of Ingelond, And he ne regned here, But unneth nine yere, Sith hyt be falle at a feste At Caunterburyl 8.254 a cas unwrest m 8.255, As the kyng at the mete sat He behelde and under that Of a theef that was desgyse Amonge hys knyghtes god and wise; The kyng was hesty and sterte uppe And hent the thefe by the toppe n 8.256 And cast hym doune on a ston: The theefe brayde out a knyfe a non And the kyng to the hert threste, Or any of his knightes weste o 8.257: The baronys sterte up anone, And slough the theefe swythe sone, But arstp 8.258 he wounded many one, Thrugh the fflesh and thrugh the bone:

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To Glastenbury they bare the kynge, And ther made his buryinge q 8.259. After that Edmund was ded, Reyned his brother Edred; Edred reyned here But unnethe thre yere, &c. After hym reyned seynt Edgare, A wyse kynge and a warre: Thilke nyghte that he was bore, Seynt Dunstan was glad ther fore; Ffor herde that swete stevene Of the angels of hevene: In the songe thei songe bi ryme, "Y blessed be that ylke tyme "That Edgare y bore y was, "Ffor in hys tyme schal be pas, "Ever more in hys kyngdome r 8.260." The while he liveth and seynt Dunston, Ther was so meche grete foyson s 8.261, Of all good in every tonne; All wyle that last his lyve, Ne lored he never fyght ne stryve.

* * *

The knyghtes of Wales, all and some Han to swery and othes holde, And trewe to be as y told, To bring trynge hym trewaget 8.262 yeare, CCC. wolves eche ʒere;

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And so they dyde trewliche Three yere pleyneverlyche, The ferthe yere myght they fynde non So clene thay wer all a gon,

* * *

And the kyng hyt hem forgat For he nolde hem greve, Edgare was an holi man That oure lorde, &c.

Although we have taken our leave of Robert de Brunne, yet as the subject is remarkable, and affords a striking por|traiture of antient manners, I am tempted to transcribe that chronicler's description of the presents received by king Athelstane from the king of France; especially as it contains some new circumstances, and supplies the defects of our fragment. It is from his version of Peter Langtoft's chro|nicle abovementioned.

At the feste of oure lady the A••••umpcion, Went the king fro London to Abindon. Thider out of France, fro Charles kyng of fame, Com the of Boloyn, Adulphus was his name, And the duke of Burgoyn Edmonde sonne Reynere. The brouht kynge Athelston present withouten pere: Fro Charles kyng sanz faile thei brouht a gonfaynoun u 8.263 That saynt Morice in batayle before the legioun; And scharp lance that thrilled Jhesu side; And a suerd of golde, in the hilte did men hide Tuo of tho nayles that war thorh Jhesu fte; Tachedw 8.264 on the croys, the blode thei out lete; And som of the thornes that don were on his heved, And a fair pece that of the croys leved x 8.265, That saynt Heleyn sonne at the batayle won

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Of the soudan of Askalone his name was Madan. Than blewe the trumpets full loud and full schille, The kyng com in to the halle that hardy was of wille: Than spak Reyner Edmunde sonne, for he was messengere, "Athelstan, my lord the gretes, Charles that has no pere; "He sends the this present, and sais, he wille hym bynde "To the thorhy 8.266 Ilde thi sistere, and tille alle thi kynde." Befor the messengers was the maiden brouht, Of body so gentill was non in erthe wrouht; No non so faire of face, of spech so lusty, Scho granted befor tham all to Charles hir body: And so did the kyng, and alle the baronage, Mikelle was the richesse thei purveied in hir passage z 8.267.

Another of these fragments, evidently of the same com|position, seems to have been an introduction to the whole. It begins with the martyrdom of saint Alban, and passes on to the introduction of Wassail, and to the names and division of England.

And now he ys alle so hole y fonde, As whan he was y leyde on grounde. And gyf ge wille nota 8.268 trow me, Goth to Westmynstere, and ye mow se. In that tyme Seynt Albon, For Goddys loveb 8.269 tholed martirdome, And xl. yere with schame andc 8.270 schonde Wasd 8.271 drowen oute of Englond. In that tymee 8.272 weteth welle, Cam ferst Wassayle and drynkehayl

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In to this lond, with owtef 8.273 wene, Thurghe a maydeg 8.274 brygh andh 8.275 schene. Sche wasi 8.276 cleput mayde Ynge. For hur many dothe rede and synge Lordyngysk 8.277 gent and free. This lond hath y hadde namys thre. Ferest hit was cleput Albyon, And sythl 8.278 for Brut Bretayne a non, And now Ynglond cleput hit ys, Aftir mayde Ynge y wysse. Thilke Ynge fro Saxone was come, And with here many a moder sonne. For gret hungure y understonde Ynge went oute of hure londe. And thorow leue of oure kyng In this land sche hadde restyng. As meche lande of the kyng schem 8.279 bade, As with a hole hyden 8.280 me mygth sprede. The kyngo 8.281 graunt he bonne. A strong castel sche made sone, And whan the castel was al made, The kyng to the mete sche p 8.282 bade. The kyng graunted here a none. He wyst not what thay wold done.

* * *

And sayde toq 8.283 ham in this manere, "The kyng to morow schal ete here. "He and alle hys men, "Everr 8.284 one of us and one of them,

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"To geder schal sitte at the mete. "And when thay have al most y ete, "I wole say wassayle to the kyng, "And sle hym with oute anys 8.285 leyng. "And loke that ye in this manere "Eche of gow sle hist 8.286 fere." And so sche dede thenne, Slowe the kyng and alle hys men. And thus, thorowgh hereu 8.287 queyntyse, This londe was wonne in this wyse. Sythw 8.288 a non sone anx 8.289 swythe Was Englondy 8.290 deled on fyve, To fyve kynggys trewelyche, That were nobyl and swythe ryche. That one hadde alle the londe of Kente, That ys free and swythe gente. And in hys lond bysshopus tweye. Worthy menz 8.291 where theye. The archebysshop of Caunturbery, And of Rochestore that ys mery. The kyng of Essex oa 8.292 renon He hadde to his portion Westschire, Barkschire, Soussex, Southamptshire. And ther to Dorsetshyre, All Cornewalle and Devenshire. All thys were of hysb 8.293 anpyre. The king hadde on his hond Five bysshopes starke and strong, Of Salussbury was that on.

As to the Mirabilia Mundi, mentioned in the statutes of New College at Oxford, in conjunction with these Poemata

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and Regnorum Chronicae, the immigrations of the Arabians into Europe and the crusades produced numberless accounts, partly true and partly fabulous, of the wonders seen in the eastern countries; which falling into the hands of the monks, grew into various treatises, under the title of Mira|bilia Mundi. There were also some professed travellers into the East in the dark ages, who surprised the western world with their marvellous narratives, which could they have been contradicted would have been believed c 8.294. At the court of the grand Khan, persons of all nations and religions, if they discovered any distinguished degree of abilities, were kindly entertained and often preferred..

In the Bodleian library we have a superb vellum manu|script, decorated with antient descriptive paintings and illu|minations, entitled, Histoire de Graunt Kaan et des MERVEILLES DU MONDE d 8.295. The same work is among the royal manu|scripts e 8.296. A Latin epistle, said to be translated from the Greek by Cornelius Nepos, is an extremely common manu|script, entitled, De situ et Mirabilibus Indiae f 8.297. It is from

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Alexander the Great to his preceptor Aristotle: and the Greek original was most probably drawn from some of the fabulous authors of Alexander's story.

There is a manuscript, containing La Chartre que Prestre Jehan maunda a Fredewik l' Empereur DE MERVAILLES DE SA TERRE g 8.298. This was Frederick Barbarossa, emperor of Ger|many, or his successor; both of whom were celebrated for their many successful enterprises in the holy land, before the year 1230. Prester John, a christian, was emperor of India. I find another tract, DE MIRABILIBUS Terrae Sanctae h 8.299. A book of Sir John Mandeville, a famous traveller into the East about the year 1340, is under the title of Mirabilia Mundi i 8.300. His Itinerary might indeed have the same title k 8.301. An English title in the Cotton library is,

"The Voiage and Travailes of Sir John Maundevile knight, which treateth of the way to Hierusaleme and of the MARVEYLES of Inde with other ilands and countryes."
In the Cotton library there is a piece with the title, Sanctorum Loca, MIRA|BILIA MUNDI, &c l 8.302. Afterwards the wonders of other countries

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were added: and when this sort of reading began to grow fashionable, Gyraldus Cambrensis composed his book De MIRABILIBUS Hiberniae m 8.303. There is also another De MI|RABILIBUS Angliae n 8.304. At length the superstitious curiosity of the times was gratified with compilations under the compre|hensive title of MIRABILIA Hiberniae, Angliae, et Orientalis o 8.305. But enough has been said of these infatuations. Yet the history of human credulity is a necessary speculation to those who trace the gradations of human knowledge. Let me add, that a spirit of rational enquiry into the topographical state of foreign countries, the parent of commerce and of a thou|sand improvements, took its rise from these visions.

I close this section with an elegy on the death of king Ed|ward the first, who died in the year 1307.

I.
Alle that beoth of huert trewe p 8.306 A stounde herkneth to my songe q 8.307, Of duel that Dethe has dihte us newe. That maketh me seke and sorewe amonge: Of a knyht that wes so stronge Of whom god hath done ys wille; Methunchethr 8.308 that Deth has don us wronge That hes 8.309 so sone shall ligge stille.

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II.
Al England ahtet 8.310 forte knowe: Of whom that song ys that ysynge, Of Edward kynge that ys so bolde, Gentu 8.311 al this world is nome con springe: Trewest mon of al thinge, Ant in werre ware and wise; For hym we ahte our hondenw 8.312 wrynge, Of cristendome he bare the pris.
III.
Byfore that oure kynge was ded He speke as mon that was in care "Clerkes, knyhts, barrons, he sed "Ycharge oux 8.313 by oure sware y 8.314 "That ye be to Englonde trewe, "Y deʒez 8.315 y ne may lyven na more; "Helpeth mi sone, ant crowneth him newe, "For he isa 8.316 nest to buen y-core.
IV.
"Iche biqueth myn hirte aryht, "That hit be write at mi devys, "Over the sea that Hueb 8.317 be diht, "With fourscore knyghtes al of pris, "In werre that buen war aut wys, "Agein the hethene for te fyhte, "To wynne the croize that lowe lys, "Myself ycholde gef thet y myhte.

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V.
Kyng of Fraunce! thou hevedest sunne c 8.318, That thou the counsail woldest fonde, To latted 8.319 the wille of kyng Edward, To wende to the holi londe; Thet oure kynge hede take on honde, All Engelond toe 8.320 ʒeme and wysse f 8.321, To wenden in to the holy londe To wynnen us hevericheg 8.322 blisse.
VI.
The messager to the pope com And seyede that our kynge was dede h 8.323, Ys i 8.324 owne honde the lettre he nom k 8.325, Ywis his herte wes ful gret: The pope himself the lettre redde, And spec a word of gret honour. "Alas! he seid, is Edward ded? "Of cristendome he ber the flour!"

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VII.
The pope is to chaumbre wende For dole ne mihte he speke na more; Ant aftur cardinales he sende That muche couthen of Cristes lore. Both the lassel 8.326 ant eke the more Bed hem both red ant synge: Gret deol men 8.327 myhte se thore m 8.328, Many mon is honde wrynge.
VIII.
The pope of Peyters stod at is masse With ful gret solempnete, Ther me cono 8.329 the soule blisse: "Kyng Edward, honoured thou be: "God love thi sone come after the, "Bringe to nde that thou hast bygonne, "The holy crois ymade of tre "So fain thou woldest hit have ywonne.
IX.
"Jerusalem, thou hast ilore "The floure of al chivalrie, "Now kyng Edward liveth na more, "Alas, that he yet shulde deye! "He wolde ha rered up ful heyge "Our baners that bueth broht to grounde: "Wel longe we may clepep 8.330 and crie, "Er we such a kyng have yfounde!"

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X.
Now is Edward of Carnarvan q 8.331, Kyng of Engelond al aplyht r 8.332; God lete hem ner be worse man Then his fader ne lasse of myht, To holden is pore man to ryht And understende good counsail, All Englond for to wysse and dyht Of gode knightes darhs 8.333 hym nout fail.
XI.
Thah mi tonge were mad of stel Ant min herte yzote of bras The godness myht y never telle That with kyng Edward was. Kyng as thou art cleped conquerour In vch battaile thou heedest prys, Gode bringe thi soule to the honeur That ever was and ever ys t 8.334.

That the pope should here pronounce the funeral pane|gyric of Edward the first, is by no means surprising, if we consider the predominant ideas of the age. And in the true spirit of these ideas, the poet makes this illustrious monarch's atchievements in the holy land, his principal and leading topic. But there is a particular circumstance alluded to in

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these stanzas, relating to the crusading character of Edward, together with its consequences, which needs explanation. Edward, in the decline of life, had vowed a second expedi|tion to Jerusalem: but finding his end approach, in his last moments he devoted the prodigious sum of thirty thousand pounds to provide one hundred and forty knights u 8.335, who should carry his heart into Palestine. But this appointment of the dying king was never executed. Our elegist, and the chroniclers, impute the crime of witholding so pious a legacy to the advice of the king of France, whose daughter Isabel was married to the succeeding king. But it is more probable to suppose, that Edward the second, and his profligate mi|nion Piers Gaveston, dissipated the money in their luxurious and expensive pleasures.

Page 109

SECT. III.

WE have seen, in the preceding section, that the cha|racter of our poetical composition began to be changed about the reign of the first Edward: that either fictitious adventures were substituted by the minstrels in the place of historical and traditionary facts, or reality disguised by the misrepresentations of invention; and that a taste for ornamental and even exotic expression gradually prevailed over the rude simplicity of the native English phraseology. This change, which with our language affected our poetry, had been growing for some time; and among other causes was occasioned by the introduction and increase of the tales of chivalry.

The ideas of chivalry, in an imperfect degree, had been of old established among the Gothic tribes. The fashion of challenging to single combat, the pride of seking dangerous adventures, and the spirit of avenging and protecting the fair sex, seem to have been peculiar to the northern nations in the most uncultivated state of Europe. All these customs were afterwards encouraged and confirmed by corresponding circumstances in the feudal constitution. At length the crusades excited a new spirit of enterprise, and introduced into the courts and ceremonies of European princes a higher degree of splendor and parade, caught from the riches and magnificence of eastern cities a 9.1. These oriental expeditions

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established a taste for hyperbolical description, and propagated an infinity of marvellous tales, which men returning from distant countries easily imposed on credulous and ignorant minds. The unparalleled emulation with which the nations of christendom universally embraced this holy cause, the pride with which emperors, kings, barons, earls, bishops, and knights strove to excel each other on this interesting occasion, not only in prowess and heroism, but in sumptuous equipages, gorgeous banners, armorial cognisances, splendid pavilions, and other expensive articles of a similar nature, diffused a love of war, and a fondness for military pomp. Hence their very diversions became warlike, and the martial enthusiasm of the times appeared in tilts and tournaments. These practices and opinions co-operated with the kindred superstitions of dragons b 9.2, dwarfs, fairies, giants, and en|chanters, which the traditions of the Gothic scalders had already planted; and produced that extraordinary species of composition which has been called ROMANCE.

Before these expeditions into the east became fashionable, the principal and leading subjects of the old fablers were the atchievements of king Arthur with his knights of the round table, and of Charlemagne with his twelve peers. But in the romances written after the holy war, a new set of champions, of conquests and of countries, were intro|duced. Trebizonde took place of Rouncevalles, and Godfrey of Bulloigne, Solyman, Nouraddin, the caliphs, the soul|dans, and the cities of Aegypt and Syria, became the favou|rite topics. The troubadours of Provence, an idle and un|settled race of men, took up arms, and followed their barons

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in prodigious multitudes to the conquest of Jerusalem. They made a considerable part of the houshold of the nobility of France. Louis the seventh, king of France, not only en|tertained them at his court very liberally, but commanded a considerable company of them into his retinue, when he took ship for Palestine, that they might solace him with their songs during the dangers and inconveniencies of so long a voyage c 9.3. The antient chronicles of France mention Legions de poetes as embarking in this wonderful enterprise d 9.4. Here a new and more copious source of fabling was opened: in these expeditions they picked up numberless extravagant stories, and at their return enriched romance with an infinite variety of oriental scenes and fictions. Thus these later wonders, in some measure, supplanted the former: they had the recommendation of novelty, and gained still more attention, as they came from a greater distance e 9.5.

In the mean time we should recollect, that the Saracens or Arabians, the same people which were the object of the crusades, had acquired an establishmnt in Spain about the ninth century: and that by means of this earlier intercourse, many of their fictions and fables, together with their lite|rature, must have been known in Europe before the chris|tian armies invaded Asia. It is for this reason the elder Spanish romances have professedly more Arabian allusions than any other. Cervantes makes the imagined writer of

Page 112

Don Quixote's history an Arabian. Yet exclusive of their domestic and more immediate connection with this eastern people, the Spaniards from temper and constitution were extravagantly fond of chivalrous exercises. Some critics have supposed, that Spain having learned the art or fashion of romance-writing, from their naturalised guests the Ara|bians, communicated it, at an early period, to the rest of Europ f 9.6.

It has ben imagined that the first romances were compos|ed in metre, and sung to the harp by the poets of Provence at fstival solemnities: but an ingenious Frenchman, who has made deep researches into this sort of literature, attempts to prove, that this mode of reciting romantic adventures was in high reputation among the natives of Normandy, above a century before the troubadours of Provence, who are ge|nerally supposed to have led the way to the poets of Italy, Spain, and France, commenced about the year 1162 g 9.7. If the critic means to insinuate, that the French troubadours acquired their art of versifying from these Norman bards, this reasoning will favour the system of those, who contend that metrical romances lineally took their rise from the historical odes of the Scandinavian scalds: for the Normans were a branch of the Scandinavian stock. But Fauchett, at the same time that he allows the Normans to have been fond of chanting the praises of their heroes in verse, expressly h 9.8

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pronounces that they borrowed this practice from the Franks or French.

It is not my business, nor is it of much consequence, to discuss this obscure point, which properly belongs to the French antiquaries. I therefore proceed to observe, that our Richard the first, who began his reign in the year 1189, a distinguished hero of the crusades, a most magnificent patron of chivalry, and a Provencial poet h 9.9, invited to his court many minstrels or troubadours from France, whom he loaded with honours and rewards i 9.10. These poets im|ported into England a great multitude of their tales and songs; which before or about the reign of Edward the se|cond became familiar and popular among our ancestors, who were sufficiently acquainted with the French language. The

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most early notice of a professed book of chivalry in England, as it should seem, appears under the reign of Henry the third; and is a curious and evident proof of the reputation and esteem in which this sort of composition was held at that period. In the revenue-roll of the twenty-first year of that king, there is an entry of the expence of silver clasps and studs for the king's great book of romances. This was in the year 1237. But I will give the article in its original dress.

"Et in firmaculis hapsis et clavis argenteis ad mag|num librum ROMANCIS regis k 9.11."
That this superb volume was in French, may be partly collected from the title which they gave it: and it is highly probable, that it contained the Romance of Richard the first, on which I shall enlarge be|low. At least the victorious atchievements of that monarch were so famous in the reign of Henry the second, as to be made the subject of a picture in the royal palace of Claren|don near Salisbury. A circumstance which likewise appears from the same antient record, under the year 1246.
"Et in camera regis subtus capellam regis apud Clarendon lambruscanda, et muro ex transverso illius camerae amo|vendo et hystoria Antiochiae in eadem depingenda cum DUELLO REGIS RICARDI l 9.12."
To these anecdotes we may add, that in the royal library at Paris there is,
"Lancelot du Lac mis en Francois par Robert de Borron, du commandement d' Henri roi de Angleterre avec figures m 9.13."
And the same manuscript occurs twice again in that library in three volumes, and in four volumes of the largest folio n 9.14. Which of our

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Henrys it was who thus commanded the romance of LAN|CELOT DU LAC to be translated into French, is indeed uncer|tain: but most probably it was Henry the third just men|tioned, as the translator Robert Borron is placed soon after the year 1200 o 9.15.

But not only the pieces of the French minstrels, written in French, were circulated in England about this time; but translations of these pieces were made into English, which containing much of the French idiom, together with a sort of poetical phraseology before unknown, produced various innovations in our style. These translations, it is probable, were enlarged with additions, or improved with alterations of the story. Hence it was that Robert de Brunne, as we have already seen, complained of strange and quaint English, of the changes made in the story of SIR TRISTRAM, and of the liberties assumed by his cotemporary minstrels in altering facts and coining new phrases. Yet these circumstances en|riched our tongue, and extended the circle of our poetry. And for what reason these fables were so much admired and encouraged, in preference to the languid poetical chro|nicles of Robert of Gloucester and Robert of Brunne, it is obvious to conjecture. The gallantries of chivalry were ex|hibited with new splendour, and the times were growing more refined. The Norman fashions were adopted even in Wales. In the year 1176, a splendid carousal, after the manner of the Normans, was given by a Welsh prince. This was Rhees ap Gryffyth king of South Wales, who at Christmas made a great feast in the castle of Cardigan, then

Page 116

called Aberteivi, which he ordered to be proclaimed through|out all Britain; and to

"which came many strangers, who were honourably received and worthily entertained, so that no man departed discontented. And among deeds of arms and other shewes, Rhees caused all the poets of Walesp 9.16 to come thither: and provided chairs for them to be set in his hall, where they should dispute together to try their cunning and gift in their several faculties, where great rewards and rich giftes were appointed for the overcomers q 9.17."

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Tilts and tournaments, after a long disuse were revived with superiour lustre in the reign of Edward the first. Roger earl of Mortimer, a magnificent baron of that reign, erected in his stately castle of Kenelwoth a Round Table, at which he restored the rites of king Arthur. He entertained in this castle the constant retinue of one hundred knights, and as many ladies; and invited thither adventurers in chivalry from every part of christendom r 9.18. These fables were there|fore an image of the manners, customs, mode of life, and favourite amusements, which now prevailed, not only in France but in England, accompanied with all the decora|tions which fancy could invent, and recommended by the graces of romantic fiction. They complimented the ruling passion of the times, and cherished in a high degree the fashionable sentiments of ideal honour, and fantastic fortitude.

Among Richard's French minstrels, the names only of three are recorded. I have already mntioned Blondell de Nesle. Fouqut of Marseilles, and Anslme Fayditt, many of whose compositions still remain, were also among the poets patronised and entertained in England by Richard. They are both celebrated and sometimes imitated by Dante and Petrarch. Fayditt, a native of Avignon, united the professions of music and verse; and the Provencials used to call his poetry de bon mots e de bon son. Petrarch is supposed to have copied, in his TRIUMFO DI AMORE, many strokes of high imagination, from a poem written by Fayditt on a similar subject: particularly in his description of the Palace of Love. But Petrarch has not left Fayditt without his due panegyric: he says that Fayditt's tongue was shield, helmet, sword, and spear s 9.19. He is likewise in Dante's Paradise. Fayditt was extremely profuse and voluptuous. On the

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death of king Richard, he travelled on foot for near twenty years, seeking his fortune; and during this long pilgrimage he married a nun of Aix in Provence, who was young and lively, and could accompany her husband's tales and sonnets with her voice. Fouquett de Marseilles had a beautiful person, a ready wit, and a talent for singing: these popular accomplishments recommended him to the courts of king Richard, Raymond count of Tholouse, and Beral de Baulx; where, as the French would say, il fit les delices de cour. He fell in love with Adelasia the wife of Beral, whom he cele|brated in his songs. One of his poems is entitled, Las com|planchas de Beral. On the death of all his lords, he received absolution for his sin of poetry, turned monk, and at length was made archbishop of Tholouse t 9.20. But among the many French minstrels invited into England by Richard, it is na|tural to suppose, that some of them made their magnificent and heroic patron a principal subject of their compositions u 9.21. And this subject, by means of the constant communication

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between both nations, probably became no less fashionable in France: especially if we take into the account the general popularity of Richard's character, his love of chivalry, his gallantry in the crusades, and the favours which he so libe|rally conferred on the minstrels of that country. We have a romance now remaining in English rhyme, which cele|brates the atchievements of this illustrious monarch. It is entitled RICHARD CUER DU LYON, and was probably trans|lated from the French about the period above-mentioned. That it was, at least, translated from the French, appears from the Prologue.

In Fraunce these rymes were wroht, Every Englyshe ne knew it not.
From which also we may gather the popularity of his story, in these lines.
King Richard is the beste w 9.22 That is found in any geste x 9.23.
That this romance, either in French or English, existed before the year 1300, is evident from its being cited by Robert of Gloucester, in his relation of Richard's reign.
In Romance of him imade me it may finde iwrite z 9.24.
This tale is also mentioned as a romance of some antiquity among other famous romances, in the prologue of a vo|luminous metrical translation of Guido de Colonna, attri|buted to Lidgate y 9.25. It is likewise frequently quoted by Robert

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de Brunne, who wrote much about the same time with Robert of Gloucester.

Whan Philip tille Acres cam litelle was his dede, The ROMANCE sais gret sham who so that pasz 9.26 wil rede. The ROMANCER it sais Richard did make a pele a 9.27.— The ROMANCE of Richard sais he wan the toun b 9.28.— He tellis in the ROMANCE sen Acres wonnen was How God gaf him fair chance at the bataile of Caifas c 9.29.— Sithen at Japhet was slayn fanuelle his stede The ROMANS tellis gret pas of his douhty dede d 9.30.— Soudan so curteys never drank no wyne, The same the ROMANS sais that is of Richardyn e 9.31. In prisoun was he bounden, as the ROMANCE sais, In cheynes and lede wonden that hevy was of peis f 9.32.—

I am not indeed quite certain, whether or no in some of these instances, Robert de Brunne may not mean his French original Peter Langtoft. But in the following lines he ma|niestly refers to our romance of RICHARD, between which and Langtoft's chronicle he expressly makes a distinction. And in the conclusion of the reign,

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I knowe no more to ryme of dedes of kyng Richard: Who so wille his dedes all the sothe se, The romance that men reden ther is propirte. This that I have said it is Pers sawe g 9.33. Als he in romanceh 9.34 lad ther after gan I drawe i 9.35.

It is not improbable that both these rhyming chroniclers cite from the English translation: if so, we may fairly sup|pose that this romance was translated in the reign of Ed|ward the first, or his predecessor Henry the third. Perhaps earlier. This circumstance throws the French original to a still higher period.

In the royal library at Paris, there is

"Histoire de Richard Roi d'Angleterre et de Maquemore d'Irlande en rime k 9.36."
Richard is the last of our monarchs whose atchievements were adorned with fiction and fable. If not a superstitious belief of the times, it was an hyperbolical invention started by the minstrels, which soon grew into a tradition, and is gravely recorded by the chroniclers, that Richard carried with him to the crusades king Arthur's celebrated sword CALIBURN, and that he presented it as a gift, or relic, of inestimable value to Tancred king of Sicily, in the year 1191 l 9.37. Robert of Brunne calls this sword a jewel m 9.38.
And Richard at that time gaf him a faire juelle, The gude swerd CALIBURNE which Arthur luffed so well n 9.39.

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Indeed the Arabian writer of the life of the sultan Saladin, mentions some exploits of Richard almost incredible. But, as lord Lyttelton justly observes, this historian is highly valuable on account of the knowledge he had of the facts which he relates. It is from this writer we learn, in the most authentic manner, the actions and negotiations of Richard in the course of the enterprise for the recovery of the holy land, and all the particulars of that memorable war o 9.40.

But before I produce a specimen of Richard's English ro|mance, I stand still to give some more extracts from its Prologues, which contain matter much to our present pur|pose: as they have very fortunately preserved the subjects of many romances, perhaps metrical, then fashionable both in France and England. And on these therefore, and their origin, I shall take this opportunity of offering some re|marks.

Many romayns men make newe Of good knightes and of trewe: Of ther dedes men make romauns, Both in England and in Fraunce; Of Rowland and of Olyvere, And of everie Dosepere p 9.41, Of Alysaundre and Charlemayne, Of kyng Arthur and of Gawayne; How they wer knyghtes good and courtoys, Of Turpin and of Oger the Danois. Of Troye men rede in ryme, Of Hector and of Achilles, What folk they slewe in pres, &c q 9.42.

And again in a second Prologue, after a pause has been made by the minstrel in the course of singing the poem.

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Herkene now how my tale gothe Though I swere to you no othe I wyll you rede romaynes none Ne ofr 9.43 Pertonape, ne of Ypomedon, Ne of Alisaunder, ne of Charlemayne, Ne of Arthur, ne of Gawayne, Ne of Lancelot du Lake, Ne of Bevis, ne of Guy of Sydrake s 9.44 Ne of Ury, ne of Octavian, Ne of Hector the strong man, Ne of Jason, neither of Achilles, Ne of Eneas, neither Hercules t 9.45.

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Here, among others, some of the most capital and favou|rite stories of romance are mentioned, Arthur, Charlemagne, the Siege of Troy with its appendages, and Alexander the Great: and there are four authors of high esteem in the dark ages, Geoffry of Monmouth, Turpin, Guido of Co|lonna, and Callisthenes, whose books were the grand repo|sitories of these subjects, and contained most of the tradi|tionary fictions, whether of Arabian or classical origin, which constantly supplied materials to the writers of ro|mance. I shall speak of these authors, with their subjects, distinctly.

But I do not mean to repeat here what has been already observedu 9.46 concerning the writings of Geoffry of Monmouth and Turpin. It will be sufficient to say at present, that these two fabulous historians recorded the atchievements of Char|lemagne and of Arthur: and that Turpin's history was artful|ly forged under the name of that archbishop about the year 1110, with a design of giving countenance to the crusades from the example of so high an authority as Charlemagne, whose pretended visit to the holy sepulchre is described in the twentieth chapter.

As to the Siege of Troy, it appears that both Homer's poems were unknown, at least not understood in Europe, from the abolition of literature by the Goths in the fourth cen|tury, to the fourteenth. Geoffry of Monmouth indeed, who wrote about the year 1160, a man of learning for that age, produces Homer in attestation of a fact asserted in his his|tory: but in such a manner, as shews that he knew little more than Homer's name, and was but imperfectly ac|quainted with Homer's subject. Geoffry says, that Brutus having ravaged the province of Acquitain with fire and sword, came to a place where the city of Tours now stands, as Homer testifies x 9.47. But the Trojan story was still kept alive

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in two Latin pieces, which passed under the names of Dares Phrygius and Dictys Cretensis. Dares's history of the de|struction of Troy, as it was called, pretended to have been translated from the Greek of Dares Phrygius into Latin prose by Cornelius Nepos, is a wretched performance, and forged under those specious names in the decline of Latin literature y 9.48. Dictys Cretensis is a prose Latin history of the Trojan war, in six books, paraphrased about the reign of Dioclesian or Constantine by one Septimius, from some Grecian history on the same subject, said to be discovered under a sepulchre by means of an earthquake in the city of Cnossus, about the time of Nero, and to have been composed by Dictys, a Cretan, and a soldier in the Trojan war. The fraud of discovering copies of books in this extraordinary manner, in order to infer from thence their high and indu|bitable antiquity, so frequently practised, betrays itself. But that the present Latin Dictys had a Greek original, now lost, appears from the numerous grecisms with which it abounds: and from the literal correspondence of many pas|sages with the Greek fragments of one Dictys cited by antient authors. The Greek original was very probably forged under the name of Dictys, a traditionary writer on the subject, in the reign of Nero, who is said to have been fond of the Trojan story z 9.49. On the whole, the work appears to

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have been an arbitrary metaphrase of Homer, with many fabulous interpolations. At length Guido de Colonna, a native of Messina in Sicily, a learned civilian, and no con|temptible Italian poet, about the year 1260, engrafting on Dares and Dictys many new romantic inventions, which the taste of his age dictated, and which the connection between Grecian and Gothic fiction easily admitted; at the same time comprehending in his plan the Theban and Argonautic stories from Ovid, Statius, and Valerius Flaccus a 9.50, compiled a grand prose romance in Latin, containing fifteen books, and entitled in most manuscripts Historia de Bello Trojano b 9.51. It was written at the request of Mattheo de Porta, arch|bishop of Salerno. Dares Phrygius and Dictys Cretensis seem to have been in some measure superseded by this improved and comprehensive history of the Grecian heroes: and from this period Achilles, Jason, and Hercules, were adopted into romance, and celebrated in common with Lancelot, Rowland, Gawain, Oliver, and other christian champions, whom they so nearly resembled in the extra|vagance of their adventures c 9.52. This work abounds with oriental imagery, of which the subject was extremely sus|ceptible. It has also some traites of Arabian literature.

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The Trojan horse is a horse of brass; and Hercules is taught astronomy, and the seven liberal sciences. But I forbear to enter at present into a more particular examination of this history, as it must often occasionally be cited hereafter. I shall here only further observe in general, that this work is the chief source from which Chaucer derived his ideas about the Trojan story; that it was professedly paraphrased by Lydgate, in the year 1420, into a prolix English poem, called the Boke of Troye d 9.53, at the command of king Henry the fifth; that it became the ground-work of a new compilation in French, on the same subject, written by Raoul le Feure chaplain to the duke of Burgundy, in the year 1464, and partly translated into English prose in the year 1471, by Caxton, under the title of the Recuyel of the histories of Troy, at the request of Margaret dutchess of Burgundy: and that from Caxton's book afterwards modernised, Shakespeare borrowed his drama of Troilus and Cressida e 9.54.

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Proofs have been given, in the two prologues just cited, of the general popularity of Alexander's story, another branch of Grecian history famous in the dark ages. To these we may add the evidence of Chaucer.

Alisaundres storie is so commune, That everie wight that hath discrecioune Hath herde somewhat of or al of his fortune f 9.55.

And in the House of Fame, Alexander is placed with Her|cules g 9.56. I have already remarked, that he was celebrated in a Latin poem by Gualtier de Chatillon, in the year 1212 h 9.57. Other proofs will occur in their proper places i 9.58. The truth

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is, Alexander was the most eminent knight errant of Gre|cian antiquity. He could not therefore be long without his romance. Callisthenes, an Olinthian, educated under Aris|totle with Alexander, wrote an authentic life of Alexander k 9.59. This history, which is frequently referred to by antient writers, has been long since lost. But a Greek life of this hero, under the adopted name of Callisthenes, at present exists, and is no uncommon manuscript in good libraries l 9.60. It is entitled, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. That is, The Life and Actions of Alexander the Macedonian m 9.61. This piece was written in Greek, being a translation from the Persic, by Simeon Seth, styled Magister, and protovestiary or wardrobe keeper of the palace of Antiochus at Constanti|nople n 9.62, about the year 1070, under the emperor Michael Ducas o 9.63.

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It was most probably very soon afterwards translated from the Greek into Latin, and at length from thence into

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French, Italian, and German p 9.64. The Latin translation was printed Colon. Argentorat. A. D. 1489 q 9.65. Perhaps before. For among Hearne's books in the Bodleian library, there is an edition in quarto, without date, supposed to have been printed at Oxford by Frederick Corsellis, about the year 1468. It is said to have been made by one Aesopus, or by Julius Valerius r 9.66: supposititious names, which seem to have been forged by the artifice, or introduced through the igno|rance, of scribes and librarians. This Latin translation, however, is of high antiquity in the middle age of learn|ing: for it is quoted by Gyraldus Cambrensis, who flourished about the year 1190 s 9.67. About the year 1236, the substance

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of it was thrown into a long Latin poem, written in elegiac verse t 9.68, by Aretinus Quilichinus u 9.69. This fabulous narrative of Alexander's life and atchievements, is full of prodigies and extravagancies w 9.70. But we should remember its origin. The Arabian books abound with the most incredible fictions and traditions concerning Alexander the Great, which they probably borrowed and improved from the Persians. They call him Escander. If I recollect right, one of the miracles of this romance is our hero's horn. It is said, that Alexan|der gave the signal to his whole army by a wonderful horn of immense magnitude, which might be heard at the dis|tance of sixty miles, and that it was blown or sounded by sixty men at once x 9.71. This is the horn which Orlando won from the giant Jatmund, and which, as Turpin and the Islandic bards report, was endued with magical power, and might be heard at the distance of twenty miles. Cervantes says, that it was bigger than a massy beam y 9.72. Boyardo,

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Berni, and Ariosto have all such a horn: and the fiction is here traced to its original source. But in speaking of the books which furnished the story of Alexander, I must not forget that Quintus Curtius was an admired historian of the romantic ages. He is quoted in the POLICRATICON of John of Salisbury, who died in the year 1181 z 9.73. Eneas Syl|vius relates, that Alphonsus the ninth, king of Spain, in the thirteenth century, a great astronomer, endeavoured to re|lieve himself from a tedious malady by reading the bible over fourteen times, with all the glosses; but not meeting with the expected success, he was cured by the consolation he received from once reading Quintus Curtius a 9.74. Peter Ble|sensis, archdeacon of London, a student at Paris about the year 1150, mentioning the books most common in the schools, declares that he profited much by frequently looking into this author b 9.75. Vincentius Bellovacensis, cited above, a writer of the thirteenth century, often quotes Curtius in his Spe|culum Historiale c 9.76. He was also early translated into French. Among the royal manuscripts in the British Museum, there is a fine copy of a French translation of this classic, adorned with elegant old paintings and illuminations, entitled, Quinte Curse Ruf, des faiz d' Alexandre, ix liv. translate par Vasque de Lucene Portugalois. Escript par la main de Jehan du Chesne, a Lille d 9.77. It was made in 1468. But I believe the Latin translations of Simeon Seth's romance on this subject, were best known and most esteemed for some centuries.

The French, to resume the main tenour of our argument, had written metrical romances on most of these subjects, before or about the year 1200. Some of these seem to have

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been formed from prose histories, enlarged and improved with new adventures and embellishments from earlier and more simple tales in verse on the same subject. Chrestien of Troys wrote Le Romans du Graal, or the adventures of the San|grale, which included the deeds of king Arthur, Sir Tris|tram, Lancelot du Lake, and the rest of the knights of the round table, before 1191. There is a passage in a coeval romance, relating to Chrestien, which proves what I have just advanced, that some of these histories previously existed in prose.

Christians qui entent et paine A rimoyer le meillor conte, Par le commandement le Conte, Qu'il soit contez in cort royal Ce est li contes del Graal Dont li quens li bailla le livre e 9.78.

Chrestien also wrote the romance of Sir Percival, which belongs to the same history f 9.79. Godfrey de Leigni, a cotemporary,

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finished a romance begun by Chrestien, entitled La Charette, containing the adventures of Launcelot. Fauchett affirms, that Chrestien abounds with beautiful inventions g 9.80. But no story is so common among the earliest French poets as Charlemagne and his Twelve peers. In the British Mu|seum we have an old French manuscript containing the history of Charlemagne, translated into prose from Turpin's Latin. The writer declares, that he preferred a sober prose translation of this authentic historian, as histories in rhyme, undoubtedly very numerous on this subject, looked so much like lies h 9.81. His title is extremely curious.

"Ci comence l' Estoire que Turpin le Ercevesque de Reins fit del bon roy Charlemayne, coment il conquist Espaigne, e delivera des Paens. Et pur ceo qe Estoire rimee semble mensunge, est ceste mis in prose, solun le Latin qe Turpin mesmes fist, tut ensi cume il le vist et vist i 9.82."

Oddegir the Dane makes a part of Charlemagne's his|tory; and, I believe, is mentioned by archbishop Turpin. But his exploits have been recorded in verse by Adenez, an old French poet, not mentioned by Fauchett, author of the two metrical romances of Berlin and Cleomades, under the name of Ogier le Danois, in the year 1270. This author was master of the musicians, or, as others say, herald at arms, to the duke of Brabant. Among the royal manu|scripts in the Museum, we have a poem, Le Livre de Ogeir de Dannemarche k 9.83. The French have likewise illustrated this

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champion in Leonine rhyme. And I cannot help mentioning, that they have in verse Visions of Oddegir the Dane in the king|dom of Fairy,

"Visions d' Ogeir le Danois au Royaume de Faerie en vers Francois,"
printed at Paris in 1548 l 9.84.

On the Trojan story, the French have an antient poem, at least not posterior to the thirteenth century, entitled Ro|man de Troye, written by Benoit de Sainct More. As this author appears not to have been known to the accurate Fauchett, nor la Croix du Maine; I will cite the exordium, especially as it records his name; and implies that the piece translated from the Latin, and that the subject was not then common in French.

Cette estoire n'est pas usée, N'en gaires livres n'est trouvée: La retraite ne fut encore Mais Beneoit de sainte More, L' a translatè, et fait et dit, Et a sa main les mots ecrit.

He mentions his own name again in the body of the work, and at the end.

Je n'en fait plus ne plus en dit; Beneoit qui c'est Roman fit m 9.85.

Du Cange enumerates a metrical manuscript romance on this subject by Jaques Millet, entitled De la Destruction de Troie n 9.86. Montfaucon, whose extensive enquiries nothing could escape, mentions Dares Phrigius translated into French verse, at Milan, about the twelfth century o 9.87. We find also, among the royal manuscripts at Paris, Dictys Cretensis,

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tanslated into French verse p 9.88. To this subject, although almost equally belonging to that of Charlemagne, we may also refer a French romance in verse, written by Philipes Mousques, canon and chancellor of the church of Tournay. It is in fact, a chronicle of France: but the author, who does not chuse to begin quite so high as Adam and Eve, nor yet later than the Trojan war, opens his history with the rape of Helen, passes on to an ample description of the siege of Troy; and, through an exact detail of all the great events which succeeded, conducts his reader to the year 1240. This work comprehends all the fictions of Turpin's Char|lemagne, with a variety of other extravagant stories dispersed in many professed romances. But it preserves numberless cu|rious particulars, which throw considerable light on histo|rical facts. Du Cange has collected from it all that concerns the French emperors of Constantinople, which he has printed at the end of his entertaining history of that city.

It was indeed the fashion for the historians of these times, to form such a general plan as would admit all the absur|dities of popular tradition. Connection of parts, and uni|formity of subject, were as little studied as truth. Ages of ignorance and superstition are more affected by the marvel|lous than by plain facts; and believe what they find written, without discernment or examination. No man before the sixteenth century presumed to doubt that the Francs derived their oigin from Francus, a son of Hector; that the Spa|niards were descended from Japhet, the Britons from Brutus, and the Scotch from Fergus. Vincent de Beauvais, who lived under Louis the ninth of France, and who, on account of his extraordinary erudition, was appointed preceptor to that king's sons, very gravely classes archbishop Turpin's Char|lemagne among the real histories, and places it on a level with Suetonius and Cesar. He was himself an historian,

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and has left a large history of the world, fraught with a variety of reading, and of high repute in the middle ages; but edifying and entertaining as this work might have been to his cotemporaries, at present it serves only to record their prejudices, and to characterise their credulity q 9.89.

Hercules and Jason, as I have before hinted, were involved in the Trojan story by Guido de Colonna, and hence became familiar to the romance writers r 9.90. The Hercules, the Theseus, and the Amazons of Boccacio, hereafter more particularly mentioned, came from this source. I do not at present re|collect any old French metrical romances on these subjects, but presume that there are many. Jason seems to have vied with Arthur and Charlemagne; and so popular was his expedition to Colchos, or rather so firmly believed, that in honour of so respectable an adventure, a duke of Burgundy instituted the order of the Golden Fleece, in the year 1468. At the same time his chaplain Raoul le Feure il|lustrated the story which gave rise to this magnificent insti|tution, in a prolix and elaborate history, afterwards trans|lated by Caxton s 9.91. But I must not forget, that among the royal manuscripts in the Museum, the French romance of Hercules occurs in two books, enriched with numerous an|tient paintings t 9.92. Pertonape and Ypomedon, in our Prologue, seem to be Parthenopeus and Hippomedon, belonging to the Theban story, and mentioned, I think, in Statius. An English romance in verse, called Childe Ippomedone, will be cited here|after, most probably translated from the French.

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The conquests of Alexander the great were celebrated by one Simon, in old Pictavian or Limosin, about the twelfth century. This piece thus begins:

Chanson voil dis per ryme et per Leoin Del fil Filippe lo roy de Macedoin u 9.93.
An Italian poem on Alexander, called Trionfo Magno, was presented to Leo the tenth, by Dominicho Falugi Anciseno, in the year 1521. Crescimbeni says it was copied from a Pro|vencial romance w 9.94. But one of the most valuable pieces of the old French poetry is on the subject of this victorious monarch, entitled, Roman d' Alexandre. It has been called the second poem now remaining in the French language, and was written about the year 1200. It was confessedly trans|lated from the Latin; but it bears a nearer resemblance to Simeon Seth's romance, than to Quintus Curtius. It was the confederated performance of four writers, who, as Fau|chett expresses himself, were associez en leur JONGLERIE x 9.95. Lambert li Cors, a learned civilian, began the poem; and it was continued and completed by Alexander de Paris, John le Nivelois, and Peter de Saint Clost y 9.96. The poem is closed with Alexander's will. This is no imagination of any of out three poets, although one of them was a civil lawyer. Alexander's will, in which he nominates successors to his provinces and kingdom, was a tradition commonly received, and is mentioned by Diodorus Siculus, and Ammianus Marcellinus.

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z 9.97. I know not whether this work was ever printed. It is voluminous; and in the Bodleian library at Oxford is a vast folio manuscript of it on vellum, which is of great antiquity, richly decorated, and in high preservation a 9.98. The margins and initials exhibit, not only fantastic ornaments and illuminations exquisitely finished, but also pictures executed with singular elegance, expressing the incidents of the story, and displaying the fashion of buildings, armour, dress, mu|sical instruments b 9.99, and other particulars appropriated to the times. At the end we read this hexameter, which points out the name of the scribe.

Nomen scriptoris est THOMAS PLENUS AMORIS.

Then follows the date of the year in which the transcript was completed, viz. 1338. Afterwards there is the name and date of the illuminator, in the following colophon, writ|ten in golden letters.

"Che livre fu perfais de la enlumi|niere an xviiio. jour davryl par Jehan de grise l' an de grace m. ccc. xliii. c 9.100"
Hence it may be concluded, that the illuminations and paintings of this superb manuscript, which were most probably begun as soon as the scribe had finished his part, took up six years: no long time, if we consider the attention of an artist to ornaments so numerous, so various, so minute, and so laboriously touched. It has been supposed, that before the appearance of this poem, the Romans, or those pieces which celebrated GESTS, were constantly com|posed in short verses of six or eight syllables: and that in this Roman d' Alexandre verses of twelve syllables were first used. It has therefore been imagined, that the verses called ALEXANDRINES, the present French heroic measure, took

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their rise from this poem; Alexander being the hero, and Alexander the chief of the four poets concerned in the work. That the name, some centuries afterwards, might take place in honour of this celebrated and early effort of French poetry, I think is very probable; but that verses of twelve syllables made their first appearance in this poem, is a doctrine which, to say no more, from examples already produced and examined, is at least ambiguous d 9.101. In this poem Gadifer, hereafter mentioned, of Arabian lineage, is a very conspicu|ous champion.

Gadifer fu moult preus, d'un Arrabi lignage.

A rubric or title of one of the chapters is,

"Comment Alexander fuit mys en un vesal de vooire pour veoir le merveiles, &c."
This is a passage already quoted from Simeon Seth's romance, relating Alexander's expedition to the bottom of the ocean, in a vessel of glass, for the purpose of inspecting fishes and sea monsters. In another place, from the same romance, he turns astronomer, and soars to the moon by the help of four gryphons. The caliph is fre|quently mentioned in this piece; and Alexander, like Char|lemagne, has his twelve peers.

These were the four reigning stories of romance. On which perhaps English pieces, translated from the French, existed before or about the year 1300. But there are some other English romances mentioned in the prologue of RICHARD CUEUR DE LYON, which we likewise probably received from the French in that period, and on which I shall here also enlarge.

BEUVES de Hanton, or Sir Beavis of Southampton, is a French romance of considerable antiquity, although the hero is not older than the Norman conquest. It is alluded to in

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our English romance on this story, which will again be cited, and at large.

Forth thei yode so saith the boke e 9.102.

And again more expresly,

Under the bridge wer sixty belles, Right as the Romans telles f 9.103.
The Romans is the French original. It is called the Romance of Beuves de Hanton, by Pere Labbe g 9.104. The very ingenious Monsieur de la Curne de sainte Palaye mentions an antient French romance in prose, entitled Beufres de Hanton h 9.105. Chau|cer mentions BEVIS, with other famous romancs, but whe|ther in French or English is uncertain i 9.106. Beuves of Hantonne was printed at Paris in 1502 k 9.107. Ascapart was one of his giants, a characterl 9.108 in very old French romances. Bevis was a Saxon chieftain, who seems to have extended his dominion along the southern coasts of England, which he is said to have defended against the Norman invaders. He lived at Downton in Wiltshire. Near Southampton is an artificial hill called Bevis Mount, on which was probably a fortress m 9.109. It is pretended that he was earl of Southampton. His sword is shewn in Arundel castle. This piece was evi|dently written after the crusades; as Bevis is knighted by the king of Armenia, and is one of the generals at the siege of Damascus.

GUY EARL OF WARWICK is recited as a French romance by Labbe n 9.110. In the British Museum a metrical history in very old French appears, in which Felicia, or Felice, is called the

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daughter of an earl of Warwick, and Guido, or Guy of Warwick, is the son of Seguart the earl's steward. The manuscript is at present imperfect o 9.111. Montfaucon mentions among the royal manuscripts at Paris, Roman de Guy et Beuves de Hanton. The latter is the romance last mentioned. Again, Le Livre de Guy de Warwick et de Harold d' Ardenne p 9.112. This Harold d'Arden is a distinguished warriour of Guy's history, and therefore his atchievements sometimes form a separate romance: as in the royal manuscripts of the British Museum, where we find Le Romant de Herolt Dardenne q 9.113. In the English romance of Guy, mentioned at large in its proper place, this champion is called Syr Heraude of Arderne r 9.114. At length this favourite subject formed a large prose ro|mance, entitled Guy de Warwick Chevalier d'Angleterre et de la belle fille Felix samie, and printed at Paris in 1525 s 9.115. Chaucer mentions Guy's story among the Romaunces of Pris t 9.116: and it is alluded to in the Spanish romance of Tirante il Blanco, or Tirante the White, supposed to have been written not long after the year 1430 u 9.117. This romance was composed, or perhaps enlarged, after the crusades; as we find, that Guy's redoubted encounters with Colbrond the Danish giant, with the monster of Dunsmore heath, and the dragon of Nor|thumberland, are by no means equal to some of his at|chievements in the holy land, and the trophies which he won from the soldan under the command of the emperor Fre|derick.

The romance of SIDRAC, often entitled, Le Livere Sydrac le philosophe le quel hom appele le livere de le funtane de totes Sciences, appears to have been very popular, from the present frequency of its manuscripts. But it is rather a romance of Arabian philosophy than of chivalry. It is a system of natural knowledge, and particularly treats of the virtues of

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plants. Sidrac, the philosopher of this system, was astro|nomer to an eastern king. He lived eight hundred and forty|seven years after Noah, of whose book of astronomy he was possessed. He converts Bocchus, an idolatrous king of India, to the christian faith, by whom he is invited to build a mighty tower against the invasions of a rival king of India. But the history, no less than the subject of this piece, displays the state, nature, and migrations of literature in the dark ages. After the death of Bocchus, Sidrac's book fell into the hands of a Chaldean renowned for piety. It then successively becomes the property of king Madian, Namaan the Assyrian, and Grypho archbishop of Samaria. The latter had a priest named Demetrius, who brought it into Spain, and here it was translated from the Greek into Latin. This translation is said to be made at Toledo, by Roger de Palermo, a mino|rite friar, in the thirteenth century. A king of Spain then commanded it to be translated from Latin into Arabic, and sent it as a most valuable present to Emir Elmomenim, lord of Tunis. It was next given to Frederick the Second, em|peror of Germany, famous in the crusades. This work, which is of considerable length, was translated into English verse, and will be mentioned on that account again. Sidrac is recited as an eminent philosopher, with Seneca and king Solomon, in the Marchaunt's Second tale, ascribed to Chau|cer w 9.118.

It is natural to conclude, that most of these French ro|mances were current in England, either in the French ori|ginals, which were well understood at least by the more polite readers, or else by translation or imitation, as I have before hinted, when the romance of Richard Cuer de Lyon, in whose prologue they are recited, was translated into English. That the latter was the case as to some of them,

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at least, we shall soon produce actual proofs. A writer, who has considered these matters with much penetration and judg|ment, observes, that probably from the reign of our Richard the first, we are to date that remarkable intercommunica|tion and mutual exchange of compositions which we discover to have taken place at some early period between the French and English minstrels. The same set of phrases, the same species of characters, incidents, and adventures, and often the identical stories, being found in the metrical romances of both nations x 9.119. From close connection and constant in|tercourse, the traditions and the champions of one kingdom were equally known in the other: and although Bevis and Guy were English heroes, yet on these principles this cir|cumstance by no means destroys the supposition, that their atchievements, although perhaps already celebrated in rude English songs, might be first wrought into romance by the French y 9.120. And it seems probable, that we continued for some time this practice of borrowing from our neighbours. Even the titles of our oldest romances, such as Sir Blandamoure,

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Sir Triamoure, Sir Eglamoure, of Artoys z 9.121, La Mort d Arthur, with many more, betray their French extraction. It is likewise a presumptive argument in favour of this asser|tion, that we find no prose romances in our language, before Caxton translated from the French the History of Troy, the Life of Charlemagne, the Histories of Jason, Paris, and Vy|enne a 9.122, the Death of King Arthur, and other prose pieces of chivalry: by which, as the profession of minstrelsy de|cayed and gradually gave way to a change of manners and customs, romances in metre were at length imperceptibly superseded, or at least grew less in use as a mode of enter|tainment at public festivities.

Various causes concurred, in the mean time, to multiply books of chivalry among the French, and to give them a superiority over the English, not only in the number but in the excellence of those compositions. Their barons lived in greater magnificence. Their feudal system flourished on a more sumptuous, extensive, and lasting establishment. Schools were instituted in their castles for initiating the young nobility in the rules and practice of chivalry. Their tilts and tournaments were celebrated with a higher degree of pomp; and their ideas of honour and gallantry were more exaggerated and refined.

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We may add, what indeed has been before incidentally remarked, that their troubadours were the first writers of metrical romances. But by what has been here advanced, I do not mean to insinuate without any restrictions, that the French entirely led the way in these compositions. Un|doubtedly the Provencial bards contributed much to the progress of Italian literature. Raimond the fourth of Ar|ragon, count of Provence, about the year 1220, a lover and a judge of letters, invited to his court the most celebrated of the songsters who professed to polish and adorn the Pro|vencial language by various sorts of poetry b 9.123. Charles the first, his son-in-law, and the inheritor of his virtues and dignities, conquered Naples, and carried into Italy a taste for the Provencial literature. At Florence especially this taste prevailed, where he reigned many years with great splendour, and where his successors resided. Soon afterwards the Roman court was removed to Provence c 9.124. Hitherto the Latin language had only been in use. The Provencial writers established a common dialect: and their examples convinced other nations, that the modern languages were no less adapted to composition than those of antiquity d 9.125. They introduced a love of reading, and diffused a general and popular taste for poetry, by writing in a language intelligible to the ladies and the people. Their verses being conveyed in a familiar tongue, became the chief amusement of princes and feudal lords, whose courts had now begun to assume an air of

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greater brilliancy: a circumstance which necessarily gave great encouragement to their profession, and by rendering these arts of ingenious entertainment universally fashionable, imperceptibly laid the foundation of polite literature. From these beginnings it were easy to trace the progress of poetry to its perfection, through John de Meun in France, Dante in Italy, and Chaucer in England.

This praise must undoubtedly be granted to the Provencial poets. But in the mean time, to recur to our original ar|gument, we should be cautious of asserting in general and indiscriminating terms, that the Provencial poets were the first writers of metrical romance: at least we should ascer|tain, with rather more precision than has been commonly used on this subject, how far they may claim this merit. I am of opinion that there were two sorts of French trou|badours, who have not hitherto been sufficiently distin|guished. If we diligently examine their history, we shall find that the poetry of the first troubadours consisted in satires, moral fables, allegories, and sentimental sonnets. So early as the year 1180, a tribunal called the Court of Love, was instituted both in Provence and Picardy, at which ques|tions in gallantry were decided. This institution furnished eternal matter for the poets, who threw the claims and argu|ments of the different parties into verse, in a style that afterwards led the way to the spiritual conversations of Cyrus and Clelia e 9.126. Fontenelle does not scruple to acknowledge, that gallantry was the parent of French poetry f 9.127. But to sing romantic and chivalrous adventures was a very different task, and required very different talents. The troubadours therefore who composed metrical romances form a different species, and ought always to be considered separately. And

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this latter class seems to have commenced at a later period, not till after the crusades had effected a great change in the manners and ideas of the western world. In the mean time, I hazard a conjecture. Cinthio Giraldi supposes, that the art of the troubadours, commonly called the Gay Science, was first communicated from France to the Italians, and after|wards to the Spaniards g 9.128. This perhaps may be true: but at the same time it is highly probable, as the Spaniards had their JUGLARES or convivial bards very early, as from long connection they were immediately and intimately acquaint|ed with the fictions of the Araians, and as they were naturally fond of chivalry, that the troubadours of Provence in great measure caught this turn of fabling from Spain. The communication, to mention no other obvious means of intercourse in an affair of this nature, was easy through the ports of Toulon and Marseilles, by which the two na|tions carried on from early times a constant commerce. Even the French critics themselves universally allow, that the Spaniards, having learned rhyme from the Arabians, through this very channel conveyed it to Provence. Tasso preferred Amadis de Gaul, a romance originally written in Spain, by Vasco Lobeyra, before the year 1300 h 9.129, to the most celebrated pieces of the Provencial poets i 9.130. But this is a subject which will perhaps receive illustration from a writer of great taste, talents, and industry, Monsieur de la Curne de Sainte Palaye, who will soon oblige the world with an ample history of Provencial poetry; and whose researches into a kindred subject, already published, have opened a new and extensive field of information concerning the manners, institutions, and literature of the feudal ages k 9.131.

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SECT. IV.

VARIOUS matters suggested by the Prologue of RICHARD CUEUR DE LYON, cited in the last section, have betrayed us into a long digression, and interrupted the regularity of our annals. But I could not neglect so fair an opportunity of preparing the reader for those metrical tales, which having acquired a new cast of fiction from the cru|sades and a magnificence of manners from the encrease of chivalry, now began to be greatly multiplied, and as it were professedly to form a separate species of poetry. I now therefore resume the series, and proceed to give some speci|mens of the English metrical romances which appeared be|fore or about the reign of Edward the second: and although most of these pieces continued to be sung by the minstrels in the halls of our magnificent ancestors for some centuries afterwards, yet as their first appearance may most probably be dated at this period, they properly coincide in this place with the tenour of our history. In the mean time, it is natural to suppose, that by frequent repetition and successive changes of language during many generations, their original simplicity must have been in some degree corrupted. Yet some of the specimens are extracted from manuscripts writ|ten in the reign of Edward the third. Others indeed from printed copies, where the editors took great liberties in ac|commodating the language to the times. However in such as may be supposed to have suffered most from depravations of this sort, the substance of the ancient style still remains, and at least the structure of the story. On the whole, we mean to give the reader an idea of those popular heroic tales in verse, professedly written for the harp, which began to be multiplied among us about the beginning of the fourteenth

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century. We will begin with the romance of RICHARD CUEUR DE LYON, already mentioned.

The poem opens with the marriage of Richard's father, Henry the second, with the daughter of Carbarryne, a king of Antioch. But this is only a lady of romance. Henry mar|ried Eleanor the divorced queen of Louis of France. The minstrels could not conceive any thing less than an eastern princess to be the mother of this magnanimous hero.

—His barons him redde a 10.1 That they graunted hem a wyfe to wedde, Hastily he sent his sonde Into many a divers londe The fayrest woman that was on lyve They sholde bringe him to wyve.

The messengers or embassadors, in their voyage, meet a ship adorned like Cleopatra's galley.

Suche ne sawe they never none, For it was so gay begone Every nayle with gold ygrave Of pure gold was his sklave b 10.2, Her mast was of yvory, Of samyte her sayle wytly, Her ropes al of whyte sylke, As whyte as ever was ony mylke. The noble shyp was wythout With clothes of gold spred about, And her loftc 10.3 and her wyndlace d 10.4 Al of gold depaynted was: In the shyppe there were dyght Knyghtes and lordes of myght,

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And a lady therein was Bryght as sonne thorowe the glas. Her men abrode gon stonde And becked them with her honde, And prayed them for to dwell And theyr aventures to tell.— "To dyverse londes do we wende "For kynge Harry hath us sende "For to seche hym a quene, "The fayrest that myght on rthe bene." Up arose a kynge of chayre With that word, and spake fayre, The chayre was of carbunkell stone, Suche sawe they never none, And other dukes hym besyde, Noble men of moche pryde, And welcomed the messengers every chone, Into the shippe they gan gone.— Clothes of sylke wer sprad on borde, The kyng then anon badde, As it is in ryme radde e 10.5, That his doughter wer forthe fet And in a chayre by hym set, Trompettes bigan to blowe, She was set in a throwe f 10.6 With xx knygtes her aboute And double so many of ladyes stoute.— Whan thei had done their mete Of adventures they bygyn to speke. The kyng them told in his reason, How it cam hym in a vysyon, In his lond that he came fro In to Engelond for to go

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And hys doughter that was hym der For to wende with hym in fere g 10.7, And in this manner we bi dyght Unto your londe to wende ryght. Then answerede a messengere, His name was cleped Barnagere, "Ferther we will seeke nought "To my lorde she shal be brought."

They soon arrive in England, and the lady is lodged in the tower of London, one of the royal castles.

The messengers the kyng have tolde Of that lady fayre and bolde There she lay in the toure The lady that was whyt as floure; Kyng Harry gan hym dyght With erles, barons, and many a knyght, Ayenst that ladye for to wende, For he was courteys and hende: The damosell to londe was ladde Clothes of golde bifore her spradde, The messengers on eche a syde, And mynystrells of moche pryde. Kyng Harry liked her seynge That fayre lady, and her fader the kynge.— To Westminstir they went in fere Lordes, ladies, that ther were, Trompettes bigan for to blowe To meteh 10.8 thei went in a throwe, &c i 10.9.

The first of our hero's atchievements in chivalry is at a splendid tournament held at Salisbury. Clarendon near Salisbury was one of the king's palaces k 10.10.

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Kynge Rychard gan hym dysguyse In a full stronge queyntyse l 10.11: He cam out of a valaye For to se of theyr playe, As a knyght avanturous His atyre was orgulous m 10.12, Al together cole blacke Was his horse without lacke, Upon his crest a raven stoode That yanedn 10.13 as he were wode.— He bare a shafte that was grete and stronge It was fourtene fote longe, And it was gret and stoute, One or two inches aboute: The fyrst knyght that he ther mette Full egerly he hym grette, With a dint amyd the shelde His hors he bare downe in the feld, &c o 10.14.

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A battle-ax whch Richard carried with him from Eng|land into the holy land is thus described.

Kyng Rycharde I understonde Or he went out of Engelonde Let him make an axep 10.15 for the nones To brake therewith the Sarasyns * 10.16bones. The heed was wroght right wele Therein was twenti bounder 10.17 of stele: And when he com into Cyprys londe The axe toke he in his honde All that he hytte he all to frapped The gryffonss 10.18 away faste rapped. And the pryson when he came to With his axe he smote ryght tho Dores, barres, and iron chaynes, &c. t 10.19

This formidable axe is again mentioned at the sige of Acon, or Acre, the antient Ptolemais.

Kyng Rycharde after anone ryght Towarde Acrys gan hym dyght, And as he sayled towarde Surrye u 10.20, He was warned of a spye, How the folke of the hethen law, A gret chayne thei had i drawe

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Over the haven of Acres ers Was fastened to two pyllers That no shyppe sholde in wynne w 10.21.— Therfore seven yers and more All crysten kynges laye thore And with hongre suffre payne For lettyng of that same chayne. Whan kyng Rycharde herde that tydinge For joye his herte bigan to sprynge, A swyfte strong galey he toke. Trenchemere x 10.22, so saith the boke.— The galey yede as swift As ony fowle by the lyfte y 10.23, And kynge Rycharde that was so goode, With his axe afore the shippe stoode And whan he came to the chayne, With his axe he smote it a twayne z 10.24, That all the barons verament Sayd it was a noble dent, And for joye of that dede The cuppes faste aboute yede a 10.25, With good wyne, pyment and clarè, And sailed towards Acrys cityè. Kynge Rycharde out of his galye Let caste wilde fire into the skye. His trompettes yede in his galye Men might here it to the skye, Trompettes, horne, and shalmys b 10.26, The sea burnt al of fyre grekys c 10.27.

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This fyre grekys, or Grecian fire, seems to be a composi|tion belonging to the Arabian chemistry. It is frequently mentioned by the Byzantine historians, and was very much used in the wars of the middle ages, both by sea and land. It was a sort of wild-fire, said to be inextinguishable by water, and chiefly used for burning ships, against which it was thrown in pots or phials by the hand. In land engagements it seems to have been discharged by machines constructed on purpose. The oriental Greeks pretended that this artificial fire was invented by Callinicus, an architect of Helio|polis, under Constantine; and that Constantine prohi|bited them from communicating the manner of making it to any foreign people. It was however in common use among the nations confederated with the Byzantines: and Anna Commena has given an account of its ingredients d 10.28, which were bitumen, sulphur, and naptha. It is called feu gregois in the French chronicles and romances. Our minstrell, I believe, is singular in saying that Richard scattered this fire on Saladin's ships: many monkish historians of the holy war, in describing the siege of Acon, relate that it was em+ployed on that occasion, and many others, by the Saracens against the Christians e 10.29. Procopius, in his history of the Goths, calls it MEDEA'S OIL, as if it had been a preparation used in the sorceries of that enchantress f 10.30.

The quantity of huge battering rams and other military engines, now unknown, which Richard is said to have transported into the holy land, was prodigious. The names of some of them are given in another part of this romance g 10.31.

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It is an historical fact, that Richard was killed by the French from the shot of an arcubalist, a machine which he often worked skillfully with his own hands: and Guillaume le Briton, a Frenchman, in his Latin poem called Philippeis, introduces Atropos making a decree, that Richard should die by no other means than by a wound from this destruc|tive instrument; the use of which, after it had been inter|dicted by the pope in the year 1139, he revived, and is supposed to have shewn the French in the crusades g 10.32.

Gynnesh 10.33 he had of wonder wyse, Mangenellesi 10.34 of grete quyentyse k 10.35, Arblast bowe made with gynne The holy land therewith to wynne; Over all other utterly He had a mylel 10.36 of grete maystry, In the myddes of a shyppe to stonde Suche ne sawe they never in no londe,

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Foure sayles were therto all newe Yelowe and grene rede and blewe, With canvas i layde all aboute Full costly within and withoute, And all within ful of fyre Of torches made of wexe clere, Overth wart and endlonge, With spryngellesm 10.37 of fyre they dyde honde, Grounde they neyther corne ne good, But robbed as thei were wood; Out of their eyen cam rede blode n 10.38: Before the trough one ther stode That all in blode was begone Such another was never none And hornes he had upon his hede The Sarasyns of hym had grete drede o 10.39.

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The last circumstance recalls a fiend-like appearance drawn by Shakespeare; in which, exclusive of the applica|tion, he has converted ideas of deformity into the true sub|lime, and rendered an image terrible, which in other hands would have probably been ridiculous.

—Methought his eyes Were two full moons, he had a thousand noses, Horns whelk'd and wav'd like the enridged sea. It was some fiend p 10.40—.

At the touch of this powerful magician, to speak in Milton's language,

"The griesly terrror grows tenfold more dreadful and deform."

The moving castles described by our minstrell, which seem to be so many fabrics of romance, but are founded in real history, afforded suitable materials for poets who deal in the marvellous. Accordingly they could not escape the fabling genius of Tasso, who has made them instruments of en|chantment, and accommodated them, with great propriety, to the operations of infernal spirits.

At the siege of Babylon, the soldan Saladin sends king Richard a orse. The messenger says,

"Thou sayst thy God is full of myght: "Wilt thou graunte with spere and shelde, "To detryve the ryght in the felde, "With helme, hauberke, and brondes bryght, "On stronge stedes gode and lyght, "Whether ben of more power, "Thy God almight or Jupyter? "And he sent me to saye this "Yf thou wylt have an hors of his,

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"In all the londes that thou hast gone "Suche ne thou sawest never none: "Favell of Sypres, ne Lyard of Prys q 10.41, "Ben not at ned as he ys; "And yf thou wylte, this same daye, "He shall be brought the to assaye." Rycharde answered, "thou sayest well "Suche an horse, by saynt Myghell, "I wolde have to ryde upon.— "Bydde hym sende that hors to me, "And I shall assaye what they be, "Yf he be trusti, withoute fayle, "I kepe none other to me in batayle." The messengers tho home wente, And told the sowdan in presente, That Rycharde in the felde wolde come hym unto: The ryche sowdan bade to com hym unto A noble clerke that coulde wel conjoure, That was a mayster nygromansoure r 10.42: He commaunded, as I you telle, Thorugh the fende's myght of helle, Two strong fendes of the ayre In lykenes of two stedes fayre

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Both lyke in hewe and here, As men sayd that ther were: No man sawe never none syche That was one was a mare iliche, That other a colte, a noble stede, Where that he wer in ony mede, (Were the knyghts 10.43 never so bolde,) Whan the mare nyet 10.44 wolde, (That hym sholde holde ayenst his wylle,) But soone he wolde go her tylle u 10.45, And kneel downe and soukew 10.46 his dame, Therewhyle the sowdan with shame Sholde kynge Rychard quelle, All this an aungell gan him telle, That to hym came aboute mydnyght, "Awake, he sayd, goddis knyght: "My lordex 10.47 doth the to onderstonde "That the shal com on hors to londe, "Fayre it is, of body ipyght, "To betray the if the sowdan myght; "On hym to ryde have thou no drede "For he the helpe shall at nede."

The angel then gives king Richard several directions about managing this infernal horse, and a general engagement ensuing, between the Christian and Saracen armies, y 10.48

He lepte on hors whan it was lyght; Or he in his sadel did lepe

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Of many thynges he toke kepe.— His men brought hem that he ba, A square tree of fourty fete, Before his sadell anone he it sete Faste that they should it brase, &c. Hymself was richely begone, From the creste ryght to the tone z 10.49, He was covered wondersly wele All with splentes of good stele, And ther above an hauberke. A shafte he had of trusty werke, Upon his shoulders a shelde of stele, With the lybardesa 10.50 painted wele; And helme he had of ryche entayle, Trusty and trewe was his ventayle: Upon his creste a dove whyte Sygnyfycaune of the holy sprite, Upon a cross the dove stode Of gold iwroght ryche and gode, Godb 10.51 hymself Mary and Johon As he was done the rode upon c 10.52, In sygnyfycaunce for whom he faught, The spere hd forgat he nauht, Upon his shaft he wolde it have Goddis name theron was grave, Now herken what othe he sware, Or thay to the battayle went there: "Yf it were so, that Rycharde myght "Slee the sowdan in felde with fyght, "At our wylle everychone "He and his shold gone

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"In to the cyte of Babylone; "And the kynge of Masydoyne "He sholde have under his honde; "And yf the owdan of that londe "Myght slee Rycharde in the felde "With swerde or spere under shelde, "That Crysten men sholde go "Out of that londe for ever mo, "And the Sarasyns theyr wyll in wolde." Quod kynge Rycharde, "Therto I holde, "Therto my glove, as I am knyght." They be armyd and redy dyght: Kynge Rycharde to his sadell dyde lepe, Certes, who that wolde take kepe To se that fyght it were fayre; Ther stedes ranne with grete ayre d 10.53, Al so hard as thei myght dyre e 10.54, After theyr fete sprange out fyre: Tabours and trompettes gan blowe: Ther men myght se in a throwe How kynge Rycharde that noble man Encountred with the sowdan, The chefe was tolde of Damas f 10.55 His truste upon his mare was, And tharfor, as the boke us telles g 10.56, Hys crouper henge full of belles h 10.57,

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And his peytrell i 10.58 and hys arsowne k 10.59 Thre myle men myght here the sowne. His mare nyghed, his belles dyd rynge, For grete pryde, withoute lesynge, A faucon brodel 10.60 in honde he bare, For he thoght he wolde thare Have slayne Rycharde with treasowne Whan his colte sholde knele downe As a colte sholde souk his dame, And he was ware of that shame, His eresm 10.61 with waxe were stopped faste, Therefore Rycharde was not agaste, He stroke the stede that under hym wente, And gave the Sowdan his deth with a dente: In his shelde verament Was paynted a serpent, Wyth the spere that Rycharde helde He bare hym thorugh under hys shelde, Non of hys armure myght hym laste, Brydell and peytrell al to braste, Hys gyrthes and hys steropes also Hys mare to grounde wente tho; Maugre her heed, he made her seche The grounde, withoute more speche, Hys feete towarde the fyrmament, Bihynde hym the spere outwent Ther he fell dede on the grene, Rycharde smote the fende with sporesn 10.62 kene,

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And yn the name of the holi goost He dryveth ynto the hethen hoost, And as sone as he was come, Asonder he brake the sheltron o 10.63, And al that ever afore hym stode, Hors and man to the grounde yode, Twenti fote on either syde, &c. Whan the kyng of Fraunce and hys men wyste That the mastry had the Crysten, They waxed bold, and gode herte toke Stedes bestrode, and shaftes shoke p 10.64.

Richard arming himself is a curious Gothic picture. It is certainly a genuine picture, and drawn with some spirit; as is the shock of the two necromantic steeds, and other parts of this description. The combat of Richard and the Soldan, on the event of which the christian army got possession of the city of Babylon, is probably the DUEL OF KING RICHARD, painted on the walls of a chamber in the royal palace of Clarendon q 10.65. The soldan is represented as meeting Richard with a hawk on his fist, to shew indifference, or a contempt of his adversary; and that he came rather prepared for the chace, than the combat. Indeed in the feudal times, and long afterwards, no gentleman appeared on horseback, unless going to battle, without a hawk on his fist. In the Tapestry of the Norman conquest, Harold is exhibited on horseback, with a hawk on his fist, and his dogs running before him, going on an embassy from king Edward the Confessor to William Duke of Normandy r 10.66

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Tabour, a drum, a common accompanyment of war, is mentioned as one of the instruments of martial music in this battle with characteristical propriety. It was imported into the European armies from the Saracens in the holy war. The word is constantly written tabour, not tambour, in Join|ville's HISTORY OF SAINT LOUIS, and all the elder French romances. Joinville describes a superb bark or galley be|longing to a Saracen chief, which he says was filled with cymbals, tabours, and Saracen horns s 10.67. Jean d'Orronville, an old French chronicler of the life of Louis duke of Bourbon, relates, that the king of France, the king of Thrasimere, and the king of Bugie landed in Africa, according to their custom, with cymbals, kettle drums, tabours t 10.68, and whistles u 10.69. Babylon, here said to be besieged by king Richard, and so frequently mentioned by the romance writers and the chro|niclers of the crusades, is Cairo or Bagdat. Cairo and Bagdat, ciies of recent foundation, were perpetually confounded with Babylon, which had been destroyed many centuries before, and was situated at a considerable distance from either. Not the least enquiry was made in the dark ages concerning the true situation of places, or the disposition of the country in Palestine, although the theatre of so important

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a war; and to this neglect were owing, in a great measure, the signal defeats and calamitous distresses of the christian adventurers, whose numerous armies, destitute of information, and cut off from every resource, perished amidst unknown mountains, and impracticable wastes. Geography at this time had been but little cultivated. It had been studied only from the antients: as if the face of the earth, and the political state of nations, had not, since the time of those writers, undergone any changes or revolutions.

So formidable a champion was king Richard against the infidels, and so terrible the remembrance of his valour in the holy war, that the Saracens and Turks used to quiet their froward children only by repeating his name. Joinville is the only writer who records this anecdote. He adds another of the same sort. When the Saracens were riding, and their horses started at any unusal object,

"ils disoient a leurs chevaulx en les picquent de l'esperon, t cuides tu que ce soit le ROY RICHART w 10.70?"
It is extraordi|nary, that these circumstances should have escaped Malmes|bury, Matthew Paris, Benedict, Langtoft, and the rest of our old historians, who have exaggerated the character of this redoubted hero, by relating many particulars more likely to be fabulous, and certainly less expressive of his prowess.

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SECT. V.

THE romance of SIR GUY, which is enumerated by Chaucer among the

"Romances of pris,"
affords the following fiction, not uncommon indeed in pieces of this sort, concrning the redemption of a knight from a long capti|vity, whose prison was inaccessible, unknown, and enchanted a 11.1. His name is Amis of the Mountain.

Here besyde an Elfish knyhte b 11.2 Has taken my lorde in fyghte, And hath him ledde with him away In the Fayry c 11.3, Syr, permafay. Was Amis, quoth Heraude, your husbond? A doughtyer knygte was none in londe. Then tolde Heraude to Raynborne, How he loved his father Guyon: Then sayd Raynburne, for thy sake, To morrow I shall th way take, And nevermore come agayne, Tyll I bring Amys of the Mountayne.

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Raynborne rose on the morrow erly, And armed hym full richely.— Raynborne rode tyll it was noone, Tyll he came to a rocke of stone; Ther he founde a strong gate, He blissed hym, and rode in thereat He rode half a myle the waie, He saw no light that came of daie, Then cam he to a watir brode, Never man ovir suche a one rode. Within he sawe a place greene Suche one had he never erst seene. Within that place there was a pallaice, Closed with walles of heathenesse d 11.4: The walles thereof were of cristall, And the sommers of corall. Raynborne had grete dout to passe, The watir so depe and brode was: And at the laste his steede leepe Into the brode watir deepe. Thyrty fadom he sanke adowne, Then clepede 11.5 he to god Raynborne. God hym help, his steede was goode, And bure hym ovir that hydious floode. To the pallaice he yodef 11.6 anone, And lyghted downe of his steede full soone.

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Through many a chamber yede Raynborne, A knyghte he found in dongeon. Raynborne grete hym as a knyght courtoise, Who oweth, he said, this fayre Pallaice? That knyght answered hym, yt is noght, He oweth it that me hither broght. Thou art, quod Raynburne, in feeble plight, Tell me thy name, he sayd, syr knight: That knyghte sayd to hym agayne, My name is Amys of the Mountayne. The lord is an Elvish man That me into thys pryson wan. Arte thou Amys, than sayde Raynborne, Of the Mountaynes the bold barrone? In grete perill I have gone, To seke thee in this rocke of stone. But blissed be God now have I thee Thou shalt go home with me. Let be, sayd Amys of the Mountayne, Great wonder I have of thee certayne; How that thou hythur wan: For syth this world fyrst began No man hyther come ne myghte, Without leave of the Elvish knyghte. Me with thee thou mayest not lede, &c. t 11.7

Afterwards, the knight of the mountain directs Raynburne to find a wonderful sword which hung in the hall of the palace. With this weapon Raynburne attacks and conquers the Elvish knight; who buys his life, on condition of con|ducting his conqueror over the perillous ford, or lake, above described, and of delivering all the captives confined in his secret and impregnable dungeon.

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Guyon's expedition into the Souldan's camp, an idea fur|nished by the crusades, is drawn with great strength and sim|plicity.

Guy asked his armes anone, Hosen of yron Guy did upon: In hys hawberke Guy hym clad, He drad no stroke whyle he it had. Upon hys head hys helme he cast, And hasted hym to ryde full fast. A syrcleh 11.8 of gold thereon stoode, The emperarour had none so goode; Aboute the syrcle for the nones Were sett many precyous stones. Above he had a coate armour wyde; Hys sword he toke by hys syde: And lept upon his stede anone, Styrrope with foote touched he none. Guy rode forth without boste, Alone to the Soudan's hoste: Guy saw all that countrie Full of tentes and pavylyons bee: On the pavylyon of the Soudone Stoode a carbuncle-stone: Guy wist therebie it was the Soudones And drew hym thyther for the nones, Alt the meetei 11.9 he founde the Soudone, And hys barrons everychone, And tenne kynges aboute hym, All they were stout and grymme: Guy rode forth, and spake no worde, Tyll he cam to the Soudan's borde k 11.10;

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He ne rought l 11.11 with whom he mette, But on thys wyse the Soudan he grette. "God's curse have thou and thyne "And tho that levem 11.12 on Apoline." Than sayd the Soudan, "What art thou "That thus prowdlie speakest now? "Yet found I never man certayne "That suche wordes durst me sayne." Guy sayd, "So God me save from hell, "My ryght nam I shall the tell, "Guy of Warwicke my name is." Than sayd the Sowdan ywis, "Arte thou the bolde knyght Guyon, "That art here in my pavylyon? "Thou sluest my cosyn Coldran "Of all Sarasyns the boldest man, &c n 11.13.

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I will add Guy's combat with the Danish giant Colbrond, as it is touched with great spirit, and may serve to illustrate some preceding hints concerning this part of our hero's history.

Then came Colbronde forthe anone, On foote, for horse could bare hym none. For when he was in armure dight Fower horse ne bare hym might. A man had ynough to done To bere hym hys wepon. Then Guy rode to Colbronde, On hys stede ful wele rennende o 11.14: Colbronde smote Guy in the fielde In the middest of Syr Guyes shelde; Through Guyes hawberk that stroke went And for no maner thyng it withstent p 11.15. In two yt shareq 11.16 Guyes stedes body And fell to ground hastily. Guy upstert as an eger lyoune, And drue hys gode sworde browne: To Colbronde he let it flye, But he might not reche so hye. On hys shoulder the stroke fell downe Through all hys armure share Guyon r 11.17. Into the bodie a wounde untyde That the red blude gan oute glyde. Colbronde was wroth of that rap, He thought to give Guy a knap. He smote Guy on the helme bryght That out sprang the fyre lyght. Guy smote Colbronde agayne, Through shielde and armure certayne.

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He made his swerde for to glyde Into his bodie a wound ryht wyde. So smart came Guyes bronde That it braste in hys hond.

The romance of the SQUIRE OF LOW DEGREE, who loved the king's daughter of Hungary s 11.18, is alluded to by Chaucer in the Rime of Sir Topas t 11.19. The princess is thus represented in her closet, adorned with painted glass, listening to the squire's complaint u 11.20.

That ladi herde hys mournyng alle, Ryght undir the chambre walle: In her oryallw 11.21 there she was, Closyd well with royall glas, Fulfyllyd yt was with ymagery, Every windowe by and by On eche syde had ther a gynne, Sperdex 11.22 with manie a dyvers pynne. Anone that ladie fayre and fre Undyd a pynne of yvere, And wyd the wyndowes she open set, The sunne shonne yn at hir closet. In that arbre fayre and gaye She saw where that sqyure lay, &c.

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I am persuaded to transcribe the following passage, because it delineates in lively colours the fashionable diversions and usages of antient times. The king of Hungary endeavours to comfort his daughter with these promises, after she had fallen into a deep and incurable melancholy from the supposed loss of her paramour.

To morow ye shall yn huntyng fare; And yede, my doughter, yn a chare, Yt shal be coverd wyth velvette reede And clothes of fyne golde al about your heede, With damaske whyte and asure blewe Well dyaperd y 11.23 with lyllyes newe:

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Your pomelles shalbe ended with golde, Your chaynes enameled many a folde. Your mantell of ryche degre Purple palle and armyne fre. Jennets of Spayne that ben so wyght Trapped to the ground with velvet bryght. Ye shall have harpe, sautry, and songe, And other myrthes you amonge, Ye shal have rumney, and malespine, Both ypocrasse and vernage wyne; Mountrese and wyne of Greke, Both algrade and despice eke; Antioche and bastarde, Pyment z 11.24 also, and garnarde;

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Wine of Greke, and muscadell, Both clare, pyment, and rochell, The reed your stomake to defye And pottes of osey sett you bye. You shall have venyson ybake a 11.25, The best wylde fowle that may be take: A lese of harehoundb 11.26 with you to streke, And hart, and hynde, and other lyke, Ye shalbe set at such a tryst That hart and hynde shll come to you fyst. Your deease to dryve ye fro, To here the bugles there yblowe.

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Homward thus shall ye ryde, On haukyng by the ryvers syde, With goshauke and with gentil fawcon With buglehorn and merlyon. When you come home your menie amonge, Ye shall have revell, daunces, and songe: Lytle chyldren, great and smale, Shall syng as doth the nyghtyngale, Than shal ye go to your evensong, With tenours and trebles among, Threscore of copes of damask bryght Full of perles they shalbe pyghte.— Your sensours shalbe of golde Endent with asure manie a folde: Your quere nor organ songe shal want With countre note and dyscaunt. The other halfe on orgayns playing, With yong chyldren ful fayn syngyng. Than shal ye go to your suppere And sytte in tentis in grene arbere, With clothe of arras pyght to the grounde, With saphyres set of dyamounde.— A hundred knyghtes truly tolde Shall plaie with bowles in alayes colde. Your disease to dryve awaie, To se the fisshes yn poles plai. To a drawe brydge then shal ye, Thone halfe of stone, thother of tre, A barge shal meet you full ryht, With xxiiii ores ful bryght, With trompettes and with claryowne, The fresshe watir to rowe up and downe. Than shal you, doughter, aske the wyne Wyth spises that be gode and fyne:

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Gentyll pottes, with genger grene, Wyth dates and deynties you betweene. Fortie torches brenynge bright At your brydges to bring you lyght. Into youre chambre they shall you brynge Wyth muche myrthe and more lykynge. Your blankettes shal be of fustyane, Your shetes shal be of cloths of rayne c 11.27: Your head-shete shal be of pery pyght d 11.28, Wyth dymondes set and rubys bryght. Whan you are layd in bed so softe, A cage of golde shal hange aloft, Wythe longe peper fayre burning, And cloves that be swete smellyng, Frankinsense and olibanum, That whan ye slepe the taste may come And yf ye no rest can take All nyght mynstrels for you shall wake e 11.29.

SYR DEGORE is a romance perhaps belonging to the same period f 11.30. After his education under a hermit, Sir Degore's first adventure is against a dragon. This horrible monster is marked with the hand of a master g 11.31.

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Degore went furth his waye, Through a forest half a daye: He erd no man, nor sawe none, Tyll yt past the hygh none, Then herde he grete strokes falle, That yt made grete noyse with alle, Full sone he thoght that to se, To wete what the strokes myght be: There was an erle, both stout and gaye, He was com ther that same daye, For to hunt for a dere or a do, But hys houndes were gone hym fro. Then was ther a dragon grete and grymme, Full of fyre and also venymme, Wyth a wyde throte and tuskes grete, Uppon that knygte fast gan he bete. And as a lyon then was hys feete, Hys tayle was long, and full unmeete: Betwene hys head and hys tayle Was xxii fote withouten fayle; Hys body was lyke a wyne tonne, He shone ful bryght agaynst the sunne: Hys eyen were bright as any glasse, His scales were hard as any brasse; And therto he was necked lyke a horse, He bare hys hed up wyth grete force: The breth of hys mouth that did out blow As yt had been a fyre on lowe. He was to loke on, as I you telle, As yt had bene a fiende of helle. Many a man he had shent, And many a horse he had rente.

As the minstrell profession became a science, and the au|dience grew more civilised, refinements began to be

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studied, and the romantic poet sought to gain new attention, and to recommend his story, by giving it the advantage of a plan. Most of the old metrical romances are, from their nature, supposed to be incoherent rhapsodies. Yet many of them have a regular integrity, in which every part contri|butes to produce an intended end. Through various obsta|cles and difficulties one point is kept in view, till the final and general catastrophe is brought about by a pleasing and unexpected surprise. As a specimen of the rest, and as it lies in a narrow compass, I will develope the plan of the fable now before us, which preserves at least a coincidence of events, and an uniformity of design.

A king's daughter of England, extremely beautiful, is sol|licited in marriage by numerous potentates of various king|doms. The king her father vows, that of all these suitors, that champion alone shall win his daughter who can unhorse him at a tournament. This they all attempt, but in vain. The king every year assisted at an anniversary mass for the soul of his deceased queen, who was interred in an abbey at some distance from his castle. In the journey thither, the princess strays from her damsels in a solitary forest: she is discovered by a knight in rich armour, who by many sollici|tations prevails over her chastity, and, at parting, gives her a sword without a point, which he charges her to keep safe; together with a pair of gloves, which will fit no hands but her own g 11.32. At length she finds the road to her father's castle, where, after some time, to avoid discovery, she is se|cretly delivered of a boy. Soon after the delivery, the princess having carefully placed the child in a cradle, with twenty pounds in gold, ten pounds in silver, the gloves given her by the strange knight, and a letter, consigns him to one

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of her maidens, who carries him by night, and leaves him in a wood, near a hermitage, which she discerned by the light of the moon. The hermit in the morning discovers the child; reads the letter, by which it appears that the gloves will fit no lady but the boy's mother, educates him till he is twenty years of age, and at parting gives him the gloves found with him in the cradle, telling him that they will fit no lady but his own mother. The youth, who is called Degore, sets forward to seek adventures, and saves an earl from a terrible dragon, which he kills. The earl in|vites him to his palace, dubs him a knight, gives him a horse and armour, and offers him half his territory. Sir Degore refuses to accept this offer, unless the gloves, which he had received from his foster-father the hermit, will fit any lady of his court. All the ladies of the earl's court are called before him, and among the rest the earl's daughter, but upon trial the gloves will fit none of them. He therefore takes leave of the earl, proceeds on his adventures, and meets with a large train of knights; he is informed that they were going to tourney with the king of England, who had promised his daughter to that knight who could conquer him in single combat. They tell him of the many barons and earls whom the king had foiled in several trials. Sir Degore, how|ever, enters the lists, overthrows the king, and obtains the princess. As the knight is a perfect stranger, she submits to her father's commands with much reluctance. He marries her; but in the midst of the solemnities which preceded the consummation, recollects the gloves which the hermit had given him, and proposes to make an experiment with them on the hands of his bride. The princess, on seeing the gloves, changed colour, claimed them for her own, and drew them on with the greatest ease. She declares to Sir Degore that she was his mother, and gives him an account of his birth: she told him that the knight his father gave her a pointless sword, which was to be delivered to no person but the son

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that should be born of their stolen embraces. Sir Degore draws the sword, and contemplates its breadth and length with wonder: is suddenly seized with a desire of finding out his father. He sets forward on this search, and on his way enters a castle, where he is entertained at supper by fifteen beautiful damsels. The lady of the castle invites him to her bed, but in vain; and he is lulled asleep by the sound of a harp. Various artifices are used to divert him from his pur|suit, and the lady even engages him to encounter a giant in her cause h 11.33. But Sir Degore rejects all her temptations, and pursues his journey. In a forest he meets a knight richly accoutred, who demands the reason why Sir Degore presumed to enter his forest without permission. A combat ensues. In the midst of the contest, the combatants being both un|horsed, the strange knight observing the sword of his ad|versary not only to be remarkably long and broad, but with|out a point, begs a truce for a moment. He fits the sword to a point which he had always kept, and which had for|merly broken off in an encounter with a giant; and by this circumstance discovers Sir Degore to be his son. They both return into England, and Sir Degore's father is married to the princess his mother.

The romance of KYNG ROBERT OF SICILY begins and pro|ceeds thus i 11.34.

Here is of kyng Robert of Cicyle, Hou pride dude him beguile. Princes proude that beth in pres, I wol ou tell thing not lees.

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In Cisyle was a noble kyng, Faire and strong and sumdele ʒyng k 11.35; He hadde a broder in greete Roome, Pope of al cristendome; Another he hadde in Alemayne, An emperour that Sarazins wrougte payne. The kynge was hetel 11.36 kynge Robert, Never mon ne wuste him ferte, He was kyng of great honour Ffor that he was conquerour: In al the worlde nas his peer, Kyng ne prince, far ne neer: And, for he was of chivalrie flour, His broder was made emperour: His oder broder, godes vikere, Pope of Rome, as I seide ere; The pope was hote pope Urban, He was goode to god and man: The emperour was hote Valemounde, A stronger warreoure nas non founde, After his brother of Cisyle, Of whom that I schal telle awhyle. The kynge yhoughte he hadde no peer In al the world, far no neer, And in his yougt he hadde pryde Ffor he was nounpere in uche syde. At midsomer a seynt Jones niht, The king to churche com ful riht, Ffor to heren his even-song; Him thouhte he dwelled ther ful long, He thouhte more in worldes honour Than in Crist our saveour:

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In Magnificatm 11.37 he herde a vers, He made a clerke het him rehers, In language of his own tonge, In Latyn he nusten 11.38 what heo songe; The vers was this I tell ye, "Deposuit potentes de sede "Et exaltavit humiles," This was the vers withouten les The clerke seide anone righte, "Sire suche is godes mihte, "That he make heyge lowe, "And lowe heyge, in luytell throwe; "God may do, withoute lyge o 11.39, "His wil in twenkling of an eige p 11.40, The kynge seide, with hert unstabl "All yor song is fals and fable: "What man hath such power "Me to bringe lowe in daunger? "I am floure of chivalrye, "Myn enemys I may distruye: "No man lyveth in no londe "That may me withstonde. "Then is this a song of noht." This erreur he hadde in thought, And in his thought a sleep him tok, In his pulput r 11.41, as seith the boke. Whan that evensong was al don, A kyng i lyk hem out gon And all men with hem wende, Kyng Roberd lefte oute of mynde s 11.42.

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The newet 11.43 kyng was, as I yow telle, Godes aungell his pruide to felle. The aungell in hall joye made, And all men of hym weore glade. The kynge wakede that laye in churche, His men he thouhte wo to werche; Ffor he was left ther alon, And dark niht hym fel upon. He gan crie after his men, Ther nas non that spak agen. But the sextune atten ende Of the churche him gan wende u 11.44, And saide, "what dost thou nouth here, "Thou fals thef, thou losenger? "Thou art her with felenye "Holy chirche to robby, &c." The kyng bigon to renne out faste; As a mon that was wood, At his paleys gate he stood, And hail the porter gadelyng w 11.45, And bad him com in higing x 11.46: The porter seide, "Who clepethy 11.47 so?" He answerde, "Anone tho, "Thou schalt witen ar I go; "Thi kyng I am thou schalt knowe: "In prisoun thou schall ligge lowe, "And ben an hanged and to drawe "As a traytour bi the lawe, "You schal wel witen I am kynge, &c."

When admitted, he is brought into the hall; where the angel, who had assumed his place, makes him the fool of the hall, and cloathes him in a fool's coat. He is then sent out

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to lie with the dogs; in which situation he envies the condi|tion of those dogs, which in great multitudes were permitted o remain in the royal hall. At length the emperor Vale|mounde sends letters to his brother king Robert, inviting him to visit, with himself, their brother the pope at Rome. The angel, who personates king Robert, welcomes the mes|sengers, and cloathes them in the richest apparel, such as could not be made in the world.

The aungell welcomede the messagers, And gaf them clothes riche of pers z 11.48, Ffurred al with ermyne, In crystendone is non so fyne; And all was chouched midd perre a 11.49, Better was non in cristantè: Such clothe, and hit werre to dihte, Al cristendom hit make ne mihte, Of that wondrede al that londe, How that clothe was wrought with honde, Where such cloth was to selle, He ho hit made couthe no mon telle. The messengers went with the kynge b 11.50 To grete Rome, withoute lettynge; The Fool Robert also went, Clothed in lodlyc 11.51 garnement, With ffoxes tayles mony a boute d 11.52, Men mihte him knowen in the route, The aungel was clothed al in whyt Was never seygee 11.53 such samyt f 11.54: And al was crouched on peles riche, Never mon seighe non hem liche.

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Al whit attyr was, and steede, The steede was fair ther he yede g 11.55, So feir a steede as he on rod Was never mon that ever bi strod. The aungel cam to Roome sone Realh 11.56 as fel a kyng to done. So rech a kyng com never in Roome All men wondrede whether he come. His men weore reallichei 11.57 dight Heorek 11.58 riches can seothe no wiht, Of clothis, gurdles, and other thing, Evriche sqyzerl 11.59 thoughte a kyng; And al ride of riche array, Botem 11.60 kyng Robert, as i ow say, Al men on him gan pyke, For he rod al other unlyke. An ape rod of his clothing In tokne that he was underling. The pope and the emperour also, And other lordes mony mo, Welcommede the aungel as for kyng And made joye of his comyng; Theose three bredrene made cumfort, The aungel was broder mad bi sort, Wel was the pope and emperour That hadden a broder of such honour.

Afterwards they return in the same pomp to Sicily, where the angel, after so long and ignominious a penance, restores king Robert to his royalty.

Sicily was conquered by the French in the eleventh cen|tury n 11.61, and this tale might have been originally got or

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written during their possession of that island, which conti|nued through many monarchies o 11.62. But Sicily, from its situation, became a familiar country to all the western con|tinent at the time of the crusades, and consequently soon found its way into romance, as did many others of the me|diterranean islands and coasts, for the same reason. Another of them, Cilicia, has accordingly given title to an antient tale called, the KING OF TARS; from which I shall give some extracts, touched with a rude but expressive pencil.

"Her bigenneth of the KYNG OF TARS, and of the Soudan of Dammias p 11.63, how the Soudan of Dammias was cristened thoru godis gras q 11.64."
Herkeneth now, bothe old and ʒyng, Ffor Marie love, that swete thyng: Howe a werre bi gan Bi tweene a god cristene kyng, And an hethene heih lordyng, Of Damas the Soudan. The kyng of Tars hadde a wyf, The feireste that mihte bere lyf, That eny mon telle can: A doughter thei hadde ham bi tweene, That heorer 11.65 rihte heire scholde ben; Whit sos 11.66 father of swan:

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Chaast heot 11.67 was, and feir of chere, With rodeu 11.68 red so blosme on brere, Eigenw 11.69 stepe and gray, Lowe schuldres, and whyt swere x 11.70; Her to seoy 11.71 was gret preyere Of princes pert in play. The wordez 11.72 of hire spronge ful wyde Ffeor and ner, bi vch a syde: The Soudan herde say; Him thougte his herte wolde broke on five Bote he mihte have hire to wive, That was so feire a may, The Soudan ther he satte in halle; He sent his messagers faste with alle, To hire fader the kyng. And seyde, hou so hit ever bi falle, That mayde he wolde clothe in palle And spousen hire with his ryng. "And allesa 11.73 I swere withouten fayle "I chullb 11.74 hire winnen in pleye battayle "With mony an heih lordyng, &c."

The Soldan, on application to the king of Tarsus for his daughter, is refused; and the messengers return without success. The Soldan's anger is painted with great charac|teristical spirit.

The Soudan sate at his des, I served of his furste mes; Thei comen into the halle To fore the prince proud in pres, Heore tale thei tolde withouten les And on heore knees gan falle:

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And seide, "Sire the king of Tars "Of wikked wordes nis not scars, "Hethene hounde e 11.75 he doth thef 11.76 calle; "And or his dogtur he give the tille g 11.77 Thyn herte blode he woll spille "And thi barrons alle." Whan the Soudan this i herde, As a wod man he ferde, His robe he rent adoune; He tar the harh 11.78 of hed and berde, And seide he wold her wene with swerde, Beo his lord seynt Mahoune. The table adoune rihte he smote, In to the the floore foote hot i 11.79, He lokede as a wylde lyoun; Alle that he hitte he smotte down riht Both sergeaunt and kniht, Erle and eke baroun. So he ferde forsothe a plihte, Al a day, al a nihte, That no man mihte him chaste k 11.80: A morwen when hit was day lihte, He sent his messagers ful rihte, After his barouns in haste: "Lordynges, he seith, what to rede l 11.81, "Me is done a grete mysdede, "Of Taars the cristen kyng; "I bad him both land and lede "To have his doughter in worthli wede, "And spousen hire with my ryng.

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"And he seide, withouten fayle "First he wolde me sle in batayle, "And mony a grete lordynge. "At sertesm 11.82 he schal be forswore, "Or to wrothele n 11.83 that he was bore, "Bote he hit thertoo 11.84 bryng. "Therefore lordynges, I have after ow sent "Ffor to come to my parliment, "To wite of ʒow counsayle." And all onswerde with gode entent Thei wolde be at his commaundement Withouten any fayle. And when thei were alle at his heste, The Soudan made a well grete feste, For love of his battayle; The Soudan gedrede a hoste unryde p 11.85, With Sarazyns of muchel pryde, The kyng of Taars to assayle. Whan the kyng hit herde that tyde He sent about on vche syde, All that he mihte off seende; Grat werre tho bi gan to wrake Ffor the marriage ne most be take Of that same mayden heende q 11.86. Battayle thei sette uppon a day, With inne the thridde day of May, Ne longer nolde thei leende r 11.87. The Soudan com with grete power, With helme briht, and feir banere, Uppon that kyng to wende.

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The Soudan ladde an huge ost, And com with muche pruyde and cost, With the kyng of Taars to fihte. With him mony a Sarazyn feer s 11.88, All the feolds feor and neer, Of helmes leomede t 11.89 lihte. The kyng of Taars com also The Soudan battayle for to do With mony a cristene knihte; Either ost gon othur assayle Ther bi gon a strong batayle That grisly che was of sihte. Threo hethene agen twey cristene men, And felde hem down in the fen, With wepnes stif and goode: The steorne Sarazyns in that fihte, Slowe vr cristen men doun rihte, Thei fouhte as heo weore woode. The Souldan's oste in that stounde Ffeolde the cristene to the grounde, Mony a freoly foode; The Sarazyns, with outen fayle, The cristens culd u 11.90 in that battayle, Nas non that hem withstoode. Whan the king of Taars saw the siht Wood he was for wrathe w 11.91 a pliht; In honde he hent a spere, And to the Soudan he rode ful riht, With a dunt x 11.92 of much miht, Adoun he gon him bere: The Souldan neigh he hadde islawe, But thritti thousant of hethen lawe Commen him for to were;

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And brougten him agen upon his stede, And holpe him wel in that nede, That no mon miht him dere y 11.93. When he was brouht uppon his stede, He sprong as sparkle doth of glede z 11.94, Ffor wrathe and for envye; All that he hotte he made them blede, He ferde as he wolde a wede a 11.95, Mahoun help, he gan crye. Mony an helm ther was unweved, And mony a bacinet b 11.96 to cleved, And saddles mony emptye; Men miht se uppon the felde Moni a kniht ded under schelde, Of the cristen cumpagnie. Whon the kyng of Taars saug hem so ryde, No longer then he nold abyde, Bote fleyh c 11.97 to his owne citè: The Sarazyns, that ilke tyde, Sloug a doun bi vche syde Vr cristene folk so fre. The Sarazyns that tyme, sauns fayl, Slowe vre cristene in battayle, That reuthe it was to se; And on the morwe for heore d 11.98 sake Truwes thei gunne for to gidere take e 11.99, A moneth and dayes thre. As the kyng of Taars satte in his halle, He made ful gret deol f 11.100 withalle, Ffor the folk that he hedde ilore g 11.101:

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His douhter com in riche palle, On kneos he h 11.102 gan biforen hym falle, And seide with sything sore: "Ffather, he seide, let me bi his wyf "That ther be no more stryf, &c."

To prevent future bloodshed, the princess voluntarily de|clares she is willing to be married to the Soldan, although a Pagan: and notwithstanding the king her father peremp|torily refuses his consent, and resolves to continue the war, with much difficulty she finds means to fly to the Soldan's court, in order to produce a speedy and lasting reconciliation by marrying him.

To the Souldan heo i 11.103 is i fare; He com with mony an heig lordyng, Ffor to welcom that swete thyng, Theor he com in hire chare k 11.104: He cust l 11.105 hire with mony a sithe His joye couthe no man hithe m 11.106, A wei was al hire care. Into chambre heo was led, With riche clothes heo was cled, Hethene as thaug heo were n 11.107. The Souldan ther he satte in halle, He commaunded his knihtes alle That mayden ffor to fette, On cloth of riche purpil palle, And on here hed a comli calle, Bi the Souldan she was sette. Unsemli was hit ffor to se Heo that was so bright of ble To habbe o 11.108 so foule a mette p 11.109, &c.

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They are then married, and the wedding is solemnised with a grand tournament, which they both view from a high tower. She is afterwards delivered of a son, which is so deformed as to be almost a monster. But at length she per|suades the Soldan to turn christian; and the young prince is baptised, after which ceremony he suddenly becomes a child of most extraordinary beauty. The Soldan next pro|ceeds to destroy his Saracen idols.

He hente a stof with herte grete, And al his goddis he gan to bete, And drough hem al adoun; And leyde on til that he con swete, With sterne strokes and with grete, On Jovyn and Plotoun, On Astrot and sire Jovyn On Termagaunt and Apollin, He brak them scul and croun; On Termagaunt, that was heore brother, He left no lym hol witte other, Ne on his lorde seynt Mahoun, &c.

The Soldan then releases thirty thousand christians, whom he had long detained prisoners. As an apostate from the pagan religion, he is powerfully attacked by several neigh|bouring Saracen nations: but he sollicits the assistance of his father in law the king of Tars; and they both joining their armies, in a pitched battle, defeat five Saracen kings, Kenedoch, Lesyas king of Taborie, Merkel, Cleomadas, and Membrok. There is a warmth of description in some pas|sages of this poem, not unlike the manner of Chaucer. The reader must have already observed, that the stanza resembles that of Chaucer's RIME OF SIR TOPAS q 11.110.

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IPOMEDON is mentioned among the romances in the Pro|logue of RICHARD CUER DE LYON; which, in an antient copy of the British museum, is called SYR IPOMYDON: a name borrowed from the Theban war, and transferred here to a tale of the feudal times r 11.111. This piece is evidently derived from a French original. Our hero Ippomedon is son of Ermones king of Apulia, and his mistress is the fair heiress of Calabria. About the year 1230, William Ferra|bras s 11.112, and his brethren, sons of Tancred the Norman, and well known in the romantic history of the Paladins, ac|quired the signories of Apulia and Calabria. But our English romance seems to be immediately translated from the French; for Ermones is called king of Poyle, or Apulia, which in French is Pouille. I have transcribed some of the most in|teresting passages t 11.113.

Ippomedon, although the son of a king, is introduced waiting in his father's hall, at a grand festival. This ser|vitude was so far from being dishonourable, that it was al|ways required as a preparatory step to knighthood u 11.114.

Everie yere the kyng weld At Whytsuntyde a fest held Of dukis, erlis, and barouns, Mani ther com frome diverse tounes, Ladyes, maydens, gentill and fre, Come thedyr frome ferre countrè: And grette lordis of ferre lond, Thedyr were prayd by fore the hond w 11.115. Whan all were com to gidyr than Ther was joy of mani a man;

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Ffull ryche I wene were there pryse, Ffor better might no man devyse. Ippomedon that day servyde in halle, All spake of hym both grete and smalle, Ladyes and mayden by helde hym on, So goodly a youth they had sene non: Hys feyre chere in halle theym smerte That mony a lady son smote throw the herte. And in theyr hartys they made mone That there lordis ne were suche one. After mete they went to pley, All the peple, as I you say; Some to chambre, and some to boure, And some to the hye toure x 11.116; And some on the halle stode And spake what hem thoht gode: Men that were of that cite y 11.117 Enquired of men of other cuntrè, &c.

Here a conversation commences concerning the heiress of Calabria: and the young prince Ippomedon immediately forms a resolution to visit and to win her. He sets out in disguise.

Now they furth go on their way, Ippomedon to hys men gan say, That thei be none of them alle, So hardi by his name hym calle, Whenso thei wend farre or neare, Or over the straunge ryvere;

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Ne no man telle what I am Where I schall go, ne where I came. All they graunted his commaundement, And furthe thei went with one consent. Ippomedon and Thelomew Robys had on and mantills newe, Of the richest that might be, Ther nas ne suche in that cuntrèe: Ffor many was the riche stone That the mantills were uppon. So long there waie they have nome z 11.118 That to Calabre they are come: Thei come to the castell yate The porter was redy there at, The porter to them thei gan calle And prayd him go into the halle And say thy lady a 11.119 gent and fre, That commen are men of farre contrèe, And yf yt please hir we will her pray, That we might ete with hyr to day. The porter seyd full cortessly "Your errand to do I am redy." The ladie to her mete was sette, The porter cam and fayr her grette, "Madame, he seyde, god yow save, "At your gate gestis you have, "Straunge men us for to se "Thei aske mete for charytè." The ladie commaundeth sone anone That the gates wer undone,

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"And brynge them alle bifore me "Ffor welle at ese shall thei be." Thei took heyr pagis hors and alle, These two men went into the halle, Ippomedon on knees hym sette, And the ladye feyre he grette: "I am a man of straunge countrè "And prye yow of your will to be "That I myght dwelle with you to gere "Of your nourture for to lere b 11.120, "I am com from farre lond; "Ffor speche I here bi fore the hand "That your nourture and your servyse, "Ys holden of so grete empryse, "I pray you that I may dwell here "Some of your servyse to bere." The ladye by held Ippomedon, He semed wel a gentilmon, She knew non suche in her lande, So goodli a man and wel farrand c 11.121; She sawe also bi his norture He was a man of grete valure: She cast ful sone in hire thoght That for no servyse cum he noght; But hit was worship her untoo In feir servyse hym to do. She sayd, "Syr, welcome ye be, "And al that comyn be with the; "Sithe ye have had so grete travayle, "Of a servyse ye shall not fayle: "In this cuntre ye may dwell here "And al your will for to here,

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"Of the cuppe ye shall serve me "And all your men with you shal be, "Ye may dwell here at your wille, "Bote d 11.122 your beryng be full ylle." "Madame, he said, grantmercy," He thanked the ladye corteysly. She commandith him to the mete, But or he sette in ony sete, He saluted theym greete and smalle, As a gentillmon shuld in halle; All thei said sone anon, Thei saw nevir so godli a mon, Ne so light, ne so glad, Ne non that so ryche atire had: There was none that sat nor yede e 11.123, But thei had merveille of his dede f 11.124, And seyd, he was no lytell syre That myht showe soche atyre. Whan thei had ete, and grace sayd, And the tabyll awaye was layd; Upp then aroos Ippomedon, Ant to the bottery he went anon, Ant hys mantyl hym a boute; On hym lokyd all the route, Ant everie mon seyd to other there, "Will ye se the proude squeer "Shall serve g 11.125 my ladye of the wyne, "In hys mantyll that is so fyne?" That they hym scornyd wist he noght On othyr thyng he had his thoght. He toke the cuppe of the botelere, And drewe a lace of sylke ful clere,

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Adowne than felle hys mantylle by, He preyed hym for hys curtesy, That lytell gyfte h 11.126 that he wold nome Tell afte sum better come. Up it toke the bottelere, By fore the lady he gan it bere Ant preyd the ladye hartely To thanke hym of his curtessie, Al that was tho in the halle Grete honoure they spake hym alle. And sayde he was no lytyll man That such gyftis giffie kan. There he dwelled moni a day, And servyd the ladye wel to pay, He bare hym on so fayre manere To knightis, ladyes, and squyere, All loved hym that com hym by, Ffor he bare hym so cortessly. The ladye had a cosyn that hight Jason, Full well he loved Ippomedon; When that he yed in or oute, Jason went with hym aboute. The lady lay, but she slept noght, For of the squyerre she had grete thoght; How he was feyre and shapè wele, Body and armes, and everie dele: Ther was non in al hir londe So wel he semyd dougti of honde. But she howde wele for no case, Whence he came nor what he was, Ne of no man could enquere Other than of that squyere.

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She hire bi thought of a quayntyse, If she miht know in any wise, To wete whereof he were come; This was hyr thoght al their some She thoght to wode hyr men to tame i 11.127 That she myght knowe hym by his game. On the morow whan yt was day To her men she gan to say, "To morrowe whan it is day light, "Lok ye be al redy dight, "With your houndis more and lesse, "In fforrest to take my gresse, "And thare I will myself be "Your game to by holde and se." Ippomedon had houndis three That he broght from his cuntree; Whan thei were to the wode gone, This ladye and her men ichone, And with hem her houndis ladde, All that any houndis hadde. Syr Tholomew for gate he noght, Hys maistres houndes thedyr he broght, That many a day he had ronne ere, Fful wel he thoght to note hem there. When thei came to the launde on hight, The quenes pavylyon thar was pight, That she might see al the best, All the game of the forrest, And to the lady broght mani a best k 11.128, Herte and hynd, buck and doo, And othir bestis many mo. The houndis that wer of gret prise, Plucked down dere all atryse,

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Ippomedon he with his hounds throo Drew down both buck and doo, More he took with houndes thre Than al that othir cumpagnie, Thare squyres undyd hyr dere Eche man after his manere: Ippomedon a dere gede unto, That ful konningly gon he hit undo, So feyre that venyson he gan to dight, That both hym by held squyere and knight: The ladye looked oute of her pavylyon, And sawe hym dight the venyson. There she had grete dainte And so had all that dyd hym see: She sawe all that he down droughe Of huntynge she wist he coude ynoghe And thoght in her hert then That he was com of gentillmen: She bade Jason hire men to calle Home then passyd grete and smalle: Home thei com son anon, This ladye to hir met gan gon, And of venery l 11.129 had her fille Ffor they had take game at wille.

He is afterwards knighted with great solemnity.

The heraudes gaff the childe m 11.130 the gee, And M pounde he had to fee, Mynstrelles had giftes of gold And fourty dayes thys fest was holde n 11.131.

The metrical romance entitled, LA MORT ARTHURE, pre|served in the same repository, is supposed by the learned and

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accurate Wanley, to be a translation from the French: who adds, that it is not perhaps older than the times of Henry the seventh o 11.132. But as it abounds with many Saxon words, and seems to be quoted in SYR BEVYS, I have given it a place here p 11.133. Notwithstanding the title, and the exordium which promises the history of Arthur and the Sangreal, the exploits of Sir Lancelot du Lake king of Benwike, his in|trigues with Arthur's queen Geneura, and his refusal of the beautiful daughter of the earl of Ascalot, form the greatest part of the poem. At the close, the repentance of Lancelot and Geneura, who both assume the habit of religion, is in|troduced. The writer mentions the Tower of London. The following is a description of a tournament performed by some of the knights of the Round Table q 11.134.

Tho to the castelle gon they fare, To the ladye fayre and bryhte: Blithe was the ladye thare, That thei wold dwell with her that nyght. Hastely was there soper yare r 11.135 Of mete and drinke richely dight; On the morowe gan thei dine and fare Both Lancellot and that othir knight. Whan they come in to the felde Myche ther was of game and play, Awhile they lovid s 11.136 and bi held How Arthur's knightis rode that day, t 11.137 Galehodis party bigun to u 11.138 held On fote his knightis ar led away. Launcellott stiffe was undyr schelde, Thenkis to help yf that he may.

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Besyde him come than syr Gawayne, Breme w 11.139 as eny wilde bore; Lancellot springis hem agayne x 11.140, In rede armys that he bore: A dynte he gaff with mekill mayne, Syr Ewayne was unhorsid thare, That al men went y 11.141 he had be slayne So was he woundyd wondyr sare z 11.142. Syr Beorte thoughte no thinge good, When Syr Ewaine unhorsyd was; Fforth he springis, as he were wode, To Launcelott withouten lese: Launcellot hitt hym on the hode, The next way to grounde he chese: Was non so stiffe agayne hym stode Fful thin he made the thikkest prees a 11.143. Syr Lyonell be gonne to tene b 11.144, And hastely he made hym bowne c 11.145, To Launcellott, with herte kene, He rode with helme and sword browne; Launcellott hytt hym as I wene, Through the helme in to the crowne: That eny aftir it was sene Bothe horse and man ther yod adoune. The knightis gadrede to gedre than And gan with crafte, &c.

I could give many more ample specimens of the romantic poems of these nameless minstrells, who probably flourished before or about the reign of Edward the second d 11.146. But it

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is neither my inclination nor intention to write a catalogue, or compile a miscellany. It is not to be expected that this work should be a general repository of our antient poetry. I cannot however help observing, that English literature and

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English poetry suffer, while so many pieces of this kind still remain concealed and forgotten in our manuscript libraries. They contain in common with the prose-romances, to most of which indeed they gave rise, amusing images of antient customs and institutions, not elsewhere to be found, or at least not otherwise so strikingly delineated: and they preserve pure and unmixed, those fables of chivalry which formed the taste and awakened the imagination of our elder English classics. The antiquaries of former times overlooked or re|jected these valuable remains, which they despised as false and frivolous; and employed their industry in reviving ob|scure fragments of uninstructive morality or uninteresting history. But in the present age we are beginning to make ample amends: in which the curiosity of the antiquarian is connected with taste and genius, and his researches tend to display the progress of human manners, and to illustrate the history of society.

As a further illustration of the general subject, and many particulars, of this section and the three last, I will add a new proof of the reverence in which such stories were held, and of the familiarity with which they must have been known, by our ancestors. These fables were not only perpetually repeated at their festivals, but were the constant objects of their eyes. The very walls of their apartments were clothed with ro|mantic history. Tapestry was antiently the fashionable fur|niture of our houses, and it was chiefly filled with lively representations of this sort. The stories of the tapestry in the royal palaces of Henry the eighth are still preserved e 11.147; which I will here give without reserve, including other sub|jects as they happen to occur, equally descriptive of the times. In the tapestry of the tower of London, the original

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and most antient seat of our monarchs, there are recited Godfrey of Bulloign, the three kings of Cologn, the emperor Constantine, saint George, king Erkenwald f 11.148, the history of Hercules, Fame and Honour, the Triumph of Divinity, Esther and Ahasuerus, Jupiter and Juno, saint George, the eight Kings, the ten Kings of France, the Birth of our Lord, Duke Joshua, the riche history of king David, the seven Deadly Sins, the riche history of the Passion, the Stem of Jesse g 11.149, our Lady and Son, king Solomon, the Woman of Ca|nony, Meleager, and the dance of Maccabre h 11.150. At Durham|place we find the Citie of Ladies i 11.151, the tapestrie of Thebes and of Troy, the City of Peace, the Prodigal Son k 11.152, Esther, and other piecs of scripture. At Windsor castle the siege of Jerusalem, Ahasuerus, Charlemagne, the siege of Troy, and

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hawking and hunting l 11.153. At Nottingham castle Amys and Amelion m 11.154. At Woodstock manor, the tapestri of Charle|magne n 11.155. At the More, a palace in Hertfordshire, king Arthur, Hercules, Astyages and Cyrus. At Richmond, the arras of Sir Bevis, and Virtue and Vice fighting o 11.156. Many of these subjects are repeated at Westminster, Greenwich, Oate|lands, Bedington in Surry, and other royal seats, some of which are now unknown as such p 11.157. Among the rest we have also Hannibal, Holofernes, Romulus and Remus, Aeneas, and Susannah q 11.158. I have mentioned romances written on many of these subjects, and shall mention thers. In the romance of SYR GUY, that hero's combat with the dragon in Northumberland is said to be represented in tapestry in War|wick castle.

In Warwike the truth shall ye see In arras wrought ful craftely r 11.159.
This piece of tapestry appears to have been in Warwick castle before the year 1398. It was then so distinguished and valued a piece of furniture, that a special grant was made of it by king Richard the second in that year, conveying
"that suit of arras hangings in Warwick castle, which con|tained the story of the famous Guy earl of Warwick,"

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together with the castle of Warwick, and other possessions, to Thomas Holland, earl of Kent s 11.160. And in the restoration of forfeited property to this lord after his imprisonment, these hangings are particularly specified in the patent of king Henry the fourth, dated 1399. When Margaret, daughter of king Henry the seventh, was married to James king of Scotland, in the year 1503, Holyrood House at Edinburgh was plendidly decorated on that occasion; and we are told in an antient record, that the

"hanginge of the queenes grett chammer represented the ystory of Troye tune."
Again,
"the king's grett chammer had one table, wr was satt, hys chammerlayn, the grett sqyer, and many others, well served; the which chammer was haunged about with the story of Hercules, together with other ystorys t 11.161."
And at the same solemnity,
"in the hall wher the qwene's company wer satt in lyke as in the other, an wich was haunged of the history of Hercules, &c. u 11.162"
A stately chamber in the castle of Hesdin in Artois, was furnished by a duke of Burgundy with the story of Jason and the Golden Fleece, about the year 1468 w 11.163. The affecting story of Coucy's Heart, which gave rise to an old metrical English romance entitled, the KNIGHT OF COURTESY, and the LADY OF FAGUEL, was woven in tapestry in Coucy castle in France x 11.164. I have seen an antient suite of arras, containing Ariosto's Orlando and Angelica, where, at every groupe, the story was all along illustrated with short rhymes in romance or old French. Spenser sometimes dresses the superb bowers of his fairy castles with this sort of historical drapery.

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In Hawes's Poem called the PASTIME OF PLEASURE, written in the reign of Henry the seventh, of which due notice will be taken in its proper place, the hero of the piece sees all his future adventures displayed at large in the sumptuous tapestry of the hall of a castle. I have before mentioned the most valuable and perhaps most antient work of this sort now existing, the entire series of duke William descent on England, preserved in the church of Bayeux in Normandy, and intended as an ornament of the choir on high festivals. Bartholinus relates, that it was an art much cultivated among the antient Islanders, to weave the histories of their giants and champions in tapestry y 11.165. The same thing is re|corded of the old Persians; and this furniture is still in high request among many oriental nations, particularly in Japan and China z 11.166. It is well known, that to frame pictures of heroic adventures in needle-work, was a favourite practice of classical antiquity.

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SECT. VI.

ALTHOUGH much poetry began to be written about the reign of Edward the second, yet I have found only one English poet of that reign whose name has de|scended to posterity a 12.1. This is Adam Davy or Davie. He may be placed about the year 1312. I can collect no cir|cumstances of his life, but that he was marshall of Strat|ford-le-bow near London b 12.2. He has left several poems never printed, which are almost as forgotten as his name. Only one manuscript of these pieces now remains, which seems to be coeval with it's author c 12.3. They are VISIONS, THE BAT|TELL OF JERUSALEM, THE LEGEND OF SAINT ALEXIUS, SCRIPTURE HISTORIES, OF FIFTEEN TOKNES BEFORE THE DAY OF JUDGEMENT, LAMENTATIONS OF SOULS, and THE LIFE OF ALEXANDER d 12.4.

In the VISIONS, which are of the religious kind, Adam Davie draws this picture of Edward the second standing be|fore the shrine of Edward the Confessor in Westminster abbey at his coronation. The lines have a stregth arising from simplicity.

To our Lorde Jeshu Crist in heven Iche to day shawe myne sweven e 12.5,

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That iche mottef 12.6 in one nycht, Of a knycht of mychel mycht: His name isg 12.7 yhote syr Edward the kyng, Prince of Wales Engelonde the fair thynge; Me mott that he was armid wele, Bothe with yrne and with stele, And on his helme that was of stel, A coroune of gold bicom him wel. Bifore the shryne of Seint Edward he stood, Myd glad chere and myld of mood h 12.8.

Most of these Visions are compliments to the king. Our poet then proceeds thus:

Another suevene me mette on a twefit i 12.9 Bifore the fest of Alhalewen of that ilke knigt, His name is nempnedk 12.10 hure bifore, Blissed be the time that he was bore, &c. Of Syr Edward oure derworthl 12.11 kyng Iche mette of him anothere faire metyng, &c. Me thought he wod upon an asse, And that ich take God to witnesse; A wondur he was in a mantell gray, Toward Rome he nomm 12.12 his way, Upon his hevede sate a gray hure, It semed him wel a mesure; He wood withouten hose and sho, His wonen was not so to do; His shankes semeden al bloodrede, Myne herte wopn 12.13 for grete drede; As a pylgrym he rood to Rome, And thider he com wel swithe sone.

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The thrid suevene me mette a nigt Rigt of that derworth knight: On wednysday a nigt it was Next the dai of seint Lucie bifore Christenmasse, &c. Me thougth that ich was at Rome, And thider iche come swithe sone, The pope and syr Edward our kyng Botheo 12.14 hy hadde a new dublyng, &c. Thus Crist ful of grace Graunte our kyng in every place Maistrie of his witherwines And of al wicked Sarasynes. Me met a suevene one worthigp 12.15 a nigth Of that ilche derworthi knigth, God iche it shewe and to witnesse take And so shilde me fro, &c. Into a chapel I cum of vre lefdy q 12.16, Jhe Crist her lever 12.17 son stod by, On rods 12.18 he was an loveliche mon, Al thilke that on rode was don He unneledt 12.19 his honden two, &c. Adam the marchal of Strattford atte Bowe Wel swithe wide his name is iknowe He himself mette this metyng, To witnesse he taketh Jhu hevene kynge, On wedenyssdayw 12.20 in clene leinte u 12.21 A voyce me bede I schulde nougt feinte, Of the suevenes that her ben write I shulde swithe donx 12.22 my lord kyng to wite. The thursday next the beryngy 12.23 of our lefdy Me thougth an aungel com syr Edward by, &c.

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Iche tell you forsoth withoutten les z 12.24, Als God of hevene maide Marie to moder ches a 12.25, The aungell com to me Adam Davie and seide Botthou Adam shewe this thee worthe wel yvel mede, &c. Whoso wil speke myd me Adam the marchal In Stretforde bowe he is yknown and over al, Iche ne schewe nougt this for to have mede Bot for God almigtties drede.

There is a very old prose romance, both in French and Italian, on the subject of the Destruction of Jerusalem b 12.26. It is translated from a Latin work, in five books, very popular in the middle ages, entitled, HEGESIPPI de Bello Judaico et Excidio Urbis Hierosolymitanae Libri quinque. This is a licen|tious paraphrase of a part of Josephus's Jewish history, made about the fourth century: and the name Hegesippus is most probably corrupted from Josephus, perhaps also called Josippus. The paraphrast is supposed to be Ambrose of Milan, who flourished in the reign of Theodosius c 12.27. On the subject of Vespasian's siege of Jerusalem, as related in this book, our poet Adam Davie has left a poem entitled the BATTELL OF JERUSALEM d 12.28. It begin thus.

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Listeneth all that beth alyve, Both cristen men and wyve: I wol you telle of a wondur cas, How Jhesu Crist bihated was, Of the Jewes felle and kene, That was on him sithe ysene, Gospelles I drawe to witnesse Of this matter more or lesse,e 12.29 &c.

In the course of the story, Pilate challenges our Lord to single combat. This subject will occur again.

Davie's LEGEND OF SAINT ALEXIUS THE CONFESSOR, SON OF EUPHEMIUS, is translated from Latin, and begins thus:

All that willen here in ryme, Howe gode men in olde tyme, Loveden God almigth; That weren riche, of grete valoure, Kynges sones and emperoure Of bodies strong and ligth; Ʒee habbeth yherde ofte in geste, Of holi men maken feste Both day and nigth, For to have the joye in hevene (With aungells song, and merry stevene,) The which is brode and brigth: To you all heige and lowe The rigth sothe to biknowe Ʒour soules for to save, &c f 12.30.

Our author's SCRIPTURE HISTORIES want the beginning. Here they begin with Joseph, and end with Daniel.

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Ffor thritti pensg 12.31 thei sold that childe The seller higth Judas, h 12.32 Itho Ruben com him and myssed him Ffor ynow he was i 12.33.

His FIFTEEN TOKNESk 12.34 BEFORE THE DAY OF JUDGMENT, are taken from the prophet Jeremiah.

The first signe thar ageins, as our lord hymselfe sede, Hungere schal on erthe be, trecherie, and falshede, Batteles, and littell love, sekenesse and haterede, And the erthe schal quaken that vche man schal ydrede: The mone schal turne to blood, the sunne to derkhede l 12.35, &c.

Another of Davie's poems may be called the LAMENTA|TION OF SOULS. But the subject is properly a congratulation of Christ's advent, and the lamentation, of the souls of the fathers remaining in limbo, for his delay.

Off joye and blisse is my song care to bileve m 12.36, And to here hym among that altour soroug shal reve, Ycome he is that swete dewe, that swete hony drope, The kyng of alle kynges to whom is our hope: Becom he is our brother, whar was he so long? He it is and no other, that bougth us so strong: Our brother we mowen 12.37 hym clepe wel o 12.38, so seith hymself ilome p 12.39.

My readers will be perhaps surprised to find our language improve so slowly, and will probably think, that Adam Davie writes in a less intelligible phrase than many more antient bards already cited. His obscurity however arises in great

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measure from obsolete spelling, a mark of antiquity which I have here observed in exact conformity to a manuscript of the age of Edward the second; and which in the poetry of his predecessors, especially the minstrell-pieces, has been often effaced by multiplication of copies, and other causes. In the mean time it should be remarked, that the capricious peculiarities and even ignorance of transcribers, often oc|casion an obscurity, which is not to be imputed either to the author or his age q 12.40.

But Davie's capital poem is the LIFE OF ALEXANDER, which deserves to be published entire on many accounts. It seems to be founded chiefly on Simeon Seth's romance above|mentioned; but many passages are also copied from the French ROMAN D' ALEXANDRE, a poem in our author's age perhaps equally popular both in England and France. It is a work of considerable length r 12.41. I will first give some ex|tracts from the Prologue.

Divers in this myddel erde To lewed men ands 12.42 lered, &c. Natheles wel fele and fulle Bethe ifound in hart and skulle, That hadden lever a rybaudye, Then here of god either seint Marye; Either to drynke a copful ale, Than to heren any gode tale: Swiche ich wolde weren out bishet For certeynlich it were nett For hy ne habbeth wilbe ich woot wel Bot in the got and the barrel, &c. t 12.43

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Adam Davie thus describes a splendid procession made by Olympias.

In thei tyme faire and jalyf u 12.44. Olympias that fayre wyfe, Wolden make a riche fest Of knightes and lefdyesw 12.45 honest, Of burges and of jugelors And of men of vch mesters x 12.46, For mon seth by north and south y 12.47 Wymen ..... Mychalz 12.48 she desireth to shewe hire body, Her fayre hare, her face rody a 12.49, To have leesb 12.50 and al praising, And al is folye by heven king. She has marshales and knyttes ..... to ride and ryttes, And levadyes and demosile Which ham .... thousands fele, In fayre attyre in dyvers ... c 12.51. Many thar roodd 12.52 in rich wise. So dude the dame Olympias Forto shawe hire gentyll face. A mule also, whyte soe 12.53 mylke, With sadel of gold, sambuc of sylke, Was ybrought to the quene And mony bell of sylver shene, Yfastened on orfreysf 12.54 of mounde That hangen nere downe to grounde:

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Fourth she ferdg 12.55 myd her route, A thousand lefydes of rych soute h 12.56. A sperweki 12.57 that was honest k 12.58 So sat on the lefdye's yst: Ffoure trompes tofornel 12.59 hire blewe; Many men that day hire knewe. A hundred thousand, and eke moo, Alle alontonm 12.60 hire untoo. All the towne bihongedn 12.61 was Agenso 12.62 the lefdy Olympias p 12.63: Orgues, chymbes, vche maner glee q 12.64, Was drynan ayen that levady fre, Wythoutin the tounis murey r 12.65 Was mered vche maner pley s 12.66, Thar was knyttes tornaying, Thar was maydens karoling, Thar was champions skirmynge t 12.67, ..... also wrestlynge. Of lyons chace, and bare bayting, A bay of bore u 12.68, of bole slayting w 12.69. Al the city was byhonge With ryche samytesx 12.70 and pellesy 12.71 longe. Dame Olympias, myd this prees z 12.72, Sangle rooda 12.73 al mantelless.—

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Hire yalewe harb 12.74 was fayre attired Mid riche strenge of golde wyred, It helydc 12.75 hire abouten al To hire gentil myddle smal. Bryght and shine was hir face d 12.76 Everie fairehedee 12.77 in hir was f 12.78.

Much in the same strain the marriage of Cleopatras is described.

There was many a blithe grome: Of olive and of rugeg 12.79 floures Weren ystrewed halle and boures: Wyth samytes and baudekyns Weren curtayned the gardyns. All the innes of the ton Hadden litel foyson h 12.80, That day that comin Cleopatras, So michel people with hir was. She rode on a mule white so mylke, Her harneys were gold-beaten sylke:

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The prince hir lad of Sandas, And of Sydoyne Sir Jonachas. Ten thousand barons hir come myde, And to chirche with hir ryde. Yspoused she is and sett on deys: Nowe gynneth gestes of grete nobleys: At the fest was harpyng And pipyng and tabouryng i 12.81.

We have frequent opportunities of observing, how the poets of these times engraft the manners of chivalry on an|tient classical history. In the following lines Alexander's edu|cation is like that of Sir Tristram. He is taught tilting, hunting, and hawking.

Now can Alexander of skirmyng, And of stedes derayning, Upon stedes of justyng, And witte swordes turneying, Of assayling and defendyng: In green wood and of huntyng: And of ryver of haukyng k 12.82: Of battaile and of alle thyng.

In another place Alexander is mounted on a steed of Nar|bone; and amid the solemnities of a great feast, rides through the hall to the high table. This was no uncommon practice in the ages of chivalry l 12.83.

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On a stede of Narabone, He dassheth forth upon thi londe, The ryche coroune on hys honde, Of Nicholas that he wan: Beside hym rydeth mony a gentil man, To the paleys he comethe ryde, And fyndeth this feste and all this pryde; Fforth good Alisaundre sauns stable Righth unto the hith table m 12.84.

His horse Bucephalus, who even in classical fiction is a horse of romance, is thus described.

An horne in the forehead armyd ward That wolde perce a shelde hard.

To which these lines may be added.

Alisaunder arisen is, And in his deys sitteth ywys: His dukes and barons sauns doute Stondeth and sitteth him aboute, &c n 12.85.

The two following extracts are in a softer strain, and not inelegant for the rude simplicity of the times.

Mery is the blast of the stynoure o 12.86, Mery is the touchyng of the harpoure p 12.87:

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Sweete is the smellynge of the flower, Sweete it is in maydens bower: Appel sweete beneth faire colure q 12.88.

Again,

In tyme of May the nightingale In wood maketh mery gale, So don the foules grete and smale, Sum in hylles and sum in dale r 12.89.

Much the same vernal delights, cloathed in a similar style, with the addition of knights turneying and maidens dancing, invite king Philip on a progress; who is entertained on the road with hearing tales of antient heroes.

Mery tyme yt is in May The foules syngeth her lay, The knightes loveth to tournay; Maydens do dauncen and they play, The kyng ferth rydeth his journay, Now hereth gests of grete noblay s 12.90.

Our author thus describes a battle t 12.91.

Alisaundre tofore is ryde, And many gentill a knigth hym myde; As for to gader his meigne free, He abideth under a tree: Ffourty thousande of chyvalerie He taketh in his compaignye, He dassheth hym than fast forthward, And the other cometh afterward. He seeth his knigttes in meschief, He taketh it gretlich a greef,

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He takes Bultyphalu 12.92 by thi side, So as a swalewe he gynneth forth glide, A duke of Perce sone he mett And with his launce he hym grett. He perceth his breny, cleveth his sheldè, The herte tokeneth the yrnè The duke fel downe to the grounde, And starf quickly in that stounde: Alisaunder aloud than seide, Other tol never ich ne paiede, Ʒut ʒee schullen of myne paie, Or ich gon mor assaie. Another launce in honde he hent Again the prince of Tyre he went He .... hym thorow the brest and thare w 12.93 And out of sadel and crouthe hym bare, And I sigge for soothe thyng He braak his neck in the fallyng. ...... with mychell wonder, Antiochus hadde hym under, And with swerd wolde his heved From his body habbe yreved: He seig Alisaundre the gode gome, Towardes hym swithe come, He lete his pray, and flew on hors, Ffor to save his owen cors: Antiochus on stede lep, Of none woundes ne tok he kep, And eke he had foure forde All ymade with speres ord x 12.94. Tholomeus and alle his felawen y 12.95 Of this socour so weren welfawen,

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Alysaunder made a cry hardy "Ore tost aby aby." Then the knigttes of Achaye Justed with them of Arabye, Thooz 12.96 of Rome with hem of Mede Many londe ..... Egipte justed with hem of Tyre, Simple knigtts with riche syre: Ther nas foregift ne forberyng Bitwene vavasourea 12.97 ne kyng; To fore men migtten and by hynde Cuntecke seke and cunteckeb 12.98 fynde. With Perciens fougtten the Gregeys* 12.99, Ther wos cry and gret honteys d 12.100. They kiddene 12.101 that they weren mice They broken speres alto slice. Ther migth knigth fynde his pere, Ther lesf 12.102 many his destrere g 12.103: Ther was quyk in litell thrawe h 12.104, Many gentill knigth yslawe: Many arme, many heved i 12.105 Some from the body reved: Many gentill lavedy k 12.106 Ther les quyk her amy l 12.107. Ther was many maym yled m 12.108, Many fair pensel bibled n 12.109: Ther was swerdes liklakyng o 12.110, There was speres bathing p 12.111 Both kynges ther saunz doute Beeth in dassht with al her route.

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..... speke The other his harmes for to wreke. Many londes neir and ferre Lesen her lord in that werre. ..... quaked of her rydyng, The wedarq 12.112 thicked of her cryeyng: The blode of hem that weren yslawe Ran by floods to the lowe, &c.

I have already mentioned Alexander's miraculous horn.

He blewe in horne quyk sans doute, His folk hym swither 12.113 aboute: And hem he said with voice clere Iche bidde frendes that ge ine here Alisaunder is comen in this londe With strong knittes with migty honde, &c.

Alexander's adventures in the deserts among the Gymno|sophists, and in Inde, are not omitted. The authors whom he quotes for his vouchers, shew the reading and ideas of the times s 12.114.

Tho Alisaunder went thoroug desert, Many wonders he seig apert t 12.115, Whiche he dude wel descryve, By gode clerkes in her lyve; By Aristotle his maistr that was, Beeter clerk sithen non nas; He was with him, and sew and wroot, All thise wondre god it woot: Salomon that al the world thoroug yede In soothe witnesse held hym myde.

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Ysidreu 12.116 also that was so wys In his boke telleth this: Maister Eustroge bereth hym witnesse, Of the wondres more and lesse. Seynt Jerome gu schullen ywyte Them hath also in book ywryte: And Magestene, the gode clerk, Hath made therof mychel werk, ... that was of gode memorie It sheweth al in his boke of storie: And also Pompie w 12.117, of Rome lorde, .... writen everie worde. Bie heldeth me thareof no fynder x 12.118 Her bokes ben my shewer: And the Lyf of Alysaunder Of whom fleig so riche sklaunder. Gif gee willeth give listnyng, Nowe gee shullen here gode thyng. In somers tyde the daye is long, Foules syngeth and maketh song: Kyng Alysaunder ywent is, With dukes, erles, and folk of pris, With many knigths, and douty men, Toward the city of Fa .... aen; After kyng Porus, that floweny 12.119 was Into the citee of Bandas, He woulde wende thorough desert This wonders to sene apert, Gromyes he nomez 12.120 of the londe, Ffyve thousand, I understonde,

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That hem shulden lede ryth a 12.121 Thoroug deserts, by day and nyth. The Sy .. res loveden the kyng nougth, And wolden have him bicaugth. Thii ledden hym therefore, als I fynde, In the straungest peril of Ynde: As so iche fynd in thi book Thii weren asshreynt in her crook. Now rideth Alysaunder with his oost, With mychel pryde and mychel boost; As ar hii comen to a castel .. ton. I schullen speken another lesson. Lordynges, also I fynde At Mede so bigynneth Ynde, Fforsothe ich woot it stretcheth ferrest Of all the londes in the Est And oth theb 12.122 southhalf sikerlyk To the see of Affryk, And the north half to a mountayne That is ycleped Caucasayne c 12.123: Fforsothe ʒee shullen undirstonde, Twyes is somer in that londe, And nevermore wynter, ne chele d 12.124, That lond is ful of all wele. Twyes hii gaderen fruyt there And wyne and corne in one yere. In the londe also I fynd of Ynde Bene cites fyve-thousynd, Withouten ydles, and castelis, And borugh tounnes swithe feles e 12.125. In the londe of Ynde thou migth lere Vyve thousand folk of selcouthf 12.126 manere

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That ther non is other ylyche Bie holde thou it nougth ferlyche, And bi that thou understade the gestes, Both of men and of bestes, &c.

Edward the second is said to have carried with him to the siege of Stirling castle, in Scotland, a poet named Robert Baston. He was a Carmelite friar of Scarborough; and the king intended that Baston, being an eye-witness of the ex|pedition, should celebrate his conquest of Scotland in verse. Hollingshead, an historian not often remarkable for pene|tration, mentions this circumstance as a singular proof of Edward's presumption and confidence in his undertaking against Scotland: but a poet seems to have been a stated officer in the royal retinue when the king went to war g 12.127. Baston, however, appears to have been chiefly a Latin poet, and therefore does not properly fall into our series. At least his poem on the siege of Striveling castle is written in monkish Latin hexameters h 12.128: and our royal bard being taken prisoner in the expedition, was compelled by the Scotch to write a panegyric, for his ransom, on Robert Brus, which is composed in the same style and language i 12.129. Bale men|tions his Poemata, et Rhythmi, Tragaediae et Comoediae vul|gares k 12.130. Some of these indeed appear to have been written in English: but no English pieces of tis author now re|main. In the mean time, the bare existence of dramatic compositions in England at this period, even if written in

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the Latin tongue, deserve notice in investigating the progress of our poetry. For the same reason I must not pass over a Latin piece, called a comedy, written in this reign, perhaps by Peter Babyon; who by Bale is styled an admirable rheto|rician and poet, and flourished about the year 1317. This comedy is thus entitled in the Bodleian manuscript, De Ba|bione et Croceo domino Babionis et Viola filiasra Babionis quam Croceus duxit invito Babione, et Pecula uxore Babionis et Fodio suo, &c l 12.131. It is written in long and short Latin verses, without any appearance of dialogue. In what manner, if ever, this piece was represented theatrically, cannot easily be discovered or ascertained. Unless we suppose it to have been recited by one or more of the characters concerned, at some public entertainment. The story is in Gower's CON|FESSIO AMANTIS. Whether Gower had it from this per|formance I will not enquire. It appears at least that he took it from some previous book.

I find writte of Babio, Which had a love at his menage, Ther was no fairer of hir age, And hight Viola by name, &c. And had affaited to his hande His servant, the which Spodius Was hote, &c. A fresh a free and friendly man, &c. Which Croceus by name hight, &c m 12.132.

In the mean time it seems most probable, that this piece has been attributed to Peter Babyon, on account of the likeness of the name BABIO, especially as he is a ridiculous character. On the whole, there is nothing dramatic in the structure of this nominal comedy; and it has certainly no claim to that title, only as it contains a familiar and comic story carried

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on with much scurrilous satire intended to raise mirth. But it was not uncommon to call any short poem, not serious or tragic, a comedy. In the Bodleian manuscript, which com|prehends Babyon's poem just mentioned, there follows CO|MEDIA DE GETA: this is in Latin long and short verses n 12.133, and has no marks of dialogue o 12.134. In the library of Corpus Christi college at Cambridge, is a piece entitled, COMEDIA ad monasterium de Hulme ordinis S. Benedicti Dioces. Norwic. directa ad Reformationem sequentem, cujus data est primo die Sep|tembris sub anno Christi 1477, et a morte Joannis Fastolfe militis eorum benefactorisp 12.135 precipui 17, in cujus monasterii ecclesia huma|tur q 12.136. This is nothing more than a satyrical ballad in Latin; yet some allegorical personages are introduced, which how|ever are in no respect accommodated to scenical representa|tion. About the reign of Edward the fourth, one Edward Watson, a scholar in grammar at Oxford, is permitted to proceed to a degree in that faculty, on condition that within two years he would write one hundred verses in praise of the university, and also compose a COMEDY r 12.137. The nature and subject of Dante's COMEDIES, as they are styled, is well known. The comedies ascribed to Chaucer are probably his Canterbury tales. We learn from Chaucer's own words, that tragic tales were called TRAGEDIES. In the Prologue to the MONKES TALE.

TRAGEDY is to tell a certaine story, As old bokis makin ofte memory,

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Of hem that stode in grete prosperite, And be fallen out of her high degree, &c s 12.138.

Some of these, the Monke adds, were written in prose, others in metre. Afterwards follow many tragical narratives: of which he says,

TRAGIDIES irst wol I tell Of which I have an hundred in my cell.
Lidgate further confirms what is here said with regard to comedy as well as tragedy.

My maister Chaucer with fresh COMEDIES, Is dead, alas! chief poet of Britaine: That whilom made ful piteous TRAGEDIES t 12.139.

The stories in the MIRROR OF MAGISTRATES are called TRAGEDIES, so late as the sixteenth century u 12.140. Bale calls his play, or MYSTERY, of GOD'S PROMISES, a TRAGEDY, which appeared about the year 1538.

I must however observe here, that dramatic entertain|ments, representing the lives of saints and the most emi|nent scriptural stories, were known in England for more than two centuries before the reign of Edward the second. These spectacles they commonly styled MIRACLES. I have

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already mentioned the play of saint Catharine, acted at Dun|stable about the year 1110 x 12.141. William Fitz-Stephen, a wri|ter of the twelfth century, in his DESCRIPTION of LONDON, relates that,

"London, for its theatrical exhibitions, has holy plays, or the representation of miracles wrought by confessors, and of the sufferings of martyrs y 12.142."
These pieces must have been in high vogue at our present period; for Matthew Paris, who wrote about the year 1240, says that they were such as
"MIRACULA VULGARITER APPELLA|MUS z 12.143."
And we learn from Chaucer, that in his time PLAYS OF MIRACLES were the common resort of idle gossips in Lent.

Therefore made I my visitations, To prechings eke and to pilgrimagis, To PLAYS of MIRACLES, and mariagis, &c a 12.144.

This is the genial WIFE OF BATH, who amuses herself with these fashionable diversions, while her husband is ab|sent in London, during the holy season of Lent. And in PIERCE PLOWMAN'S CREDE, a piece perhaps prior to Chau|cer, a friar Minorite mentions these MIRACLES as not less frequented than markets or taverns.

We haunten no tavernes, ne hobelen abouten, Att markets and MIRACLES we medeley us never b 12.145.
Among the plays usually represented by the guild of Cor|pus Christi at Cambridge, on that festival, LUDUS FILIORUM

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ISRAELIS was acted in the year 1355 c 12.146. Our drama seems hitherto to have been almost entirely confined to religious subjects, and these plays were nothing more than an ap|pendage to the specious and mechanical devotion of the times. I do not find expressly, that any play on a profane subject, either tragic or comic, had as yet been exhibited in England. Our very early ancestors scarce knew any other history than that of their religion. Even on such an occa|sion as the triumphant entry of a king or queen into the city of London, or other places, the pageants were almost entirely scriptural d 12.147. Yet I must observe, that an article in one of the pipe-rolls, perhaps of the reign of king John, and con|sequently about the year 1200, seems to place the rudiments of histrionic exhibition, I mean of general subjects, at a much higher period among us than is commonly imagined. It is in these words.

"Nicola uxor Gerardi de Canvill, reddit computum de centum marcis pro maritanda Matildi filia sua cuicunque voluerit, exceptis MIMICIS regis e 12.148." — "Ni|cola, wife of Gerard of Canville, accounts to the king for one hundred marks for the privilege of marrying his

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daughter Maud to whatever person she pleases, the king's MIMICS excepted."
Whether or no MIMICI REGIS are here a sort of players kept in the king's houshold for diverting the court at stated seasons, at least with performances of mimicry and masquerade, or whether they may not strictly imply MINSTRELLS, I cannot indeed determine. Yet we may remark, that MIMICUS is never used for MIMUS, that cer|tain theatrical entertainments called mascarades, as we shall see below, were very antient among the French, and that these MIMICI appear, by the context of this article, to have been persons of no very respectable character f 12.149. I likewise find in the wardrobe-rolls of Edward the third, in the year 1348, an account of the dresses, ad faciendum LUDOS domini regis ad ffestum Natalis domini celebratos apud Guldeford, for fur|nishing the plays or sports of the king, held in the castle of Guildford at the feast of Christmas g 12.150. In these LUDI, says my record, were expended eighty tunics of buckram of various colours, forty-two visours of various similitudes, that is, fourteen of the faces of women, fourteen of the faces of men with beards, fourteen of heads of angels, made with silver; twenty-eight crests h 12.151, fourteen mantles embroidered with heads of dragons: fourteen white tunics wrought with heads and wings of peacocks, fourteen heads of swans with wings, fourteen tunics painted with eyes of peacocks, four|teen tunics of English linen painted, and as many tunics embroidered with stars of gold and silver i 12.152. In the rolls of

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the wardrobe of king Richard the second, in the year 1391, there is also an entry which seems to point out a sport of much the same nature.

"Pro xxi coifs de tela linea pro hominibus de lege contrafactis pro LUDO rgis tempore na|talis domini anno xii k 12.153."
That is,
"for twenty-one linen coifs for counterfeiting men of the law in the king's play at Christmas."
It will be sufficient to add here on the last record, that the serjeants at law at their creation, antiently wore a cap of linen, lawn, or silk, tied under the chin: this was to distinguish them from the clergy who had the tonsure. Whether in both these instances we are to understand a dumb shew, or a dramatic interlude with speeches, I leave to the examination of those who are professedly making enquiries into the history of our stage from its rudest origin. But that plays on general subjects were no uncommon mode of entertainment in the royal palaces of England, at least at the commencement of the fifteenth century, may be collected from an old memoir of shews and ceremonies exhibited at Christmas, in the reign of Henry the seventh, in the palace of Westminster. It is in the year 1489.
"This cristmas I saw no disguysings, and but right few PLAYS. But ther was an abbot of Misrule, that made much sport, and did right well his office."
And again,
"At nyght the kynge, the qweene, and my ladye the kynges moder, cam into the Whitehall, and ther hard a PLAY l 12.154."

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As to the religious dramas, it was customary to perform this species of play on holy festivals in or about the churches. In the register of William of Wykeham, bishop of Win|chester, under the year 1384, an episcopal injunction is re|cited, against the exhibition of SPECTACULA in the ce|metery of his cathedral m 12.155. Whether or no these were dra|matic SPECTACLES, I do not pretend to decide. In several of our old scriptural plays, we see some of the scenes di|rected to be represented cum cantu et organis, a common rubric in the missal. That is, because they were performed in a church where the choir assisted. There is a curious passage in Lambarde's Topographical Dictionary written about the year 1570, much to our purpose, which I am therefore tempted to transcribe n 12.156.

"In the dayes of ceremonial reli|gion, they used at Wytney (in Oxfordshire) to set fourthe yearly in maner of a shew, or interlude, the resurrection of our Lord, &c. For the which purposes, and the more lyvely heareby to exhibite to the eye the hole action of the resurrection, the priestes garnished out certain smalle puppettes, representing the persons of Christe, the watch|men, Marie, and others; amongest the which, one bare the parte of a wakinge watchman, who espiinge Christe to arise, made a continual noyce, like to the sound that is caused by the metynge of two styckes, and was thereof commonly called Jack Snacker of Wytney. The like toye I myself, beinge then a childe, once sawe in Poule's churche

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at London, at a feast of Whitsuntyde; wheare the comynge downe of the Holy Gost was set forthe by a white pigion, that was let to fly out of a hole that yet is to be sene in the mydst of the roofe of the greate ile, and by a longe censer which descendinge out of the same place almost to the verie grounde, was swinged up and downe at suche a lengthe, that it reached with thone swepe almost to the west-gate of the churche, and with the other to the quyre staires of the same; breathinge out over the whole churche and companie a most pleasant per|fume of such swete thinges as burned therein. With the like doome shewes also, they used everie where to furnish sondrye parts of their church service, as by their specta|cles of the nativitie, passion, and ascension, &c."

This practice of acting plays in churches, was at last grown to such an enormity, and attended with such inconve|nient consequences, that in the reign of Henry the ighth, Bonner, bishop of London, issued a proclamation to the clergy of his diocese, dated 1542, prohibiting

"all maner of common plays, games, or interludes to be played, set forth, or declared, within their churches, chapels, &c o 12.157."
This fashion seems to have remained even after the Re|formation, and when perhaps profane stories had taken place of religious p 12.158. Archbishop Grindal, in the year 1563, re|monstrated against the danger of interludes: complaining that players
"did especially on holy days, set up bills in|viting to their play q 12.159."
From this ecclesiastical source of the modern drama, plays continued to be acted on sundays so late as the reign of Elizabeth, and even till that of Charles

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the first, by the choristers or singing-boys of Saint Paul's cathedral in London, and of the royal chapel.

It is certain, that these MIRACLE-PLAYS were the first of our dramatic exhibitions. But as these pieces frequently re|quired the introduction of allegorical characters, such as Charity, Sin, Death, Hope, Faith, or the like, and as the common poetry of the times, especially among the French, began to deal much in allegory, at length plays were formed entirely consisting of such personifications. These were called MORALITIES. The miracle-plays, or MYSTERIES, were to|tally destitute of invention or plan: they tamely represented stories according to the letter of scripture, or the respective legend. But the MORALITIES indicate dawnings of the dra|matic art: they contain some rudiments of a plot, and even attempt to delineate characters, and to paint manners. From hence the gradual transition to real historical person|ages was natural and obvious. It may be also observed, that many licentious pleasantries were sometimes introduced in these religious representations. This might imperceptibly lead the way to subjects entirely profane, and to comedy, and perhaps earlier than is imagined. In ar 12.160 Mystery of the MASSACRE OF THE HOLY INNOCENTS, part of the subject of a sacred drama given by the English fathers at the famous council of Constance, in the year 1417 s 12.161, a low buffoon of Herod's court is introduced, desiring of his lord to be dubbed a knight, that he might be properly qualified to go on the adventure of killing the mothers of the children of Bethle|hem. This tragical business is treated with the most ridi|culous levity. The good women of Bethlehem attack our night-errant with their spinning-wheels, break his head with their distaffs, abuse him as a coward and a disgrace to chivalry, and send him home to Herod as a recreant cham|pion with much ignominy. It is in an enlightened age only

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that subjects of scripture history would be supported with proper dignity. But then an enlightened age would not have chosen such subjects for theatrical exhibition. It is certain that our ancestors intended no sort of impiety by these monstrous and unnatural mixtures. Neither the writers nor the spectators saw the impropriety, nor paid a separate attention to the comic and the srious part of these motley scenes; at least they were persuaded that the solemnity of the subject covered or excused all incongruities. They had no just idea of decorum, consequently but little sense of the ri|diculous: what appears to us to be the highest burlesque, on them would have made no sort of impression. We must not wonder at this, in an age when courage, devotion, and ignorance, composed the character of European manners; when the knight going to a tournament, first invoked his God, then his mistress, and afterwards proceeded with a safe conscience and great resolution to engage his antagonist. In these Mysteries I have sometimes seen gross and open ob|scenities. In a play of the Old and New Testament t 12.162, Adam and Eve are both exhibited on the stage naked, and conversing about

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their nakedness: this very pertinently introduces the next scene, in which they have coverings of fig-leaves. This extraor|dinary spectacle was beheld by a numerous assembly of both sexes with great composure: they had the authority of scrip|ture for such a representation, and they gave matters just as they found them in the third chapter of Genesis. It would have been absolute heresy to have departed from the sacred text in personating the primitive appearance of our first parents, whom the spectators so nearly resembled in sim|plicity: and if this had not been the case, the dramatists were ignorant what to reject and what to retain.

In the mean time, profane dramas seem to have been known in France at a much earlier period u 12.163. Du Cange gives the following picture of the king of France dining in pub|lic, before the year 1300. During this ceremony, a sort of farces or drolls seems to have been exhibited. All the great officers of the crown and the houshold, says he, were present. The company was entertained with the instrumental music of the minstrells, who played on the kettle-drum, the flagel|let w 12.164, the cornet, the Latin cittern, the Bohemian flute,

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the trumpet, the Moorish cittern, and the fiddle. Besides there were

"des FARCEURS, des jongleurs, et des plaisantins, qui divertisseoient les compagnies par leur faceties et par leur COMEDIES, pour l'entretien."
He adds, that many noble families in France were entirely ruined by the prodi|gious expences lavished on those performers x 12.165. The annals of France very early mention buffoons among the minstrells at these solemnities; and more particularly that Louis le Debonnaire, who reigned about the year 830, never laughed aloud, not even when at the most magnificent festivals, players, buffoons, minstrels, singers, and harpers, attended his table y 12.166. In some constitutions given to a cathedral church in France, in the year 1280, the following clause occurs.
"Nullus SPECTACULIS aliquibus quae aut in Nup|tiis aut in Scenis exhibentur, intersit z 12.167."
Where, by the way, the word Scenis seems to imply somewhat of a pro|fessed stage, although the establishment of the first French theatre is dated not before the year 1398. The play of ROBIN and MARIAN is said to have been performed by the school-boys of Angiers, according to annual custom, in the year 1392 a 12.168. A royal carousal given by Charles the fifth of France to the emperor Charles the fourth, in the year 1378, was closed with the theatrical representation of the Conquest of Jerusalem by Godfrey of Bulloign, which was

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exhibited in the hall of the royal palace b 12.169. This indeed was a subject of a religious tendency; but not long afterwards, in the year 1395, perhaps before, the interesting story of PATIENT GRISILDE appears to have been acted at Paris. This piece still remains, and is entitled, Le MYSTERE de Gri|sildis marquise de Saluce c 12.170. For all dramatic pieces were indiscri|minately called MYSTERIES, whether a martyr or a heathen god, whether saint Catharine or Hercules was the subject.

In France the religious MYSTERIES, often called PITEAUX, or PITOUX, were certainly very fashionable, and of high antiquity: yet from any written evidence, I do not find them more antient than those of the English. In the year 1384, the inhabitants of the village of Aunay, on the sun|day after the feast of saint John, played the MIRACLE of Theophilus,

"ou quel Jeu avoit un personnage de un qui devoit getter d'un canon d 12.171."
In the year 1398, some citi|zens of Paris met at saint Maur to play the PASSION of CHRIST. The magistrates of Paris, alarmed at this novelty, published an ordonnance, prohibiting them to represent,
"aucuns jeux de personages soit de vie de saints ou autre|ment,"
without the royal licence, which was soon after|wards obtained e 12.172. In the year 1486, at Anjou, ten pounds were paid towards supporting the charges of acting the PASSION of CHRIST, which was represented by masks, and, as I suppose, by persons hired for the purpose f 12.173. The chap|lains of Abbeville, in the year 1455, gave four pounds and

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ten shillings to the PLAYERS of the PASSION g 12.174. But the French MYSTERIES were chiefly performed by the religious communities, and some of their FETES almost entirely con|sisted of a dramatic or personated shew. At the FLAST of ASSES, instituted in honour of Baalam's Ass, the clergy walked on Christmas day in procession, habited to represent the prophets and others. Moses appeared in an alb and cope, with a long beard and rod. David had a green vestment. Baalam with an immense pair of spurs, rode on a wooden ass, which inclosed a speaker. There were also six Jews and six Gentiles. Among other characters the poet Virgil was introduced as a gentile prophet and a translator of the Sibylline oracles. They thus moved in procession, chanting versi|cles, and conversing in character on the nativity and king|dom of Christ, through the body of the church, till they came into the choir. Virgil speaks some Latin hexameters, during the ceremony, not out of his fourth eclogue, but wretched monkish lines in rhyme. This feast was, I believe, early suppressed h 12.175. In the year 1445, Charles the seventh of France ordered the masters in Theology at Paris to forbid the ministers of the collegiatei 12.176 churches to celebrate at Christ|mas the FEAST of FOOLS in their churches, where the lergy danced in masques and antic dresses, and exhibited plusieurs

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mocqueries spectacles publics, de leur corps deguisements, farces, rigmeries, with various enormities shocking to decency. In France as well as England it was customary to celebrate the feast of the boy-bishop. In all the collegiate churches of both nations, about the feast of Saint Nicholas, or the Holy Innocents, one of the children of the choir completely ap|parelled in the episcopal vestments, with a mitre and crosier, bore the title and state of a bishop, and exacted ceremonial obedience from his fellows, who were dressed like priests. They took possession of the church, and performed all the ceremonies and offices i 12.177, the mass excepted, which might have been celebrated by the bishop and his prebendaries k 12.178. In the statutes of the archiepiscopal cathedral of Tulles, given in the year 1497, it is said, that during the celebra|tion of the festival of the boy-bishop,

"MORALITIES were presented, and shews of MIRACLES, with farces and other sports, but compatible with decorum.—After dinner they exhibited, without their masks, but in proper dresses, such farces as they were masters of, in different parts of the city l 12.179."
It is probable that the same entertainments at|tended the solemnisation of this ridiculous festival in Eng|land m 12.180: and from this supposition some critics may be inclined

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to deduce the practice of our plays being acted by the choir-boys of St. Paul's church, and the chapel royal, which continued, as I before observed, till Cromwell's usurpa|tion. The English and French stages mutually throw light on each other's history. But perhaps it will be thought, that in some of these instances I have exemplified in nothing more than farcical and gesticulatory representations. Yet even these traces should be attended to. In the mean time we may observe upon the whole, that the modern drama had its foundation in our religion, and that it was raised and supported by the clergy. The truth is, the members of the ecclesiastical societies were almost the only persons who could read, and their numbers easily furnished per|formers: they abounded in leisure, and their very relaxa|tions were religious.

I did not mean to touch upon the Italian stage. But as so able a judge as Riccoboni seems to allow, that Italy derived her theatre from those of France and England, by way of an additional illustration of the antiquity of the two last, I will here produce one or two MIRACLE-PLAYS, acted much earlier in Italy than any piece mentioned by that in|genious writer, or by Crescimbeni. In the year 1298, on

"the feast of Pentecost, and the two following holidays, the representation of the PLAY OF CHRIST, that is of his passion, resurrection, ascension, judgment, and the mis|sion of the holy ghost, was performed by the clergy of

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Civita Vecchia, in uria domini patriarchae Austriae civitatis honorifice et laudabiliter n 12.181."
And again,
"In 1304, the chapter of Civita Vecchia exhibited a Play of the creation of our first parents, the annunciation of the virgin Mary, the birth of Christ, and other passages of sacred scripture o 12.182."
In the mean time, those critics who contend for the high antiquity of the Italian stage, may adopt these instances as new proofs in defence of that hypothesis.

In this transient view of the origin and progress of our drama, which was incidentally suggested by the mention of Baston's supposed Comedies, I have trespassed upon future periods. But I have chiefly done this for the sake of con|nection, and to prepare the mind of the reader for other anecdotes of the history of our stage, which will occur in the course of our researches, and are reserved for their res|pective places. I could have enlarged what is here loosely thrown together, with many other remarks and illustrations: but I was unwilling to transcribe from the colle••••ions of those who have already treated this subject with great com|prehension and penetration, and especially from the author of the Supplement to the Translator's Preface of Jarvis's Don Quixote p 12.183. I claim no other merit from this digression, than that of having collected some new anecdotes relating to the early state of the English and French stages, the original of both which is intimately connected, from books and manu|scripts not easily found, nor often examined. These hints may perhaps prove of some service to those who have leisure and inclination to examine the subject with more precision.

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SECT. VII.

EDWARD the third was an illustrious example and patron of chivalry. His court was the theatre of ro|mantic elegance. I have examined the annual rolls of his wardrobe, which record various articles of costly stuffs deli|vered occasionally for the celebration of his tournaments; such as standards, pennons, tunics, caparisons, with other splendid furniture of the same sort: and it appears that he commanded these solemnities to be kept, with a magnificence superior to that of former ages, at Litchfield, Bury, Guild|ford, Eltham, Canterbury, and twice at Windsor, in little more than the space of one year a 13.1. At his triumphant re|turn from Scotland, he was met by two hundred and thirty knights at Dunstable, who received their victorious monarch with a grand exhibition of these martial exercises. He established in the castle of Windsor a fraternity of twenty|four knights, for whom he erected a round table, with a round chamber still remaining, according to a similar institution

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of king Arthur b 13.2. Anstis treats the notion, that Edward in this establishment had any retrospect to king Arthur, as an idle and legendary tradition c 13.3. But the fame of Arthur was still kept alive, and continued to be an object of veneration long afterwards: and however idle and ridi|culous the fables of the round table may appear at present, they were then not only universally known, but firmly be|lieved. Nothing could be more natural to such a romantic monarch, in such an age, than the renovation of this most antient and revered institution of chivalry. It was a prelude to the renowned order of the garter, which he soon after|wards founded at Windsor, during the ceremonies of a magnificent feast, which had been proclaimed by his heralds in Germany, France, Scotland, Burgundy, Heynault, and Brabant, and lasted fifteen days d 13.4. We must not try the modes and notions of other ages, even if they have arrived to some degree of refinement, by those of our own. No|thing is more probable, than that this latter foundation of Edward the third, took its rise from the exploded story of the garter of the countess of Salisbury e 13.5. Such an origin is interwoven with the manners and ideas of the times. Their attention to the fair sex entered into every thing. It is by no means unreasonable to suppose, that the fantastic collar of Esses, worn by the knights of this Order, was an allusion to her name. Froissart, an eye-witness, and well acquainted

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with the intrigues of the court, relates at large the king's affection for the countess; and particularly describes a grand carousal which he gave in consequence of that attachment f 13.6. The first festival of this order was not only adorned by the bravest champions of christendom, but by the presence of queen Philippa, Edward's consort, accompanied with three hundred ladies of noble families g 13.7. The tournaments of this stately reign were constantly crouded with ladies of the first distinction; who sometimes attended them on horseback, armed with daggers, and dressed in a succinct soldier-like habit or uniform prepared for the purpose h 13.8. In a tour|nament exhibited at London, sixty ladies on palfries appeared, each leading a knight with a gold chain. In this manner they paraded from the tower to Smithfield i 13.9. Even Philippa, a queen of singular elegance of manners k 13.10, partook so much of the heroic spirit which was univer|sally diffused, that just before an engagement with the king of Scotland, she rode round the ranks of the English army encouraging the soldiers, and was with some diffi|culty persuaded or compelled to relinquish the field l 13.11. The countess of Montfort is another eminent instance of female heroism in this age. When the strong town of Hennebond, near Rennes, was besieged by the French, this redoubted

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amazon rode in complete armour from street to street, on a large courser, animating the garison m 13.12. Finding from a high tower that the whole French army was engaged in the as|sault, she issued, thus completely accoutred, through a con|venient postern at the head of three hundred chosen soldiers, and set fire to the French camp n 13.13. In the mean time riches and plenty, the effects of conquest, peace, and prosperity, were spread on every side; and new luxuries were imported in great abundance from the conquered countries. There were few families, even of a moderate condition, but had in their possession precious articles of dress or furniture; such as silks, fur, tapestry, embroidered beds, cups of gold, silver, porcelain, and crystal, bracelets, chains, and necklaces, brought from Caen, Calais, and other opulent foreign cities o 13.14. The encrease of rich furniture appears in a foregoing reign. In an act of Parliament of Edward the first p 13.15, are many regulations, directed to goldsmiths, not only in London, but in other towns, concerning the sterling allay of vessels and jewels of gold and silver, &c. And it is said,

"Gra|vers or cutters of stones and seals shall give every one their just weight of silver and gold."
It should be

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remembered, that about this period Europe had opened a new commercial intercourse with the ports of India q 13.16. No less than eight sumptuary laws, which had the usual effect of not being observed, were enacted in one session of parliament during this reign r 13.17. Amid these growing elegancies and superfluities, foreign manners, especially of the French, were perpetually encreasing; and the native simplicity of the English people was perceptibly corrupted and effaced. It is not quite uncertain that masques had their beginning in this reign s 13.18. These shews, in which the greatest personages of the court often bore a part, and which arrived at their height in the reign of Henry the eighth, encou|raged the arts of address and decorum, nd are ymtms of the rise of polished manners t 13.19.

In a reign like this, we shall not be surprised to fid such a poet as Chaucer: with whom a new era in English poetry begins, and on whose account many of thse circumstances are mentioned, as they serve to prepare the reader for his character, on which they throw no inconsiderble light.

But before we enter on so ample a field, it will be per|haps less embarrassing, at least more consistent with our prescribed method, if we previously display the merits of two or three poets, who appeared in the former part of the reign of Edward the third, with other incidental matters.

The first of these is Richard Hampole, an eremite of the order of saint Augustine. He was a doctor of diviity, and lived a solitary life near the nuns of Hampole, four miles from Doncaster in Yorkshire. The neighbourhood of this female society could not withdraw our recluse from his devotions

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and his studies. He flourished in the year 1349 u 13.20. His Latin theological tracts, both in prose and vese, are numerous; in which Leland justly thinks he has diplayed more erudition than eloquence. His principal pieces of English rhyme are a Paraphrase of part of the book of Job, of the lord's prayer, of the seven penitential psalms, and the PRICKE OF CONSCIENCE. But our hermit's poetry, which indeed from these titles promises but little entertainment, has no tincture of sentiment, imagination, or elegance. The fol|lowing verses are extracted from the PRICKE OF CONSCIENCE, one of the most common manuscripts in our libraries, and I prophesy that I am its last transcriber. But I must ob|serve first, that this 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 tor|ments of hell. VII. Of the joys of heaven w 13.21.

Monkynde is to godus wille And alle his biddyngus to fulfille Ffor of al his makyng more and les Man most principal creature es All that he made for man hit was done As ye schal here aftir lone God to monkynde had gret love When he ordeyned to monnes behove This world and heven hym to glade There in myddulerd mon last he made To his likenes in feire stature To be most worthy creature Beforen all creatures of kynde He yef hym wit skile and mynde

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Ffor too knowe bothe good and ille And als he yaf him a fre wille Fforto chese and forto holde Good or yvel whedur he wolde And as he ordeyned mon to dwelle To lyve in erthe in flessch and fell To knowe his workus and hym worshepe And his comaundement to kepe And yif he be to god buxome To endeles blis aftir to come And yif he wrongly here wende To peyne of helle withouten ende God made to his owne likenes Eche mon lyving here more and les To whom he hath gyven wit and skil Ffor to knowe bothe good and il And wille to these as they vouchsave Good or evil whether thei wole have He that his wille to good wole bowe God wole hym with gret mede allowe He that wukudnes wole and wo Gret peyne shall he have also That mon therfore holde is for wood That chesuth the evel and leveth the good God made mon of most dignite Of all creatures most fre And namely to his owne liknes As bifore tolde hit es And most hath gyven and yit gyveth Than to any creature that lyveth And more hath het hym yit therto Hevene blis yif he wel do And yit when he had don amys And hadde lost that ilke blis

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God tok monkynde for his sake And for his love deth wolde take And with his blod boughte hem ayene To his blisse fro endeles peyne.
PRIMA PARS DE MISERIA HUMANAE CONDITIONIS.
Thus gret love god to man kidde And mony goode dedus to hym didde Therefore eche mon lernd and lewed Schulde thynke on love that he hem schewed And these gode dedus holde in mynde That he thus dide to monkynde And love and thanke hym as he con And ellus he is unkynde mon Bot he serve hym day and nyght And his yiftes usen hem right To spende his wit in godus servyse Certainly ellus he is not wise Bot he knowe kyndely what god es And what mon is that is les Thou febul mon is soule and body Thou strong god is and myghty Thou mon greveth god that doth not welle What mon is worthi therefore to fele Thou mercyfull and gracious god is And thou full of alle goodness Thou right wis and thou sothfaste What he hath done and shal atte laste And eche day doth to monkynde This schulde eche mon have in mynde Ffor the rihte waye to that blis That leduth mon thidur that is this The waye of mekenes principally To love and drede god almighty

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This is the waye into wisdome Into whuche waye non may come Withouten knowing of god here His myghtus and his workes sere But ar he to that knowyng wynne Hymself he mot knowe withynne Ellus knowyng may not be To wisdom way non entre Some han wit to undurstonde And yit thei are ful unknowonde And some thing hath no knowyng That myght them sture to good lyving Tho men had nede to lerne eche day Of men that con more then thay That myhte to knowynge hem lede In mekenes to love god and drede Which is waye and goode wissyng That may to heven blis men brynge In gret pil [peril] of sowle is that mon That hath wit mynde and no good con And wole not lerne for to knawe The workus of god and his lawe He nyle do afturmest no lest Bot lyveth lyke an unskilfull best That nouther hath skil wit nor mynde That mon lyveth ayeyn his kynde Yit excuseth not his unknowyng That his wit useth not in leryng Namely in that him oweth to knowe To meke his herte and make it lowe The unknowyng schulde have wille To lerne to know good and ille He that ought con schulde lere more To knowe al that nedeful wore

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For the unknowyng by lerning May brought be to understondyng Of mony thyngus to knowe and se That hath bin is and shal be And so to mekenes sture his wille To love and drede god and leve al ille Mony ben glad triful to here And vanitees woll gladly lere Bisy they bin in word and thought To lerne that soul helputh nought Bot that that ndeful were to knowe To here they are wondur-slowe Therefore con thei nothing se The pereles thei schulde drede and fle And what weye thei schulde take And whiche weye thei schulde forsake No wondur is though thei go wronge In derknes of unknowyng they gonge Without light of undurstondynge Of that that falluth to right knowynge Therefore eche cristen mon and wommon That wit and wisdom any con That tou the righte weye not sen Nor flie the periles that wise flen Schulde buxom be and bisy To heren and leren of hem namely That undurstonden and knowen stil Wheche weye is good and wheche is il He that wole right weye of lyving loke Shall thus bigynne seith the boke To know first what hymself is So may he come to mekenys That ground of all virtues is last On whiche all virtues may be stedefast

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He that knoweth well and con se What he is was and schal be A wisere man may be told Whethur he be young or old Then he that con al other thing And of hymself hath no knowyng He may no good knowe ny fele Bot he furst knowe hym selven wele Therfore a mn schulde furst lere To knowe hymself propurly here Ffor yif he knewe hymself kyndely Then may he knowe god almighty And on endyng thinke schulde he And on the last day that schal be Knowe schulde he what this worlde es Full of pompe and lecherousnes And lerne to knowe and thynke with alle What schal aftir this lyf bifalle Knowyng of this schulde hym lede To mete with mekenes and with drede So may he come to good lyvyng And atte last to good endyng And when he of this worlde schal wende Be brought to blis withouten ende The bigynnyng of this proces Right knowyng of a mon hymself hit es Bot somme mon han gret lettynge That thei may have no right knowynge Of hemselfe that thei schulde first knawe That first to mekenes schulde hem draw Ther of some thyngus I fynde That monnes wit makuth ofte blynde And knowyng of hymself hit lettuth Wherefore he hymself foryetuth

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To this witnes Bernard answers And tho four are written in thes vers x 13.22, &c.

In the Bodleian library I find three copies of the PRICKE OF CONSCIENCE very different from that which I have just cited. In these this poem is given to Robert Grosthead bishop of Lincoln, above mentioned y 13.23. With what proba|bility, I will not stay to enquire; but hasten to give a speci|men. I will only premise, that the language and hand-writ|ing are of considerable antiquity, and that the lines are here much longer. The poet is describing the future rewards and punishments of mankind.

The goode soule schal have in his herynge Gret joye in hevene and grete lykynge: Ffor hi schulleth yhere the aungeles song, And with hem hi schullethz 13.24 synge ever among, With delitable voys and swythe clere, And also with that hi schullen have ire a 13.25 All other maner of ech a melodye, Off well lykyng noyse and menstralsye, And of al maner tenesb 13.26 of musike, The whuche to mannes beorte migte like, Withoute eni maner of travayle, The whuche schal never cesse ne fayle: And soc 13.27 schil schal that noyse bi, and so swete And so delitable to smale and to grete, That al the melodye of this worlde heer That ever was yhuryd ferre or neer Were thertod 13.28 bote as sorwee 13.29 and care To the blisse that is in hevene well ʒare f 13.30.

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Of the contrarie of that blisse.
Wel grete sorwe schal the synfolkeg 13.31 bytyde, Ffor he schullen yhere in ech a syde h 13.32, Well gret noyse that the feondesi 13.33 willen make, As thei al the worlde scholde alto schake; And alle the men lyvynge that migte hit yhure, Scholde here witk 13.34 loose, and no lengere alyvel 13.35 dure. Thanne him 13.36 schulleth for sorwe here hondes wringe, And ever weilaway hi schullethe be cryinge, &c. The gode men schullethe have worschipes grete, And eche of them schal be yset in a riche sete, And ther as kynges be ycrownid fayre, And digte with riche perrien 13.37 and so ysetuno 13.38 in a chayre, And with stones of vertu and preciouse of choyse, As David thy said to god with a mylde voyce,
Posuisti, domine, super caput eorum, &c.
"Lorde, he seyth, on his heved thou settest wel arigt "A coronne of a pretious ston richeliche ydigt." And so fayre a coronne nas never non ysene, In this worlde on kynges hevede p 13.39, ne on quene; Ffor this coronnc is the coronne of blisse, And the ston is joye whereof hi schilleth never misse, &c. The synfolke schulleth, as I have afore ytold, fele outrageous hete, and afterwards to muche colde; Ffor nowe he schullethe freose, and now brenne q 13.40, And so be ypyned that non schal other kenne r 13.41, And also be ybyte with dragonnes felle and kene, The whuche schulleth hem destrye outrigte and clene,

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And with other vermyn and bestes felle, The whiche beothe nougt but fendes of helle, &c.

We have then this description of the New Jerusalem.

This citie is yset on an hei hille, That no synful man may therto tille s 13.42: The whuche ich likne to beril clene, And so fayr berel may non be ysene. Thulke hyl is nougt elles to understondynge Bote holi thugt, and desyr brennynge, The whuche holi men hadde heer to that place, Whiles hi hadde on eorthe here lyves space; And i likne, as ymay ymagene in my thougt, The walles of hevene, to walles that were ywrougt Of all maner preciouse stones yset yfere t 13.43, And ysemented with gold brigt and clere; Bot so brigt gold, ne non so clene, Was in this worlde never ysene, &c. The wardes of the cite of hevene brigt I likne to wardes that wel were ydygt, And clenly ywrougt and sotely enteyled, And on silver and gold clenly avamayled u 13.44, &c. The torettesw 13.45 of hevene grete and smale I likne to the torrettes of clene cristale, &c.

I am not, in the mean time, quite convinced that any manuscript of the PRICKE OF CONSCIENCE in English belongs to Hampole. That this piece is a translation from the Latin appears from these verses.

Therefore this boke is in Englis drawe Of felex 13.46 matters that bene unknawe

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To lewed men that are unkonande y 13.47 That con no latyn undirstonde z 13.48.

The Latin original in prose, entitled, STIMULUS CONSCIEN|TAE a 13.49, was most probably writtten by Hampole: and it is not very likely that he should translate his own work. The author and translator were easily confounded. As to the copy of the English poem given to bishop Grosthead, he could not be the translator, to say nothing more, if Hampole wrote the Latin original. On the whole, whoever was the author of the two translations, at least we may pronounce with some certainty, that they belong to the reign of Ed|ward the third.

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SECT. VIII.

THE next poet in succession is one who deserves more attention on various accounts. This is Robert Long|lande, author of the poem called the VISION OF PIERCE PLOWMAN, a scular priest, and a fellow of Oriel college, in Oxford. He flourished about the year 1350 a 14.1. This poem contains a series of distinct visions, which the author imagines himself to have seen, while he was sleeping, after a long ramble on Malverne-hills in Worcestershire. It is a satire on the vices of almost every profession: but particu|larly on the corruptions of the clergy, and the absurdities of superstition. These are ridiculed with much humour and spirit, couched under a strong vein of allegorical invention. But instead of availing himself of the rising and rapid im|provements of the English language, Longland prefers and adopts the style of the Anglo-Saxon poets. Nor did he make these writers the models of his language only: he likewise imitates their alliterative versification, which con|sisted in using an aggregate of words beginning with the same letter. He has therefore rejected rhyme, in the place of which he thinks it sufficient to substitute a perpetual al|literation. But this imposed constraint of seeking identical initials, and the affectation of obsolete English, by demand|ing a constant and necessary departure from the natural and obvious forms of expression, while it circumscribed the powers of our author's genius, contributed also to render his

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manner extremely perplexed, and to disgust the reader with obscurities. The satire is conducted by the agency of several allegorical personages, such as Avarice, Bribery, Simony, Theology, Conscience, &c. There is much imagination in the following picture, which is intended to represent human life, and its various occupations.

Then gan I to meten a mervelouse sweven, That I was in wildernes, I wyst never where: As I beheld into theast, on highe to the sunne I saw a tower on a loft, rychlych ymaked, A depe dale beneth, a dungeon therein, With depe diches and darcke, and dreadfull of syght: A fayre felde ful of folke found I ther betwene, Of all maner men, the meane and the riche, Working and wandring, as the world asketh; Some put hem to the plough, pleiden full selde, In setting and sowing swonken full harde: And some put hem to pryd b 14.2, &c.

The following extracts are not only striking specimens of our author's allegorical satire, but contain much sense and observation of life, with some strokes of poetry c 14.3.

Thus robed in russet, I romed aboute All a somer season, for to seked 14.4 DOWEL And freynede 14.5 full oft, of folke that I mette If any wight wist, wher DOWELf 14.6 was at inne, And what man he might be, of many man I asked, Was never wight as I went, that me wyshg 14.7 could

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Where this ladde lenged h 14.8, lesse or more, Tyll it befell on a Fryday, two fryers I mette Maisters of the minours i 14.9, men of greate wytte I halsed hem hendelye k 14.10, as I had learned And prayed hem for charitie, or they passed furthur If they knewe any courte or countrye as they went Where that DOWELL dwelleth, do me to wytte l 14.11 For they be men on this mould, that most wide walke And knowe contries and courts, and many kinnesm 14.12 places Both princes palaces, and pore menes cotes And DOWEL and DOEVIL, where they dwell both, Amongest us quoth the minours, that man is dwellinge And ever hath as I hope, and ever shall hereafter, Contra quod I, as a clarke, and cumsed to disputen And sayde hym sothelye, Septies in die cadit justus, Sevenn 14.13 sythes sayeth the boke, synneth the rightfull, And who so synneth I say, doth evel as me thinketh, And DOWEL and DOEVYL may not dwel togither, Ergo he is not alway among you fryers He is other whyle els where, to wyshen the people. I shal say the my sonne, sayde the frier than Howe seven sithes the saddeo 14.14 man on a day synneth, By a forvisnep 14.15 quod the fryer, I shal the faire shewe Let bryng a man in a bote, amyd the brode water The winde and the water, and the bote waggyng Make a man many time, to fall and to stande For stand he never so stiffe, he stumbleth if he move And yet is he safe and sounde, and so hym behoveth, For if he ne arise the rather, and raght to the stere, The wind would with the water the boote overthrow. And than were his life lost through latchesq 14.16 of himself. And thus it falleth quod the frier, bi folk here on erth

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The water is likned to the world, that waneth and wexeth The goods of this world ar likened to the gret waves That as winds and wethers, walken a bout. The boote is likende to our body, that brytil is of kynd That through the fleshe, and the frayle worlde Synneth the sadde man, a day seven tymes And deadly synne doeth he not, for DOWEL him kepeth And that is CHARITIE the chapion, chiefe helpe agayne sinne, For he strengtheth man to stand, and stirreth mans soule And thoughe thy bodi bowe, as bote doth in water, Aye is thy soule safe, but if thou wylt thy self Do a deadlye sinne, and drenche so thy soule God wyll suffer wel thy slouth, if thy selfe lyketh For he gafe the two yeresgifts, to teme wel thy selfe And that is witte and frewil, to every wight a portion To flyinge fowles, to fishes, and to beastes And man hath moste therof, and most is to blame But if he worch wel therwith, as DOWEL hym teacheth. I have no kind knowyng quoth I, to coceive all your wordes And if I may live and loke, I shal go learne better I bikenne the Christ, that on the crosse dyed And I said the same, save you from mischaunce And give you grace on this ground good me to worth. And thus I went wide wher, walking mine one By a wyde weldernes, and by a woddes syde, Blisse of the birdes, brought me on slepe, And under a lynder 14.17 on a land, lened I a stounde s 14.18 To lyth the layes t 14.19, tho lovely fowles made, Myrthe of her mouthes made me there to slepe The marvelousest metelles, metteu 14.20 me than That ever dremed wyght, in world as I wente. A much man as me thought, and like to my selfe, Came and called me, by my kindew 14.21 name

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What art thou quod I tho, thou that my name knoweste That thou wottest wel quod he, and no wight better Wot I what thou art? THOUGHT sayd he than, I have suedx 14.22 the this seven yeres, se ye me no rather? Art thou THOUGHT quoth I tho, thou couldest me wysshe Wher that DOWEL dwelleth, and do me that to knowe DOWEL and DOBETTER, and DOBEST the thirde quod he Are thre fayre vertues, and be not farre to finde, Who so is true of hys tonge, and of hys two handes And through his labor or his lod, his livelod wineth y 14.23 And is trusty of hys taylyng z 14.24, taketh but his owne And is no drunklewea 14.25 ne dedigious, DOWEL him followeth DOBET doth ryght thus, and he doth much more He is as lowe as a lamb, and lovely of speache And helpeth al men, after that hem nedeth The bagges and the bigirdles, he hath to brokb 14.26 hem al, That the erle avarous helde and hys heyres And thus to mamons mony he hath made him frendes And is runne to religion, and hath rendredc 14.27 the bible And preached to the people, saynte Paules werdes. Libenter suffertis insipientes cum sitis ipsi sapientes. And suffereth the unwyse, wyth you for to lyve And with glad wil doth he good, for so god you hoteth DOBEST is above boeth, and beareth a bishops crosse Is hoked on that one ende to halyed 14.28 men from hell A pyke is on the potente 14.29 to pull downe the wyked That wayten anye wykednes, DOWELL to tene And DOWELL and DOBET, amongest hem have ordeyned To crowne one to be kynge, to rule hem boeth That if DOWELL and DOBET, arnef 14.30 agaynste DOBESTE Then shall the kynge com, and cast hem in yrons And but if DOBEST byd for hem, they be there for ever

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Thus DOWELL and DOBET, and DOBESTE the thyrd Crouned one to be king, to kepen hem al And to rule the realme, by herg 14.31 thre wyttes And none other wise, but as they thre assentyd. I thanked THOUGHT tho, that he me thus taught And yet savoreth me not thy suging, I covet to lerne, How DOWEL DOBEST, and DOBETTER, done among the people But WYT can wish theh 14.32 quoth THOUGHT, wer thoi 14.33 iii dwell Els wot I none that can tell, that nowe is alyve. THOUGHT and I thus, thre dayes we yeden k 14.34 Disputynge upon DOWELL, daye after other. And ere we were ware, with WYT gan we mete He was longe and leane, lyke to none other Was no pryde on hys apparell, nor poverty nether Sadde of hys semblaunce, and of soft chere I durste not move no matter, to make hym to laughe, But as I bade THOUGHT tho be meane betwene And put forth some purpose, to prevent his wyts What was DOWELL fro DOBET, and DOBEST fro hem both. Than THOUGHT in that tyme, sayd these wordes Whether DOWELL DOBET, and DOBEST ben in land Here is wyl wold wyt, if WIT could teach him And whether he be man or woman, this man fain wold espy And worch as they thre wold, this is his enten, Here DOWELL dwelleth quod WIT, not a day hence In a castel that kindl 14.35 made, of four kins things Of earth and ayre is it made, mingled togithers With wind and with water, witterlym 14.36 enjoyned KYNDE hath closed therin, craftely withall A Lemmann 14.37 that he loveth, like to him selfe ANIMA she hyght, and Envye her hateth

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A proude pricke of Fraunce, princeps hujus mundi And woulde wynne her away with wiles and h myghte And KIND knoweth thys well, and kepeth he the better. And dothe her with sir DOWELL is duke of thys marches DOBET is her damosell, sir DOWEL'S daughter To serve this lady lelly o 14.38, both late and rathe p 14.39. DOBEST is above both a byshops pere, That he byd moote be dooq 14.40 he ruleth them all ANIMA that lady, is led by his lerning, And the constable of the castell, that kepeth al the watche, Is a wyse knight withall, sir Inwit he hight And hath fyve fayre sonnes by his fyrst wyfe Syr Seewel and Saywel, and Hearwell the end Syr Worchwel with thy hand, a wight man of strength And Syr Godfray Gowel, great lordes forsoth These fyve bene set, to save this lady Anima Tyl KIND com or send, to save her for ever What kins thing is KIND quod I, canst thou me telle Kynd quod Witte is a creator, of al kinnis thinges Father and former of all, that ever was makyd And that is the great god that ginning had never Lord of lyfe and of light, of blys and of payne Angels and al thing arne at his wyl, And man is him most like, of marker 14.41 and of shape, For through the word that he spake, wexen forth bestes And made Adam, likest to him selfe one And Eve of his ribbe bone, without any meane For he was singuler him selfe, and sayde faciamus As who say more must hereto, then my worde one My might must helpe now with my speche, Even as a lord shuld make leters, and he lacked perchment Though he could write never so wel, if he had no pen The letters for al his lordship, I leve wer never imaked

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And so it semeth by him, as the bible telleth, There he sayde, Dixit et facta sunt. He must worch with hys word, and his wit shewe And in this maner was man made, by might of God al|mighty With his word and his workmaship, and with life to last And thus God gave him a goste s 14.42, of the godhed of heven And of his great grace, graunted him blysse And that is life that aye shal last, to al our linage after And that is the castel that KINDE made, Caro it hight And is as much to meane, as man with a soule And that he wrought with work, and with word both Through might of the majesty, man was imaked Inwyt and Alwyts, closed bene therin For love of the ladie Anima, that life is nempned t 14.43 Over al in mans body, she walketh and wandreth And in the herte is hir home, and hir mostu 14.44 rest And Inwit is in the head, and to the herte loketh What Anima is leef or loth w 14.45, he leadith hyr at his wil.— Than had WIT a wife, was hote dame STUDY, That leve was of lere, and of liche boeth. She was wonderli wroght, Wit me so teched And al staryng dame Study, sternely sayde. Wel art you wise quoth she to Wyt, any wysdomes to tell To flatterers or to foles, that frentyke be of wyttes And blamed him and bannedx 14.46 him, and bade him be styl Wyth such wyse wordes, to wysh any sottes And sayde, Noli mittere man, Margarite Pearles Amonge hogges, that have hawes at wyll. They do but drivel theron,y 14.47 drafe were hem lever z 14.48, Than al precious pearles that in paradice waxeth a 14.49. I say it by such, quod she, that shew it by her works,

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That hem were lever land b 14.50, and lordshyp on earth, Or ryches or rentes, and rest at her wyll, Than al the soth sawes, that Salomon sayde ever. Wysedome and wytte, nowe is not worth a kerse c 14.51 But if it be carded with covetis d 14.52, as clothers kemb her woule Whoso can contryve deceites, and conspyre wrongs And lead forth a love daye e 14.53, to let wyth truth He that such craftes can, is oft cleped to counsell, They lead lords with leasinges, and belieth truth Job the gentel in his gestes, greatly wytnesseth That wicked men welden the wealth of this world The psalter sayeth the same, by such as done evyl Ecce ipsi peccatores habundantes in seculo obtinuerunt divitias. Lo sayth holy lecture, which lords be these shrewes? Thilke that god geveth most, lest good they dealeth And most unkind be to that comen, that most catel weldeth f 14.54. Que perfecisti destruxerunt, justus autem &c. Harlots for her harlotrye, maye have of her goodes And japers and judgelers g 14.55, and jangelers of jestes And he that hath holy wryte, aye in his mouth And can tell of Tobie, and of the twelve apostles Or preache of the penauce, that Pilate falsely wrought To Jesu the gentle, that Jewes to drawe: Lyttle is he loved, that suche a lesson sheweth Or daunten or drawe forth, I do it on god him selfe But thoh 14.56 that faine hem foles, and with faytingi 14.57 liveth Againe the lawe of our lorde, and lien on hem selfe Spitten and spuen, and speake foule wordes Drynken and drivelen, and do men for to gape Lyken men, and lye on hem, and leneth hem no giftes They cank 14.58 no more minstrelsy ne musyke men to glad

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Than Mundie the milner, of multa fecit deus. Ne were hir vyle harlotry, have god my trouth Shoulde never kynge ne knyght, ne canon of Poules Gyve hem to her yeres gyfte, ne gyft of a grote, And myrth and minstrelsy amongest men is nought Lechery, losenchery l 14.59, and losels tales, Glotony and greate othes, this mirthe they loveth, And if thei carpenm 14.60 of Christ, these clerkes and these lewed. And they meet in her mirth, whan mynstrels ben styll Whan telleth they of the trinitie, a tale or twaine And bringeth forth a blade reason, and take Bernardn 14.61 to witnes And put forth a presumption to preve the soth Thus they dreveil at her dayseo 14.62 the deitie to scorn And gnawen God to hyr gorgep 14.63 whan hyr guts fallen And the carfullq 14.64 may crye, and carpen at the gate Both a fyngerd and a furste, and for chelr 14.65 quake Is none to nymen hem nere, his noyes 14.66 to amend But hunten hym as a hounde, and hoten hym go hence, Litle loveth he that lorde that lent hym all that blisse, That thus parteth withe pore, a percel whan him nedeth Ne were mercy in mean men, more than in rich Mendynauntes meatles t 14.67, myght go to bedde. God is much in the gorge of these greate maisters, And amonges meane men, his mercy and hys worckes And so sayeth the psalter, I have sene it oft. Clarkes and other kinnes men, carpen of god fast And have him much in the mouth, and meane men in hert Friers and fayters, have founden such questions To plese wyth the proud men, sith the pestilence time And preachen at S. Paules, for pure envi of clarks That folke is not firmed in the faythe, ne fre of her goodes

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Ne sory for her synnes, so is pryde waxen, In religion, and in al the realme, amongest rich and pore That prayers have no pore, the pestilence to lette And yet the wretches of this worlde, are none ware by other Ne for dreade of the death, withdraw not her prid Ne ben plentuous to the pore, as pure charitie wold But in gaines and in glotony, forglote goods hem selfe And breketh not to the begger, as the boke teacheth. And the more he wynneth, and wexeth welthy in riches And lordeth in landes, the lesse good he dealeth Tobie telleth ye not so, takehede ye ryche Howe the byble boke of hym beareth wytnes, Who so hath much spend manly, so meaneth Tobit And who so lytle weldeth, rule hym thereafter, For we have no letter of our life, how long it shal endure Suche lessons lordes, shoulde love to heare And how he myght most meyny, manlych fynde Not to fare as a fideler, or a frier to seke feastes, Homely at other mens houses, and haten her owne. Elengeu 14.68 is the hal every day in the weke There the lorde ne the lady lyketh not to sytte Nowe hath eche ryche a rule w 14.69, to eaten by hem selfe In a privie parler, for poore mens sake Or in chambre wyth a chymney, and leave the chiefe hal That was made for meales, men to eate in.— And whan that Wytte was ware, what dame Studie told He became so confuse he cunneth not loke And as dombe as death, and drew him arere x 14.70 And for no carping I cold after, ne kneling to therth I myght get no grayne, of his grete wyttis But al laughynge he louted, and loked upon Study In sygne that I shulde, besechen hyr of grace

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And when I was war of his wil, to his wife I loutid And sayde mercie madame, your man shal I worth As longe as I live both late and earlie For to worchen your wil, the whyle mi life endureth With this that ye ken me kindlye, to know to what is DOWEL For thi mekenes man quod she, and for thi milde spech I shal ken the to my cosen, that Clergye is hoten y 14.71 He hath weddyd a wyfe, within these syx moneths Is sybz 14.72 to the seven artes, Scripture is hyr name They two as I hope, after my teachinge Shal wishen the Dowel, I dare under take. Than was I as fayne a 14.73, as fouleb 14.74 of fayr morow And glader then the glemanc 14.75 that gold hath to gyfte And asked hir the high way where that Clergied 14.76 dwelt And tellme some token quod I, for tyme is that I wend Aske the hygh waye quod she, hence to suffer Both wel and woo, if that thou wylt learne And ryde forthe by riches, and rest thou not therin, For if thou couplest ye therwith to clergie comest thou never, And also the licores lande that lechery hight Leav it on thy left half, a large mile and more, Tyll thou come to a courte, kepe well thy tonge Fro leasinges and lyther speach e 14.77, and licorous drinckes Than shalt thou se Sobrietie, and Simplicitie of speche That ech might be in his wyll, hys wytte to shewe And thus shalt ye come to Cleargye that can mani thinges Saye hym thys signe, I sette him to schole And that I grete wel his wife, for I wrot her many bokes And set hir to Sapience, and to the psalter glose Logike I learned her, and manye other lawes, And all the unisons to musike, I made hir to know, Plato the poete, I put hem firste to boke,

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Aristotle and other moe, to argue I taught Grammer for gyrles, I garde firste to wryte And beat hem with a bales, but if they would learne Of all kinnes craftes, I contrived tooles Of carpentre of carvers, and compassed masons And learned hem level and line, though I loke dimme And Theologie hath tened me, seven score times, The more I muse therin, the mistier it semeth And the deper I devine, the darker me it thynketh.

The artifices and persuasions of the monks to procure donations to their convents, are thus humorously ridiculed, in a strain which seems to have given rise to Chaucer's SOMP|NOUR'S TALE.

Than he assoyled her sone, and sithen he sayde: We have a windowe in working, wil set us ful high, Woudst thou glase the gable, and grave therin thy name, Scher shoulde thy soule be heven to have f 14.78, &c.

COVETISE or Covetousness, is thus drawn in the true co|lours of satirical painting.

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And then came COVETIS, can I him no discrive, So hungerly and hollowe, so sternely he loked, He was bittle-browed and baberlypped also; Wyth two blered eyen as a blinde hagge, And as a lethren purse lolled his chekes, Well syder than his chyn they shevered for colde: And as a bound man of his bacon his berd was bidrauled, With a hode on his heade, and a lousy hatte above. And in a tawny taberde g 14.79, of twelve winter age, Alle torne and baudye, and full of lyce creepinge; But that yf a louse could have lepen the better, She had not walked on the welte, so was it thredbare. I have been Covetise, quoth this catife, For sometime I servid Symme at style, And was hys prentice plight, his profyt to wate. Fyrst I lernid to lye, a leef other twayne Wychedly to way, was my first lesson: To Wy and to Winchester h 14.80 I went to the fayre

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With mani manner merchandise, as mi master me hight.—

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Than drave I me among drapers my doneti 14.81 to lerne. To drawe the lyfer along, the longer it semed Among the rich rayes, &c k 14.82.

Our author, who probably could not get preferment, thus inveighs against the luxury and diversions of the prelates of his age.

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And now is religion a rider, a romer by the streete, A leader of lovedayesl 14.83 and a loudem 14.84 bggar, A prickr on a palfrey from maner to maner, An heape of hounds at his arse as he a lord were n 14.85. And yf but his knave knele, that shall hys cope bryng, He loured on hym, and asked who taught hym curtesye o 14.86.

There is great picturesque humour in the following lines.

HUNGER in hest tho hent wastour by the maw, And wrong him so by the wombe that both his eies watered:

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He buffeted the breton about the chekes That he loked lyke a lanterne al his life after p 14.87.

And in the following, where the Vices are represented as converted and coming to confession, among which is the figure of Envy.

Of a freres froke were the fore sleves, And as a lke that hath lied long in the sunne So looked he with leane chekes, lowering foule q 14.88.

It would be tedious to transcribe other strokes of humour with which this poem abounds. Before one of the Visions the poet falls asleep while he is bidding his beads. n another he describes Antichrist, whose banner is borne by Pride, as welcomed into a monastery with ringing of bells, and a solemn congratulatory procession of all the monks march|ing out to meet and receive him r 14.89.

These images of mercy and truth are in a different strain.

Out of the west cost, a wenche as me thought, Come walking in the way, to hevnward she loked; Mercy hight that mayde, a meke thyng withall, A full benigne byrde, and buxome of speech; Hyr syster, as yt seemed, came worthily walking, Even out of theste, and westward she loked, A ful comely creature, Truth she hyght, For the vertue that her folowed afered was she never. When these maydens mette, Mercy and Truth, Eyther asked other of this gret marvel, Of the din and of the darknes, &c s 14.90.

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The imagery of Nature, or KINDE, sending forth his diseases from the planets, at the command of CONSCIENCE, and of his attendants AGE and DEATH, is conceived with sublimity.

KYNDE CONSCIENCE then heard, and came out of the planetts, And sent forth his forriours Fevers, and Fluxes, Coughes, and Cardiacles, Crampes, and Toth-aches, Reumes, and Radgondes, and raynous Scalles, Byles, and Botches, and burnynge Agues, Freneses and foule Evill, foragers of KYNDE! Ther was "Harowe! and Helpe! here cometh KYNDE! "With Death that is dreadfull, to undo us all!" The lord that lyveth after lust tho aloud cried.— Age the hoore, he was in the vaw-ward, And bare the banner before Death: by ryght he it claimed. KYNDE came after, with many kene sores, As Pockes and Pestilences, and much people shent. So KYNDE through corruptions, kylled full many: DEATH came dryvyng after, and all to dust pashed Kyngs and Kaysers, knightes and popes. Many a lovely lady, and lemman of knightes, Swoned and swelted for sorowe of DEATH'S dyntes. CONSCIENCE, of his curtesye, to KYNDE he besoght To cease and sufire, and se where they wolde Leave Pride prively, and be perfite christen, And KYNDE ceased tho, to see the people amende t 14.91.

These lines at least put us in mind of Milton's Lazar|house u 14.92.

..... Immediately a place Before his eyes appeared, sad, noisome, dark: A lazar-house it seem'd, wherein were laid Numbers of all diseas'd: all maladies

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Of gastly spasm, or racking torture, qualms Of heart-sick agony, all feverous kinds, Convulsions, epilepsies, fierce catarrhs, Intestine stone, and ulcer, cholic pangs, Demoniac phrenzy, moping melancholy, And moon-struck madness, pining atrophy, Marasmus, and wide-wasting Pestilence: Dropsies and asthma, and joint-racking rheum. Dire was the Tossing! Deep the groans! DESPAIR Tended the sick, busy from couch to couch; And over them triumphant DEATH his dart Shook, but delay'd to strike, &c.

At length FORTUNE or PRIDE sends forth a numerous army led by LUST, to attack CONSCIENCE.

And gadered a greate hoste, all agayne CONSCIENCE: This LECHERY led on, with a laughyng chere, And with a privye speeche, and paynted wordes, And armed him in idleness and in high bearyng. He bare a bowe in his hand, and many bloudy arrowes, Were fethered with faire behest, and many a false truth w 14.93.

Afterwards CONSCIENCE is besieged by Antichrist, and seven great giants, who are the seven capital or deadly sins: and the assault is made by SLOTH, who conducts an army of more than a thousand prelates.

It is not improbable, that Longland here had his eye on the old French ROMAN D' ANTECHRIST, a poem written by Huon de Meri, about the year 1228. The author of this piece supposes that Antichrist is on earth, that he visits every profession and order of life, and finds numerous par|tisans. The VICES arrange themselves under the banner of ANTECHRIST, and the VIRTUES under that of CHRIST.

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These two armies at length come to an engagement, and the battle ends to the honour of the Virtues, and th total defeat of the Vices. The BANNER OF ANTICHRIST has before occurred in our quotations from Longland. The title of Huon de Meri's poem deserves notice. It is TUR|NOYEMENT DE L' ANTECHRIST. These are the concluding lines.

Par son droit nom a peau cet livre Qui tresbien s' avorde a l' escrit Le Tournoiement de l' Antechrist.

The author appears to have been a monk of St. Germain des Pres, near Paris. This allegory is much like that which we find in the old dramatic MORALITIES. The theology of the middle ages abounded with conjectures and controversies concerning Antichrist, who at a very early period was com|monly believed to be the Roman pontiff x 14.94.

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SECT. IX.

TO the VISION OF PIERCE PLOWMAN has been commonly annexed a poem called PIERCE THE PLOWMAN'S CREDE, and which may properly be considered as its appendage a 15.1. It is professedly written in imitation of our VISION, but by a different hand. The author, in the character of a plain uninformed person, pretends to be ignorant of his creed; to be instructed in the articles of which, he applies by turns to the four orders of mendicant friers. This circumstance affords an obvious occasion of exposing in lively colours the tricks of those societies. After so unexpected a disappoint|ment, he meets one Pierce, or Peter, a plowman, who re|solves his doubts, and teaches him the principles of true religion. In a copy of the CREDE lately presented to me 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.

"An ignorant plain man having learned his Pater-noster 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 no|thing, describing their faults, &c. But that the friars Minors shall save him, whether he learns his creed or not.

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He goes next to the friars Preachers, 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 Mi|norites. He goes to the Carmes; they abuse the Domini|cans, but promise him salvation, without the creed, for money. He leaves them with indignation, and finds an honest poor PLOWMAN in the field, and tells him how he was disappointed by the four orders. The plowman an|swers with a long invective against them."

The language of the CREDE is less embarrassed and ob|scure than that of the VISION. But before I proceed to a specimen, it may not be perhaps improper to prepare the reader, by giving an outline of the constitution and cha|racter of the four orders of mendicant friars, the object of our poet's satire: an enquiry in many respects connected with the general purport of this history, and which, in this place at least, cannot be deemed a digression, as it will il|lustrate the main subject, and explain many particular pas|sages, of the PLOWMAN'S CREDE b 15.2.

Long before the thirteenth century, the monastic orders, as we have partly seen in the preceding poem, in consequence of their ample revenues, had degenerated from their primi|tive austerity, and were totally given up to luxury and indo|lence. Hence they became both unwilling and unable to execute the purposes of their establishment: to instruct the people, to check the growth of heresies, or to promote in any respect the true interests of the church. They forsook all their religious obligations, despised the authority of their superiors, and were abandoned without shame or remorse to every species of dissipation and licentiousness. About the beginning therefore of the thirteenth century, the condition and circumstances of the church rendered it absolutely necessary

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to remedy these evils, by introducing a new order of religious, who being destitute of fixed possessions, by the severity of their manners, a professed contempt of riches, and an unwearied perseverance in the duties of preaching and prayer, might restore respect to the monastic institution, and recover the honours of the church. These were the four orders of mendicant or begging friars, commonly deno|minated the Franciscans, the Dominicans, the Carmelites, and the Augustines d 15.3.

These societies soon surpassed all the rest, not only in the purity of their lives, but in the number of their privileges, and the multitude of their members. Not to mention the success which attends all novelties, their reputation arose quickly to an amazing height. The popes, among other uncommon immunities, allowed them the liberty of travel|ling wherever they pleased, of conversing with persons of all ranks, of instructing the youth and the people in general, and of hearing confessions, without reserve or restriction: and as on these occasions, which gave them opportunities of appearing in public and conspicuous situations, they ex|hibited more striking marks of gravity and sanctity than were observable in the deportment and conduct of the mem|bers of other monasteries, they were regarded with the highest esteem and veneration throughout all the countries of Europe.

In the mean time they gained still greater respect, by cul|tivating the literature then in vogue, with the greatest assi|duity and success. Gianoni says, that most of the theological

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professors in the university of Naples, newly founded in the year 1220, were chosen from the mendicants e 15.4. They were the principal teachers of theology at Paris, the school where this science had received its origin f 15.5. At Oxford and Cambridge respectively, all the four orders had flourishing monasteries. The most learned scholars in the university of Oxford, at the close of the thirteenth century, were Franciscan friars: and long after this period, the Franciscans appear to have been the sole support and ornament of that university g 15.6. Hence it was that bishop Hugh de Balsham, founder of Peter-house at Cambridge, orders in his statutes given about the year 1280, that some of his scholars should annually repair to Oxford for improvement in the sciences h 15.7. That is, to study under the Franciscan readers. Such was the eminence of the Franciscan friary at Oxford, that the learned bishop Grosthead, in the year 1253, bequeathed all

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his books to that celebrated seminary i 15.8. This was the house in which the renowned Roger Bacon was educated; who revived, in the midst of barbarism, and brought to a consi|derable degree of perfection the knowledge of mathematics in England, and greatly facilitated many modern disco|veries in experimental philosophy k 15.9. The same fraternity is likewise said to have stored their valuable library with a multitude of Hebrew manuscrips, which they purchased of the Jews on their banishment from England l 15.10. Richard de Bury, bishop of Durham, author of PHILOBIBLON, and the founder of a library at Oxford, is prolix in his praises of the mendicants for their extraordinary diligence in col|lecting books m 15.11. Indeed it became difficult in the beginning of the fourteenth century to find any treatise in the arts, theology, or canon law, commonly exposed to sale: they were all universally bought up by the friars n 15.12. This is men|tioned by Richard Fitzralph, archbishop of Armagh, in his discourse before the pope at Avignon in 1357, their bitter and professed antagonist; who adds, without any intention of paying them a compliment, that all the mendicant con|vents were furnished with a

"grandis et nobilis libraria o 15.13."
Sir Richard Whittington built the library of the Grey Friars in London, which was one hundred and twenty-nine

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feet long, and twelve broad, with twenty-eight desks p 15.14. About the year 1430, one hundred marks were paid for transcribing the profound Nicholas de Lyra, in two volumes, to be chained in this library q 15.15. Leland relates, that John Wallden, a learned Carmelite, bequeathed to the same library as many manuscripts of approved authors, written in capital roman characters, as were then estimated at more than two thou|sand pieces of gold r 15.16. He adds, that this library, even in his time, exceeded all others in London for multitude of books and antiquity of copies s 15.17. Among many other in|stances which might be given of the learning of the mendi|cants, there is one which greatly contributed to establish their literary character. In the eleventh century, Aristotle's philosophy had been condemned in the university of Paris as heretical. About a hundred years afterwards, these prejudices began to subside; and new translations of Aristotle's writings were published in Latin by our countryman Michael Scotus, and others, with more attention to the original Greek, at least without the pompous and perplexed circumlocutions which appeared in the Arabic versions hitherto used. In the mean time the mendicant orders sprung up: who hap|pily availing themselves of these new translations, and making them the constant subject of their scholastic lectures, were the first who revived the doctrines of this philosopher, and acquired the merit of having opened a new system of science t 15.18. The Dominicans of Spain were accomplished adepts in the

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learning and language of the Arabians; and were employed by the kings of Spain in the instruction and conversion of the numerous Jews and Saracens who resided in their domi|nions u 15.19.

The buildings of the mendicant monasteries, especially in England, were remarkably magnificent, and commonly much exceeded those of the endowed convents of the second mag|nitude. As these fraternities were professedly poor, and could not from their original institution receive estates, the munificence of their benefactors was employed in adorning their houses with stately refectories and churches: and for these and other purposes they did nor want address to pro|cure multitudes of patrons, which was facilitated by the notion of their superior sanctity. It was fashionable for persons of the highest rank to bequeath their bodies to be buried in the friary churches, which were consequently filled with sumptuous shrines and superb monuments w 15.20. In the

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noble church of the Grey friars in London, finished in the year 1325, but long since destroyed, four queens, besides upwards of six hundred persons of quality, were buried, whose beautiful tombs remained till the dissolution x 15.21. These interments imported considerable sums of money into the mendicant societies. It is probable that they derived more benefit from casual charity, than they would have gained from a regular endowment. The Franciscans indeed enjoyed from the popes the privilege of distributing indulgences, a valuable indemnification for their voluntary poverty y 15.22.

On the whole, two of these mendicant institutions, the Dominicans and the Franciscans, for the space of near three centuries, appear to have governed the European church and state with an absolute and universal sway: they filled, during that period, the most eminent ecclesiastical and civil stations, taught in the universities with an authority which silenced all opposition, and maintained the disputed prerogative of the Roman pontiff against the united influence of prelates and kings, with a vigour only to be paralleled by its success. The Dominicans and Franciscans were, before the Reforma|tion, exactly what the Jesuits have been since. They disre|garded their monastic character and profession, and were employed, not only in spiritual matters, but in temporal affairs of the greatest consequence; in composing the dif|ferences of princes, concluding treaties of peace, and con|certing alliances: they presided in cabinet councils, levied national subsidies, influenced courts, and managed the ma|chines of every important operation and event, both in the religious and political world.

From what has been here said it is natural to suppose, that the mendicants at length became universally odious. The high esteem in which they were held, and the transcendent degree of authority which they had assumed, only served to

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render them obnoxious to the clergy of every rank, to the monasteries of other orders, and to the universities. It was not from ignorance, but from a knowledge of mankind, that they were active in propagating superstitious notions, which they knew were calculated to captivate the multitude, and to strengthen the papal interest; yet at the same time, from the vanity of displaying an uncommon sagacity of thought, and a superior skill in theology, they affected no|velties in doctrine, which introduced dangerous errors, and tended to shake the pillars of orthodoxy. Their ambition was unbounded, and their arrogance intolerable. Their en|creasing numbers became, in many states, an enormous and unweildy burthen to the commonwealth. They had abused the powers and privileges which had been entrusted to them; and the common sense of mankind could not long be blinded or deluded by the palpable frauds and artifices, which these rapacious zealots so notoriously practised for en|riching their convents. In England, the university of Ox|ford resolutely resisted the perpetual encroachments of the Dominicans z 15.23; and many of our theologists attacked all the four orders with great vehemence and severity. Exclusive of the jealousies and animosities which naturally subsisted be|tween four rival institutions, their visionary refinements, and love of disputation, introduced among them the most violent dissensions. The Dominicans aimed at popularity, by an obstinate denial of the immaculate conception. Their pretended sanctity became at length a term of reproach, and their learning fell into discredit. As polite letters and ge|neral knowledge encreased, their speculative and pedantic divinity gave way to a more liberal turn of thinking, and a more perspicuous mode of writing. Bale, who was himself a Carmelite friar, says, that his order, which was eminently distinguished for scholastic erudition, began to lose their estimation about the year 1460. Some of them were imprudent

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enough to engage openly in political controversy; and the Augustines destroyed all their repute and authority in England by seditious sermons, in which they laboured o supplant the progeny of Edward the fourth, and to establish the title of the usurper Richard a 15.24. About the year 1530, Leland visited the Franciscan friary at Oxford, big with the hopes of finding, in their celebrated library, if not many valuable books, at least those which had been bequeathed by the learned bishop Grosthead. The delays and difficulties with which he procured admittance into this venerable re|pository, heightened his curiosity and expectations. At length, after much ceremony, being permitted to enter, instead of an inestimable treasure, he saw little more than empty shelves covered with cobwebs and dust b 15.25.

After so prolix an introduction, I cannot but give a large quotation from our CREDE, the humour and tendency of which will now be easily understood: and especially as this poem is not only extremely scarce, and has almost the rarity of a manuscript, but as it is so curious and lively a picture of an order of men who once made so conspicuous a figure in the world.

For first I fraynedc 15.26 the freres, and they me full tolden, That al the fruyt of the fayth, was in her foure orders, And the cofres of christendom, and the keie bothen And the lock of byleve d 15.27, lyeth locken in her hondes
Then wennede e 15.28, I to wytte, and with a whight I mette A Minoure in amorwetide, and to this man I saide,

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Sir for greate godes love, the graithf 15.29 thou me tell, Of what myddel erde man myght I best lerne My crede, for I can it nought, my care is the more, And therfore for Christes love, thy counseyl I preie, A Carmeg 15.30 me hath ycovenant, ye nede me to teche. But for thou knowest Carmes wel, thy counsaile I aske.
This Minour loked on me, and laughyng he sayde Leve christen man, I leveh 15.31 that thou madde. Whough shuld thei teche the God, that con non hemselve? They ben but jugulers, and japers of kynde, Lorels and lechures, and lemans holden, Neyther in order ne out but unneth lybbeth i 15.32, And byjapeth the folk with gestesk 15.33 of Rome. It is but a faynt folke, yfounded up on japes, They maketh hem Maries men l 15.34, and so thei men tellen. And leieth on our lady many a long tale. And that wicked folk wymmen betraieth, And begileth hem of her good with glavering wordes. And therm 15.35 with holden her hous in harlotes warkes. And so save me God I hold it great synne, To gyven hem any good, swiche glotones to fynde To maintaine swiche maner men the michel good destruieth Yetn 15.36 seyn they in her sutiltie, to sottes in townes Thei comen out of Carmeli, Christ for to folwen. And feyneth hem with holynesse, the yvele hem bisemeth. Thei lyven more in lecherie, and lieth in her tales, Than sueno 15.37 any good liif, but lurken in her selles, But wynnen werdlichep 15.38 good, and wasten it in synne,

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And gifq 15.39 thei couthenr 15.40 her crede other on Christ leveden Thei weren nought so hardy, swyche harlotri usen, Sikerli I can nought fynden who hem first founded, But the foles foundeden hem self freres of the pye, And maken hem mendyans, and marre the pule. But what glut of the gomes may any good kachen, He wil kepen it hem selfe, and cofrene it faste. And thoigh his felawes fayle good, for bi he mai sterve Her monei mai bi quest, and testament maken And none obedience here, but don as hym luste. And right as Robartes men raken aboute At feyres and at full ales, and fyllen the cuppe s 15.41 And precheth al of pardon, to plesen the puple, But patience is al pased, and put out to ferme And pride is in her povertie, that litell is to preisen And at the lullyng of our lady t 15.42, the wymmen to lyken And miracles of mydwyves, and maken wymmen to wenen That the lace of our lady smok lighteth hem of children. Thei ne prechen nought of Powel u 15.43, ne penaunce for synne, But al of merci and mensk w 15.44, that Marie may helpen. With sterne staves and stronge, thei overlond straketh, Thider as here lemans liggeth, and lurketh in townes. Grey grete heded quenes, with gold by the eighe, And seyne that her sustern thei ben that sojurneth about, And thus abouten the gon and godes folke betrayeth, It is the puple that Powel preched of in his tyme. He seyde of swiche folke that so aboute wente

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Wepyng, I warne you of walkers aboute, It beth enemyes of the cros that Christ upon tholede. Swiche slomreersx 15.45 in slepe slaughtey 15.46 is her end. And glotonye is her god, with glopping of drink And gladnesse in glees, and grete joye ymaked In the shendingz 15.47 of swiche shal mychel folk lauwghe. Therfore frend for thy feith fond to don beter, Leve nought on tho losels, but let hem forth pasen, For thei ben fals in her faith, and feele mo other.
Alas frere, quath I tho, my purpos is yfailed, Now is my comfort a cast, canst ou no bote, Wher I might meten with a man that might me wyssen For to conne my crede, Christ for to folwen.
Certeyn felawe, quath the frere, withouten any fayle Of al men upon molda 15.48 we Minorites most sheweth The pure aposteles leif, with penance on erthe, And suenb 15.49 hem in sanctite, and sufferen wel harde. We haunten not tavernes, ne hobelenc 15.50 abouten At marketes and miracles we medeley us never d 15.51. We houldene 15.52 no moneye, but moneliche faren f 15.53 And haven hunger at the mete, at ich a mel ones. We haven forsaken the world, and in wo libbeth g 15.54 In penaunce and poverte, and prechethe the puple h 15.55 By ensample of our liif, soules to helpen And in poverte preien, for al oure partneres That gyveth us any good, God to honouren Other bel other book, or bred to our foode, Other catel other cloth, to coveren with oure bones i 15.56: Money, other money worth, here mede is in hevene For we buildeth a burugh k 15.57, a brod and a large,

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A chirch and a chapitle l 15.58, with chaumbers a lofte. With wide wyndowes ywrought, and walles wel heye That mote ben portreid, and paint and pulched ful clene m 15.59. With gay glitering glas, glowing as the sunne, Andn 15.60 mightestou amenden us with money of thyne owen, Thou shouldest knely before Christ in compas of gold, In the wyde windowe westward wel neigh in the middell o 15.61, And saint Franceis him self, shal folde the in his cope, And present the to the trinite, and praye for thy synnes, Thy name shal noblich be wryte and wrought for the nones And in remembraunce of the, praid therfor ever p 15.62, And brother be thou nought aferd, bythenkin thyne hert Though thou coneq 15.63 nought thy crede, care thou no more I shal asoilenr 15.64 the syr, and setten it on my soule. And thou may maken this good, thenke thou non other.
Sir (I sayde) in certaine I shal gon and asaye, And he set on me his hond, and asoiled me clene, And there I parted him fro, withouten any peyne, In covenant that I come agayn, Christ he me be taught.
Than saide I to myself, here semeth litel treuthe, First to blame his brother, and bakbyten hym foule, Ther as curteis Christ clerliche sayde: Whow might thou in thy brothers eighe a bare mote loke And in thyne owen eighe nought a beme toten, See first on thy self, and sithen on a nother, And clense clene thy sight, and kepe wel thyne eighe, And for another mannes eighe, ordeyne after And also I see coveitise, catel to fongen s 15.65,

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That Christ hath clerliche forboden t 15.66, and clenliche destruede And sayde to his sueres u 15.67, for sothe on this wyse: Nought thy neighbors good coveyte in no tyme. But charite and chastite, ben chased out clene, But Christ seide by her fruit, men shal hem ful knowen. Thannesaide I, certeine syr, thou demest ful trewe.
Than thought I to fraynew 15.68 the first of this foure ordres. And presed to the Prechoures x 15.69, to proven her wille. Ich highedy 15.70 to her house, to herken of more, And when I came to that court, I gaped about, Swich a bild bold ybuld upon erthe heighte, Say I nought in certeyn syththe a long tyme z 15.71. Ia 15.72 semed upon that hous, and yerneb 15.73 theron loked, Whow the pileres weren ypaint and pulchudc 15.74 ful clene, And queyntly ycorven, with curious knottes, With wyndowes wel ywrought, wyde up alofte, And than I entred in, and even forthe wente, And all was walled that wone d 15.75, though it wiid were With posternes in privite to passen when hem liste. Orcheyardes, and erberese 15.76 euesed well clene, And a curious cros, craftly entayled f 15.77, With tabernacles ytight to toteng 15.78 al abouten. The pris of a ploughlond, of penies so round, To aparaile that pyler, were pure litel h 15.79, Than I munte mei 15.80 forth, the mynsterek 15.81 to knowen, Andl 15.82 awayted woon, wonderly wel ybild, With arches on everich half, and bellychem 15.83 yeorven With crochetes on corneres, with knottes of gold. Wyde wyndowes ywrought ywriten ful thikke n 15.84

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Shynen o 15.85 with shapen sheldes, to shewen aboute, With p 15.86 merkes of merchauntes, ymedeled betwene, Mo than twentie and two, twyse ynoumbbred; Ther is non heraud that hath half swich a rolle q 15.87 Right as a rageman hath rekned hem newe Tombes upon tabernacles, tylde upon lofte r 15.88, Houseds 15.89 in hornes, harde set abouten t 15.90 Of armede alabaustre, clad for the nones, Maad opon marbel in many manner wyse Knyghtes in ther conisante u 15.91 clad for the nones Alle it semed seyntes, ysacred opon erthe, And lovely ladies ywrought, leyen by her sydes In many gay garnemens, that weren gold beten, Though the tax often yere were trewely gadered, Nolde it nought maken that hous, half as I trowe. Than cam I to that cloystre, and gaped abouten,

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Whough it was pilered and peynt, and portreyd well clene Alhyledw 15.92 with leed, lowe to the stones, And ypaved, with poynttyl x 15.93, ich point after other With cundites of clene tyn closed al aboute y 15.94, With lavoures of lattin z 15.95, loveliche ygreithed a 15.96 I trowe the gaynage of the ground, in a gret shyre Nold aparaile that place, oo poynt tyl other ende b 15.97. Thane was the chapitre house wrought as a greet chirch Corven and covered, ant queytelyche entayled c 15.98 With semliche selure yseet on lofte d 15.99 As a parlement hous ypeynted aboute e 15.100.

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Thanne ferd I into fraytoure f 15.101, and fond there a nother, An halle for an hygh kynge, an houshold to holden, With brod bordes abouten, ybenched wel clene, With wyndowes of glass, wrought as a chirche g 15.102. Than walkede I ferrer h 15.103, and went al abouten And seighi 15.104 halles ful heygh, and houses ful noble, Chambres with chymneys, and chapels gaye, And kychenes for an high kynge, in castels to holden, And her dortourek 15.105 ydight, with dores ful stronge Fermerye and fraitur l 15.106, with fele mo houses m 15.107 And al strong ston wal sterne opon heithe With gaye garites, and grete, and iche hole glased. And other houses ynowe, to hereberwe the queene n 15.108, And yet these bilderes wiln beggen a bagge ful of whete Of a pure pore man, that may onethe paye o 15.109 Half his rent in a yere, and half ben byhynde.
Than turned I apen whan I hadde al ytoted p 15.110 And fond in a freitoure a frere on a benche,

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A greet chorl and a grym, growen as a tonne, With a face so fat, as a ful bleddere r 15.111, Blowen bretful of breth, and as a bagge honged. On bothen his chekes, and his chyn, with a chol lollede So greet a gos ey, growen al of grece. That al wagged his fleish, as a quick mire s 15.112, His copet 15.113 that biclypped him, wel clene was it folden Of double worstede ydyght, doun to the hele. His kyrtel of clene whiit, clenlyche ysewed Hit was good ynow of ground, greyn for to baren. I haylsede that thirdman, and hendliche I sayde, Gode sire for godes love, canst on me graith tellen, To any worthely wiight, that wissen me couthe, Whom I shuld conne my crede, Christ for to folwe, That lenede lellicheu 15.114 hym selfe, and lyved ther after, That feynede no falshede, but fully Christ suwede, Forsith a certeyn man syker wold I trosten That he wold tell me the trewth, and turn to none other. And an Austyn this ender day, eggedw 15.115 me faste That he wold techen me wel, he plyght me his treuthe And seyde me certeyn, sighten Christ deyed Oure ordre was evels, and erst yfounde.
First felaw quath he, fy on his pylthe He is but abortiif, eked with cloutes. He holdeth his ordinaunce with hores and theves, And purchaseth hem privileges, with penyes so rounde. It is a pure pardoners craft, prove and asay For have they thy money, a moneth therafter Certes theigh thou come agen, he wil ye nought knowen. But felawe oure foundement was first of the other And we ben founded fulliche, withouten fayntise And we ben clerkes renowen, cunning in schole Proued in procession by processe of lawe.

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Of oure order ther beth bichopes wel manye, Seyntes on sundry stedes, that suffreden harde And we ben proved the priis of popes at Rome And of grettest degre, as gospelles telleth.

I must not quit our Ploughman without observing, that some other satirical pieces anterior to the Reformation, bear the adopted name of PIERS THE PLOWMAN. Under the character of a plowman the religious are likewise lashed, in a poem written in apparent imitation of Longland's VISION, and attributed to Chaucer. I mean the PLOWMAN'S TALE x 15.116. The measure is different, and it is in rhyme. But it has Longland's alliteration of initials: as if his example had, as it were, appropriated that mode of versification to the subject, and the supposed character which supports the sa|tire y 15.117. All these poems were, for the most part, founded on the doctrines newly broached by Wickliffe z 15.118: who maintained,

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among other things, that the clergy should not pos|sess estates, that the ecclesiastical ceremonies obstructed true devotion, and that mendicant friars, the particular object of our Plowman's CREDE, were a public and insupportable grievance. But Wickliffe, whom Mr. Hume pronounces to have been an enthusiast, like many other reformers, carried his ideas of purity too far; and, as at least it appears from the two first of these opinions, under the design of destroying superstition, his undistinguishing zeal attacked even the necessary aids of religion. It was certainly a lucky circumstance, that Wickliffe quarrelled with the pope. His attacks on superstition at first probably proceeded from resentment. Wickliffe, who was professor of divinity at Oxford, finding on many occasions not only his own pro|vince invaded, but even the privileges of the university fre|quently violated by the pretensions of the mendicants, gra|tified his warmth of temper by throwing out some slight censures against all the four orders, and the popes their principal patrons and abettors. Soon afterwards he was deprived of the wardenship of Canterbury hall, by the arch|bishop of Canterbury, who substituted a monk in his place. Upon this he appealed to the pope, who confirmed the archie|piscopal sentence, by way of rebuke for the freedom with which he had treated the monastic profession. Wickliffe, highly exasperated at this usage, immediately gave a loose to his indignation, and without restraint or distinction attacked

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in numerous sermons and treatises, not only the scandalous enormities of the whole body of monks, but even the usur|pations of the pontifical power itself, with other ecclesiastical corruptions. Having exposed these palpable abuses with a just abhorrence, he ventured still farther, and proceeded to examine and refute with great learning and penetration the absurd doctrines which prevailed in the religious system of his age: he not only exhorted the laity to study the scriptures, but translated the bible into English for general use and popular inspection. Whatever were his motives, it is certain tat these efforts enlarged the notions of mankind, and sowed those seeds of a revolution in religion, which were quickened at length and brought to maturity by a favourable coinci|dence of circumstances, in an age when the encreasing growth of literature and curiosity naturally led the way to innovation and improvement. But a visible diminution of the authority of the ecclesiastics, in England at least, had been long growing from other causes. The disgust which the laity had contracted from the numerous and arbitrary en|croachments both of the court of Rome, and of their own clergy, had greatly weaned the kingdom from superstition; and conspicuous symptoms had appeared, on various occa|sions, of a general desire to shake off the intolerable bondage of papal oppression.

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SECT. X.

LONGLAND'S peculiarity of style and versification, seems to have had many cotemporary imitators. One of these is a nameless author on the fashionable history of Alexander the Great: and his poem on this subject is in|serted at the end of the beautiful Bodleian copy of the French ROMAN D'ALEXANDRE, before mentioned, with this reference a 16.1.

"Here fayleth a prossesse of this romaunce of Alixaunder the whiche prossesse that fayleth ye schulle fynde at the ende of thys boke ywrete in Engeliche ryme."
It is imperfect, and begins and proceeds thus b 16.2.

How Alexander partyd thennys c 16.3.
When this weith at his wil wedinge Hadde, fful rathe rommede he rydinge Thedince so ondrace with his ost Alixandre wendeth there wilde contre

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Was wist and wonderfull peple That weren proved ful proude, and prys of hevi helde Of bodi went thei thare withoute any wede And had grave on the ground many grete cavys There here wonnynge was wynturs and somerus No syte nor no sur stede sothli thei ne hadde But holus holwe in the grounde to hide hem inne Now is that name to mene the nakid wise Wan the kiddeste of the cavus that was kinge holde Hurde tydinge telle and loknynge wiste That Alixaundre with his ost at lede thidince To beholden of hom hure hieʒest prynce Than waies of worshipe wittie and quainte With his lettres he let to the lud sende Thanne southte thei sone the foresaide prynce And to the schamlese schalk schewen hur lettres Than rathe let the .... reden the sonde That newe tythinge is tolde in this wise The gentilc 16.4 Geneosophistians that gode were of witte To the emperour Alixandre here aunsweris wreten This is worschip of word worthi to have And in conquerer kid in contres manie Us is sertefyed seg as we soth heren That thou hast ment with the man among us ferre But yf thou kyng to us come with caere to figte Of us getist thou no good gome we the warne For what richesse ... us might you us bi reve Whan no wordliche wele is with us founde We ben sengle of us silfe and semen ful bare Nouht welde we nowe but naked we wende And that we happili her haven of kynde May no man but god make us fine Thei thou fonde with thi folke to fighte us alle We schulle us kepe on caugt our cavns withinne Nevere werred we with wigth upon erthe

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For we ben hid in oure holis or we harme laache hadde Thus saide sothli the loude that thi sente And al so cof as the king kende the sawe New lettres he let the .... bi take And with his sawes of soth he hem alle That he wolde faire with his folke in a faire wise To bi holden here home and non harme wurke So heth the king with hem sente and sithen with his peple ..... cosli til hem to kenne of hure fare But whan thai sieu the seg with so manye ryde Thei war a grison of his grym and wende gref tholie Ffast heiede thei to holis and hidden there And in the cavus hem kept from the king sterne, &c.

Another piece, written in Longland's manner, is entitled, THE WARRES OF THE JEWES. This was a favourite subject, as I have before observed, drawn from the Latin historical romance, which passes under the name of HEGESIPPUS DE EXCIDIO HIERUSALEM.

In Tyberyus tyme the trewe emperour Syr Sesar hym suls saysed in Rome Whyle Pylot was provost under that prynce ryche And sewen justice also in Judeus londis Herodes under his empire as heritage wolde King of Galile was ycallid whan that Crist deyad They Sesar sakles wer that oft syn hatide Throw Pilet pyned he was and put on the rode A pyler pygt was don upon the playne erthe His body bouden therto beten with scourgis Whippes of quyrbole by went his white sides Til he al on rede blode ran as rayn on the strete Such stockyd hym an a stole with styf menes hondis Blyndfelled hym as a be and boffetis hym ragte Ʒif you be a prophete of pris prophecie they sayde

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Which man her aboute bolled the laste A thrange thorn crown was thraste on his hed ... casten hym with a cry and on a cros slowen Ffor al the harme that he had hasted he nogt On hym the vyleny to venge that hys venys brosten Bot ay taried on the tyme gif they tone wolde Gaf he space that him spilede they he speede lyte Yf aynt was as yfynde and no fewer d 16.5, &c.

Notwithstanding what has been supposed above, it is not quite certain, that Longland was the first who led the way in this singular species of versification. His VISION was written on a popular subject, and is the only poem, composed in this capricious sort of metre, which has been printed. It is easy to conceive how these circumstances contributed to give him the merit of an inventor on this occasion.

The ingenious doctor Percy has exhibited specimens of two or three other poems belonging to this class e 16.6. One of these is entitled DEATH AND LIFE: it consists of two hun|dred and twenty-nine lines, and is divided into two parts or Fitts. It begins thus:

Christ christen king that on the cross tholed, Hadde paines and passyons to defend our soules; Give us grace on the ground the greatlye to serve For that royall red blood that rann from thy side.

The subject of this piece is a VISION, containing a contest for superiority between Our lady Dame LIFE, and the ugly fiend

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Dame DEATH: who with their several attributes and conco|mitants are personified in a beautiful vein of allegorical paint|ing. Dame LIFE is thus forcibly described.

Shee was brighter of her blee than was the bright sonn: Her rud redder than the rose that on the rise hangeth: Meekely smiling with her mouth, and merry in her lookes; Ever laughing for love, as shee like would: And as she came by the bankes the boughes eche one They lowted to that ladye and layd forth their branches; Blossomes and burgens breathed full sweete, Flowers flourished in the frith where she forth stepped, And the grasse that was gray grened belive.

The figure of DEATH follows, which is equally bold and expressive. Another piece of this kind, also quoted by doc|tor Percy, is entitled CHEVELERE ASSIGNE, or DE CIGNE, that is the Knight of the Swan. This is a romance which is extant in a prose translation from the French, among Mr. Garrick's noble collection of old plays f 16.7. We must not for|get, that among the royal manuscripts in the British Mu|seum, there is a French metrical romance on this subject, entitled L'YSTOIRE DU CHEVALIER AU SIGNE g 16.8. Our Eng|lish poem begins thus h 16.9:

All-weldynge god, whence it is his wyll, Wele he wereth his werke with his owene honde, For ofte harmes were hente that help wene mygte

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Nere the hygnes of hem that lengeth in hevene For this, &c.

This alliterative measure, unaccompanied with rhyme, and including many peculiar Saxon idioms appropriated to poetry, remained in use so low as the sixteenth century. In doctor Percy's Antient Ballads, there is one of this class called THE SCOTTISH FEILDE, containing a very circumstantial narrative of the battle of Flodden fought in the year 1513.

In some of the earliest of our specimens of old English poetry i 16.10, we have long ago seen that alliteration was esteemed a fashionable and favourite ornament of verse. For the sake of throwing the subject into one view, and further illustrat|ing what has been here said concerning it, I chuse to cite in this place a very antient hymn to the Virgin Mary, never printed, where this affectation professedly predominates k 16.11.

I.
Hail beo yowl 16.12 Marie, moodur and may, Mylde, and meke, and merciable; Heyl folliche fruit of sothfast fay, Agayn vche stryf studefast and stable! Heil sothfast soul in vche a say, Undur the son is non so able. Heil logge that vr lord in lay, The formast that never was founden in fable, Heil trewe, trouthfull, and tretable, Heil cheef i chosen of chastite, Heil homely, hende, and amyable To preye for us to thi sone so fre! AVE.

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II.
Heil stern, that never stinteth liht; Heil bush, brennyng that never was brent; Heil rihtful rulere of everi riht, Schadewe to schilde that scholde be schent. Heil, blessed be yowe blosme briht, To trouthe and trust was thine entent; Heil mayden and modur, most of miht, Of all mischeves and amendement; Heil spice sprong that never was spent, Heil trone of the trinitie; Heil soienem 16.13 that god us sone to sent Yowe preye for us thi sone fre! AVE.
III.
Heyl hertely in holinesse. Heyl hope of help to heighe and lowe, Heyl strength and stel of stabylnesse, Heyl wyndowe of hevene wowe, Heyl reson of rihtwysnesse, To vche a caityf comfort to knowe, Heyl innocent of angernesse, Vr takel, vr tol, that we on trowe, Heyl ••••end to all that beoth fortth flowe Heyl liht of love, and of bewte, Heyl brihter thn the blod on snowe, Yow preye for us thi sone so fre! AVE.
IV.
Heyl mayden, heyl modur, heyl martir trowe, Heyl kyndly i knowe confessour, Heyl evenere of old lawe and newe, Heyl buildor bold of cristes bour,

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Heyl rose higest of hyde and hewe, Of all ••••ruytes feirest fflour, Heyl turtell trustiest and trewe, Of all trouhe thou art tresour, Heyl puyred princesse of paramour, Heyl blosme of brere brihtest of ble, Heyl owner of eorthly honour, Yowe preye for us thi sone so fre! AVE, &c.
V.
Heyl hende, heyl holy emperesse, Heyle queene corteois, comely, and kynde, Heyl distruyere of everi strisse, Heyl mender of everi monnes mynde, Heil bodi that we ouht to blesse, So feythful frend may never mon fynde, Heil levere and lovere of largenesse Swete and swetest that never may swynde, Heil botenere of everie bodi blynde, Heil borgun brihtes of all bounte, Heyl trewore then the wode bynde, Yow preye for us thi sone so fre! AVE.
VI.
Heyl modur, heyl mayden, heyl hevene quene, Heyl gatus of paradys, Heyl sterre of the se that ever is sene, Heyl riche, royall, and ryhtwys, Heyl burde i blessed mote yowe bene, Heyl perle of al perey the pris, Heyl schadewe in vche a schour schene, Heyl fairer thae that flour de lys,

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Heyl cher chosen that never nas chis Heyl chef chamber of charite Heyl in wo that ever was wis Yowe preye for us thi sone so fre! AVE, &c. &c. n 16.14.

These rude stanzas remind us of the Greek hymns ascribed to Orpheus, which entirely consist of a cluster of the ap|pellations appropriated to each divinity.

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SECT. XI.

ALTHOUGH this work is professedly confined to England, yet I cannot pass over two Scotch poets of this period, who have adorned the English language by a strain of versification, expression, and poetical imagery, far superior to their age; and who consequently deserve to be mentioned in a general review of the progress of our national poetry. They have written two heroic poems. One of them is John Barbour, archdeacon of Aberdeen. He was edu|cated at Oxford; and Rymer has printed an instrument for his safe passage into England, in order to prosecute his studies in that university, in the years 1357 and 1365 a 17.1. David Bruc, king of Scotland, gave him a pension for life, as a reward for his poem called the HISTORY OF ROBERT BRUCE, KING OF THE SCOTS b 17.2. It was printed at Glasgow in the year 1671 c 17.3. A battle ought by lord Douglas is thus described.

When that thus thir two batttles were Assembled, as I said you air, The Stewart Walter that then was, And the good lord als of Dowglas, In a battle when that they saw The earl, foroutten dread or aw, Assemble with his company On all that folk so sturdily, For to help him they held their way, And their battle with good array,

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Beside the earl a little by, They sembled all so hardily, That their foes felt ther coming well; For with weapons stallwort of steel, They dang on them with all their might, Their foes received well, I heght, With swords and spears, and als with mass, The battle there so fellon was, And so right great spilling of blood, That on the erd the slouces stood. The Scottishmen so well them bare, And so great slaughter made they there, And fra so feil the lives they reav'd, That all the field was bloody leav'd. That time that thir three battles were All side by side fighting well near, There might men hear many a dint, And weapons upon arms stint, And might see tumble knights and steeds, And many rich and royal weeds Foully defiled under feet. Some held on loft, some tint the suet. A long while fighting thus they were, That men in no wise might hear there. Men might hear nought but groans and dints That flew, as men strike fire on flints. They fought ilk ane so eagerly, That they made neither noise nor cry, But dang on other at their might, With weapons that were burnisht bright. The arrows also thick there flaw, (That they well might say, that them saw) That they a hideous shower can ma; For where they fel, I underta,

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They left after them tokening, That shall need, as I trow, leeching. The English archers shot so fast, That might their shot have any last, It had been hard to Scottishmen. But king Robert, that well can ken, That their archers were perillous, And their shot right hard and grievous, Ordain'd forouth the assembly, His marshal, with a great menʒie, Five hundred armed into steel, That on light horse were horsed well, For to prick amongst the archers, And to assail them with their spears, That they no leisure have to shoot. This marshal that I hereof mute, Sir Robert of Keith he was call'd, And I before here have you tould. When that he saw the battles so Assemble, and together go, And saw the archers shoot stoutly, With all them of his company, In hy upon them can he ride, And overtake them at a side, And rush'd among them so rudely, Sticking them so despiteously, And in lik fusion bearing down, And slaying them forout ransoun, That they them skailed e'erilkane; And, fra that time forth, ther was nan That assembled, shot for to ma. When Scots archers saw that they sa Reboted were, they wax'd hardy, And with their might shot eagerly

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Among the horfemen that there rade, And wounds wide to them they made, And slew of them a full great deal. They bore them hardily and well; For fra tbat their foes archers were Skailed, as I said to you air, They more than they were b great thing, So that they dread not their shooting. They wax'd so hardy, that them thought, They should set all their foes at nought d 17.4.

The following is a specimen of our author's talent at rural description. The verses are extremely soft.

This was in midst of month of May, When birds sing in ilka spray, Melland their notes with seemly soun, For softness of the sweet seasoun, And leaves of the branches spreeds, And blooms bright beside them breeds, And fields strawed are with flowers Well savouring of seir colours, And all thing worthis, blyth and gay e 17.5.

The other wrote a poem on the exploits of Sir William Wallace. It was first printed in 1601. And very lately reprinted at Edinburgh in quarto, with the following title,

"The acts and deeds of the most famous and valiant champion Sir William Wallace, knight, of Ellerslie. Written by BLIND HARRY in the year 1361. Together with ARNALDI BLAIR RELATIONES. Edinburgh, 1758."
No circumstances of the life of our blind bard appear in Dempster f 17.6. This poem, which consists of twelve books, is translated from the Latin of Robert Blare, or Blair, chaplain

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to Sir William Wallace f 17.7. The following is a description of the morning, and of Wallace arming himself in his tent g 17.8.

Into a vale by a small river fair, On either side where wild deer made repair, Set watches out that wisely could them keep, To supper went, and timeously they sleep, Of meat and sleep they cease with suffisaunce, The night was mirk, overdrave the darksom chance, The merry day sprang from the orient, With beams bright illuminate occident, After Titan Phebus upriseth fair, High in the sphere, the signs he made declare. Zephyrus then began his morning course, The sweet vapour thus from the ground resourse; The humble bregth down from the heaven avail In every mead, both frith, forest and dale. The clear rede among the rockis rang Through grene branches where the byrds blythly sang, With joyous voice in heavenly harmony, When Wallace thought it was no time to ly: He crossyd him, syn suddenly arose, To take the air out of his pallion goes Maister John Blair was ready to revess, In goode intent syne bouned to the mass.

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When it was done, Wallace can him array, In his armore, which goodly was and gay; His shining shoes that birnisht was ful been, His leg-harness he clapped on so clean, Pullane grees he braced on full fast, A close birnie with many siker clasp, Breast-plate, brasars, that worthy were in wear: Beside him forth Jop could his basnet bear; His glittering gloves that graven on either side, He seemed well in battell to abide. His good girdle, and syne his buirly brand, A staffe of steel he gripped in his hand. The host him blest, &c. Adam Wallaice and Boyd forth with him yeed By a river, throughout a florisht mead And as they walk attour the fields so green, Out of the south they saw when that the queen Toward the host came riding soberly, And fity ladies in her company, &c.

The four following lines on the spring are uncommonly terse and elegant.

Gentle Jupiter, with his mild ordinance, Both herb and tree reverts into pleasance; And fresh Flora her flowery mantle spread, In every dale both hop, hight, hill, and mead h 17.9.

A different season of the year is here strongly painted.

The dark region appearing wonder fast, In November when October was past, The day failed through right course worthit short, To banisht man that is no great comfort:

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With their power in paths worthis gang, Heavy they think when that the night is lang. Thus good Wallace saw the night's messenger; Phebus had lost his fiery beams so clear: Out of the wood thei durst not turn that side For adversours that in their way would hide i 17.10.

The battle of Black-Ernside shews our author a master in another style of painting.

Kerlie beheld unto the bold heroun, Upon Fawdoun as he was looking down, A subtil stroke upward him took that tide Under the cheeks the grounden sword gart glide, By the mail good, both halse and his craig-bane In sunder strake; thus ended that chiftain, To ground he fell, feil folk about him throng, Treason, they cry'd, traitors are us among. Kerlie, with that, fled out soon at a side, His fellow Steven then thought no time to bide. The fray was great, and fast away they yeed, Both toward Ern; thus scaped they that dread. Butler for wo of weeping might not stint. Thus raklesly this good knight hav they tint. They deemed all that it was Wallace men, Or else himself, though they could not him ken; He is right near, we shall him have but fail, This feeble wood may little him avail. Forty there past again to Saint Johnstoun, With this dead corps, to burying made it bown. Parted their men, syne divers ways they rode, A great power at Doplin still there bode. To Dalwryeth the Butler past but let, At sundry fords the gate they unbeset,

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To keep the wood while it wa, day they thought. As Wallace thus in the thick forest sought, For his two men in mind he had great pain, He wist not well, if they were tane or slain, Or scaped haill by any jeopardy. Thirteen were left with him, no more had he; In the Gask-hall their lodging have they tane. Fire got they soon, but meat then had they nane; Two sheep they took beside them of a fold, Ordain'd to sup into that seemly hold: Graithed in haste some food for them to dight: So heard they blow rude horns upon hight. Two sent he forth to look what it might be; They bode right long, and no tidings heard he, But bousteous noise so bryvely blowing fast; So other two into the wood forth past. None came again, but bousteously can blaw, Into great ire he sent them forth on raw. When that alone Wallace was leaved there, The awful blast abounded meikle mare; Then trow'd he well they had his lodging seen; His sword he drew of noble metal keen, Syne forth he went where at he heard the horn. Without the door Fawdoun was him beforn, As to his sight, his own head in his hand; A cross he made when he saw him so stand. At Wallace in the head he swakked there, And he in haste soon hint it by the hair, Syne out again at him he could it cast, Into his heart he greatly was agast. Right well he trow'd that was do sprit of man, It was some devil, that sic malice began. He wist uo wale there longer for to bide. Up through the hail thus wight Wallace can glide,

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To a close stair, the boards they rave in twin, Fifteen foot large he lap out of that inn. Up the water he suddenly could fare, Again he blink'd what pearance he saw there, He thought he saw Fawdoun, that ugly ire, That haiil hall he had set into a fire; A great rafter he had into his hand. Wallace as then no longer would he stand. Of his good men full great marvel had he, How they were tint through his feil fantasie. Trust right well that all this was sooth indeed, Suppose that it no point be of the creed. Power they had with Lucifer that fell, The time when he parted from heaven to hell. By sik mischief if his men might be lost, Drowned or slain among the English host; Or what it was in likeness of Fawdoun. Which brought his men to sudden confusion; Or if the man ended in ill intent, Some wicked sprit again for him present. I cannot speak of sik divinity, To clerks I will let all sic matters be: But of Wallace, now forth I will you tell. When he was won out of that peril fell, Right glad was he that he had scaped sa, But for his men great mourning can he ma. Flait by himself to the Maker above Why he suffer'd he should sik paining prove. He wist not well if that it was Gods will; Right or wrong his fortune to fulfil, Had he pleas'd God, he trow'd it might not be He should him thole in sik perplexitie. But great courage in his mind ever drawe, Of Englishmen thinking amends to have.

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As he was thus walking by him alone Upon Ern side, making a piteous moan, Sir John Butler, to watch the fords right, Out from his men of Wallace had a sight; The mist again to the mountains was gone, To him he rode, where that he made his mone. On loud he speir'd, What art thou walks that gate? A true man, Sir, though my voyage be late; Erands I pass from Down unto my lord, Sir John Stewart, the right for to record, In Down is now, newly come from the king. Then Butler said, this is a selcouth thing, You lied all out, you have been with Wallace, I shall thee know, ere you come off this place, To him he start the courser wonder wight, Drew out a sword, so made him for to light. Above the knee good Wallace has him tane, Through thigh and brawn in sunder strake the bane. Derfly to dead the knight fell on the land. Wallace the horse soon seized in his hand, An ackward stroke syne took him in that stead, His craig in two; thus was the Butler dead. An Englishman saw their chiftain was slain, A spear in rest he cast with all his main, On Wallace drave, from the horse him to bear; Warily he wrought, as worthy man in wear. The spear he wan withouten more abode, On horse he lap, and through a great rout rode; To Dalwryeth he knew the ford full well: Before him came feil stuffed in fine steel. He strake the first, but bade, on the blasoun, While horse and man both fleet the water down. Another soon down from his horse he bare, Stamped to ground, and drown'd withouten mare.

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The third he hit in his harness of steel, Throughout the cost, the spear it brake some deal. The great power then fter him can ride. He saw no waill there longer for to bide. His burnisht brand braithly in hand he bare, Whom he hit right they followed him na mare. To stuff the chase feil freiks followed fast, But Wallace made the gayest ay agast. The muir he took, and through their power yeed, The horse was good, but yet he had great dread For failing ere he wan unto a strength, The chase was great, skail'd over breadth and length, Through strong danger they had him ay in sight. At the Blackford there Wallace down can light, His horse stuffed, for way was deep and lang, A large great mile wightly on foot could gang. Ere he was hors'd riders about him cast, He saw full well long so he might not last. Sad men indeed upon him can renew, With returning that night twenty he slew, The fiercest ay rudely rebuted he, Keeped his horse, and right wisely can flee, While that he came the mickest muir amang. His horse gave over, and would no further gang m 17.11.

I will close these specimens with an instance of our au|thor's allegorical invention.

In that slumber coming him thought he saw, An aged man fast toward him could draw, Soon by the hand he hint him hastily, I am, he said, in voyage charg'd with thee. A sword him gave of basely burnisht steel, Good son, he said, this wand you shall bruik well.

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Of topaz stone him thought the plummet was, Both hilt and hand all glittering like the glass. Dear son, he said, we tarry here too long, Thou shalt go see where wrought is meikle wrong; Then he him led to a mountain on hight, The world him thought he might see at a sight. He left him there, syne soon from him he went, Thereof Wallace studied in his intent, To see him more he had still great desire, Therewith he saw begin a fellon fire, Which braithly burnt in breadth through all the land, Scotland all over, from Ross to Solway-sand. Then soon to him there descended a queen, Illuminate, light, shining full bright and sheen In her presence appeared so meikle light, That all the fire she put out of his sight, Gave him a wand of colour red and green, With a sapphire saved his face and eyn, Welcome, she said, I choose thee for my love Thou art granted by the great God above, To help people that suffer meikle wrong, With thee as now I may not tarry long, Thou shalt return to thy own use again, Thy dearest kin are here in meikle pain; This right region you must redeem it all, Thy last reward in earth shall be but small; Let not therefore, take redress of tis miss, To thy reward thou shalt have lasting bliss. Of her right hand she beraught him a book, And humbly thus her leave full soon she took, Unto the cloud ascended off his sight. Wallace brake up the book in all his might. Into three parts the book well written was, The firt writing was gross letters of brass,

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The second gold, the third was silver sheen. Wallace marvell'd what this writing should mean; To read the book he busied him so fast, His spirit again to waking mind is past, And up he roe, syne oundly forth he went. This clerk he found, and told him his intent Of his vision, as I have said before, Completely through, what needs any words more. Dear son, he said, my wit unable is To ransack sik, for dread I say amiss; Yet I shall deem, though my cunning be small, God grant no charge after my words may fall. Saint Andrew was gave thee that sword in hand, Of saints he is the vower of Scotland; That mountain is, where he had thee on hight, Knowledge to have of wrong that thou must right; The fire shall be fell tidings, ere ye part, Which shall be told in many sundry airt. I cannot well wit what queen that should be, Whether Fortune, or our Lady so free, Likely it is, by the brightness she brought, Mother of him that all the world has wrought. The pretty wand, I trow, by mine intent, Assigns to you rule and cruel judgment; The red colour, who graithly understood, Betokens all to great battle and blood; The green, courage, that thou art now among, In trouble and war thou shalt continue long; The sapphire stone she blessed thee withal, Is lasting grace, will God, shall to thee fall; The threefold book is but this broken land, Thou must redeem by worthiness of hand; The brass letters betokens but to this, The great oppress of war and meikle miss,

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The which you shall bring to the right again, But you therefore must suffer meikle pain; The gold betokens honour and worthiness, Victory in arms, that thou shalt have by grace; The silver shews clean life and heaven's bliss, To thy reward that mirth thou shalt not miss, Dread not therefore, be out of all despair. Further as now hereof I can na mare.

About the present period, historical romances of recent events seem to have commenced. Many of these appear to have been written by heralds k 17.12. In the library of Worcester college at Oxford, there is a poem in French, reciting the atchievements of Edward the Black Prince, who died in the year 1376. It is in the short verse of romance, and was written by the prince's herald, who attended close by his person in all his battles, according to the established mode of those times. This was John Chandois-herald, frequently mentioned in Froissart. In this piece, which is of consider|able length, the names of the Englishmen are properly spelled, the chronology exact, and the epitaph l 17.13, forming a sort of peroration to the narrative, the same as was ordered by the prince in his will m 17.14. This poem, indeed, may seem to claim no place here, because it happens to be written in the French language: yet, exclusive of its subject, a circumstance I have mentioned, that it was composed by a herald, deserves particular attention, and throws no small illustration on the poetry of this era. There are several proofs which indicate that many romances of the fourteenth century, if not in verse, at least those written * 17.15

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in prose, were the work of heralds. As it was their duty to attend their masters in battle, they were enabled to record the most important transactions of the field with fidelity. It was customary to appoint none to this office but persons of discernment, address, experience, and some degree of education n 17.16. At solemn tournaments they made an essential part of the ceremony. Here they had an opportunity of observing acoutrements, armorial distinctions, the number and appearance of the spectators, together with the various events of the turney, to the best advantage: and they were afterwards obliged to compile an ample register of this strange mixture of foppery and ferocity o 17.17. They were necessarily connected with the minstrells at public festivals, and thence acquired a facility of reciting adventures. A learned French antiquary is of opinion, that antiently the French heralds, called Hiraux, were the same as the minstrells, and that they sung metrical tales at festivals p 17.18. They frequently received fees or largesse in common with the minstrells q 17.19. They tra|velled into different countries, and saw the fashions of foreign courts, and foreign tournaments. They not only committed to writing the process of the lists, but it was also their

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business, at magnificent feasts, to describe the number and parade of the dishes, the quality of the guests, the brilliant dresses of the ladies, the courtesy of the knights, the revels, disguisings, banquets, and every other occurrence most ob|servable in the course of the solemnity. Spenser alludes expressly to these heraldic details, where he mentions the splendor of Florimel's wedding.

To tell the glory of the feast that day The goodly servyse, the devisefull sights, The bridegrome's state, the bride's most rich array The pride of ladies, and the worth of knights, The royall banquettes, and the rare delights, Were work fit for an HERALD, not for me r 17.20.

I suspect that Chaucer, not perhaps without ridicul, glances at some of these descriptions, with which his age abounded; and which he probably regarded with less reverence, and read with less edification, than did the generality of his cotemporary readers.

Why shulde I tellen of the rialte Of that wedding? or which course goth beforn? Who blowith in a trumpe, or in a horn s 17.21?

Again, in describing Cambuscan's feast.

Of which shall I tell all the array, Then would it occupie a sommer's day: And eke it nedeth not to devise, At everie course the order of servise: I will not tellen as now of her strange sewes, Ne of her swans, ne of her heronsewes t 17.22.

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And at the feast of Theseus, in the KNIGHT'S TALE u 17.23.

The minstralcie, the service at the feste, The grete geftes also to the most and leste, The riche array of Theseus palleis, Ne who sat first or last upon the deis, What ladies feyrist ben, or best daunsing, Or which of them can best dauncin or sing, Ne who most felingly spekith of love, Ne what haukes sittin on perchis above, Ne what houndes liggen on the floure adoun, Of all this now I make no mentioun.

In the FLOURE and the LEAF, the same poet has de|scribed, in eleven long stanzas, the procession to a splendid tournament, with all the prolixity and exactness of a herald w 17.24. The same affectation, derived from the same sources, occurs often in Ariosto.

It were easy to illustrate this doctrine by various examples. The famous French romance of SAINTRE was evidently the performance of a herald. John De Saintre, the knight of the piece, was a real person, and, according to Froissart, was taken prisoner at the battle of Poitiers, in the year 1356 x 17.25. But the compiler confounds chronology, and ascribes to his hero many pieces of true history belonging to others. This was a common practice in these books. Some au|thors have supposed that this romance appeared before the year 1380 y 17.26. But there are reasons to prove, that it was written by Antony de la Sale, a Burgundian, author of a book of CEREMONIES, from his name very quaintly entitled LA SALLADE, and frequently cited by our learned antiquary Selden z 17.27. This Antony came into England to see the solemnity

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of the queen's coronation in the year 1445 a 17.28. I have not seen any French romance which has preserved the practices of chivalry more copiously than this of SAINTRE. It must have been an absolute master-piece for the rules of tilting, martial customs, and public ceremonies prevailing in its author's age. In the library of the Office of Arms, there remains a very accurate description of a feast of Saint George, celebrated at Windsor in 1471 b 17.29. It appears to have been written by the herald Blue-mantle Poursuivant. Me|nestrier says, that Guillaume Rucher, herald of Henault, has left a large treatise, describing the tournaments annu|ally celebrated at Lisle in Flanders c 17.30. In the reign of Edward the Fourth, John Smarte, a Norman, garter king at arms, described in French the tournament held at Bruges, for nine days, in honour of the marriage of the duke of Burgundy with Margaret the king's daughter d 17.31. There is a French poem, entitled, Les noms et les armes des seigneurs, &c. a l'as|siege de Karleverch en Escoce, 1300 e 17.32. This was undoubtedly written by a herald. The author thus describes the banner of John duke of Bretaigne.

Baniere avoit cointee et paree De or et de asur eschequeree Au rouge ourle o jaunes lupars Determinee estoit la quarte pars f 17.33.

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The pompous circumstances of which these heraldic narratives consisted, and the minute prolixity with which they were displayed, seem to have infected the professed historians of this age. Of this there are various instances in Froissart, who had no other design than to compile a chronicle of real facts. I will give one example out of many. At a treaty of marriage between our Richard the second and Isabel daughter of Charles the fifth king of France, the two monarchs, attended with a noble retinue, met and formed several encampments in a spacious plain, near the castle of Guynes. Froissart expends many pages in relating at large the costly furniture of the pavilions, the riches of the side-boards, the profusion and variety of sumptuous liquors, spices, and dishes, with their order of service, the number of the attendants, with their address and exact discharge of duty in their respective offices, the presents of gold and precious stones made on both sides, and a thousand other particulars of equal importance, relating to the parade of this royal interview g 17.34. On this account, Cax|ton, in his exhortation to the knights of his age, ranks Froissart's history, as a book of chivalry, with the romances of Lancelot and Percival; and recommends it to their attention, as a manual equally calculated to inculcate

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the knightly virtues of courage and courtesy h 17.35. This indeed was in an age when not only the courts of princes, but the castles of barons, vied with one another in the lustre of their shews: when tournaments, coronations, royal inter|views, and solemn festivals, were the grand objects of man|kind. Froissart was an eye-witness of many of the ceremo|nies which he describes. His passion seems to have been that of seeing magnificent spectacles, and of hearing reports concerning them i 17.36. Although a canon of two churches, he passed his life in travelling from court to court, and from castle to castle k 17.37. He thus, either from his own observation, or the credible informations of others, easily procured suit|able materials for a history, which professed only to deal in sensible objects, and those of the most splendid and conspi|cuous kind. He was familiarly known to two kings of England, and one of Scotland l 17.38. But the court which he most admired was that of Gaston earl of Foix, at Orlaix in Bearn; for, as he himself acquaints us, it was not only the most brilliant in Europe, but the grand center for tidings of martial adventures m 17.39. It was crouded with knights of Eng|land and Arragon. In the mean time it must not be forgot, that Froissart, who from his childhood was trongly attached to carousals, the music of minstrells, and the sports of hawking and hunting n 17.40, cultivated the poetry of the trouba|dours, and was a writer of romances o 17.41. This turn, it must

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be confessed, might have some share in communicating that romantic cast to his history which I have mentioned. During his abode at the court of the earl of Foix, where he was en|tertained for twelve weeks, he presented to the earl his col|lection of the poems of the duke of Luxemburgh, consisting of sonnets, balades, and virelays. Among these was included a romance, composed by himself, called, MELIADER, or THE KNIGHT OF THE SUN OF GOLD. Gaston's chief amusement was to hear Froissart read this romance p 17.42 every evening after supper q 17.43. At his introduction to Richard the second, he presented that brilliant monarch with a book beautifully illuminated, engrossed with his own hand, bound in crimson velvet, and embellished with silver bosses, clasps, and golden roses, comprehending all the matters of AMOURS and MO|RALITIES, which in the course of twenty-four years he had composed r 17.44. This was in the year 1396. When he left

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England the same year s 17.45, the king sent him a massy goblet of silver, filled with one hundred nobles t 17.46.

As we are approaching to Chaucer, let us here stand still, and take a retrospect of the general manners. The tourna|ments and carousals of our antient princes, by forming splendid assemblies of both sexes, while they inculcated the most liberal sentiments of honour and heroism, undoubtedly contributed to introduce ideas of courtesy, and to encou|rage decorum. Yet the national manners still retained a great degree of ferocity, and the ceremonies of the most refined courts in Europe had often a mixture of barbarism, which rendered them ridiculous. This absurdity will always appear at periods when men are so far civilised as to have lost their native simplicity, and yet have not attained just ideas of politeness and propriety. Their luxury was inelegant, their pleasures indelicate, their pomp cumbersome and un|wieldy. In the mean time it may seem surprising, that the many schools of philosophy which flourished in the middle ages, should not have corrected and polished the times. But as their religion was corrupted by superstition, so their philosophy degenerated into sophistry. Nor is it science alone, even if founded on truth, that will polish nations.

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For this purpose, the powers of imagination must be awakened and exerted, to teach elegant feelings, and to heighten our natural sensibilities. It is not the head only that must be informed, but the heart must also be moved. Many classic authors were known in the thirteenth century, but the scholars of that period wanted taste to read and admire them. The pathetic or sublime strokes of Virgil would be but little relished by theologists and metaphy|sicians.

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SECT. XII.

THE most illustrious ornament of the reign of Edward the third, and of his successor Richard the second, was Jeffrey Chaucer; a poet with whom the history of our poetry is by many supposed to have commenced; and who has been pronounced, by a critic of unquestionable taste and discernment, to be the first English versifier who wrote poetically a 18.1. He was born in the year 1328, and educated at Oxford, where he made a rapid progress in the scholastic sciences as they were then taught: but the liveliness of his parts, and the native gaiety of his disposition, soon recom|mended him to the patronage of a magnificent monarch, and rendered him a very popular and acceptable character in the brilliant court which I have above described. In the mean time, he added to his accomplishments by frequent tours into France and Italy, which he sometimes visited under the advantages of a public character. Hitherto our poets had been persons of a private and circumscribed edu|cation, and the art of versifying, like every other kind of composition, had been confined to recluse scholars. But Chaucer was a man of the world: and from this circum|stance we are to account, in great measure, for the many new embellishments which he conferred on our language and our poetry. The descriptions of splendid processions and gallant carousals, with which his works abound, are a proof that he was conversant with the practices and diversions of polite life. Familiarity with a variety of things and objects, opportunities of acquiring the fashionable and courtly modes

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of speech, connections with the great at home, and a per|sonal acquaintance with the vernacular poets of foreign countries, opened his mind and furnished him with new lights b 18.2. In Italy he was introduced to Petrarch, at the wedding of Violante, daughter of Galeazzo duke of Milan, with the duke of Clarence: and it is not improbable that Boccacio was of the party c 18.3. Although Chaucer had un|doubtedly studied the works of these celebrated writers, and particularly of Dante, before this fortunate interview; yet it seems likely, that these excursions gave him a new relish for their compositions, and enlarged his knowledge of the Italian fables. His travels likewise enabled him to cultivate the Italian and Provencial languages with the greatest success; and induced him to polish the asperity, and enrich the sterility of his native versification, with softer cadences, and a more copious and variegated phraseology. In this attempt, which was authorised by the recent and popular examples of Petrarch in Italy and Alain Chartier in France d 18.4, he was countenanced and assisted by his friend John Gower, the early guide and encourager of his studies e 18.5. The revival of learning in most countries appears to have first owed its rise to translation. At rude periods the modes of original think|ing are unknown, and the arts of original composition have

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not yet been studied. The writers therefore of such periods are chiefly and very usefully employed in importing the ideas of other languages into their own. They do not venture to think for themselves, nor aim at the merit of inventors, but they are laying the foundations of literature: and while they are naturalising the knowledge of more learned ages and countries by translation, they are imperceptibly improving the national language. This has been remarkably the case, not only in England, but in France and Italy. In the year 1387, John Trevisa canon of Westbury in Wiltshire, and a great traveller, not only finished a translation of the Old and New Testaments, at the command of his munificent patron Thomas lord Berkley f 18.6, but also translated Higden's POLYCHRONICON, and other Latin pieces g 18.7. But these trans|lations would have been alone insufficient to have produced or sustained any considerable revolution in our language: the great work was reserved for Gower and Chaucer. Wickliffe had also translated the bible h 18.8: and in other respects his attempts to bring about a reformation in religion at this time proved beneficial to English literature. The orthodox divines of this period generally wrote in Latin: but Wickliffe, that his arguments might be familiarised to common readers and the bulk of the people, was obliged to compose in English his numerous theological treatises against the papal corrup|tions. Edward the third, while he perhaps intended only to banish a badge of conquest, greatly contributed to establish

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the national diaiect, by abolishing the use of the Nor|man tongue in the public acts and judicial proceedings, as we have before observed, and by substituting the natural lan|guage of the country. But Chaucer manifestly first taught his countrymen to write English; and formed a style by naturalising words from the Provencial, at that time the most polished dialect of any in Europe, and the best adapted to the purposes of poetical expression.

It is certain that Chaucer abounds in classical allusions: but his poetry is not formed on the antient models. He appears to have been an universal reader, and his learning is sometimes mistaken for genius: but his chief sources were the French and Italian poets. From these originals two of his capital poems, the KNIGHT'S TALE i 18.9, and the ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE, are imitations or translations. The first of these is taken from Boccacio.

Boccacio was the disciple of Petrarch: and although prin|cipally known and deservedly celebrated as a writer or in|ventor of tales, he was by his cotemporaries usually placed in the third rank after Dante and Petrarch. But Boccacio having seen the Platonic sonnets of his master Petrarch, in a fit of despair committed all his poetry to the flames k 18.10, except a single poem, of which his own good taste had long taught him to entertain a more favourable opinion. This piece, thus happily rescued from destruction, is at present so scarce and so little known, even in Italy, as to have left

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its author but a slender proportion of that eminent degree of poetical reputation, which he might have justly claimed from so extraordinary a performance. It is an heroic poem, in twelve books, entitled LE TESEIDE, and written in the octave stanza, called by the Italians ottava rima, which Boc|cacio adopted from the old French chansons, and here first introduced among his countrymen l 18.11. It was printed at Fer|rara, but with some deviations from the original, and even misrepresentations of the story, in the year 1475 m 18.12. After|wards, I think, in 1488. And for the third and last time at Venice, in the year 1528 n 18.13. But the corruptions have been suffered to remain through every edition.

Whether Boccacio was the inventor of the story of this poem is a curious enquiry. It is certain that Theseus was an early hero of romance o 18.14. He was taken from that grand repository of the Grecian heroes, the History of Troy, written by Guido de Colonna p 18.15. In the royal library at Paris, there is a manuscript entitled, The ROMAN DE THESEUS ET DE GA|DIFER q 18.16. Probably this is the printed French romance, under the title,

"Histoire du Chevalier THESEUS de Cou|logne, par sa proüesse empereur de Rome, et aussi de son fils Gadifer empereur du Greece, et de trois enfans du dit Gadifer, traduite de vieille rime Picarde en prose Francoise. Paris, 1534 r 18.17."
Gadifer, with whom Theseus is joined in this antient tale, written probably by a troubadour of Pi|cardy, is a champion in the oldest French romances s 18.18. He is

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mentioned frequently in the French romance of Alexander t 18.19. In the romance of PERCEFORREST, he is called king of Scot|land, and said to be crowned by Alexander the Great u 18.20. But whether or no this prose HISTOIRE DU CHEVALIER THESEUS is the story of Theseus in question, or whether this is the same Theseus, I cannot ascertain. There is likewise in the same royal library a manuscript, called by Montfaucon, HIS|TORIA THESEI IN LINGUA VULGARI, in ten books w 18.21. The Abbe Goujet observes, that there is in some libraries of France an old French translation of Boccacio's THESEID, from which Anna de Graville formed the French poem of PALA|MON and ARCITE, at the command of queen Claude, wife of Francis the first, about the year 1487 x 18.22. Either the transla|tion used by Anna de Graville, or her poem, is perhaps the second of the manuscripts mentioned by Montfaucon. Boc|cacio's THESEID has also been translated into Italian prose, by Nicolas Granuci, and printed at Lucca in 1579 y 18.23. Boc|cacio himself mentions the story of Palamon and Arcite. This may seem to imply that the story existed before his time: unless he artfully intended to recommend his own poem on the subject by such an allusion. It is where he introduces two lovers singing a portion of this tale.

"Dio|neo e Fiametta gran pezza canterona insieme d'ARCITE e di PALAMONE z 18.24."
By Dioneo, Boccacio represents himself; and by Fiametta, his mistress, Mary of Arragon, a natural daughter of Robert king of Naples.

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I confess I am of opinion, that Boccacio's THESEID is an original composition. But there is a Greco-barbarous poem extant on this subject, which, if it could be proved to be antecedent in point of time to the Italian poem, would de|grade Boccacio to a mere translator on this occasion. It is a matter that deserves to be examined at large, and to be traced with accuracy.

This Greek poem is as little known and as scarce as Boc|cacio's THESEID. It is entitled, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. It was printed in quarto at Venice in the year 1529. Stam|pata in Vinegia per Giovanantonio et fratelli da Sabbio a requisitione de M. Damiano de Santa Maria de Spici M. D. XXIX. del Mese de Decembrio a 18.25. It is not mentioned by Crusius or Fabricius; but is often cited by Du Cange in his Greek glossary, under the title, DE NUPTIIS THESEI ET AEMILIAE. The heads of the chapters are adorned with rude wooden cuts of the story. I once suspected that Boccacio, having received this poem from some of his learned friends among the Grecian exiles, who being driven from Constantinople took refuge in Italy about the fourteenth century, translated it into Italian. Under this supposition, I was indeed surprised to find the ideas of chivalry, and the ceremonies of a tournament minutely de|scribed, in a poem which appeared to have been written at Constantinople. But this difficulty was soon removed, when I recollected that the Franks, Venetians, and Germans had been in possession of that city for more than one hundred years; and that Baldwin earl of Flanders was elected emperor of Constantinople in the year 1204, and was succeeded by four Latin or Frankish emperors, down to the year 1261 b 18.26. Add

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to this, that the word, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, a TOURNAMENT, occurs in the Byzantine historians c 18.27. From the same communication likewise, I mean the Greek exiles, I fancied Boccacio might have procured the stories of several of his tales in the DECA|MERON: as, for instance, that of CYMON and IPHIGENIA, where the names are entirely Grecian, and the scene laid in Rhodes, Cyprus, Crete, and other parts of Greece belonging

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to the imperial territory d 18.28. But, to say no more of this, I have at present no sort of doubt of what I before asserted, that Boccacio is the writer and inventor of this piece. Our Greek poem is in fact a literal translation from the Italian THESEID. It consists of twelve books, and is written in Boccacio's octave stanza, the two last lines of every stanza rhyming together. The verses are of the iambic kind, and something like the VERSUS POLITICI, which were common among the Greek scholars a little before and long after Con|stantinople was taken by the Turks, in the year 1443. It will readily be allowed, that the circumstance of the stanzas and rhymes is very singular in a poem composed in the Greek language, and is alone sufficient to prove this piece to be a translation from Boccacio. I must not forget to ob|serve, that the Greek is extremely barbarous, and of the lowest period of that language.

It was a common practice of the learned and indigent Greeks, who frequented Italy and the neighbouring states about the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, to translate the popular pieces of Italian poetry, and the romances or tales most in vogue, into these Greco-barbarous iambics e 18.29. PASTOR FIDO was thus translated. The romance of ALXANDER THE GREAT was also translated in the same manner by Deme|trius Zenus, who flourished in 1530, under the title of 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, and printed at Venice in the year 1529 f 18.30. In the very year, and at the same place, when and where our Greek poem on Theseus, or Palamon and Arcite, was printed. APOLLONIUS OF TYRE, another famous romance of the middle ages, was translated in the same manner, and

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entitled 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉g 18.31 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 h 18.32. The story of king Arthur they also reduced into the same language. The learned Martinus Crusius, who introduced the Greco-barbarous language and literature into the Ger|man universities, relates, that his friends who studied at Padua sent him in the year 1564 together with Homer's Iliad, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 REGIS ARTHURI, ALEXANDER above-men|tioned, and other fictitious histories or story-books of a

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similar cast k 18.33. The French history or romance of BER|TRAND DU GUESCELIN, printed at Abbeville in 1487 l 18.34, and that of BELISAIRE, or Beisarius, they rendered in the same lan|guage and metre, with the titles 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 m 18.35, and 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, &c n 18.36. Boccacio himself, in the DECAMERON o 18.37, mentions the story of Troilus and Cressida in Greek verse: which I suppose had been translated by some of the fugitive Greeks with whom he was connected, from a romance on that subject; many antient copies of which now remain in the libraries of France p 18.38. The story of FLORIUS AND PLATZFLORA, a ro|mance which Ludovicus Vives with great gravity condemns under the name of Florian and Blanca-Flor, as one of the pernicious and unclassical popular histories current in

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Flanders about the year 1523 q 18.39, of which there are old edi|tions in French, Spanish r 18.40, and perhaps Italian, is likewise extant very early in Greek iambics, most probably as a translation into that language s 18.41. I could give many others; but I hasten to lay before my readers some specimens both of the Italian and the Greek PALAMON AND ARCITE t 18.42. Only premising, that both have about a thousand verses in each of the twelve books, and that the two first books are intro|ductory: the first containing the war of Theseus with the Amazons, and the second that of Thebes, in which Palamon and Arcite are taken prisoners. Boccacio thus describes the Temple of Mars.

N e icampi Tracii sotto icieli hyberni D a tempesta continua agitati D oue schieré di nimbi sempiterni D auenti or qua e or la trasmutati I n uarii loghi ne iguazosi uerni E de aqua globi per fredo agropati G itati sono eneue tutta uia C he in giazo amano aman se induria

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E una selua sterile de robusti C erri doue eran folti e alti molto N odosi aspri rigidi e uetusti C be de ombra eterna ricopreno il uolto D el tristo suolo enfra li antichi fusti D i ben mille furor sempre rauolto V i si sentia grandissimo romore N e uera bestia anchora ne pastore
I n questa nide la cha delo idio A rmipotente qusta edificata T utta de azzaio splendido e pulio D alquale era del sol riuerberata L aluce che aboreua il logho rio T utta differro era la stretta entrata E le porte eran de eterno admante F errato dogni parte tutte quante
E le le colone di ferro custei V ide ch lo edificio sosteneano L i impti de menti parue alei V eder ch fieri dela porta usiano E il ciecho pechàre e ogne omei S imilemente quiui si uedeano V idiue le ire rosse come focho E la paura palida in quel locho
E con gli occulti ferri itradimenti V ide ele insidie con uista apparenza L i discordia sedea esanguinenti F erri auea in mano eogni differenza E tutti iloghi pareano strepenti D aspre minaze edi crudel intenza E n mezo illocho la uertu tristissima S edea di degne laude pouerissima

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V ideui ancora lo alegro furore E oltre acio con uolto sanguinoso L a morte armata uide elo stupore E ogni altare qui uera copioso D i sangue sol ne le bataglie fore D i corpi human cacciato eluminoso E ra ciaschun di focho tolto aterre A rse ediffate per le triste guerre
E t era il tempio tutto historiato u 18.43 D i socil mano e disopra edintorno E cio che pria ui uide designato E ran le prede de nocte edi giorno T olto ale terre equalunque sforzato F u era qui in habito musorno V ideanuissi le gente incatenate P orti di ferro e forteze spezate
V edeui ancor le naue bellatrici I n uoti carri eli uolti guastati E i miseri pianti & infelici E t ogni forza con li aspecti e lati O gni ferita ancor si vedea lici E sangue con le terre mescolati E ogni logo con aspecto firo S i uedea Marte turbido e altiero, &c. x 18.44

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The Temple of Venus has these imageries.

P oi presso ase uidde passar belleza S enza ornamento alchun se riguardando E gir con lei uidde piaceuolleza E luna laltra secho comendano P oi con lor uidde istarsi gioueneza D estra e adorna molto festegiando E daltra parte uidde el fole ardire L usinge e ruffiania in sieme gire
I n mezo el locho in su alte colone D i rame uidde un tempio al qual dintorno D anzando giouenette uidde e done Q ual da se belle: e qual de habito adorno D iscinte e schalze in giube e in gone E in cio sol dispendeano il giorno P oi sopra el tempio uidde uolitare P assere molte e columbi rugiare
E alentrata del tempio uicina V idde che si sedeua piana mente M adona pace: e in mano una cortina N anzi la porta tenea lieue mente A presso lei in uista assai tapina P acientia sedea discreta mente P allida ne lo aspecto: e dogni parte E intorno alei uidde promesse e carte
P oi dentro al tempio entrata di sospiri V i senti un tumulto che giraua F ochoso tutto di caldi desiri Q uesto glialtri tutti aluminaua D i noue iame nate di martiri D i qua ciaschun di lagrime grondaua M osse da una dona cruda e ria C he uidde li chiamata gilosia, &c.

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Some of these stanzas are thus expressed in the Greco|barbarous translation w 18.45.

〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉
〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉
〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉x 18.46.

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In passing through Chaucer's hands, this poem has received many new beauties. Not only those capital fictions and de|sciptions, the temples of Mars, Venus, and Diana, with their allegorical paintings, and the figures of Lycurgus and Emetrius with their retinue, are so much heightened by the bold and spiried manner of the British bard, as to strike us with an air of originality. In the mean time it is to be re|marked, that as Chaucer in some places has thrown in strokes of his own, so in others he has contracted the un|interesting and tedious prolixity of narrative, which he found in the Italian poet. And that he might avoid a servile imi|tation, and indulge himself as he pleased in an arbitrary departure from the original, it appears that he neglected the embarrassment of Boccacio's stanza, and preferred the En|glish heroic couplet, of which this poem affords the first conspicuous example extant in our language.

The situation and structure of the temple of Mars are thus described.

—A forrest In which there wonneth nether man ne best: With knotty knarry barrein treys old, Of stubbys shape, and hideous to behold, In which ther was a rombyll and a swough a 18.47 As though a storm shulde burstein every bough. And downward from a hill, under a bent b 18.48, There stode the temple' of Mars armipotent, Wrought all of burnydc 18.49 stele: of which th' entr Was long, and streight, and gastly for to se: And therout came such a rage and avyse d 18.50 That it made al the gatys for to ryse e 18.51.

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The northern light in at the doris shone, For window on the wall ne was ther none, Throgh which men mightin any light dissern. The dore was al of adamant eterne, Yclenchid overthwart and endelong, With iron tough, for to makin it strong. Every pillar the tempyl to sustene Was tonnè gretef 18.52 of yren bright and shene.

The gloomy sanctuary of this tremendous fane, was adorned with these characteristical imageries.

There saw I first the dark Ymagining Of Felony, and all the compassing: The cruell Irè, redde as any glede g 18.53. The Pikpurse also, and eke the pale Drede h 18.54; The Smyter with the knife undir the cloke i 18.55: The shepin brenning with the blakè smoke k 18.56; The Treason of the murdering in the bedde l 18.57, The opin Warre with woundis all bebledde; Contekem 18.58 with bloodie knyves n 18.59, and sharpe Menace, All full of chirkino 18.60 was that sory place!

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The slear of himselfe yet sawe I there, His hertè blode hath bathid all his here, The naile ydryvyn in the shodep 18.61 anyght q 18.62, With the cold deth the mouth gapyng upryght r 18.63. Amiddis of the temple sate Mischaunce, With discomfort, and sory countenance. Yet sawe I Wodenesss 18.64 laughing in his rage. Armid complaint of Theft, and fers Corage; The carrein in the bush with throte ycorve t 18.65, A thousand sleyne and not of qualme ystorve u 18.66. The tyrant with the prey by force yreft, The town destroyid ther was nothing left. Yet saw I brent the ships upon steris, The hunter straunglid with the wild boris. The sow frettingw 18.67 the chyld right in the cradel, The coke scaldid for all his longè ladel. Nought was forgott the infortune of Mart; The cartirx 18.68 overriddin by his cart y 18.69, Under the whele he lay full low adowne. There were also of Marts divisioune, The Barbour, and the Butcher, and the Smith That forgith sharpè swerdis on the stith z 18.70. And all above, depeintid in a towr, Saw I Conquest sitting in grete honour, With the sharpe swerdè right ovir his hed, Hanging but by a subtill-twined thred a 18.71.

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This groupe is the effort of a strong imagination, unac|quainted with selection and arrangement of images. It is rudely thrown on the canvas without order or art. In the Italian poets, who describe every thing, and who cannot, even in the most serious representations, easily suppress their na|tural predilection for burlesque and familiar imagery, nothing is more common than this mixture of sublime and comic ideas b 18.72. The form of Mars follows, touched with the im|petuous dashes of a savage and spirited pencil.

The statue c 18.73 of Mars upon a cartd 18.74 stode, Armid, and lokid grym as he were wode e 18.75. A wolfe ther stod before him at his fete With eyin red, and of a man he ete. With sotill pensil paintid was the storie, Inf 18.76 redouting Mars and of his glorie g 18.77.

But the ground-work of this whole description is in the Thebaid of Statius. I will make no apology for transcribing the passage at large, that the reader may judge of the re|semblance. Mercury visits the temple of Mars, situated in the frozen and tempestuous regions of Thrace h 18.78.

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Hic steriles delubra notat Mavortia sylvas, Horrescitque tuens: ubi mille furoribus illi Cingitur, adverso domus immansueta sub Aemo. Ferrea compago laterum, ferro arcta teruntur Limina, ferratis incumbunt tecta columnis. Laeditur adversum Phoebi jubar, ipsaque sedem Lux timet, et dirus contristat sydera fulgor. Digna loco statio. Primis subit impetus amens E foribus, caecumque Nefas, Iraeque rubentes, Exanguesque Metus; occultisque ensibus astant Insidiae, geminumque tenens Discordia ferrum. Innumeris strepit aula minis. Tristissima Virtus Stat medio, laetusque Furor, vultuque cruento Mors armata sedet. Bellorum solus in aris Sanguis, et incensis qui raptus ab urbibus ignis. Terrarum exuviae circum, et fastigia templi Captae insignibant gentes, coelataque ferro Fragmina portarum, bellatricesque carinae, Et vacui currus, protritaque curribus ora i 18.79.

Statius was a favourite writer with the poets of the middle ages. His bloated magnificence of description, gi|gantic images, and pompous diction, suited their taste, and were somewhat of a piece with the romances they so much admired. They neglected the gentler and genuine graces of Virgil, which they could not relish. His pictures were too correctly and chastly drawn to take their fancies: and truth of design, elegance of expression, and the arts of compo|sition,

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were not their objects k 18.80. In the mean time we must observe, that in Chaucer's Temple of Mars many personages are added: and that those which existed before in Statius have been retouched, enlarged, and rendered more distinct and pic|turesque by Boccacio and Chaucer. Arcite's address to Mars, at entering the temple, has great dignity, and is not copied from Statius.

O strongè god, that in the reignis cold Of Thrace honourid art, and God yhold! And hast in everie reign, and everie lond, Of armis al the bridil in thy hond; And them fortunist, as they lest devise, Accept of me my pitous sacrifice l 18.81.

The following portrait of Lycurgus, an imaginary king of Thrace, is highly charged, and very great in the gothic style of painting.

Ther mayst 'oum 18.82 see, commyng with Palamon, Lycurgus himself, the grete king of Thrace; Blake was his berde, and manly was his face: The circles of his eyin in his hede They glowdin betwixtè yalowe and rede: And like a lyon lokid he about, With kempid heris on his browis stout: His limis grete, his brawnis herd and strong, His shulderes brode, his armis round and long. And as the guise ywas in his contrè Full high upon a char of gold stode he: With four grete white bullis in the tracis. Instead of court cote armur, on his harneis

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With yalowe nailes, and bright as any gold, He hath a berisn 18.83 skinn cole-blak for old. His long here was kemped behind his bak, As any raven's fether't shone for blak. A wrethe of golde armgrete o 18.84, of hugè weight, Upon his hed, sett ful of stonis bright, Of fine rubies, and clere diamondes. About his char ther wentin white alandes p 18.85, Twentie and more, as grete as any stere, To huntin at the lyon or wild bere; And folowid him with mosilq 18.86 fast ybound, Coleres of goldr 18.87 and torretess 18.88 filidt 18.89 round. A hundrid lordis had he irr his rout, Armid ful wele, with hertis stern and stout u 18.90.

The figure of Emetrius king of India, who comes to the aid of Arcite, is not inferior in the same style, with a mix|ture of grace.

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With Arcitè, in storys as men find, The grete Emetrius, the king of Ind, Upon a stedè bay, trappid in stele, Coverid with clothe of gold diapridw 18.91 wel, Cam riding like the god of armis Mars: His cote armure was of the clothes of Tars x 18.92, Couchid with perles white and round and grete; His sadill was of brenty 18.93 gold new ybete, A mantlet upon his shuldères hanging, Bretfullz 18.94 of rubies redde as fire sparkling. His crispè here like ringesa 18.95 was yronne, And yt was yalowe, glittering as the sonne. His nose was high, his eyin bright citryn b 18.96 Ruddy his lippes, his colour was sangyn. And a fewe frekles in his face yspreint c 18.97, Betwixt yalowe and somedele blak ymeint d 18.98. And as a lyon he his eyis kest e 18.99. Of five and twenty yere his age I ghest. His berde was well begonning for to spring, His throte was as a trompet thondiring. Upon his hede he wered, of laurer grene A garlond freshe, and lustie for to sene. Upon his honde he bore for his delite An egle tame, as ony lilie white f 18.100.

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An hundrid lordis had he with them there, All armid, saaf their heddis, in their gere g 18.101. About this king ther ran on every part Full many a tamè lyon, and libart h 18.102.

The banner of Mars displayed by Theseus, is sublimely conceived.

The red statue of Mars, with spere and targe, So shineth in his white banner large That al the feldis glittrin up and down i 18.103.

This poem has many strokes of pathetic description, of which these specimens may be selected.

Upon that other side when Palamon Wist that his cosin Arcite was ygon, Such sorowe makith he, that the grete tour Resoundid of his yelling and clamour: The fetteris upon his shinnis grete Werin of his bitter salt teris wete k 18.104.

Arcite is thus described, after his return to Thebes, where he despairs of seeing Emilia again.

His slepe, his mete, his drink, is hym byrest; That lene he waxith, and drie as a sheft: His eyin hollow, grislie to behold His hew sallowe, and pale as ashinl 18.105 cold: Solitary he was, evir alone, And wayling all the night making his mone. And if he herdè song or instrument, Than would he wepin, he might not be stent m 18.106. So febyll were his spirits and so low, And chaungid so that no man might him know n 18.107.

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Palamon is thus introduced in the procession of his rival Arcite's funeral.

Tho gan this wofull Theban Palamon With sloteryo 18.108 berde, and ruggy ashey heres, In clothis blak bedropped all with teres, And, passing ovir weping Emily, Was rufullist of all the company p 18.109.

To which may be added the surprise of Palamon, con|cealed in the forest, at hearing the disguised Arcite, whom he supposes to be the squire of Theseus, discover himself at the mention of the name of Emilia.

—Through his herte He felt a cold swerde suddenly to glide: For ire he quoke, no longer wold he bide, And whan that he had heard Arcitis tale, As he were wode, wyth face al dede and pale, He sterte him up out of the bushis thick, &c. q 18.110

A description of the morning must not be omitted; which vies, both in sentiment and expression, with the most finished modern poetical landscape, and finely displays our author's talent at delineating the beauties of nature.

The mery lark, messengere of the day, Salewithr 18.111 in her song the morowe gray; And firie Phebus rysith up so bright, That all the orient laugith at the sight s 18.112: And with his stremis dryeth in the greves t 18.113 The silvir dropis hanging in the leves u 18.114.

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Nor must the figure of the blooming Emilia, the most beautiful object of this vernal picture, pass unnoticed.

—Emilie, that fairir was to sene Than is the lillie upon the stalk grene; And freshir than the May with flouris newe, For with the rosy colour strofe hir hewe w 18.115.

In other parts of his works he has painted morning scenes con amore: and his imagination seems to have been peculiarly struck with the charms of a rural prospect at sun-rising.

We are surprised to find, in a poet of such antiquity, numbers so nervous and flowing: a circumstance which greatly contributed to render Dryden's paraphrase of this poem the most animated and harmonious piece of versifi|cation in the English language. I cannot leave the KNIGHT'S TALE without remarking, that the inventor of this poem, appears to have possessed considerable talents for the artificial construction of a story. It exhibits unexpected and striking turns of fortune; and abounds in those incidents which are calculated to strike the fancy by opening resources to sublime description, or interest the heart by pathetic situa|tions. On this account, even without considering the poetical and exterior ornaments of the piece, we are hardly disgusted with the mixture of manners, the confusion of times, and the like violations of propriety, which this poem, in common with all others of its age, presents in almost every page. The action is supposed to have happened soon after the marriage of Theseus with Hippolita, and the death of Creon in the siege of Thebes: but we are soon transported into more recent periods. Sunday, the celebration of matins, judicial astrology, heraldry, tilts and tournaments, knights of Eng|land, and targets of Prussia x 18.116, occur in the city of Athens under the reign of Theseus.

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SECT. XIII.

CHAUCER'S ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE is translated from a French poem entitled, LE ROMAN DE LA ROSE. It was begun by William of Lorris, a student in jurispru|dence, who died about the year 1260 a 19.1. Being left unfinished, it was completed by John of Meun, a native of a little town of that name, situated on the river Loire near Orleans, who seems to have flourished about the year 1310 b 19.2. This poem is esteemed by the French the most valuable piece of their old poetry. It is far beyond the rude efforts of all their preceding romancers: and they have nothing equal to it before the reign of Francis the first, who died in the year 1547. But there is a considerable difference in the merit of the two authors. William of Lorris, who wrote not one quarter of the poem, is remarkable for his elegance and luxuriance of description, and is a beautiful painter of allegorical personages. John of Meun is a writer of ano|ther cast. He possesses but little of his predecessor's inven|tive and poetical vein; and in that respect was not properly qualified to finish a poem begun by William of Lorris. But he has strong satire, and great liveliness c 19.3. He was one of the wits of the court of Charles le Bel.

The difficulties and dangers of a lover, in pursuing and obtaining the object of his desires, are the literal argument of this poem. This design is couched under the allegory of

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a Rose, which our lover after frequent obstacles gathers in a delicious garden. He traverses vast ditches, scales lofty walls, and forces the gates of adamantine and almost impregnable castles. These enchanted fortresses are all inhabited by vari|ous divinities; some of which assist, and some oppose, the lover's progress d 19.4.

Chaucer has luckily translated all that was written by William of Lorris e 19.5: he gives only part of the continuation of John of Meun f 19.6. How far he has improved on the French

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original, the reader shall judge. I will exhibit passages selected from both poems; respectively placing the French under the English, for the convenience of comparison. The renovation of nature in the month of May is thus described.

That it was May, thus dremed me, g 19.7, In time of love and jollite, That all thing ginnith waxin gay, For ther is neither bushe nor hay h 19.8 In May that it n'ill shroudid bene, And it with newe levis wrene i 19.9: These wooddis eke recoverin grene, That drie in winter ben to sene; And the erth waxith proude withall For sote dewis that on it fall, And the povir estate forgette In whiche that winter had it sette: And than becometh the grounde so proude, That it will have a newè shroud; And make so quaynt his robe and fayre, That it had hewes an hundred payre,

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Of grasse and flowris Inde and Pers: And many hewis ful divers That is the robe I mene iwis, Through which the ground to praisin is, The birdis, that han lefte thir songe While they han suffrid cold ful stronge, In wethers grillek 19.10 and darke to sight, Ben in May, for the sunnè bright So glad, &c l 19.11.

In the description of a grove, within the garden of Mirth, are many natural and picturesque circumstances, which are not yet got into the storehouse of modern poetry.

These trees were sett as I devise m 19.12, One from another in a toise, Five fadom or sixe, I trowe so, But they were hie and gret also; And for to kepe out wel the sunne, The croppis were so thik yrunne n 19.13, And everie branch in othir knitte And ful of grene levis sitte o 19.14, That sunnè might ther none discende Lest the tendir grassis shende p 19.15. Ther might men does and roes ise q 19.16, And of squirels ful grete plente,

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From bow to bow alwaie lepinge; Connisr 19.17 ther were also playing s 19.18. That comin out of ther clapers t 19.19, Of sondrie colors and maners; And madin many a turneying Upon the freshe grasse springing u 19.20.

Near this grove were shaded fountains without frogs, run|ning into murmuring rivulets, bordered with the softest grass enamelled with various flowers.

In placis sawe I wellis there w 19.21 In whichè ther no froggis were, And faire in shadow was eche wel; But I ne can the nombre tel Of stremis smale, that by devise Mirth had don com thorough condise x 19.23, Of which the watir in renning, Gan makin a noise ful liking. About the brinkis of these wellis, And by the stremes ovir at ellis Sprange up the grasse as thick isett And soft eke as any velvett.

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On which man might his leman ley As softe as fetherbed to pley.— There sprange the violet all newe, And fresh perwinkey 19.24 riche of hewe; And flouris yalowe white and rede, Such plenti grew ther ner in mede: Full gaie was al the grounde and queint And poudrid, as men had it peint, With many a fresh and sondry floure That castin up ful gode savoùre z 19.25.

But I hasten to display the peculiar powers of William de Lorris in delineating allegorical personages; none of which have suffered in Chaucer's translation. The poet suppoes, that the garden of Mirth, or rather Love, in which grew the Rose, the object of the lover's wishes and labours, was en|closed with embatlled walls, richly painted with various figures, such as Hatred, Avarice, Envy, Sorrow, Old Age, and Hypocrisy. Sorrow is thus represented.

SORROWE was paintid next ENVIE a 19.26 Upon that wal of masonrie. But wel was seen in her colour, That she had livid in languour; Her seemid to have the jaundice, Not half so pale was AVARICE,

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Ne nothing alike of lenenesse For sorowe, thought, and grete distresse. A s'rowful thing wel semid she; Nor she had nothing slow ybe For to bescrachin of hir face, And for to rent in many place Hir clothes, and for to tere her swire b 19.27, As she that was fulfilled of ire: And al to torn lay eke hir here About hir shoulders, here and there; As she that had it all to rent For angre and for male talent c 19.28.

Nor are the images of HATRED and AVARICE inferior.

Amiddis sawe I HATE ystonde d 19.29.— And she was nothing wel araide But like a wode woman afraide: Yfrowncid foule was hir visage, And grinning for dispiteous rag, Her nose ysnortid up for tene e 19.30 Full hideous was she forti sene, Full foul and rustey was sh this, Her hed iwrithin was iwis, Full grimly with a grete towaile, &c f 19.31.

The design of this work will not permit me to give the portrait of Idleness, the portress of the garden of Mirth, and of others, which form the groupe of dancers in the garden: but I cannot resist the pleasure of transcribing those

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of Beauty, Franchise, and Richesse, three capital figures in this genial assembly.

The God of love, jolife and light g 19.32, Ladde on his honde a ladie bright, Of high prise, and of gret degre, Thi ladie called was BEAUTIE. And an arowe, of which I told, Full well ythewidh 19.33 was she holde: Ne was she darke ne browne, but bright, And clere as is the monè light.— Her fleshe was tendre as dewe of floure, Her chere was simple as birde in boure: As white as lilie, or rose in rise i 19.34, Her face was gentil and tretise k 19.35; Fetisl 19.36 she was, and smal to se, No wintridm 19.37 browis heddè she; No poppedn 19.38 here, for't neded nought To windiro 19.39 her or to peint ought. Her tresses yalowe and long straughten p 19.40 Unto her helis down theq 19.41 raughten r 19.42.

Nothing can be more sumptuous and superb than the robe, and other ornaments, of RICHESSE, or Wealth. They are

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imagined with great strength of fancy. But it should be remembered, that this was the age of magnificence and shew; when a profusion of the most splendid and costly ma|terials were lavished on dress, generally with little taste and propriety, but often with much art and invention.

RICHESSE a robe of purpre on had s 19.43, Ne trow no that I lie or mad t 19.44, For in this world is none it liche u 19.45, Ne by a thousand delew 19.46 so riche, Ne none so faire: For it full wele With orfraiesx 19.47 laid was everie dele, And purtraied in the ribaninges y 19.48 Of dukis stories and of kinges; And with a bendz 19.49 of gold tassiled, And knoppisa 19.50 fine of gold amiled b 19.51.

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About her neck, of gentle' entaile c 19.52, Was set the richè chevesaile d 19.53; In which ther was ful grete plente Of stonis clere and faire to se. RICHESE a girdle had upon The bokille 19.54 of it was of ston Of vertu grete and mokillf 19.55 might, For who so bare the ston so bright Of venim durst him nothing doubt While he the ston had him about.— The mordauntg 19.56 wrought in noble guise Was of a ston ful precious, That was so fin and vertuous That whole a man it couth ymake Of palsie, and of the tothe ake: And yet the ston had soche a grace That he was sikreh 19.57 in evvrie place All thilkè daie not blinde to bene That fasting might that ston sene. The barrisi 19.58 were of gold full fine Upon a tissue of sattin, Full hevie, grete, and nothing light, In everiche was a besaunt wight k 19.59.

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Upon the tressis of RICHESSE Was sett a circle of noblesse, Of brendel 19.60 gold, that full light yshone, So faire, trowe I, was nevir none. But he were konning for the nones m 19.61 That could devisin all the stones, That in the circle shewin lere, It is a wonder thing to here: For no man could or praise n 19.62, or gesse, Ofhem the value or richesse: Rubies ther were, saphirs, ragounces o 19.63, And emeraudes more than two ounces:

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But all before full subtilly A fine carboncle set sawe I: The stone so clere was and so bright, That al so sone as it was night, Men mightin se to go for nede, A mile or two, in length or brede; Soche light ysprang out of the stone That RICHESSE wondir bright yshone Both on her hedde and all hir face And eke about her all the place p 19.64.

The attributes of the portrait of MIRTH are very expressive

Of berde unnethe had he nothing q 19.65, For it was in the irstè spring: Ful young he was and merie' of thought, And in sametter 19.66 with birdis wrought, And with golde bete ful fetously, His bodie was clad full richely; Wrought was his robe in straunge gise, And all to slittereds 19.67 for queintise, In many a place lowe and hie, And hod he was, with grete maistrie, With shone decopid t 19.68 and with lace, By drurieu 19.69 and eke by solace;

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His lefew 19.70 a rosin chapelet Had made and on his hedde it set x 19.71.

FRANCHISE is a no less attractive portrait, and sketched with equal grace and delicacy.

And next him daunsid dame FRANCHISE y 19.72, Arayid in ful noble guise. She n'as not broune ne dunne of hewe, But white as snowe ifallin newe, Her nose was wrought at point devise z 19.73, For it was gentill and tretise; With eyin glad and browis bent, Her hare down to her helis went a 19.74: Simple she was as dove on tre, Ful debonaire of hart was she b 19.75.

The personage of DANGER is of a bolder cast, and may serve as a contrast to some of the preceding. He is supposed suddenly to start from an ambuscade; and to prevent Bial|coil, or Kind Reception, from permitting the lover to gather the rose of beauty.

With that anon out start DANGERE c 19.76, Out of the place where he was hidde; His malice in his chere was kidde d 19.77;

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Full grete he was, and blacke of hewe, Sturdie and hideous whoso him knewe; Like sharpe urchons * 19.78 his heere was grow, His eyes red sparcling as fire glow, His nose frouncidf 19.79 full kirkidg 19.80 stoode, He come criandeh 19.81 as he were woode i 19.82.

Chaucer has enriched this figure. The circumstance of DANGER'S hair standing erect like the prickles on the urchin or hedge-hog, is his own, and finely imagined.

Hitherto specimens have been given from that part of this poem which was written by William de Lorris, its first in|ventor. Here Chaucer was in his own walk. One of the most striking pictures in the style of allegorical personifica|tion, which occurs in Chaucer's translation of the additional part, is much heightened by Chaucer, and indeed owes all its merit to the translator; whose gnius was much better adapted to this species of painting than that of John of Meun, the continuator of the poem.

With her, Labour and eke Travaile k 19.83, Lodgid bene, with sorowe and wo, That nevir out of her court go. Pain and Distresse, Sicknesse and Ire, And Melanc'ly that angry ire, Ben of her palaisl 19.84 senators; Groning and Grutching her herbegeors m 19.85; The day and night her to tourment, With cruill deth thei her present,

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And tellin her erlichen 19.86 and late, That DETH stondith armid at her gate. Then bring they to remembraunce, The foly dedes of hir enfance o 19.87.

The fiction that Sickness, Melancholy, and other beings of the like sort, were counsellors in the palace of OLD AGE, and employed in telling her day and night, that

"DEATH stood armed at her gate,"
was far beyond the sentimental and satirical vein of John of Meun, and is conceived with great vigour of imagination.

Chaucer appears to have been early struck with this French poem. In his DREME, written long before he begun this translation, he supposes, that the chamber in which he slept was richly painted with the story of the ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE p 19.88. It is natural to imagine, that such a poem must have been a favorite with Chaucer. No poet, before William of Lorris, either Italian or French, had delineated allegorical personages in so distinct and enlarged a style, and with such a fullness of characteristical attributes: nor had descriptive poetry selected such a variety of circumstances, and disclosed such an exuberance of embellishment, in form|ing agreeable representations of nature. On this account, we are surprised that Boileau should mention Villon as the first poet of France who drew form and order from the chaos of the old French romancers.

Villon sçeut le PREMIER, dans ces siecles grossiers Debroüiller l'ART CONFUS de nos vieux ROMANCIERS q 19.89.

But the poetry of William of Lorris was not the poetry of Boileau.

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That this poem should not please Boileau, I can easily conceive. It is more surprising that it should have been censured as a contemptible performance by Petrarch, who lived in the age of fancy. Petrarch being desired by his friend Guy de Gonzague to send him some new piece, sent the ROMAN DE LA ROSE. With the poem, instead of an encomium, he returned a severe criticism; in which he treats it as a cold, inartificial, and extravagant composition: as a proof, how much France, who valued this poem as her chief work, was surpassed by Italy in eloquence and the arts of writing r 19.90. In this opinion we must attribute some|thing to jealousy. But the truth is, Petrarch's genius was too cultivated to relish these wild excursions of imagination: his favorite classics, whom he revived, and studied with so much attention, ran in his head. Especially Ovid's ART OF LOVE, a poem of another species, and evidently formed on another plan; but which Petrarch had been taught to vene|rate, as the model and criterion of a didactic poem on the passion of love reduced to a system. We may add, that al|though the poem before us was founded on the visionary doctrines and refinements concerning love invented by the Provencial poets, and consequently less unlikely to be fa|vourably received by Petrarch, yet his ideas on that delicate subject were much more Platonic and metaphysical.

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SECT. XIV.

CHAUCER'S poem of TROILUS and CRESSEIDE is said to be formed on an old history, written by Lollius, a native of Urbino in Italy a 20.1. Lydgate says, that Chaucer, in this poem,

—made a translacion Of a boke which called is TROPHE In Lumbarde tongue, &c. b 20.2.

It is certain that Chaucer, in this piece, frequently refers to

"MYNE AUCTOR LOLLIUS c 20.3."
But he hints, at the same time, that Lollius wrote in Latin d 20.4. I have never seen this history, either in the Lombard or the Latin language. I have before observed, that it is mentioned in Boccacio's Decameron, and that a translation of it, was made into Greek verse by some of the Greek fugitives in the fourteenth century. Du Fresne, if I mistake not, somewhere mentions it in Italian. In the royal library at Paris it occurs often as an antient French romance.
"Cod. 7546. Roman de Troilus."— "Cod. 7564. Roman de Troilus et de Briseida ou Criseida."
—Again, as an original

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work of Boccacio.

"Cod. 7757. Philostrato dell' amorose fatiche de Troilo per GIOVANNI BOCCACIO."
"Les suivans (adds Montfaucon d 20.5) contiennent les autres oeuvres de Boc|cace."
Much fabulous history concerning Troilus, is re|lated in Guido de Columna's Destruction of Troy. Whatever were Chaucer's materials, he has on this subject constructed a poem of considerable merit, in which the vicissitudes of love are depicted in a strain of true poetry, with much pathos and simplicity of sentiment e 20.6. He calls it,
"a litill tragedie f 20.7."
Troilus is supposed to have seen Cresside in a temple; and re|tiring to his chamber, is thus naturally described, in the critical situation of a lover examining his own mind after the first impression of love.

And whan that he in chambre was alone, He down upon his beddis fete him sette, And first he gan to sihe g 20.8, and then to grone, And thought aie on her so withoutin lette: That as he satte and woke, his spirit mette h 20.9 That he her saugh, and temple, and all the wise i 20.10 Right of her loke, and gan it newe avise k 20.11.

There is not so much nature in the sonnet to Love, which follows. It is translated from Petrarch; and had Chaucer followed his own genius, he would not have disgusted us

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with the affected gallantry and exaggerated compliments which it extends through five tedious stanzas. The doubts and delicacies of a young girl disclosing her heart to her lover, are exquisitely touched in this comparison.

And as the nwe abashid nightingale That stintithm 20.12 first, when she beginith sing, When that she herith any herdisn 20.13 tale, Or in the hedgis anie wight stirring, And after sikiro 20.14 doth her voice outring; Right so Cresseidè when that her drede stent p 20.15 Opned her herte and told him her intent q 20.16.

The following pathetic scene may be selected from many others. Troilus seeing Cresside in a swoon, imagines her to be dead. H unsheaths his sword with an intent to kill himself, and utters these exclamations.

And thou, cite, in which I live in wo, And thou Priam, and brethren al ifere r 20.17, And thou, my mother, farwel, for I go: And, Atropos, make ready thou my bere: And thou Creseidè, O sweet hertè dere, Receive thou now my spirit, would he say, With swerd at hert all redy for to dey.
But as god would, of swoughs 20.18 she tho abraide t 20.19, And gan to sighe, and TROILUS she cride: And he answerid, Lady mine Creseide, Livin ye yet? And let his sword doune glide, Yes, hertè mine, that thankid be Cupide,

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Quoth she: and therwithall she sorè sight u 20.20 And he began to glad her as he might.
Toke her in armis two, and kist her oft, And her to glad he did all his entent: For which her ghost, that flickered aie alo Into her woefull breast aien it went: But at the last, as that her eyin glent w 20.21 Aside, anon she gan his swerde aspie, As it lay bere, and gan for fere to crie:
And askid him why he had it outdrawe? And Troilus anon the cause hir tolde, And how therwith himself he would have slawe: For which Creseide upon him gan behold, And gan him in her armis fast to fold; And said, O mercy, God, to whiche a dede Alas! how nere we werin bothè dede x 20.22!

Pathetic description is one of Chaucer's peculiar excellencies.

In this poem are various imitations from Ovid, which are of too particular and minute a nature to be pointed out here, and belong to the province of a professed and formal commentator on the piece. The Platonic notion in the third booky 20.23 about universal love, and the doctrine that this princi|ple acts with equal and uniform influence both in the natu|ral and moral world, are a translation from Boethius z 20.24. And in the KNIGHT'S TALE he mentions, from the same favorite system of philosophy, the FAIRE CHAINE OF LOVE a 20.25. It is worth observing, that the reader is referred to Dars

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Phrygius, instead of Homer, for a display of the atchieve|ments of Troilus.

His worthi dedis who so list him here, Rede DARES, he can tel hem all ifere a 20.26.
Our author, from his excessive fondness for Statius, has been guilty of a very diverting and what may be called a double anachronism. He represents Cresside, with two of her female companions, sitting in a pavid parlour, and reading the THEBAID of Statius b 20.27, which is called the Geste of the Siege of Thebes c 20.28, and the Romance of Thebis d 20.29. In another place, Cassandra translates the Arguments of the twelve books of the THEBAID e 20.30. In the fourth book of this poem, Pandarus endeavours to comfort Troilus with arguments concerning the doctrine of predestination, taken from Brawardine, a learned archbishop and theologist, and nearly Chaucer's cotemporary f 20.31.

This poem, although almost as long as the Eneid, was intended to be sung to the harp, as well as read.

And redde where so thou be, or ellis songe g 20.32.
It is dedicated to the morall Gower, and to the philosophical Strode. Gower will occur as a poet hereafter. Strode was

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eminent for his scholastic knowledge, and tutor to Chaucer's son Lewis at Merton college in Oxford.

Whether the HOUSE OF FAME is Chaucer's invention, or suggested by any French or Italian poet, I cannot determine. But I am apt to think it was originally a Provencial compo|sition, among other proofs, from this passage.

And ther came out so gret a noise, That had it standin upon OYSE, Men might have herd it esily, I trow, to ROME sikerly h 20.33.

The Oyse is a river in Picardy, which falls into the river Seine, not many leagues from Paris. An Englishman would not have expressed distance by such an unfamiliar illustration. Unless we reconcile the matter, by supposing that Chaucer wrote this poem during his travels. There is another passage where the ideas are those of a foreign romance. To the trumpeters of renown the poet adds,

—All that usid clarion In Casteloigne or Arragon i 20.34.
Casteloigne is Catalonia in Spain k 20.35. The martial musicians of English tournaments, so celebrated in story, were a more natural and obvious allusion for an English poet l 20.36.

This poem contains great strokes of Gothic imagination, yet

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bordering often on the most ideal and capricious extravagance. The poet, in a vision, sees a temple of glass,

In which were more images Of gold stondinge in sundrie stages, Sette in more riche tabernacles, And with perrem 20.37 more pinnacles, And more curious pourtraituris, And quaint manir of figuris, Of golde work than I sawe evir n 20.38.

On the walls of this temple were engraved stories from Virgil's Eneid o 20.39, and Ovid's Epistles p 20.40. Leaving this temple, he sees an eagle with golden wings soaring near the sun.

—Faste by the sonne on hie, As kennyng myght I with mine eie, Methought I sawe an egle sore; But that it semid mochil more q 20.41, Then I had any egle sene r 20.42.— It was af gold, and shone so bright, That nevir man sawe suche a sight s 20.43, &c.

The eagle descends, seizes the poet in his talons, and mount|ing again, conveys him to the House of Fame; which is

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situated, like that of Ovid, between earth and sea. In their passage thither, they fly above the stars; which our author leaves, with clouds, tempests, hail, and snow, far beneath him. This aerial journey is partly copied from Ovid's Phaeton in the chariot of the sun. But the poet apologises for this extravagant fiction, and explains his meaning, by alledging the authority of Boethius; who says, that Contem|plation may soar on the wings of Philosophy above every element. He likewise recollects, in the midst of his course, the description of the heavens, given by Marcianus Capella in his book De Nuptiis Philologiae et Mercurii t 20.44, and Alanus in his Anticlaudian u 20.45. At his arrival in the confines of the House of Fame, he is alarmed with confused murmurs is|suing from thence, like distant thunders or billows. This circumstance is also borrowed from Ovid's temple w 20.46. He is left b the eagle near the house, which is built of materials bright as polished glass, and stands on a rock of ice of ex|cessive height, and almost inaccessible. All the southern side of this rock was covered with engravings of the names of famous men, which were perpetually melting away by the heat of the sun. The northern side of the rock was alike covered with names; but being here shaded from the warmth of the sun, the characters remained unmelted and uneffaced. The structure of the house is thus imagined.

—Me thoughtin by sainct Gile, That all was of stone of berille, Both the castle and the toure, And eke the hall and everie boure x 20.47:

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Without pecis or joynynges, And many subtill compassyngs, As barbicansy 20.48 and pinnacles, Imageries and tabernacles I sawe, and full eke of windowis As flakis fallin in grete snowis.

In these lines, and in some others which occur hereafter z 20.49, the poet perhaps alludes to the many new decorations in architecture, which began to prevail about his time, and gave rise to the florid Gothic style. There are instances of this in his other poems. In his DREAME, printed 1597 a 20.50.

And of a sute were al the touris, Subtily carven aftir flouris.— With many a smal turret hie.

And in the description of the palace of PLEASAUNT RE|GARDE, in the ASSEMBLIE OF LADIES b 20.51.

Fairir is none, though it were for a king, Devisid wel and that in every thing; The towris hie, ful plesante shal ye finde, With fannis fresh, turning with everie winde. The chambris, and the palirs of a sorte, With bay windows, goodlie as may be thought: As for daunsing or othir wise disporte, The galeries be al right wel ywrought.

In Chaucer's Life by Anthony Hall, it is not mentioned that he was appointed clerk of the king's works, in the pa|lace of Westminster, in the royal manors of Shene, Kening|ton, Byfleet, and Clapton, and in the Mews at Charing c 20.52.

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Again in 1380, of the works of St. George's chapel at Wind|sor, then ruinous c 20.53. But to return.

Within the niches formed in the pinnacles stood all round the castle,

—All manir of minstrelis, And jestoursd 20.54 that tellyn tales Both of weping and eke of game.

That is, those who sung or recited adventures either tragic or comic, which excited either compassion or laughter. They were accompanied with the most renowned harpers, among which were Orpheus, Arion, Chiron, and the Briton Glaske|rion e 20.55. Behind these were placed,

"by many a thousand time twelve,"
players on various instruments of music. Among the trumpeters are named Joab, Virgil's Mise|nus, and Theodamas f 20.56. About these pinnacles were also marshalled the most famous magicians, juglers, witches, pro|phetesses, sorceresses, and professors of natural magic,g 20.57 which ever existed in antient or modern times: such as Medea, Circe, Calliope, Hermes h 20.58, Limotheus, and Simon Magus i 20.59.

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At entering the hall he sees an infinite multitude of heralds, on the surcoats of whom were richly embroidered the armorial ensigns of the most redoubted champions that ever tourneyed in Africa, Europe, or Asia. The floor and roof of the hall were covered with thick plates of gold, studded with the costliest gems. At the upper end, on a lofty shrine made of carbuncle, sate Fame. Her figure is like those in Virgil and Ovid. Above her, as if sustained on her shoul|ders, sate Alexander and Hercules. From the throne to the gates of the hall, ran a range of pillars with respective inscriptions. On the first pillar made of lead and iron k 20.60, stood Josephus, the Jewish historian,

"That of the Jewis gestis told,"
with seven other writers on the same subject. On the second pillar, made of iron, and painted all over with the blood of tigers, stood Statius. On another higher than the rest stood Homer, Dares Phrygius, Livy l 20.61, Lollius, Guido of Columna, and Geoffry of Monmouth, writers of the Trojan story. On a pillar of
"tinnid iron clere,"
stood Virgil: and next him, on a pillar of copper, appeared Ovid.

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The figure of Lucan was placed on a pillar of iron

wroght full sternly,
accompanied with many Roman historians m 20.62. On a pillar of sulphur stood Claudian, so symbolised, because he wrote of Pluto and Proserpine.

That bare up all the fame of hell; Of Pluto and of Proserpine That queen is of the darkè pine n 20.63.

The hall was filled with the writers of antient tales and romances, whose subjects and names were too numerous to be recounted. In the mean time crouds from every nation and of every condition filled the hall, and each presented his claim to the queen. A messenger is dispatched to summon Eolus from his cave in Thrace; who is ordered to bring his two clarions called SLANDER and PRAISE, and his trum|peter Triton. The praises of each petitioner are then re|sounded, according to the partial or capricious appointment of Fame; and equal merits obtain very different success. There is much satire and humour in these requests and re|wards, and in the disgraces and honours which are indis|criminately distributed by the queen, without discernment and by chance. The poet then enters the house or labyrinth of RUMOUR. It was built of allow twigs, like a cage, and there|fore admitted every sound. Its doors were also more numerous than leaves on the trees, and always stood open. These are romantic exaggerations of Ovid's inventions on the same subject. It was moreover sixty miles in length, and perpe|tually turning round. From this house, says the poet, issued tidings of every kind, like fountains and rivers from the sea. Its inhabitants, who were eternally employed in hearing or telling news, together with the rise of reports, and the formation

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of lies are then humourously described: the com|pany is chiefly composed of sailors, pilgrims, and pardoners. At length our author is awakened at seeing a venerable per|sonage of great authority: and thus the Vision abruptly concludes.

Pope has imitated this piece, with his usual elegance of diction and harmony of versification. But in the mean time, he has not only misrepresented the story, but marred the character of the poem. He has endeavoured to correct it's extravagancies, by new refinements and additions of another cast: but he did not consider, that extravagancies are essential to a poem of such a structure, and even constitute it's beau|ties. An attempt to unite order and exactness of imagery with a subject formed on principles so professedly romantic and anomalous, is like giving Corinthian pillars to a Gothic palace. When I read Pope's elegant imitation of this piece, I think I am walking among the modern monuments unsuitably placed in Westminster-abbey.

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SECT. XV.

NOTHING can be more ingeniously contrived than the occasion on which Chaucer's CANTERBURY TALES are supposed to be recited. A company of pilgrims, on their journey to visit the shrine of Thomas a Beckett at Canterbury, lodge at the Tabarde-inn in Southwark. Al|though strangers to each other, they are assembled in one room at supper, as was then the custom; and agree, not only to travel together the next morning, but to relieve the fatigue of the journey by telling each a story a 21.1. Chaucer undoubtedly intended to imitate Boccacio, whose DECAMERON was then the most popular of books, in writing a set of tales. But the circumstance invented by Boccacio, as the cause which gave rise to his DECAMERON, or the relation of his hundred stories b 21.2, is by no means so happily conceived as that of Chaucer for a similar purpose. Boccacio supposes, that when the plague began to abate at Florence, ten young per|sons of both sexes retired to a country house, two miles from the city, with a design of enjoying fresh air, and passing ten days agreeably. Their principal and established amusement, instead of playing at chess after dinner, was for each to tell a tale. One superiority which, among others, Chaucer's plan afforded above that of Boccacio, was

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the opportunity of displaying a variety of striking and dra|matic characters, which would not have easily met but on such an expedition. A circumstance which also contributed to give a variety to the stories. And for a number of persons in their situation, so natural, so practicable, so pleasant, I add so rational, a mode of entertainment could not have been imagined.

The CANTERBURY TALES are unequal, and of various merit. Few, if any, of the stories are perhaps the inven|tion of Chacer. I have already spoken at large of the KNIGHT'S TALE, one of our author's noblest compositions c 21.3. That of the CANTERBURY TALES, which deserves the next place, as written in the higher strain of poetry, and the poem by which Milton describes and characterises Chaucer, is the SQUIER'S TALE. The imagination of this story con|sists in Arabian fiction engrafted on Gothic chivalry. Nor is this Arabian fiction purely the sport of arbitrary fancy: it is in great measure founded on Arabian learning. Cam|buscan, a king of Tartary, celebrates his birth-day festival in the hall of his palace at Sarra, with the most royal mag|nificence. In the midst of the solemnity, the guests are alarmed with a miraculous and unexpected spectacle: the minstrells cease on a sudden, and all the assembly is hushed in silence, surprise, and suspence.

While that the king sate thus in his noblay, Hrkining his minstrelis ther thingis play, Beforn him at his bord deliciously: In at the hallè dore, ful sodeinly, There came a knight upon a stede of brass; And in his honde a brode mirroùr of glass: Upon his thombe he had of gold a ring,

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And by his side a nakid sword hanging. And up he rideth to the hiè bord: In all the hall ne was there spoke a word, For marveile of this knight him to behold d 21.4.

These presents were sent by the king of Araby and Inde to Cambuscan in honour of his feast. The Horse of brass, on the skillful movement and management of certain secret springs, transported his rider into the most distant region of the world in the space of twenty-four hours; for, as the rider chose, he could fly in the air with the swiftness of an eagle: and again, as occasion required, he could stand mo|tionless in opposition to the strongest force, vanish on a sud|den at command, and return at his master's call. The Mir|rour of glass was endued with the power of shewing any future disasters which might happen to Cambuscan's king|dom, and discovered the most hidden machinations of trea|son. The Naked Sword could pierce armour deemed im|penetrable,

"Were it as thik as is a branchid ok."
And he who was wounded with it could never be healed, unless its possessor could be entreated to stroke the wound with its edge. The Ring was intended for Canace, Cam|buscan's daughter; and, while she bore it in her purse, or wore it on her thumb, nabled her to understand the lan|guage of every species of birds, and the virtues of every plant.

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And whan this knight hath first his tale ytold, He ridd out of the hall and down he light: His Stede, which that shone as the sunnè bright, Stant in the court as still as any stone. The knight is to his chamber lad anon, He is unarmed and to the mete ysette: And all these presents full riche bene yfette, That is to saine, the Sword and the Mirroùr, All born anon was unto the high tour, With certayn officers ordayned therefore: And unto Canace the Ring is bore Solemnly ther as she sate at the table e 21.5.

I have mentioned, in another place, the favorite philoso|phical studies of the Arabians f 21.6. In this poem the nature of those studies is displayed, and their operations exemplified: and this consideration, added to the circumstances of Tar|tary being the scene of action, and Arabia the country from which these extraordinary presents are brought, induces me to believe this story to be one of the many fables which the Arabians imported into Europe. At least it is formed on their principles. Their sciences were tinctured with the warmth of their imaginations; and consisted in wonderful discoveries and mysterious inventions.

This idea of a horse of brass took it's rise from their chemical knowledge and experiments in metals. The trea|tise of Jeber a famous Arab chemist of the middle ages, called LAPIS PHILOSOPHORUM, contains many curious and useful processes concerning the nature of metals, their fusion, purification, and malleability, which still maintain a place in modern systems of that science g 21.7. The poets of romance,

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who deal in Arabian ideas, describe the Trojan horse as made of brass h 21.8. These sages pretended the power of giving life or speech to some of their compositions in metal. Bishop Grosthead's speaking brazen head, sometimes attributed to Bacon, has its foundation in Arabian philosophy i 21.9. In the romance of VALENTINE and ORSON, a brazen head fa|bricated by a necromancer in a magnificent chamber of the castle of Clerimond, declares to those two princes their royal parentage k 21.10. We are told by William of Malmesbury, that Pope Sylvester the econd, a profound mathematician who lived in the eleventh century, made a brazen head, which would speak when spoken to, and oracularly resolved many difficult questions l 21.11. Albertus Magnus, who was also a profound adept in those sciences which were taught by the Arabian schools, is said to have framed a man of brass; which not only answered questions readily and truly, but was so loquacious, that Thomas Aquinas while a pupil of Albertus Magnus, afterwards a seraphic doctor, knocked it in pieces as the disturber of his abstruse speculations. This was about the year 1240 m 21.12. Much in the same manner, the notion of our knight's horse being moved by means of a con|cealed engine, corresponds with their pretences of producing preternatural effects, and their love of surprising by geome|trical powers. Exactly in this notion, Rocail, a giant in fome of the Arabian romances, is said to have built a palace, together with his own sepulchre, of most magnificent architecture,

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and with singular artifice: in both of these he placed a great number of gigantic statues, or images, figured of different metals by talismanic skill, which, in consequence of some occult machinery, performed actions of real life, and looked like living men n 21.13. We must add, that astronomy, which the Arabian philosophers studied with a singular en|thusiasm, had no small share in the composition of this mira|culous steed. For, says the poet,

He that it wrought couth many a gin, He waitid many a constellation Ere he had don this operation o 21.14.

Thus the buckler of the Arabian giant Ben Gian, as fa|mous among the orientals as that of Achilles among the Greeks, was fabricated by the powers of astronomy p 21.15. And Pope Sylvester's brazen head, just mentioned, was prepared under the influence of certain constellations.

Natural magic, improperly so called, was likewise a favorite pursuit of the Arabians, by which they imposed false appear|ances on the spectator. This was blended with their astrology. Our author's FRANKLEIN'S TALE is entirely founded on the miracles of this art.

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For I am sikerq 21.16 ther be sciences, By which men maken divers appearances, Soche as these sotill tragetoriesr 21.17 plaie: For oft at festis, I have herdè saie, That tragetors, within a hallè large, Have made to comin watir in a barge, And in the hallè rowin up and down: Sometime hath semid come a grim liown, And sometime flouris spring as in a maede; Sometimes a vine, and grapis white and rede; Sometimes a castill, &c s 21.18.

Afterwards a magician in the same poem shews various specimens of his art in raising such illusions: and by way of diverting king Aurelius before supper, presents before him parks and forests filled with deer of vast proportion, some of which are killed with hounds and others with arrows. He then shews the king a beautiful lady in a dance. At the clapping of the magician's hands all these deceptions disap|pear t 21.19. These feats are said to be performed by consultation of the stars u 21.20. We frequently read in romances of illusive

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appearances framed by magicians w 21.21, which by the same powers are made suddenly to vanish. To trace the matter home to it's true source, these fictions have their origin in a science which professedly made a considerable part of the Arabian learning x 21.22. In the twelfth century the number of magical and astrological Arabic books translated into Latin was prodigious y 21.23. Chaucer, in the fiction before us, sup|poses that some of the guests in Cambuscan's hall believed the Trojan horse to be a temporary illusion, effected by the power of magic z 21.24.

An appearaunce ymade by some magike, As jogleurs playin at these festis grete a 21.25.

In speaking of the metallurgy of the Arabians, I must not omit the sublime imagination of Spenser, or rather some British bard, who feigns that the magician Merlin intended to build a wall of brass about Cairmardin, or Carmarthen; but that being hastily called away by the Lady of the Lake, and slain by her perfidy, he has left his fiends still at work on this mighty structure round their brazen cauldrons, under a rock among the neighbouring woody cliffs of Dynevaur, who dare not desist till their master returns. At this day, says the poet, if you listen at a chink or cleft of the rock,

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—Such gastly noyse of yron chaines And brasen cauldrons thou shalt rombling heare, Which thousand sprights with long enduring paines Do tosse, that it will stunn thy feeble braines. And oftentimes great grones and grievous stowndes When too huge toile and labour them constraines, And oftentimes loud strokes and ringing sowndes From under that deepe rocke most horribly reboundes.
X.
The cause some say is this: a little while Before that Merlin dyde, he dyd intend A BRASEN WALL in compasse to compyle About Cairmardin, and did it commend Unto those sprights to bring to perfect end: During which work the Lady of the Lake, Whom long he lovd for him in haste did send, Who therby forst his workemen to forsake, Them bounde, till his returne, their labour not to slake.
XI.
In the mean time, through that false ladies traine, He was surprized, and buried under beare, Ne ever to his work returnd againe: Nathlesse those feends may not their worke forbeare, So greately his commandement they feare, But there do toyle and travayle night and day, Until that BRASEN WALL they up do reare b 21.26.

This story Spenser borrowed from Giraldus Cambrensis, who during his progress through Wales, in the twelfth cen|tury, picked it up among other romantic traditions propagated

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by the British bards c 21.27. I have before pointed out the source from which the British bards received most of their extravagant fictions.

Optics were likewise a branch of study which suited the natural genius of the Arabian philosophers, and which they pursued with incredible delight. This science was a part of the Aristotelic philosophy; which, as I have before ob|served, they refined and filled with a thousand extravagan|cies. Hence our strange knight's MIRROR OF GLASS, prepared on the most profound principles of art, and endued with preternatural qualities.

And some of them wondrin on the mirrour, That born was up into the master tour: How men mightin in it such thingis se. And othir seid, certis it wel might be Naturally by compositiouns Of angles, and of sly reflectiouns: And saide, that at Rome was soche an one, Thei spak of Alcen and Vitellion, And Aristote, that writith in their lives Of queint MIRROURIS, and of PERSPECTIVES d 21.28.

And again.

The mirrour eke which I have in my hand, Hath such a might, that men may in it se When there shall fall any adversite Unto your reigne, &c. e 21.29.

Alcen, or Alhazen, mentioned in these lines, an Arabic philosopher, wrote seven books of perspective, and flourished

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about the eleventh century. Vitellio, formed on the same school, was likewise an eminent mathematician of the middle ages, and wrote ten books of Perspective. The Roman mirrour here mentioned by Chaucer, as similar to this of the strange knight, is thus described by Gower.

When Rome stoode in noble plite Virgile, which was the parite, A mirrour made of his clergie f 21.30 And sette it in the townes eie Of marbre on a pillar without, That thei be thyrte mile aboute By daie and eke also bi night In that mirrour behold might Her enemies if any were, &c. g 21.31.

The oriental writers relate, that Giamschid, one of their kings, the Solomon of the Persians and their Alexander the Great, possessed, among his inestimable treasures, cups, globes, and mirrours, of metal, glass, and crystal, by means of which, he and his people knew all natural as well as super|natural things. A title of an Arabian book, translated from the Persian, is,

"The Mirrour which reflects the World."
There is this passage in an antient Turkish poet,
"When I am purified by the light of heaven my soul will become the mirrour of the world, in which I shall discern all abstruse secrets."
Monsieur l'Herbelot is of opinion, that the orien|tals took these notions from the patriarch Joseph's cup of divination, and Nestor's cup in Homer, on which all nature was symbolically represented h 21.32. Our great countryman Roger

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Bacon, in his OPUS MAJUS, a work entirely formed on the Aristotelic and Arabian philosophy, describes a variety of Specula, and explains their construction and uses i 21.33. This is the most curious and extraordinary part of Bacon's book, which was written about the year 1270. Bacon's optic tube, with which he pretended to see future events, was famous in his age, and long afterwards, and chiefly contributed to give him the name of a magician k 21.34. This art, with others of the experimental kind, the philosophers of those times were fond of adapting to the purposes of thaumaturgy; and there is much occult and chimerical speculation in the discoveries which Bacon affects to have made from optical experi|ments. He asserts, and I am obliged to cite the passage in his own mysterious expressions,

"Omnia sciri per Perspec|tivam, quoniam omnes actiones rerum fiunt secundum specierum et virtutum multiplicationem ab agentibus hujus mundi in materias patientes, &c. l 21.35."
Spenser feigns, that the magician Merlin made a glassie globe, and presented it to king Rync, which shewed the approach of enemies, and discovered treasons m 21.36. This fiction, which exactly corresponds with Chaucer's Mirrour, Spenser borrowed from some ro|mance, perhaps of king Arthur, fraught with oriental fancy. From the same sources came a like fiction of Camons, in the Lusiad n 21.37, where a globe is shewn to Vasco de Gama, re|presenting the universal fabric or system of the world, in which he sees future kingdoms and future events. The Spanish historians report an American tradition, but more

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probably invented by themselves, and built on the Saracen fables, in which they were so conversant. They pretend that some years before the Spaniards entered Mexico, the inha|bitants caught a monstrous fowl, of unusual magnitude and shape, on the lake of Mexico. In the crown of the head of this wonderful bird, there was a mirrour or plate of glass, in which the Mexicans saw their future invaders the Spa|niards, and all the disasters which afterwards happened to their kingdom. These superstitions remained, even in the doctrines of philosophers, long after the darker ages. Cor|nelius Agrippa, a learned physician of Cologne, about the year 1520, author of a famous book on the Vanity of the Sciences, mentions a species of mirrour which exhibited the form of persons absent, at command o 21.38. In one of these he is said to have shewn to the poetical earl of Surry, the image of his mistress, the beautiful Geraldine, sick and reposing on a couch p 21.39. Nearly allied to this, was the infatuation of seeing things in a beryl, which was very popular in the reign of James the first, and is alluded to by Shakespeare. The Arabians were also famous for other machineries of glass, in which their chemistry was more immediately concerned. The philosophers of their school invented a story of a magical steel-glass, placed by Ptolemy on the summit of a lofty pillar near the city of Alexandria, for burning ships at a distance. The Arabians called this pillar He madeslaeor, or the pillar of the Arabians q 21.40. I think it is mentioned by Sandys.

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Roger Bacon has left a manuscript tract on the formation of burning-glasses r 21.41: and he relates that the first burning|glass which he constructed cost him sixty pounds of Parisian money s 21.42. Ptolemy, who seems to have been confounded with Ptolemy the Egyptian astrologer and geographer, was famous among the eastern writers and their followers for his skill in operations of glass. Spenser mentions a mira|culous tower of glass built by Ptolemy, which concealed his mistress the Egyptian Phao, while the invisible inhabitant viewed all the world from every part of it.

Great Ptolomee it for his leman's sake Ybuilded all of glass by magicke power, And also it impregnable did make t 21.43.

But this magical fortress, although impregnable, was easily broken in pieces at one stroke by the builder, when his mistress ceased to love. One of Boyardo's extravagancies is a prodigious wall of glass built by some magician in Africa, which obviously betrays its foundation in Arabian fable and Arabian philosophy u 21.44.

The Naked Sword, another of the gifts presented by the strange knight to Cambuscan, endued with medical virtues,

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and so hard as to pierce the most solid armour, is likewise an Arabian idea. It was suggested by their skill in medicine, by which they affected to communicate healing qualities to various substances w 21.45, and from their knowledge of tempering iron and hardening all kinds of metal x 21.46. It is the classical spear of Peleus, perhaps originally fabricated in the same regions of fancy.

And othir folk han wondrid on the Sworde, That wold so percin thorow everie thing; And fell in speche of Telephus the king, And of Achilles for his quyntè spere For he couth with it bothè hele and dere y 21.47 Right in soche wise as men may by that sworde, Of which right now you have your selfis harde. Thei spake of sundri harding of metall And spake of medicinis ther withall, And how and when it sholdin hardin be, &c z 21.48.

The sword which Berni in the ORLANDO INNAMORATO, gives to the hero Ruggiero, is tempered by much the same sort of magic.

Quel brando con tal tempra fabbricato, Che taglia incanto ad ogni fatatura a 21.49.
So also his continuator Ariosto,
Non vale incanto, ov'elle mette il taglio b 21.50.

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And the notion that this weapon could resist all incan|tations, is like the fiction above-mentioned of the buckler of the Arabian giant Ben Gian, which baffled the force of charms and enchantments made by giants or demons c 21.51. Spenser has a sword endued with the same efficacy, the metal of which the magician Merlin mixed with the juice of meadow-wort, that it might be proof against enchantment; and afterwards, having forged the blade in the flames of Etna, he gave it hidden virtue by dipping it seven times in the bitter waters of Styx d 21.52. From the same origin is also the golden lance of Berni, which Galafron king of Cathaia, father of the beautiful Angelica and the invincible champion Argalia, procured for his son by the help of a magician. This lance was of such irresistible power, that it unhorsed a knight the instant he was touched with its point.

—Una lancia d'oro, Fatto con arte, e con sottil lavoro. E quella lancia di natura tale, Che resister non puossi alla sua spinta; Forza, o destrezza contra lei non vale, Convien che l'una, e l'altra resti vinta: Incanto, a cui non è nel mondo eguale, L'ha di tanta possanza intorno cina, Che nè il conte di Brava, nèi Rinaldo, Nè il mondo al colpo suo starbbe saldo e 21.53.

Britormart in Spenser is armed with the same enchanted spear, which was made by Bladud an antient British king skilled in magic f 21.54.

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The Ring, a gift to the king's daughter Canace, which taught the language of birds, is also quite in the style of some others of the occult sciences of these inventive philo|sophers g 21.55: and it is the fashion of the oriental fabulists to give language to brutes in general. But to understand the language of birds, was peculiarly one of the boasted sciences of the Arabians; who pretend that many of their country|men have been skilled in the knowledge of the language of birds, ever since the time of king Solomon. Their writers relate, that Balkis the queen of Sheba, or Saba, had a bird called Hudhud, that is, a lapwing, which she dispatched to king Solomon on various occasions; and that this trusty bird was the messenger of their amours. We are told, that Solomon having been secretly informed by this winged confident, that Balkis intended to honour him with a grand embassy, enclosed a spacious square with a wall of gold and silver bricks, in which he ranged his numerous troops and attend|ants in order to receive the embassadors, who were astonished at the suddenness of these splendid and unexpected prepara|tions h 21.56. Monsieur l'Herbelot tells a curious story of an Arab feeding his camels in a solitary wilderness, who was accosted for a draught of water by Alhejaj a famous Arabian com|mander, and who had been separated from his retinue in hunting. While they were talking together, a bird flew over their heads, making at the same time an unusual sort of noise; which the camel-feeder hearing, looked stedfastly on Alhejaj, and demanded who he was. Alhejaj, not choosing to return him a direct answer, desired to know the reason of that question.

"Because, replied the camel-feeder, this bird assured me, that a company of people is coming this

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way, and that you are the chief of them."
While he was speaking, Alheja's attendants arrived i 21.57.

This wonderful ring also imparted to the wearer a know|ledge of the qualities of plants, which formed an important part of the Arabian philosophy k 21.58.

The vertues of this ring if ye woll here Are these, that if she list it for to were, Upon her thomb, or in her purse it bere, There is no fowle that fleith undir heven That she ne shal wele understond his steven l 21.59, And know his mening opinly and plain, And answere him in his language againe. And everie grasse that growith upon rote, She shal wele knowe, and whom it woll do bote: All be his woundis never so depe and wide m 21.60.

Every reader of taste and imagination must regret, that instead of our author's tedious detail of the quaint effects of Canace's ring, in which a falcon relates her amours, and talks familiarly of Troilus, Paris, and Jason, the notable atchievements we may suppose to have been performed by the assistance of the horse of brass, are either lost, or that this part of the story, by far the most interesting, was never written. After the strange knight has explained to Cambuscan the management of this magical courser, he vanishes on a sudden, and we hear no more of him.

And aftir suppir goth this nobil king To sene this Horse of Brass, with all his rout Of lordis and of ladies him about:

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Soch wondering was ther on this Horse of Brass n 21.61, That sithin the grete siege of Troyè was, Ther as men wondrid on an horse also, Ne was ther soch a wondering as was tho o 21.62. But finally the king askith the knight The vertue of this coursere and the might; And prayid him to tell his governaunce The hors anon gan forth to trip and daunce, When that the knight laid hold upon his reine.— Enfourmid when the king was of the knight, And hath conceivid in his wit aright, The mannir and the form of all the thing, Full glad and blyth, this nobil doubty king Repairith to his revell as beforne: The brydil is into the Toure yborn, And kept among his jewelsp 21.63 lefe and dere: The horse vanishith: I'not in what manere q 21.64.

By such inventions we are willing to be deceived. These are the triumphs of deception over truth.

Magnanima mensogna, hor quando è al vero Si bello, che si possa à te preporre?

The CLERKE OF OXENFORDES TALE, or the story of Pa|tient Grisilde, is the next of Chaucer's Tales in the serious style which deserves mention. The Clerke declares in his Prologue, that he learned this tale of Petrarch at Padua.

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But it was the invention of Boccacio, and is the last in his DECAMERON r 21.65. Petrarch, although most intimately connected with Boccacio for near thirty years, never had seen the Deca|meron till just before his death. It accidentally fell into his hands, while he resided at Arque between Venice and Padua, in the year one thousand three hundred and seventy-four. The tale of Grisilde struck him the most of any: so much, that he got it by heart to relate it to his friends at Padua. Finding that it was the most popular of all Boccacio's tales, for the benefit of those who did not understand Italian, and to spread its circulation, he translated it into Latin with some alterations. Petrarch relates this in a letter to Boccacio: and adds, that on shewing the translation to one of his Paduan friends, the latter, touched with the tenderness of the story, burst into such frequent and violent fits of tears, that he could not read to the end. In the same letter he says, that a Veronese having heard of the Paduan's exquisiteness of feeling on this occasion, resolved to try the experiment. He read the whole aloud from the beginning to the end, without the least change of voice or countenance; but on returning the book to Petrarch, confessed that it was an af|fecting story:

"I should have wept, added he, like the Pa|duan, had I thought the story true. But the whole is a manifest fiction. There never was, nor ever will be, such a wife as Grisilde s 21.66."
Chaucer, as our Clerke's declara|tion in the Prologue seems to imply, received this tale from Petrarch, and not from Boccacio: and I am inclined to think, that he did not take it from Petrarch's Latin trans|lation, but that he was one of those friends to whom Pe|trarch used to relate it at Padua. This too seems sufficiently pointed out in the words of the Prologue.

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I wolle you telle a talè which that I Lernid at Padow of a worthie clerke:— Frauncis Petrarke, the laureate poete, Hightin this clerke, whose rhetorike so swete Enluminid Italie of poetrie t 21.67.

Chaucer's tale is also much longer, and more circumstan|tial, than Boccacio's. Petrarch's Latin translation from Boc|cacio was never printed. It is in the royal library at Paris, and in that of Magdalene college at Oxford u 21.68.

The story soon became so popular in France, that the come|dians of Paris represented a Mystery in French verse entitled LE MYSTERE DE GRISEILDIS MARQUIS DE SALUCES, in the year 1393 w 21.69. Lydgate, almost Chaucer's cotemporary, in his manuscript poem entitled the TEMPLE OF GLASS x 21.70, among the celebrated lovers painted on the walls of the temple y 21.71,

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mentions Dido, Medea and Jason, Penelope, Alcestis, PATIENT GRISILDE, Bel Isoulde and Sir Tristram z 21.72, Pyramus and Thisbe, Theseus, Lucretia, Canace, Palamon and Emilia a 21.73.

The pathos of this poem, which is indeed exquisite, chiefly consists in invention of incidents, and the contrivance of the story, which cannot conveniently be developed in this place: and it will be impossible to give any idea of it's essen|tial excellence by exhibiting detached parts. The versification is equal to the rest of our author's poetry.

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SECT. XVI.

THE TALE of the NONNES PRIEST is perhaps a story of English growth. The figment of Dan Burnell's Ass is taken from a Latin poem entitled SPECULUM STULTORUM a 22.1, written by Nigellus de Wireker, monk and precentor of Canterbury cathedral, a profound theologist, who flourished about the year 1200 b 22.2. The narrative of the two pilgrims is borrowed from Valerius Maximus c 22.3. It is also related by Cicero, a less known and a less favorite author d 22.4. There is much humour in the description of the prodigious confusion which happened in the farm-yard after the fox had conveyed away the cock.

—Aftir him they ran, And eke with stavis many anothir man. Ran Coll our dogge, Talbot, and eke Garlond e 22.5, And Malkin with her distaffe in her hond. Ran cowe and calfe, and eke the very hogges.— The duckis cryed as men would hem quell f 22.6, The geese for fere flewin ovir the trees, Out of the hivis came the swarme of bees g 22.7.

Even Jack Strawe's insurrection, a recent transaction, was not attended with so much noise and disturbance.

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So hidious was the noise, ah Benedicite! Certes ne Jacke Strawe, ne all his meine, Ne madin nevir shoutis half so shrill &c h 22.8.

The importance and affectation of sagacity with which dame Partlett communicates her medical advice, and displays her knowledge in physic, is a ridicule on the state of medi|cine and its professors i 22.9.

In another strain, the cock is thus beautifully described, and not without some striking and picturesque allusions to the manners of the times.

—A cocke hight chaunticlere, In al the land of crowing nas his pere. His voice was merier than the merie orgon On masse-daiès that in the churchis gon. Wel sikererl 22.10 was his crowing in his loge m 22.11 Than is a clock, or abbey horologe.— His comb was reddir than the fine corall, And battelledn 22.12 as it were a castill wall, His bake was blacke as any get it shone, Like asure were his leggis, and his tone o 22.13: His nailis whiter than the lillie floure, And like the burnid golde was his colore p 22.14.

In this poem the fox is compared to the three arch-traitors Judas Iscariot, Virgil's Sinon, and Ganilion who betrayed the Christian army under Charlemagne to the Saracens, and is mentioned by archbishop Turpin q 22.15. Here also are cited, as writers of high note or authority, Cato, Physiologus or Pliny the elder, Boethius on music, the author of the legend * 22.16

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of the life of saint Kenelme, Josephus, the historian of Sir Lancelot du Lake, Saint Austin, bishop Brawardine, Jeffrey Vinesauf who wrote a monody in Latin verse on the death of king Richard the first, Ecclesiastes, Virgil, and Macrobius.

Our author's JANUARY and MAY, or the MARCHAUNT'S TALE, seems to be an old Lombard story. But many pas|sages in it are evidently taken from the POLYCRATICON of John of Salisbury. De molestiis et oneribus conjugiorum secundum Hieronymum et alios philosophos. Et de pernicie libidinis. Et de mulieris Ephesinae et similium fide r 22.17. And by the way, about forty verses belonging to this argument are translated from the same chapter of the POLYCRATICON, in the WIFE OF BATH'S Prologue s 22.18. In the mean time it is not improbable, that this tale might have originally been oriental. A Persian tale is just published which it extremely resembles t 22.19; and it has much of the allegory of an eastern apologue.

The following description of the wedding-feast of January and May is conceived and expressed with a distinguished degree of poetical elegance.

Thus ben thei weddid with solempnite, And at the feste sittith both he and she,

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With othir worthy folk upon the deis u 22.20: All ful of joye and bliss is the paleis, And ful of instruments and of vitaile, And the most dayntyist of al Itaile. Before him stode soche instruments of soune, That Orpheus, ne of Thebis Amphioune Ne madin nevir soche a melodie; At everie cours cam the loud minstrlcie, That never Joab trompid w 22.21, for to here, Neither Theodamas yet half so clere, At Thebis, when the cite was in dout y 22.22. Bacchus the wine them skinkithz 22.23 al about, And Venus laugith blithe on everie wight, For January was become her knight, And wold in both assayin his corage In liberty and eke in marriage, And with her firebronde in her hond aboute Dauncith before the bride and al the route. And certeinly I dare say wel right this, Hymeneus that god of wedding is Saw never so mery a wedded man. Hold thou thy pace, thou poet Marcian a 22.24, That writist us that ilk wedding merry Of Philology and of Mercury, And of the songis that the Muses song; Too small is both thy pen, and eke thy tong,

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For to descrivin of his marriage, When tendir Youth has married stooping Age.— MAY that sittin with so benign a chere That her to behold it semed a feirie a 22.25: Quene Hester lokid ner with soch an eye On Assuere, so meke a loke hath she: I may you not devis al her bewte, But thus much of her bewte tel I may That she was like the bright morowe of May, Fulfilled of all bewte and plesaunce. Tho JANUARY is ravished in a trance At everie time he lokid in her face, But in his hert he gan her to menace, &c b 22.26.

Dryden and Pope have modernised the two last mentioned poems. Dryden the tale of the NONNES PRIEST, and Pope that of JANUARY and MAY: intending perhaps to give pat|terns of the best of Chaucer's Tales in the comic species. But I am of opinion that the MILLER'S TALE has more true humour than either. Not that I mean to palliate the levity of the story, which was most probably chosen by Chaucer in compliance with the prevailing manners of an unpolished age, and agreeable to ideas of festivity not always the most delicate and refined. Chaucer abounds in liberties of this kind, and this must be his apology. So does Boccacio, and perhaps much more, but from a different cause. The licen|tiousness of Boccacio's tales, which he composed per cacciar le malincolia delle femine, to amuse the ladies, is to be vindicated, at least accounted for, on other principles: it was not so much the consequence of popular incivility, as it was owing to a particular event of the writer's age. Just before Boc|cacio wrote, the plague at Florence had totally changed the customs and manners of the people. Only a few of the

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women had survived this fatal malady; who having lost their husbands, parents, or friends, gradually grew regard|less of those constraints and customary formalities which before of course influenced their behaviour. For want of female attendants, they were obliged often to take men only into their service: and this circumstance greatly con|tributed to destroy their habits of delicacy, and gave an opening to various freedoms and indecencies unsuitable to the sex, and frequently productive of very serious conse|quences. As to the monasteries, it is not surprising that Boccacio should have made them the scenes of his most libertine stories. The plague had thrown open their gates. The monks and nuns wandered abroad, and partaking of the common liberties of life, and the levities of the world, forgot the rigour of their institutions, and the severity of their ecclesiastical characters. At the ceasing of the plague, when the religious were compelled to return to their cloisters, they could not forsake their attachment to these secular in|dulgences; they continued to practice the same free course of life, and would not submit to the disagreeable and un|social injunctions of their respective orders. Cotemporary historians give a shocking representation of the unbounded debaucheries of the Florentines on this occasion: and eccle|siastical writers mention this period as the grand epoch of the relaxation of monastic discipline Boccacio did not escape the censure of the church for these compositions. His con|version was a point much laboured; and in expiation of his follies, he was almost persuaded to renounce poetry and the heathen authors, and to turn Carthusian. But, to say the truth, Boccacio's life was almost as loose as his writings; till he was in great measure reclaimed by the powerful re|monstrances of his master Petrarch, who talked much more to the purpose than his confessor. This Boccacio himself acknowledges in the fifth of his eclogues, which like those

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of Petrarch are enigmatical and obscure, entitled PHILO|SOTROPHOS.

But to return to the MILLER'S TALE. The character of the Clerke of Oxford, who studied astrology, a science then in high repute, but under the specious appearance of de|corum, and the mask of the serious philosopher, carried on intrigues, is painted with these lively circumstances.

This clerke yclepid was hend Nicholas c 22.27, Of dernèd 22.28 love he couth and of solas: And thrto was he slie, and right prive, And like unto a maidin for to se. A chambre had he in that hostelrie e 22.29 Alone, withoutin any company, Ful fetously ydight with herbis sote f 22.30; And he himself as swete as in the rote g 22.31 Of licoris, or any seduwall h 22.32. His almagist i 22.33, and bokis grate and small, His asterlagourk 22.34 longing for his art, His augrim stonisl 22.35 lying feire apart,

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On shelvis, al couchid at his beddis hede; His pressem 22.36 ycoverid with a folding rede: And all above there lay a gay sautrie n 22.37, On which he made on nightis melodie So swetely that al the chamber rung, And Angelus ad Virginem he sung o 22.38.

In the description of the young wife of our philosopher's host, there is great elegance with a mixture of burlesque al|lusions. Not to mention the curiosity of a female portrait, drawn with so much exactness at such a distance of time.

Faire was this yongè wife, and therwithall As a wesillp 22.39 her bodie gent and small. A seint she werid, barrid all with silk r 22.40, A barmecloths 22.41 eke, as white as morrow milk, Upon her lendis, full of many a gore t 22.42. White was her smok, embroudid all bifore u 22.43, And eke behind, on her colere about, Of coleblak silk, within, and eke without. The tapisw 22.44 of her whitè volipere x 22.45 Were of the samè sute of her colere y 22.46.

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Her fillitu 22.47 brode of silke, and set ful hie, And sikerlyw 22.48 she had a licorous eie. Full small ypullidx 22.49 were her browis two, And thoy 22.50 were bentz 22.51 and blak as any slo. And she was moche more blisfull for to se Than is the newè perieneta 22.52 tre; And softer than the wool is of a wether: And by her girdil hong a purse of lether, Tassidb 22.53 with silke, and parlidc 22.54 with latoun d 22.55. In all this world to sekin up and down, There nis no man so wise that couthè thence So gay a popeletee 22.56 or so gay a wench. Full brightir was the shining of her hewe Than in the Towre the noblef 22.57 forgid newe. But of her song she was so loud and yerne g 22.58, As any swallow sitting on a berne. Therto she couthe skip, and make a game, As any kid or calfe foll'wing her dame. Hir mouth was swete as brackith 22.59 or the methe, Or hord of applis layd in hay or heth. Winsing she was as is a jolly colt, Long as a mast, and upright as a bolt i 22.60. A brochek 22.61 she bare upon her low collere As brode as is the bosse of a bokelere l 22.62. Her shoes were lacid on her leggis hie, &c m 22.63.

Nicholas, as we may suppose, was not proof against the charms of his blooming hostess. He has frequent opportu|nities

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of conversing with her: for her husband is the car|penter of Oseney Abbey near Oxford, and often absent in the woods belonging to the monastery n 22.64. His rival is Absalom, a parish-clerk, the gaiest of his calling, who being amorously inclined, very naturally avails himself of a circumstance be|longing to his profession: on holidays it was his business to carry the censer about the church, and he takes this oppor|tunity of casting unlawful glances on the handsomest dames of the parish. His gallantry, agility, affectation of dress and prsonal elegance, skill in shaving and surgery, smattering in the law, taste for music, and many other accomplishments, are thus inimitably represented by Chaucer, who must have much relished so ridiculous a character.

Now was ther of the chirch a parish clerke, The which that was yclepid Absalon, Crull was his heere, and as the gold it shone, And stroutid as a fannè longe and brode, Ful straight and even lay his jolly shode o 22.65. His rudep 22.66 was redde, his eyin gray as gose, With Poulis windows carvin on his shose q 22.67. In hosin rd he went ful fetously: Yclad he was ful smale and propirly Al in a kirtilr 22.68 of a light watchet, Ful fayre, and thickè be the pointis set: And thereuppon he hadde a gaie surplice As white as is the blosome on the rice s 22.69. A merie child he was, so god me save, Well couth he lettin blode, and clip, and shave.

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Or make a chartre of land or acquittaunce; In twentie manir couth he trip and daunce, After the schole of Oxenfordi tho, And with his leggis castin to and fro. And pleyin songis on a smale ribible s 22.70, Therto he sometimes soud a long quinible t 22.71.

His manner of making love must not be omitted. He se|renades her with his guittar.

He wakith al the night, and al the day, He kembith his lockes brode, and made him gay. He woith her by menis and brocage u 22.72, And swore that he would ben her ownè page. He singith brokingw 22.73 as a nightingale. He sent her piment x 22.74, methe, and spicid ale, And wafirs piping hot out of the glede y 22.75, And, for she was of town, he proffred mede z 22.76.—

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Sometimes to shew his lightness and maistry He playith heraudesa 22.77 on a scaffold hie.

Again,

When that the firstè cok hath crow anon, Uprist this jolly lovir Absolon; And him arayith gay at point devise. But first he chewith greynsb 22.78 and licorice, To smellin sote, ere he had kempt his here. Under his tongue a true love knot he bare, For therby wend he to be graciouse; Then romith to the carpenteris house c 22.79.

In the mean time the scholar, intent on accomplishing his intrigue, locks himself up in his chamber for the space of two days. The carpenter, alarmed at this long seclusion, and supposing that his guest might be sick or dead, tries to gain admittance, but in vain. He peeps through a crevice of the door, and at length discovers the scholar, who is con|scious that he was seen, in an affected trance of abstracted meditation. On this our carpenter, reflecting on the danger of being wise, and exulting in the security of his own ignorance, exclaims,

A man wott littil what shall him betide! This man is fallen with his astronomy In some wodeness, or in some agony.

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I thoughtin ay wele how it shuldè be: Men shuldè not knowd 22.80 of gods privite. Yea blessid be alway the lewdè-man e 22.81, That nought but only his belefe can f 22.82. So farde another clerke with astronomy; He walkid in the feldis for to pry Upon the starres to wate what shuld bifall Tyll he was in a marlèpit yfall; He saw not that. But yet, by seint Thomas, Me ruith sore on hendè Nicholas: He shall be ratid for his studying.

But the scholar has ample gratification for this ridicule. The carpenter is at length admitted; and the scholar conti|nuing the farce, gravely acquaints the former that he has been all this while making a most important discovery by means of astrological calculations. He is soon persuaded to believe the prediction: and in the sequel, which cannot be repeated here, this humourous contrivance crowns the scho|lar's schemes with success, and proves the cause of the car|penter's disgrace. In this piece the reader observes that the humour of the characters is made subservient to the plot.

I have before hinted, that Chaucer's obscenity is in great measure to be imputed to his age. We are apt to form romantic and exaggerated notions about the moral innocence of our ancestors. Ages of ignorance and simplicity are thought to be ages of purity. The direct contrary, I believe, is the case. Rude periods have that grossness of manners which is not less friendly to virtue than luxury itself. In the middle ages, not only the most flagrant violations of modesty were frequently practised and permitted, but the most infamous vices. Men are less ashamed as they are les polished. Great refinement multiplies criminal pleasures, but

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at the same time prevents the actual commission of many enormities: at least it preserves public decency, and suppresses public licentiousness.

The REVES TALE, or the MILLER of TROMPINGTON, is much in the same style, but with less humour i 22.83. This story was enlarged by Chaucer from Boccacio k 22.84. There is an old English poem on the same plan, entitled, A ryght pleasant and mery history of the Mylnr of Aington, with his Wife and faire Daughtr, and wo poore Scholars of Cambridge l 22.85. It begins with these lines.

"Faire lordinges, if you list to heere "A mery jestm 22.86 your minds to cheere."
This piece is supposed by Wood to have been written by Andrew Borde, a physician, a wit, and a poet, in the reign of Henry the eighth n 22.87. It was at least evidently written

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after the time of Chaucer. It is the work of some tasteless imitator, who has sufficiently disguised his original, by re|taining none of its spirit. I mention these circumstances, lest it should be thought that this frigid abridgment was the ground-work of Chaucer's poem on the same subject. In the class of umourous or satirical tales, the SOMPNOUR'S TALE, which exposes the tricks and extortions of the men|dicant friars, has also distinguished merit. This piece has incidentally been mentioned above with the PLOWMAN'S TALE, and Pierce Plowman.

Genuine humour, the concomitant of true taste, consists in discerning improprieties in books as well as characters. We therefore must remark under this class another tale of Chaucer, which till lately has been looked upon as a grave heroic narrative. I mean the RIME OF SIR THOPAS. Chau|cer, at a period which almost realised the manners of roman|tic chivalry, discerned the leading absurdities of the old romances: and in this poem, which may be justly called a prelude to Don Quixote, has burlesqued them with exquisite ridicule. That this was the poet's aim, appears from many passages. But, to put the matter beyond a doubt, take the words of an ingenious critic.

"We are to observe, says he, that this was Chaucer's own Tale: and that, when in the progress of it, the good sense of the host is made to break in upon him, and interrupt him, Chaucer approves his disgust, and changing his note, tells the simple instructive Tale of MELIBOEUS, a moral tale vertuous, as he terms it; to shew what sort of fictions were most expressive of real life, and most proper to be put into the hands of the people. It is further to be noted, that the Boke of Th Giant Olyphant, and Chylde Thops, was not a fiction of

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his own, but a story of antique fame, and very cele|brated in the days of chivalry: so that nothing could better suit the poet's design of discrediting the old ro|mances, than the choice of this venerable legend for the vehicle of his ridicule upon them o 22.88.
But it is to be re|membered, that Chaucer's design was intended to ridicule the frivolous descriptions, and other tedious impertinencies, so common in the volumes of chivalry with which his age was overwhelmed, not to degrade in general or expose a mode of fabling, whose sublime extravagancies constitute the marvellous graces of his own CAMBUSCAN; a composition which at the same time abundantly demonstrates, that the manners of romance are better calculated to answer the pur|poses of pure poetry, to captivate the imagination, and to produce surprise, than the fictions of classical antiquity.

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SECT. XVII.

BUT Chaucer's vein of humour, although conspicuous in the CANTERBURY TALES, is chiefly displayed in the Characters with which they are introduced. In these his know|ledge of the world availed him in a peculiar degree, and enabled him to give such an accurate picure of antient man|ners, as no cotemporary nation has transmitted to postrity. It is here that we view the pursuits and employments, the cus|toms and diversions, of our ancestors, copied from the life, and represented with equal truth and spirit, by a judge of man|kind, whose penetration qualified him to discern their foibles or discriminating peculiarities; and by an artist, who un|derstood that proper selection of circumstances, and those predominant characteristics, which form a finished portrait. We are surprised to find, in so gross and ignorant an age, such talents for satire, and for observation on lif; qualities which usually exert themselves at more civilised periods, when the improved state of society, by subtilising our speculations, and establishing uniform modes of bha|viour, disposes mankind to study themselves, and renders deviations of conduct, and singularities of character, more immediately and necessarily the objcts of censure and ridi|cule. These curious and valuable remains are specimens of Chaucer's native genius, unassisted and unalloyed. The figures are all British, and bear no suspicious signatures of classical, Italian, or French imitation. The characters of Theophrastus are not so lively, particular, and appropriated. A few traites from this celebrated part of our author, yet too little tasted and understood, may be sufficient to prove and illustrate what is here advanced.

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The character of the PRIORESSE is chiefly distinguished by an excess of delicacy and decorum, and an affectation of courtly accomplishments. But we are informed, that she was educated at the school of Stratford at Bow near London, perhaps a fashionable seminary for breeding nuns.

There was also a nonne a Prioresse That of her smiling was simble and coy; Her gretist othe was but by saint Eloye b 23.1. And French she spake full fayre and fetisly, Aftir the schole of Stratford atte Bowe, For French of Paris was to her unknowe. At metèc 23.2 was she well ytaught withall; She let no morsell from her lippis fall, Ne wet her fingris in the saucè depe; Well couth she carry a morsel, and well kepe, That no dropè ne fell upon her brest; In curtesie was sett ful much her lest d 23.3. Her ovirlippè wipid she so clene, That in her cup ther was no ferthing sene Of grecè, when she dronkin had hir draught, Full semily aftir hir mete she raught e 23.4.— And painid hir to counterfetè chere Of court, and to ben stately of manere f 23.5.

She has even the false pity and sentimentality of many modern ladies.

She was so charitable and so pitous, She wouldè wepe if that she saw a mous Caught in a trapp, if it were ded or bled. Of smalè houndis had she that she fed

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With rostid flesh, or milk, or wastell bred g 23.6: But sore wept she if any of them were ded, Or if men smote them with a yardèh 23.7 smert: And all was conscience and tendir hert i 23.8.

The WIFE OF BATH is more amiable for her plain and useful qualifications. She is a respectable dame, and her chief pride consists in being a conspicuous and significant character at church on a Sunday.

Of clothmakingk 23.9 she haddè such a haunt She passid them of Ipre and of Gaunt l 23.10. In all the parish, wife ne was there none That to the offryng was bifore her gone; And if ther did, certain so wroth was she, That she was outin of all charite. Her coverchefesm 23.11 were large and fine of ground, I durst to swere that thei weyid three pound, That on a sonday were upon hir hedde: Her hosin werin of fine scarlett redde, Full strait istreynid, and hir shoos ful newe: Bold was hir face, and fayr and redde hir hewe. She was a worthy woman all her live: n 23.12 Husbandes at the chirche dore had she had five o 23.13.

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The FRANKELEIN is a country gentleman, whose estate consisted in free land, and was not subject to feudal services or payments. He is ambitious of shewing his riches by the plenty of his table: but his hospitality, a virtue much more practicable among our ancestors than at present, often de|generates into luxurious excess. His impatience if his sauces were not sufficiently poignant, and every article of his dinner in due form and readiness, is touched with the hand of Pope or Boileau. He had been a president at the sessions, knight of the shire, a sheriff, and a coroner p 23.14.

An housholder, and that a gret, was he: Saint Julian he was in his countre q 23.15. His brede, his ale, was alway aftir one; A bettir viendidr 23.16 men was no wher none. Withoutin bake mete never was his house Of fish and fleshe, and that so plenteouse, It fnewids 23.17 in his house of mete and drink, And of all dainties that men couth of think. Aftir the sondrie seasons of the yere, So chaungid he his mete t 23.18, and his suppre. Many a fat partriche had he in mewe, And many a breme, and many a luce u 23.19, in stewe. Woe was his cooke, but that his saucis were Poinant and sharpe, and redy all his gere! His table dormauntw 23.20 in the hall alway, Stode redy coverid, all the longè day x 23.21.

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The character of the Doctor of PHISICKE preserves to us the state of medical knowledge, and the course of medical erudition then in fashion. He treats his patients according to rules of astronomy: a science which the Arabians engrafted on medicine.

For he was groundid in astronomie: He kept his pacients a full gret dele In houris by his magike natural y 23.22.

Petrarch leaves a legacy to his physician John de Dondi, of Padua, who was likewise a great astronomer, in the year 1370 z 23.23. It was a long time before the medical profession was purged from these superstitions. Hugo de Evesham, born in Worcestershire, one of the most famous physicians in Europe about the year 1280, educated in both the univer|sities of England, and at others in France and Italy, was eminently skilled in mathematics and astronomy a 23.24. Pierre d'Apono, a celebrated professor of medicine and astronomy at Padua, wrote commentaries on the problems of Aristotle, in the year 1310. Roger Bacon says,

"astronomiae pars melior medicina b 23.25."
In the statutes of New-College at Ox|ford, given in the year 1387, medicine and astronomy are mentioned as one and the same science. Charles the fifth king of France, who was governed entirly by astrologers, and who commanded all the Latin treatises which could be found relating to the stars, to be translated into French, established a college in the university of Paris for the study of medicine and astrology c 23.26. There is a scarce and very cu|rious book, entitled,
"Nova medicinae methodus curandi morbos ex mathematica scientia deprompta, nunc denuo

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revisa, &c. Joanne Hasfurto Virdungo, medico et astrologo doctissimo, auctore, Haganoae excus. 1518 d 23.27."
Hence magic made a part of medicine. In the MARCHAUNTS second tale, or HISTORY OF BERYN, falsely ascribed to Chaucer, a chirur|gical operation of changing eyes is partly performed by the assistance of the occult sciences.

—The whole science of all surgery, Was undyd or the chaunge was made of both eye, With many sotill enchantours, and eke nygrymauncers, That sent wer for the nonis, maistris, and scoleris e 23.28.

Leland mentions one William Glatisaunt, an astrologer and physician, a fellow of Merton college in Oxford, who wrote a medical tract, which, says he,

"nescio quid MAGIAE spira|bat f 23.29."
I could add many other proofs g 23.30.

The books which our physician studied are then enumerated.

Well knew he the old Esculapius, And Dioscorides, and eke Rufus, Old Hippocrates, Haly, and Galen, Serapion, Rasis, and Avicen, Averrois, Damascene, Constantine, Bernard, and Gattisden, and Gilbertin.

Rufus, a physician of Ephesus, wrote in Greek, about the time of Trajan. Some fragments of his works still remain h 23.31. Haly was a famous Arabic astronomer, and a commentator on Galen, in the eleventh century, which pro|duced so many famous Arabian physicians i 23.32. John Serapion, of the same age and country, wrote on the practice of

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physic k 23.33. Avicen, the most eminent physician of the Ara|bian school, flourished in the same century l 23.34. Rhasis, an Asiatic physician, practiced at Cordoua in Spain, where he died in the tenth century m 23.35. Averroes, as the Asiatic schools decayed by the indolence of the Caliphs, was one of those philosophers who adorned the Moorish schools erected in Africa and Spain. He was a professor in the university of Morocco. He wrote a commentary on all Aristotle's works, and died about the year 1160. He was styled the most Peripatic of all the Arabian writers. He was born at Cordoua of an antient Arabic family n 23.36. John Damascene, secretary to one of the Caliphs, wrote in various sciences, before the Arabians had entered Europe, and had seen the Grecian phi|losophers o 23.37. Constantinus Afer, a monk of Cassino in Italy was one of the Saracen physicians who brought medicine into Europe, and formed the Salernitan school, chiefly by translating various Arabian and Grecian medical books into Latin p 23.38. He was born at Carthage: and learned grammar, logic, geometry, arithmetic, astronomy, and natural philo|sophy, of the Chaldees, Arabians, Persians, Saracens, Egyp|tians, and Indians, in the schools of Bagdat. Being thus completely accomplished in these sciences, after thirty-nine years study, he returned into Africa. where an attempt was formed against his life. Constantine, having fortunately discovered this design, privately took ship and came to Salerno

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in Italy, where he lurked some time in disguise. But he was recognised by the Caliph's brother then at Salerno, who recommended him as a scholar universally skilled in the learning of all nations, to the notice of Robert duke of Normandy. Robert entertained him with the highest marks of respect: and Constantine, by the advice of his patron, retired to the monastery of Cassino, where being kindly re|ceived by the abbot Desiderius, he translated in that learned society the books above-mentioned, most of which he first imported into Europe. These versions are said to be still extant. He flourished about the year 1086 q 23.39. Bernard, or Bernardus Gordonius, appears to have been Chaucer's co|temporary. He was a professor of medicine at Montpelier, and wrote many treatises in that faculty r 23.40. John Gatisden was a fellow of Merton college, where Chaucer was educated, about the year 1320 s 23.41. Pitts says, that he was professor of

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physic in Oxford t 23.42. He was the most celebrated physician of his age in England; and his principal work is entitled, ROSA MEDICA, divided into five books, which was printed at Paris in the year 1492 u 23.43. Gilbertine, I suppose is Gilbertus Anglicus, who flourished in the thirteenth century, and wrote a popular compendium of the medical art w 23.44. About the same time, not many years before Chaucer wrote, the works of the most famous Arabian authors, and among the rest those of Avicenne, Averroes, Serapion, and Rhasis, above-mentioned, were translated into Latin x 23.45. These were our physician's library. But having mentioned his books, Chaucer could not forbear to add a stroke of satire so naturally introduced.

His studie was but litill in the bible y 23.46.

The following anecdotes and obsrvations may serve to throw general light on the learning of the authors who com|pose this curious library. The Aristotelic or Arabian philo|sophy continued to be communicated from Spain and Africa to the rest of Europe chiesly by means of the Jews: parti|cularly to France and Italy, which were over-run with Jews about the tenth and eleventh centuries. About these priods, not only the courts of the Mahometan princes, but even that of the pope himself, were filled with Jews. Here they principally gained an establishment by the profession of

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physic; an art then but imperfectly known and practiced in most parts of Europe. Being well versed in the Arabic tongue, from their commerce with Africa and Egypt, they had studied the Arabic translations of Galen and Hippo|crates; which had become still more familiar to the great numbers of their brethren who resided in Spain. From this source alo the Jews learned philosophy; and Hebrew versions made about this period from the Arabic, of Aristotle and the Greek physicians and mathematicians, are stil extant in some libraries y 23.47. Here was a beneficial effect of the dispersion and vagabond condition of the Jews: I mean the diffusion of knowledge. One of the most eminent of these learned Jews was Moses Maimonides, a physician, philosopher, astrologer, and theologist, educated at Cordoua in Spain under Averroes. He died about the year 1208. Averroes being accused of heretical opinions, was sentenced to live with the Jews in the street of the Jews at Cordoua. Some of these learned Jews began to flourish in the Arabian schools in Spain, as early as the beginning of the ninth century. Many of the treatises of Averroes were translated by the Spanish Jews into He|brew: and the Latin pieces of Averroes now extant were translated into Latin from these Hebrew versions. I have already mentioned the school or university of Cordoua. Leo Africanus speaks of

"Platea bibliothecariorum Cordouae."
This, from what follows, appears to be a street of booksel|lers. It was in the time of Averroes, and about the year 1220. One of our Jew philosophers having fallen in love, turned poet, and his verses were publicly sold in this street z 23.48. My author says, that renouncing the dignity of the Jewish doctor, he took to writing verses a 23.49.

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The SOMPNOUR, whose office it was to summon uncano|nical offendrs into the archdeacon's court, where they were very rigorously punished, is humourously drawn as counteract|ing his profession by his example: he is libidinous and vo|luptuous, and his rosy countenance belies his occupation. This is an indirect satire o the ecclesiastical proceedings of those times. His affectation of Latin terms, which he had picked up from the decrees and pleadings of the court, must have formed a character highly ridiculous.

And when that he well dronkin had the wine, Then would he spekè no word but Latine. A few schole termis couth he two or thr, That he had lernid out of some decre. No wonder is, he herd it all the day: And ye well knowin eke, how that a jay Can clepè wult as well as can the pope: But whoso couth in other things him grope b 23.50, Then had he spent al his philosophie, A questio quid jurisc 23.51 would he crie d 23.52.

He is with great propriety made the friend and companion of the PARDONERE, or dispenser of indulgences, who is just arrived from the pope,

"brimful of pardons come from Rome al hote:"
and who carries in his wallt, among other holy curiosities, the virgin Mary's veil, and part of the sail of Saint Peter's ship e 23.53.

The MONKE is represented as more attentive to horses and hounds than to the rigorous and obsolete ordinances of Saint Benedict. Such are his ideas of secular pomp and pleasure, that he is even qualified to be an abbot f 23.54.

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An outrider that lovid venery g 23.55, A manly mon, to ben an abbot able: Many a dainty horse he had in stable.— This ilkèh 23.56 monke let old thingis to pace, And heldin aftir the new world to trace. He gave not of the text a pullid hen i 23.57 That saith, that hunters be not holy men k 23.58.

He is ambitious of appearing a conspicuous and stately figure on horseback. A circumstance represented with great elegance.

And when he rode, men might his bridle here Gingiling in a whistling wind, as clere And eke as loud, as doth the chapel bell l 23.59.

The gallantry of his riding-dress, and his genial aspect, is painted in lively colours.

I see his sleves purfilidm 23.60 at the hande, With grys n 23.61, and that the finist in the lande. And to sustene his hode undir his chin He had of gold wrought a ful curious pin, A love-knot in the greter end ther was. His hed was bald, and shone as any glas, And eke his ace as he had been anoint: He was a lorde ful fat, and in gode point.

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His eyin stepe, and rolling in his hed, That stemith as a furneis of led. His bootes souple, his hors in great estate, Now certeinly he was a fayr prelate! He was not pale as a forpynid ghost; A fat swan lovde he best of any rost. His palfry was as brown as is the berry o 23.62.

The FRERE, or friar, is equally fond of diversion and good living; but the poverty of his establishment obliges him to travel about the country, and to practice various artifices to provide money for his convent, under the sacred character of a confessor p 23.63.

A frere there was, a wanton and a merry; A limitour q 23.64, and a ful solempne man: In all the orders four r 23.65 is none that can So much of daliaunce, and of faire langage.— Ful swetely herde he their confessioune: Ful plesant was his absolutioune. His tippit was aye farfid ful of knives And pinnis for to givin to faire wives. And certainly he had a merry note: Wele couthe he sing and playin on a rote r 23.66.

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Of yeddings 23.67 he bare utterly the price. Ther n'as no man no where so vertuouse; He was the best beggare in all his house t 23.68. Somewhat he lipsid for his wantonnesse, To make his English swete upon his tonge; And in his harping, when that he had songe, His eyi twinkelid in his hede aright As donn the starris in a frostie night u 23.69.

With these unhallowed and untrue sons of the church is contrasted the PARSOUNE, or parish-priest: in describing whose sanctity, simplicity, sincerity, patience, industry, cou|rage, and conscientious impartiality, Chaucer shews his good sense and good heart. Dryden imitated this character of the GOOD PARSON, and is said to have applied it to bishop Ken.

The character of the SQUIRE teaches us the education and requisite accomplishments of young gentlemen in the gallant reign of Edward the third. But it is to be remembered, that our squire is the son of a knight, who has performed feats of chivalry in every part of the world; which the poet thus enumerates with great dignity and simplicity.

At Alissandre' he was whan it was won, Full oft timis had he the bourd begon w 23.70, Abovin allè naciouns in Pruce x 23.71. In Lettowy 23.72 had he riddin and in Luce z 23.73:

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No cristen man so oft of his degree In Granada, and in the sege had he be Of Algezir a 23.74, and ridd in Belmary b 23.75. At Leyisc 23.76 was he, and at Sataly d 23.77, When they were won: and in the gretè sea: At many a noble army had he be: At mortal battailes had he ben fiftene, And foughtin for our faith at Tramisene e 23.78 In lystis thrys, and alway slein his fo. This ilkè worthy Knight had ben also Sometimis with the lord of Palathy f 23.79: Ayensg 23.80 another hethen in Turky. And evirmore he had a sovrane prize, And thoug that he was worthy he was wise h 23.81.

The poet in some of these lines implies, that after the Christians were driven out of Palestine, the English knights of his days joined the knights of Livonia and Prussia, and attacked the pagans of Lithuania, and its adjacent territories. Lithuania was not converted to christianity till towards the close of the fourteenth century. Prussian targets are men|tioned, as we have before seen, in the KNGHT'S TALE. Thomas duke of Gloucester, youngest son of king Edward the third, and Henry earl of Derby, afterwards king Henry the fourth, travelled into Prussia: and in conjunction with

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the grand Masters and Knights of Prussia and Livonia, fought the infidels of Lithuania. Lord Derby was greatly instru|mental in taking Vilna, the capital of that county, in the year 1390 h 23.82. Here is a seeming compliment to some of these expeditions. This invincible and accomplished champion afterwards tells the heroic tale of PALAMON and ARCITE. His son the SQUIER, a youth of twenty years, is thus delineated.

And he had been sometime in chivauchie * 23.83 In Flandris, in Artois, and Picardie: And born him wele, as of so littill space, In hope to standin in his ladies grace. Embroudid was he as it were a mede All ful of fresh flouris both white and rede. Singing he ws and floityng al the day, He was as fresh as in the month of May. Schort was his gown with slevis long and wide, Wel couth he sit an hors, and faire yride. And songis couth he make, and wel endite, Just, and eke daunce, and wel portraie, and write k 23.84.

To this young man the poet, with great observance of de|corum gives the tale of Cambuscan, the next in knightly dignity to that of Palamon nd Arcite. He is attended by a yoman, whose figure revives the ideas of the forest laws.

And he was clad in cote and hode of grene: A shaft of pecocke arrows bright and kene l 23.85.

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Undir his belt he bare ful thriftily: Wel couth he dress his tackle yomanly: His arrows droupid not with featheris low; And in his hand he bare a mighty bow. Upon his arm he bare a gay bracer m 23.86, And by his side a sword and bokeler.— A Christophern 23.87 on his brest of silver shene: A horn he bare, the baudrick was of grene o 23.88,

The character of the REEVE, an officer of much greater trust and authority during the feudal constitution than at present, is happily pictured. His attention to the care and custody of the manors, the produce of which was then kept in hand for furnishing his lord's table, perpetually employs his time, preys upon his thoughts, and makes him len and choleric. He is the terror of baili••••s and hinds: and is remrk|able for his circumspection, vigilnc, and sbtlety. He is nvr in arrears, and no auditor is able to ovr-reach or detect him in his accounts: yet he makes more commodious purchses for himself than for his master, without forfiting the good will or bounty of th latter. Amidst thse strokes of atire, Chaucer's genius for descriptive painting breaks forth in this simple and beautiful description of th REEVE'S rural habitation.

Page 451

His wonningp 23.89 was ful fayre upon a heth, With grene trees yshadowed was his place q 23.90.

In the CLERKE OF OXENFORDE our author glances at the inattention paid o literature, and the unprofitableness of philosophy. He is emaciated with study, clad in a thread|bare cloak, and rides a steed lean as a rake.

For he had gotten him no benefice, Ne was so worldly for to have office: For him had leverr 23.91 han at his bedshed Twentie bokis, yclad in with black or red, Of Aristotle and his philosophie, Thn robis rich, fithell s 23.92, or gay sautrie: But albe that he was a philosopher, Yet had he but little gold in his coffer t 23.93.

His unwearied attention to logic had tinctured his conversa|tion with much pedantic formality, and taught him to speak on all subjects in a precise and sententious style. Yet his conversation was instructive: and he was no less willing to submit than to communicate his opinion to others.

Sowning in moral virtue was his speche, And gladly would he learn, and gladly teche u 23.94.

The perpetual importance of the SERJEANT OF LAWE, who by habit or by affectation has the faculty of appearing busy when he has nothing to do, is sketched with the spirit and conciseness of Horace.

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No where so busy'a man as he ther n'as, And yet he semid busier than he was w 23.95.

There is some humour in making our lawyer introduce the language of his pleadings into common conversation. He addresses the hoste,

Hoste, quoth he, de pardeux jeo assent x 23.96.
The affectation of talking French was indeed general, but it is here appropriated and in character.

Among the rest, the character of the HOSTE, or master of the Tabarde inn where the pilgrims are assembled, is conspi|cuous. He has much good sense, and discovers great talents for managing and regulating a large company; and to him we are indebted for the happy proposal of obliging every pil|grim to tell a story during their journey to Canterbury. His interpositions between the tales are very useful and enliven|ing; and he is something like the chorus on the Grecian stage. He is of great service in encouraging each person to begin his part, in conducting the scheme with spirit, in mak|ing proper observations on the merit or tendency of the several

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stories, in settling disputes which must naturally arise in the course of such an entertainment, and in connecting all the narratives into one continued system. His love of good cheer, experience in marshalling guests, address, authoritative deportment, and facetious disposition, are thus expressively displayed by Chaucer.

Grete chere our Hostè made us everichone, And to the suppere set he us anone; And servid us with vitailes of the best: Strong was his wine, and wele to drink us lest y 23.97. A semely man our Hostè was withal To bene a marshall in a lordis hal. A largè man was he, with eyin stepe, A fayrer burgeis is there none in Chepe z 23.98. Bold of his speche, and wise, and well ytaught, And of manhodè lakid him right nought. And eke therto he was a merry man, &c a 23.99.

Chaucer's scheme of the CANTERBURY TALES was evidently left unfinished. It was intended by our author, that every pilgrim should likewise tell a Tale on their return from Can|terbury b 23.100. A poet who lived soon after the CANTERBURY TALES made their appearance, seems to have designed a supplement

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to this deficiency, and with this view to have written a Tale called the MARCHAUNT'S SECOND TALE, or the HISTORY OF BERYN. It was first printed by Urry, who supposed it to be Chaucer's c 23.101. In the Prologue which is of considerable length, there is some humour and contrivance: in which the author, happily enough, continues to charac|terise the pilgrims, by imagining what each did, and how each behaved, when they all arrived at Canterbury. After dinner was ordered at their inn, they all proceed to the cathedral. At entering the church one of the monks sprinkles them with holy water. The Knight with the better sort of the company goes in great order to the shrine of Thomas a Beckett. The Miller and his companions run staring about the church: they pretend to blazon the arms painted in the glass windows, and enter into a dispute in heraldry: but the Hoste of the Tabarde reproves them for their improper beha|viour and impertinent discourse, and directs them to the martyr's shrine. When all had finished their devotions, they return to the inn. In the way thither they purchase toys for which that city was famous, called Canterbury brochis: and here much facetiousness passes betwixt the Frere and the Sompnour, in which the latter vows revenge on the former, for telling a Tale so palpably levelled at his profession, and protests he will retaliate on their return by a more severe story. When dinner is ended, the Hoste of the Tabarde thanks all the company in form for their several Tales. The party then separate till supper-time by agreement. The Knight goes to survey the walls and bulwarks of the city, and explains to his son the Squier the nature and strength of them. Mention is here made of great guns. The Wife of Bath is too weary to walk far; she proposes to the Prioresse to divert themselves in the garden, which abounds with herbs proper for making salves. Others wander about the streets. The Pardoner has a low adventure, which ends

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much to his disgrace. The next morning they proceed on their return to Southwark: and our genial master of the Tabarde, just as they leave Canterbury, by way of putting the company into good humour, begins a panegyric on the morning and the month of April, some lines of which I shall quote, as a specimen of our author's abilities in poetical description c 23.102.

Lo! how the seson of the yere, and Averelld 23.103 shouris, Doithe 23.104 the busshis burgynf 23.105 out blossomes and flouris. Lo! the prymerosys of the yere, how fresh they bene to sene, And many othir flouris among the grassis grene. Lo! how they springe and sprede, and of divers hue, Beholdith and seith, both white, red, and blue. That lusty bin ad comfortabyll for mannis sight, For I say for myslf it makith my hert to light g 23.106.

On casting lots, it falls to the Marchaunt to tell the first tale, which then follows. I cannot allow that this Prologue and Tale were written by Chaucer. Yet I believe them to be nearly coeval.

Page 457

SECT. XVIII.

IT is not my intention to dedicate a volume to Chaucer, how much soever he may deserve it; nor can it be ex|pected, that, in a work of this general nature, I should enter into a critical examination of all Chaucer's pieces. Enough has been said to prove, that in elevation, and elegance, in har|mony and perspicuity of versification, he surpasses his predeces|sors in an infinite proportion: that his genius was universal, and adapted to themes of unbounded variety: that his merit was not less in painting familiar manners with humour and propriety, than in moving the passions, and in representing the beautiful or the grand objects of nature with grace and sub|limity. In a word, that he appeared with all the lustre and dignity of a true poet, in an age which compelled him to struggle with a barbarous language, and a national want of taste; and when to write verses at all, was regarded as a singular qualification. It is true indeed, that he lived at a time when the French and Italians had made considerable advances and improvements in poetry: and although proofs have already been occasionally given of his imitations from these sources, I shall close my account of him with a distinct and comprehensive view of the nature of the poetry which subsisted in France and Italy when he wrote: pointing out in the mean time, how far and in what manner the po|pular models of those nations contributed to form his taste, and influence his genius.

I have already mentioned the troubadours of Provence, and have observed that they were fond of moral and alle|gorical fables a 24.1. A taste for this sort of composition they

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partly acquired by reading Boethius, and the PSYCHOMACHIA of Prudentius, two favorite classics of the dark ages; and partly from the Saracens their neighbours in Spain, who were great inventors of apologues. The French have a very early metrical romance DE FORTUNE ET DE FELICITE, a translation from Boethius's book DE CONSOLATIONE, by Reynault de Louens a Dominican friar b 24.2. From this source, among many others of the Provencial poems, came the Tour|nament of ANTICHRIST above-mentioned, which contains a combat of the Virtues and Vices c 24.3: the Romaunt of Richard de Lisle, in which MODESTY fighting with LUSTd 24.4 is thrown into the river Seine at Paris: and, above all, the ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE, translated by Chaucer, and already mentioned at large in its proper place. Visions were a branch of this species of poetry, which admitted the most licentious excur|sions of fancy in forming personifications, and in feigning imaginary bings and ideal habitations. Under these we may rank Chaucer's HOUSE OF FAME, which I have before hinted to have been probably the poduction of Provence.

But the principal subject of their poems, dictated in great measure by the spirit of chivalry, was love: especially among the troubadours of rank and distinction, whose castles being crowded with ladies, presented perpetual scenes of the most splendid gallantry. This passion they spiritualised into various metaphysical refinements, and filled it with abstracted notions of visionary perfection and felicity. Here too they were perhaps influenced by their neighbours the Saracens, whose philosophy chiefly consisted of fantastic abstractions. It is

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manifest, however, that nothing can exceed the profound pedantry with which they treated this favorite argument. They defined the essence and characteristics of true love with all the parade of a Scotist in his professorial chair: and bewildered their imaginations in speculative questions con|cerning the most desperate or the most happy situations of a sincere and sentimental heart e 24.5. But it would be endless, and indeed ridiculous, to describe at length the systematical so|lemnity with which they cloathed this passion f 24.6. The RO|MAUNT OF THE ROSE which I have just alledged as a proof of their allgorising turn, is not less an instance of their affectation in writing on this subject: in which the poet, under the gency of allegorical personages, displays the gra|dual approachs and impediments to fruition, and intro|duces a regular disputation conducted with much formality between Reason and a lover. Chaucer's TESTAMENT OF LOVE is also formed on this philosophy of gallantry. It is a lover's parody of Boethius's book DE CONSOLATIONE men|tioned above. His poem called LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCY g 24.7, and his ASSEMBLE OF LADIES, are from the same

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school h 24.8. Chaucer's PRIORESSE and MONKE, whose lives were devoted to religious reflection and the most serious engage|ments, and while they are actually travelling on a pilgrimage to visit the shrine of a sainted martyr, openly avow the uni|versal influence of love. They exhibit, on their apparel, badges entirely inconsistent with their profession, but easily accountable for from these principles. The Prioresse wears a bracelet on which is inscribed, with a crowned A, Amor vincit omnia i 24.9. The Monke ties his hood with a true-lover's knot k 24.10. The early poets of Povence, as I before hinted, formed a society called the COURT OF LOVE, which gave rise to others in Gascony, Languedoc, Poictou, and Dauphiny: and Pi|cardy, the constant rival of Provence, had a similar institu|tion called Plaids et Gieux sous l'Ormel. These establishments consisted of ladies and gentlemen of the highest rank, exer|cised and approved in courtesy, who tried with the most consummate ceremony, and decided with supreme authority, cases in love brought before their tribunal. Martial d'Avergne, an old French poet, for the diversion and at the request of the countess of Beaujeu, wrote a poem entitled ARRESTA AMORUM, or the Decrees of Love, which is a humourous description of the Plaids of Picardy. Fontenelle has recited one of their processes, which conveys an idea of all the rest l 24.11. A queen of France was appealed to from an unjust sentence pronounced in the love-pleas, where the countess of Cham|pagne presided. The queen did not chuse to interpose in a matter of so much consequence, nor to reverse the decrees of a court whose decision was absolute and final. She an|swered,

"God forbid, that I should presume to contradict the sentence of the countess of Champagne!"
This was about the year 1206. Chaucer has a poem called the COURT

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OF LOVE, which is nothing more than the love-court of Provence n 24.12: it contains the twenty statutes which that court prescribed to be universally observed under the severest penal|ties o 24.13. Not long afterwards, on the same principle, a society was established in Languedoc, called the Fraternity of the Penitents of Love. Enthusiasm was here carried to as high a pitch of extravagance as ever it was in religion. It was a contention of ladies and gentlemen, who should best sustain the honour of their amorous fanaticism. Their object was to prove the excess of their love, by shewing with an invin|cible fortitude and consistency of conduct, with no less ob|stinacy of opinion, that they could bear extremes of heat and cold. Accordingly the resolute knights and esquires, the dames and damsels, who had the hardiness to embrace this severe institution, dressed themselves during the heat of summer in the thickest mantles lined with the warmest fur In this they demonstrated, according to the antient poets, that love works the most wonderful and extraordinary changes. In winter, their love again perverted the nature of the seasons: they then cloathed themselves in the lightest and thinnest stuffs which could be procured. It was a crime to wear fur on a day of the most piercing cold; or to appear with a hood, cloak, gloves, or muff. The flame of love kept them sufficiently warm. Fires, all the winter,

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were utterly banished from their houses; and they dressed their apartments with evergreens. In the most intense frost their beds were covered only with a piece of canvass. It must be remembered, that in the mean time they passed the greater part of the day abroad, in wandering about from castle to castle; insomuch, that many of these devotees, during so desperate a pilgrimage, perished by the inclemency of the weather, and died martyrs to their profession p 24.14.

The early universality of the French language greatly contributed to facilitate the circulation of the poetry of the troubadours in other countries. The Frankish language was familiar even at Constantinople and its dependent provinces in the eleventh century, and long afterwards. Raymond Mon|taniero, an historian of Catalonia, who wrote about the year 1300, says, that the French tongue was as well known in the Morea and at Athens as at Paris.

"E parlavan axi belle Francis com dins en Paris q 24.15."
The oldest Italian poetry seems to be founded on that of Provence. The word SONNET was adopted from the French into the Italian versification. It occurs in the ROMAN DE LA ROSE,
"Lais d'amour et SON|NETS courtois r 24.16."
Boccacio copied many of his best Tales from the troubadours s 24.17. Several of Dante's fictions are

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derived from the same fountain. Dante has honoured some of them with a sat in his Paradise s 24.18: and in his tract DE VULGARI ELOQUENTIA, has mentioned Thiebault king of Navarre as a pattern for writing poetry t 24.19. With regard to Dante's capital work the INFERNO, Raoul de Houdane, a Provencial bard about the year 1180, wrote a poem entitled, LE VOYE OU LE SONGE D'ENFER u 24.20. Both Boccacio and Dante studied at Paris, where they much improved their taste by reading the songs of Thiebauld king of Navarre, Gaces Brules, Chatelain de Coucy, and other antient French fabu|lists w 24.21. Petrarch's refined ideas of love are chiefly drawn from those amorous reveries of the Provencials which I have above described; heightened perhaps by the Platonic system, and exaggerated by the subtilising spirit of Italian fancy. Varchi and Pignatelli have written professed treatises on the nature of Petrarch's love. But neither they, nor the rest of the Italians who, to this day, continue to debate a point of so much consequence, consider how powerfully Petrarch must have been influenced to talk of love in so peculiar a strain by studying the poets of Provence. His TRIUMFO DI AMORE has much imagery copied from Anselm Fayditt, one of the most celebrated of these bards. He has likewise many imitations from the works of Arnaud Daniel, who is called the most eloquent of the troubadours x 24.22. Petrarch,

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in one of his sonnets, represents his mistress Laura sailing on the river Rhone, in company with twelve Provencial ladies, who at that time presided over the COURT OF LOVE y 24.23.

Pasquier observes, that the Italian poetry arose as the Pro|vencial declined z 24.24. It is a proof of the decay of invention among the French in the beginning of the fourteenth cen|tury, that about that period they began to translate into prose their old metrical romances: such as the fables of king Arthur, of Charlemagne, of Oddegir the Dane, of Renaud of Montauban, and other illustrious champions, whom their early writers had celebrated in rhyme a 24.25. At length, about the year 1380, in the place of the Provencial a new species of poetry succeeded in France, consisting of Chants Royaux b 24.26,

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Balades, Rondeaux, and Pastorales c 24.27. This was distinguished by the appellation of the NEW POETRY: and Froissart, who has been mentioned above chiefly in the character of an his|torian, cultivated it with so much success, that he has been called its author. The titles of Froissart's poetical pieces will alone serve to illustrate the nature of this NEW POE|TRY: but they prove, at the same time, that the Provencial cast of composition still continued to prevail. They are, The Paradise of Love, A Panegyric on the Month of May, The Temple of Honour, The Flower of the Daisy, Amorous Lays, Pastorals, The Amorous Prison, Royal Ballads in honour of our Lady, The Ditty of the Amourous Spinett, Virelais, Rondeaus, and The Plea of the Rose and Violet d 24.28. Whoever examines Chaucer's smaller pieces will perceive that they are altogether formed on this plan, and often compounded of these ideas. Chau|cer himself declares, that he wrote

—Many an hymne for your holidaies e 24.29 That hightin balades, rondils, virelaies f 24.30.

But above all, Chaucer's FLOURE AND THE LEAFE, in which an air of rural description predominates, and where the allegory is principally conducted by mysterious allusions to the virtues or beauties of the vegetable world, to flowers and plants, exclusive of its general romantic and allegoric vein,

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bears a strong resemblance to some of these subjects. The poet is happily placed in a delicious arbour, interwoven with eglantine. Imaginary troops of knights and ladies advance: some of the ladies are crowned with flowers, and other with chaplets of agnus castus, and these are respectively subject to a Lady of the Flower, and a Lady of the Leaf g 24.31. Some are cloathed in green, and others in white. Many of the knights are distinguished in much the same manner. But others are crowned with leaves of oak or of other trees: others carry branches of oak, laurel, hawthorn, and wood|bine h 24.32. Besides this profusion of vernal ornaments, the whole procession glitters with gold, pearls, rubies, and other costly decorations. They are preceded by minstrels cloathed in green and crowned with flowers. One of the ladies sings a bargaret, or pastoral, in praise of the daisy.

Ai 24.33 bargaret in praising the daisie, For as methought among her notis swete She said si douce est le margaruite k 24.34.

This might have been Froissart's song: at least this is one of his subjects. In the mean time a nightingale, seated in a laurel-tre, whose shade would cover an hundred persons, sings the whole service,

"longing to May."
Some of the knights and ladies do obeysance to the leaf, and some to the

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flower of the daisy. Others are represented as worshipping a bed of flowers. Flora is introduced

"of these flouris goddesse."
The lady of the leaf invites the lady of the flower to a banquet. Under these symbols is much morality couched. The leaf signifies perseverance and virtue: the flower denotes indolence and pleasure. Among those who are crowned with the leaf, are the knights of king Arthur's round table, and Charlemagne's Twelve Peers; together with the knights of the order of the garter now just established by Edward the third l 24.35.

But these fancies seem more immediately to have taken their rise from the FLORAL GAMES instituted in France in the year 1324 m 24.36, which filled the French poetry with images of this sort n 24.37. They were founded by Clementina Isaure countess of Tholouse, and annually celebrated in the month of May. She published an edict, which assembled all the poets of France in artificial arbours dressed with flowers: and he that produced the best poem was re|warded with a violet of gold. There were likewise inferior prizes of flowers made in silver. In the mean time the con|querors were crowned with natural chaplets of their own respective flowers. During the ceremony, degrees were also conferred. He who had won a prize three times was created a doctor en gaye Science, the name of the poetry of the Pro|vencial troubadours. The instrument of creation was in verse o 24.38. This institution, however fantastic, soon became common through the whole kingdom of France: and these romantic rewards, distributed with the most impartial atten|tion to merit, at least infused an useful emulation, and in some measure revived the languishing genius of the French poetry.

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The French and Italian poets, whom Chaucer imitates, abound in allegorical personages: and it is remarkable, that the early poets of Greece and Rome were fond of these creations. Homer has given us, STRIFE, CONTENTON, FEAR, TERROR, TUMULT, DESIRE, PERSUASION, and BENEVOLENCE. We have in Hesiod, DARKNESS, and many others, if the Shield of Hercules be of his hand. COMUS occurs in the Agamemnon of Eschylus; and in the Promet heus of the same poet, STRENGTH and FORCE are two persons of the drama, and perform the capital parts. The fragments of Ennius indicate, that his poetry consisted much of personi|fications. He says, that in one of the Carthaginian wars, the gigantic image of SORROW appeared in every place:

"Omnibus endo locis ingens apparet imago TRISTITIAS."
Lucretius has drawn the great and terrible figure of SU|PERSTITION,
"Quae caput e coeli regionibus ostende|bat."
He also mentions, in a beautiful procession of the Seasons, CALOR ARIDUS, HYEMS, and ALGUS. He introduces MEDICINE muttering with silent fear, in the midst of the deadly pestilence at Athens. It seems to have escaped the many critics who have written on Milton's noble but romantic alle|gory of SIN and DEATH, that he took the person of Death from the Alcestis of his favorite tragedian Euripides, where ΘΑΝΑΤΟΣ is a principal agent in the drama. As knowledge and learning encrease, poetry begins to deal less in imagination: and these fantastic beings give way to real manners and living characters.

END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.

Page [unnumbered]

AN INDEX TO THE HISTORY OF ENGLISH POETRY By THOMAS WARTON, B. D. FELLOW OF TRINITY COLLEGE, OXFORD, AND OF THE SOCIETY OF ANTIQUARIES, AND LATE PROFESSOR OF POETRY IN THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD.

LONDON: PRINTED FOR LACKINGTON, ALLEN, AND CO. TEMPLE OF THE MUSES, FINSBURY SQUARE. 1806.

Page [unnumbered]

ADVERTISEMENT.

THE Index to WARTON'S HISTORY of ENGLISH POETRY, which is here presented to the world, was not originally intended for pub|lication. The great inconvenience arising from the want of its assistance, must have been severely felt by all who have, in the course of their literary pursuits, had occasion to refer to this noble treasure of poetical knowledge. To obviate the disadvantage, as it related exclusively to himself, the compiler, at a period of leisure, drew out the present Index. The experience of its utility suggested the idea of multiplying the copies, by which it is trusted that a commendable service has been rendered to literature. Though none can with reason think these pages wholly useless, some may not find it needful to their studies to possess them; therefore, it has been thought fit to suffer the impression of them to fall far short of that of the History. It does not exceed one-fourth of the number.

Whether an entire Index of the three volumes together would not have been a plan more desirable than that which has been pursued, is a question not now to be examined. It has been considered, and this is the reply: The HISTORY of ENGLISH POETRY is an un|finished work. The learned and elegant historian was "gathered to his fathers" almost in the midst of his instructive and entertaining labours. Much yet remains to be done; and as it is the reverse of improbable that some other foot (we faintly hope, "passibus aequis,") will traverse the ground, which he has left untrodden, it cannot be denied, that with regard to uniformity, a separate table to each volume was the preferable mode to adopt.

If an Index be copious and correct, it possesses the first qualities belonging to the nature of such an undertaking. This merit, as far as human diligence could succeed, the compiler claims, with, in his opinion, the no mean praise of having been useful.

Page [unnumbered]

INDEX TO THE FIRST VOLUME OF WARTON'S History of English Poetry.

  • ABELARD'S Letters, translated, 368
  • Adam de Orleton, Bishop of Winches|ter, 89
  • Adenez, a French Poet, 135
  • Aegidius Romanus, 343
  • Aeneae Gesta post Destructionem Trojae, 88
  • Aeneas, Romance of, 134
  • Aeneas, Story of, on tapestry, 211
  • Aser Constantinus, 441, 442
  • Agrippa, Cornelius, 402, 404, 409
  • Alanus, Anticlaudian of, 391
  • Alardus Lampridius, 378
  • Alban, Saint, Martyrdom of, a Poem, 98
  • Albertus Magnus, 401
  • Albion's England, by Warner, 12
  • Albumasar, an Arabian Astrologer, 441
  • Alcabutius or Alchabitius, Abdilazi, Isa|goge in Astrologiam, by, 426
  • Alcen, or Alhazen, an Arabic Philoso|pher, 406
  • Alcestis, Romance of, 428
  • Alchabitius, 426
  • Age and Youth, Comparison between, a Poem, 32
  • Alcock, Bishop of Ely, 307
  • Aldred, Archbishop, 303
  • Alexander Magnus, Aristoteli praeceptori suo salutem dicit, 101
  • Alexander, Romance of, 123, 124, 128, 131, 133. By Adam Davie, 220, 221, 222, 223, 224, 225, 226, 227, 228, 229, 230, 231, 232, 309, 310, 311, 346, 349, 350
  • Alexander, Life and Actions of, translated from the Persian, into Greek, by Simeon Seth, 129
  • Alexander de Paris, 139
  • Alexander, Roman de, 136, 309
  • Alexandre, la Vengeaunce du Graunt, 139
  • Αλεξανδρευς ὁ Μακεδων, translated by Deme|trius Zenus, 132, 349
  • Alexius, Saint, Legend of, by Adam Davie, 218
  • Alfred's Version of Bede's Ecclesiastical Hist. 1
  • Allen, Thomas, 291
  • Almasor, or Albumasar, and Rhasis, 441
  • Alphonsus, King of Castile, 393
  • Amadis de Gaul, Romance of, 149
  • Amazonida, by Boccacio, 344
  • Ambrose of Milan, Paraphrase of the Siege of Jerusalem, by, 217
  • Ambrose, Saint, 394
  • Amille, a French Morality, 88
  • Amorous Prison, a Poem, by Froissart, 465
  • Amorous Lays, a Poem, by Froissart, 465
  • Amoris Incendium, by Hampole, 265
  • Amys and Amilion, Romance of, 88, 21
  • Anciseno Dominicho Falugi, an Italian Poem, on Alexander, by, 139
  • Amour Espris, le Livre de Cuer d', 417
  • Anderson's History of Commerce, 176
  • Anglicus Gilbertus, 443
  • Anna Commena, 50, 157, 348
  • Anna de Graville, 346
  • ...

Page ii

  • Anno, Archbishop of Cologn, Metrical Life of, 8
  • Annunciada, Order of the, 252
  • Answers of the Sybills, 368
  • Antechrist, the Banner of, 286
  • Antechrist, Tournoyement de l', Roman de, par Hon de Meri, 285, 458
  • Anthony de la Sale, 334
  • Anticlaudian, by Alanus, 391
  • Antiochiae Liber de Captione, 88
  • Antiochiae Gesta et Regum aliorum, &c. 114
  • Anuar Sohaili, 131. See Pilpay's Fables
  • Apponus, 393
  • Apolonius of Tyre, Romance of, 349, 350
  • Apolonii Tyanaei Historia, 350
  • Appolin Roy de Thir, la Cronique d', 350
  • Apono Pierre, Commentaries on the Problems of Aristotle, by, 439
  • Apuleius, 394
  • Aquinas, Thomas, 401
  • Argenteus Codex, 1
  • Argonauticon, by Valerius Flaccus, 126
  • Arioso, 133, 146, 334, 411
  • Aristotle, 292, 378, 432, 441, 444
  • Art de Dictier, Ballades et Rondelles, 465
  • Art de Kalender, par Raus, 74
  • Arresa Amorum, or the Decrees of Love, a Poem, 460
  • Arthur, King, Rom. of, 110, 117, 121, 123, 124, 134, 139, 140, 146, 205, 206, 207, 211, 252, 350, 408, 418, 464, 467
  • Arthur, King, Rites of, re••••ored by Roger, Earl of Mortimer, 117
  • Artois, Count d', Ballad on the Defeat of the 57
  • A••••mole, Elias, 252
  • Asheldown, Joly Chepert, of, a Romance, by John Lawerne, 76
  • Askew, Dr. 352
  • Assemblie of Foules, by Chaucer, 372, 394
  • Assemblie of Ladies, by Chaucer, 459
  • Asses, Feast of, Mystery of the, 7
  • Astyages and Cyrus, History of, on apestry, 211
  • Athanasius, Creed of, versified, 23
  • Athelstan, King, a Poem on, 93
  • Athys and Prophylias, a French Metrical Rom. 139, 146, 334, 411
  • Averroes, an Asiatic Philosopher, 441, 443, 444
  • Avicen, or Avicenne, an Arabian Phy|sician, 441
  • Avranches, Henry d', or Henry the Veri••••er, 47
  • Austin, Saint, 394, 421
B
  • Babyon, Peter, 233
  • Babione de et Croceo domino Babionis, et Viola filiastra Babionis, quam croceus duxit invito Babione, et Pecula Uxore Babionis, et Fodio suo, 233
  • Bacon, Roger, 101, 291, 403, 408, 410, 439
  • Bale, John, 87, 126, 232, 235, 295
  • Ballades et Rondelles, l' Art de Dictier, 465
  • Balsham, Hugh de, 290
  • Baastre, or Banester, William, 75. Gil|bert, 75
  • Bartholinus, or Bartholine, 127, 213
  • Barbour, John, 318, 319, 320, 321
  • Barcham, John, 454
  • Barnabas of Cyprus, 393
  • Barrington's Observations on the Ancient Statutes, 46, 453
  • Baston, Rbert, 232, 251
  • Batrachomyomachia of Homer, translated by Demetrius Zenus, 351
  • Battayle of Troye, by Guido de Co|luma, 127
  • ...

Page iii

  • Battell of Jerusalem, a Poem, by Adam Davie, 217
  • Bayard, La Vie, et les Geses du Preux Chevalier, 418
  • Beauvais, Vincent de. See Vincent de Beauvais, 14, 16
  • Becket, Saint Thomas of, Lgnd of, 18
  • Bede, 128
  • Beauchamp, Lord, 145
  • Belisaire, or Belisarius, Romance of, 351
  • Belle Dame sans Mercy, by Chaucer, 459
  • Bellisaire, ou le Conquerant, 351
  • Bellovacensis Vincentius, 125, 133
  • Bellum contra Runcivallum, 88
  • Beltrand or Bertrand's Amours with Chrysatsa, 351
  • Benedictus, Alexander, 133, 158
  • Benjamin, a Jew Traveller, 101
  • Benoit de Sainct More, 136
  • Beowulf, a Danis Saxon Poem, celebrating the Wars of, 2
  • Beral, las complanchas de, a Poem, by Fouquett, 118
  • Bercy, Hugues de, 37
  • Berlin, Romance of, 135
  • Berlington, John, 76
  • Berni, 133, 411, 412
  • Berners, Lord, Translation of Froissart's Chronicle, by, 336
  • Bertrand du Guescelin, French Romance of, 351
  • Beryn, Tale of, or Marchant's Second Tale, 144, 438, 440, 455
  • Beuves de Hanton, Romance of, by Pere Labbe. See Sir Beavis
  • Bevis of Southampton. See Sir Beavis
  • Bible, a Satire, by Hugues de Bercy, 37
  • Bidpai's Pilpay's Fables. See Pilpay's Fables
  • Biorner, M. 12
  • Blair, or Blare, Robert, 321, 322
  • Blair Arnaldi Relationes, by Blind Har|ry, 321
  • Blandamoure, Sir, Romance of, 145, 208
  • Blaunpayne, Michael, 47, 48
  • Blesensis, Archdeacon of London, 133
  • Blind Harry, 321, 322, 324, 325, 326, 27, 328, 329, 330, 331
  • Blondell de Nesle, Minstrel to Rich. I 113, 117
  • Boccacio Giovanni, 138, 190, 342, 344, 345, 346, 347, 348, 349, 351, 352, 353, 354, 355, 357, 362, 384, 385, 397, 416, 417, 423, 424, 432, 462.
  • Boehius, 368, 387, 458, 459
  • Billeau, 382
  • Bokenham, Osberne, 14
  • Bonaventure de caena et passione Domini, et Poenis S. Mariae Virginis, translated into English Rymes, by Rob. de Brunne, 77
  • Bonner, Bishop of London, 241
  • Booke of Certaine Triumphs, 335
  • Borde, Andrew, 432
  • Borron, Roberts, Translation of the Ro|mance of Lancelot du Lac, by, 114, 115
  • Boscam, Herbert, Life of Thomas of Becket, by, 85
  • Bourdour, Account of the, 173
  • Boy, Bishop, Ceremony of the, 248
  • Boyardo, 133, 410
  • Brawardine, Archbishop, 388, 421
  • Bridlington, or Berlington, John, 76
  • Brithnorth, Offa's Ealdorman, Ode in praise of, 2
  • Brite, or Brithe, Walter, 287
  • Brooke, William de, 290
  • Bruce, Robert, King of Scots, Poem on, by John Barbour, 232, 318, 319, 320, 321
  • Bruit le Petit, by Rause de Boun, 62
  • Brun, Mons. Le, Avantures d' Apolonius de Thyr, par, 350
  • Brunne, Robert de. See Robert de Brunne
  • ...

Page iv

  • Brus, or Bru••••, Robert, Poem on, 232. See Bruce
  • Brut, a French Romance, 62, 337
  • Bru d' Angleterre, by Eustace, 62
  • Bruto, Liber de, et de gestis Anglorum, merificatus, 63
  • Burgh, Thomas, 14
  • Burton, Robert, 62, 432
C
  • Caedmon, 1, 2
  • Calaileg and Damnag, 130. See Pilpay's Fables
  • Callinicus, Inventor of the Grecian Fire, 157
  • Callimachus and Chrysorrhoe, the Loves of, a Rom. 348
  • Callistines, 124, 129, 131
  • Cambrensis Gyraldus, 103, 131, 312, 405, 406
  • Camden, Hugh, Translation of the Ro|mance of Sidrac, by, 208
  • Camera Obscura discovered by Roger Bacon, 438
  • Camoens, 408
  • Cantacuzenus, John, 348
  • Canterbury Tales, by Chaucer
  • Chanon Yeman's Tale, 169, 425
  • Frakelein's Tale, 302, 393, 402, 405 to 415, 438
  • Freere's Tale, 390
  • Clerk of Oxenford's Tale, 415, 416, 417, 418
  • Knight's Tale, 173, 222, 334, 344, 358, 367, 387
  • Man of Lawe's Tale, 333, 350
  • Marchant's Tale, 389, 391, 393, 395, 421, 422, 423
  • Miller's Tale, 379, 423, 425, 426, 427, 428, 429, 430, 431
  • Monke's Tale, 234, 235, 282, 432
  • Canterbury Tales, by Chaucer
  • Nonnes Priest's Tale, 215, 393, 419, 423
  • Wife of Bath's Tale, 390, 437
  • Prologue to the Wie of Bath's Tale, 236, 421, 425
  • Reve's Tale, 422
  • Sompnour' Tale, 278, 425, 433, 445
  • Shipman's Tale, 432
  • Squier's Tale, 173, 333, 398
  • Cantilenae, or Poetical Chronicles, 93
  • Canute, King, 1
  • Capella Marcianus de Nuptiis Philogiae, et Mercurii, 391
  • Carew, Sir George, 85, 87
  • Carmina Vatacinalia, by John Bridling|ton, 76
  • Caroli Gesta Secundum Turpinum, 88
  • Carpentier's Supplement to Du Cange, 177, 189, 210, 246, 388
  • Cassianus, Joannes, 14
  • Castle of Love, by Bishop Grosthead, 79, 80, 81, 82, 83, 84
  • Catharine, Saint, Play of, 236
  • Causa Dei, by Bawardine, 388
  • Caxton, 14, 62, 127, 138, 336
  • Ce••••io, Philip, or Christopher, 126
  • Certaine Triumphes, Boke of, 335
  • Certamen inter Johannem et Barones, versifice, 88
  • Cervantes, 111, 132, 415
  • Chant, Royal, 464
  • Charette, La, Roman, par Chrestien, 135
  • Charicell and Drosilla, Loves of, a Ro|mance, 348
  • Charite, William, 88
  • Charito, Romance of, 348
  • Charlemagne, Romance of, 88, 110, 124, 135, 137, 146, 210, 211, 464, 467
  • Chartier, Alain, 342
  • Chateau d'Amour of Robert Groshead, 〈…〉〈…〉 by Robert de Brunne, 78, 85
  • Chatelain de Courcy, 463
  • ...

Page v

  • Caucer, 38, 68, 74, 126, 127, 128, 142, 143, 144, 148, 164, 165, 169, 172, 173, 175, 197, 208, 215, 220, 222, 224, 234, 235, 236, 255, 278, 282, 302, 306, 334, 339, 341, 342, 343, 350, 357, 358, 359, 360, 362, 364, 365, 366, 367, 368, 369, 370 to 384, to the end
  • Chester Mysteries, Acc. of the, 243
  • Chevalier au Signe, l'Ystoire du, a Ro|mance, 348
  • Chevalrye, or Knighthood, Booke of the Order of, translated out of French, 337
  • Chevelere Assigne, or De Cigne, or the Knight of the Swan, Romance of, 313
  • Chelde Ippomedone, Romance of, 138
  • Chrestien of Troys, Roman du Graal et Roman de Perceval le Galois, by, 134, 135
  • Christi Passionis et Resurrectionis Gesta, 74
  • Christopher, Saint, Life of, 16
  • Christ's Passion, &c. lay of, 249
  • Christ's Resurrection, a Poem on, 237
  • Chrisana of Pisa, 342
  • Chronicae Regnorum, 93, 10
  • Chronicon Trojae, 88
  • Chronicum Brittannorum, 127
  • Chronicum Magnum Libris, 127
  • Cicero, 394, 419
  • Cinnamus, 348
  • Citharistae, Account of the, 90
  • Citie of Ladies, French Romance of the, 310
  • Claudian, 390, 395
  • Cleomades, Romance of, 135
  • Clergy, Satirical Balad on the, 36
  • Codex Argenteus, 1
  • Colbrond, Song of, 89
  • Collet, Dean, his rammaticus Rudi|menta, 281
  • Commedia de Geta, 234
  • Commena, Anna, the Alexiad of, 50, 157, 348
  • Conessio Amantis, 339
  • Conquest of Jerusalem by Godsrey of Bulloigne, Theatrical Rpresentation of, 245
  • Costantine, Emperor, 210
  • Constantinopolis Christiana, by Du Cange, 158
  • Continens, by Rasis, an Asiatic Phy|sician, 441
  • Cooper, Mrs. 107
  • Copia Sedulae valvis domini regis exis|tentis in Parliamento, suo tento apud Westmonasterium, mense marcii an|no Reg•••• Henerici Sexti vicessimo octavo, a Satirical Balad, stuck on the Gates of the Royal Palace, 58
  • Cornwaile, John, 6
  • Coventry Mysteries, Acc. of, 92, 243
  • Conubyence, Girard, or Cornubiensis Giraldus, 87
  • Corona Preciosa, by Stephen, a Sabio, 351
  • Cors, Lambert li, 139
  • Cotgrave, 68
  • Court of Love, Tribunal of the, 148, 460, 466
  • Court of Love, a Poem, by Chaucer, 466
  • Creation of the World, Miracle Play of 237, 293
  • Creed of Saint Athanasius, versified, 23
  • Crescimbini, 139, 249, 464
  • Crucifixion, Poem on the, 24, 33
  • Crusius Martinus, 350
  • Curias and Florela, Romance of, 352
  • Cursor Mundi, a Bk of Stories, 123
  • Curtius, Quintus, 133
  • Cyder, an early drink, Acc. of 429
  • Cymon and phigenia, by Boccacio, 348

    Page vi

    D
    • Damascene, John, 441
    • Dan Burnell's As, 419
    • Dance-Maccabre, Acc of, 210
    • Daniel Arnaud, 463
    • Daniel, the Prophet, Book of, paraphrased by Caedman, 2
    • Dante, 117, 147, 148, 234, 342, 344, 354, 390, 432, 462, 463
    • Dares, Phrygius, 125, 126, 136, 388, 394
    • David, King, History of, 210, 418
    • D'Avranches, Henry, or Henry the Ver|isier, 47
    • Davy, or Davie, Adam, 214, 216, 217, 218, 219, 220, 221, 222, 223, 224, 225, 226, 227, 228, 229, 230, 231, 232
    • Death and Life, Poem of, 312
    • De Brooke, William, 290
    • Decameron of Boccacio, 348, 351, 384, 397, 416, 417
    • De Graville, Ann, 346
    • De Grise, Jehan, 140
    • De Gulvorde, John, 25
    • De Hales, Thomas, 78
    • De Lyra, Nicholas, 292
    • De Meun, John. See John de Meun.
    • De Montort, Simon, Balad on, 43
    • De Orlton, Adam, Bishop of Winchester, 89
    • Dermod, King, Poem on his Expulsion from his Kingdom of Ireland, 69, 85
    • Destruction of Troy. See Troy.
    • Degore, Sir, or Syr Dyare, Romance of, 180, 181, 182, 183, 184
    • Destruction of Jerusalem, Romance of. See Jerusalem.
    • Dictys Cretensis, 125, 126, 136
    • Dido, Romance of, 418
    • Digby, 7
    • Dissolution of the World, a Pom on the, 127
    • Ditty of the Amorous Spinett, a Poem, by Froissart, 465
    • Dolopathos, or Seven Sages of Greece, Romance of, 462
    • Dom Johans, 462
    • Domesdie Book, 12, 167
    • Donatus Aelius, 281
    • Donnet, 281
    • Dorman, Saint, 18
    • Dorohernensis Gervasus, 03
    • Dow, Mr. 421
    • Drayton, Michael, 12, 117, 142, 406, 409, 425
    • Dryden, John, 358, 359, 367, 416, 43, 448
    • Du Carell's Anglo-Norman Antiquities, 64
    • Du Cange, 136, 137, 146, 157, 158, 159, 164, 165, 167, 168, 173, 177, 210, 244, 347, 349, 350, 351, 354, 364, 378, 388
    • Du Frese, 384
    • Du Halde, 404
    • Du Mons, Jaques Pelloutier, 'Art Poe|tique du, 465
    • Du Ri, Pierros, Romance of, Judas Mac|chabee, by, 417
    • Duclos, Mons. 244
    • Dgdale, 177, 302, 303
    • Dunbar, La Counte••••e de, demanda a Thomas Essendoune quant la guere d'Escoce prendret syn, 76
    E
    • Ecclesiae de Corrupto Statu, 47
    • Edward I. King, Elegy on, 103
    • Edward the Black Princ, the Achieve|ments of, a Pem in Frnch, 331
    • Egill's Ransom, a Poe, 22
    • Eglamoure, Sir, of Artoys, Romance of, 146, 170, 173
    • Eight Kings, The, History of, on tapestry, 210
    • ...

    Page vii

    • Emathiu, or Eusathius, a Romance, 348
    • Emendatio Vitae, a Poem, by R. Ham|pole, 265
    • Emma Queen, delivered from the Plough|shares, Tale of, 89
    • Eneas, Romance of, 134
    • England, History of, in Verse, by Robert of Gloucester. See Robert of Glou|cester, 48
    • Ennius, 468
    • Episcopus Puerorum, Ceremony of the, 248
    • Erastus, Romance of, 462
    • Erceldoune, Romance of, 75
    • Erceldoune, or Ashelington, Thomas, 75, 76
    • Erkenwald, King, History of, on tape••••ry, 210
    • Eschylus, 468
    • Ester and Ahasuerus, 210
    • Eston, Adam, 292
    • Evesham, Poem on the Battle of, 46
    • Eugenianus Nicetas, 348
    • Euripides, 468
    • Eustace, or Eustache, Wistice, or Huis|tace, Poem of, Brt d' Angleterre, by, 62, 64
    • Eustathius, Commentary on Homer, by, 125
    • Eustathius, or Eumathius, Rom. of, 348
    • Exodus, Book of, Poetical Biblical History, extracted from, 21
    • Expositio in Psalterium, by Hampole, 265
    F
    • Fabliaux, 463
    • Fabricius, 442
    • Fabyan, 156
    • Fair Rosamond, Hist. of, 304
    • Falconet, Mr. 464
    • Fa••••ole, or Falstaff, Sir John, 234
    • Fauchet, 109, 112, 113, 134, 135, 136, 139, 190, 212
    • Fayditt, Anselm, 36, 117, 11, 235, 463
    • Feast of Asses, Mystery of the, 247
    • Feast of Fools, Mystery of the, 247
    • Ferrabrach, Guillaume, 190
    • Festival, or Festiall, 14
    • Fifteen Tokenes beore the Day of Judge|ment, a Poem, by Adam Davie, 219
    • Fitzralph, Richard, Archbishop o Ar|maugh, 291, 343
    • Fitzrauf. See Fitzralph.
    • Fitzstephen, William, 236
    • Five Joys of the Blessed Virgin, a Song, 30
    • Flacius, Matthias, 47
    • Flamma Gualvanei de la, Chronicle of the Vicecomites of Milan, by, 293
    • Fleetwood, Bishop, 13
    • Flodde, Battle of, a Ballad on the, 314
    • Floral Games, Account of the, 467
    • Flores et de Blanchefleur, Histoire Amo|reuse de, traduite de l'Espagnol par Jaques Vincent, 352
    • Flores y Blanca••••or, Romance of, 352
    • Florian and Blanca-Flor, Romance of, 351, 352
    • Florimont et Passeroze, Romance of, tran|slated into French Prose, 352
    • Florius and Platzaflora, History of, 348, 351
    • Flowre and the Leaf, by Chaucer, 334, 364, 365, 466, 467
    • Flower of the Daisy, a Poem, by Frois|sart, 465
    • Flower, Robert, 298
    • Fontaine, Jane de la, 346
    • Fontenelle, 148, 235, 460, 466
    • Fools, Feast of, Mystery of the, 247
    • Fordun, 232
    • Fortune et de Felicité, Roman de, 458
    • Forze d' Ercole, by Boccacio, 344
    • Fouquett of Marseilles, 117, 118
    • Fraternity of the Penitents of Love, So|ciety of the, 461
    • ...

    Page viii

    • Friars, Outline of the Con••••itution of the Four Orders of Mendicant, 288, 289, 290, 291, 292, 293, 294, 295, 296
    • Froissart, 69, 178, 252, 253, 331, 332, 336, 337, 338 Acc. of his Poems, 465, 466
    • Fructus Temporum, 62
    • Fyre Greky, or Grecian Fire, Ac. of, 157
    G
    • Galen, translated into Latin, 443, 444
    • Garin, Romn de, 69, 422
    • Garter, Account of the Order of the, 252
    • Gatisden, John, 442
    • Gaulmin, Gilbert, Translation of Pil|pay's Fables into French, by, 130
    • Gawain, Romance of, 208
    • Genesis, Book of, paraphrased by Caed|mon, 2
    • Genesis, Book of, Poetical Biblical History, extracted from, 21
    • Geoffry of Monmouth, 48, 49, 50, 51, 62, 63, 124, 128, 394, 400, 442
    • George, Saint. See Saint George
    • Gervays, Bishop of Winchester, 451
    • Gesta Alexandri Regis, 88
    • Gesta Aeneae post destructionem Trojae, 88
    • Gesta Atiochaeiae, et Regum aliorum &c. 113
    • Gesta Caroli secundum Turpinum, 88
    • Gesta Osuelis, 88
    • Gesta Passionis et Resurrectionis Christi, 74
    • Gesta Ricardi Regis, 88
    • Geste of King Horn. See Horn.
    • Giamschid, King, Acc. of, 407
    • Gianoni, 289
    • Giant, Oliphant and Chylde, Thopas, 433, 434
    • Gilbertine, or Gilbertus Anglicus, 443
    • Gildas, 128
    • Gilote and Johanne, Adventures of, Poem, in French, 86
    • Girard de Vienne, Le Roman d, par Ber|trand le Clere, 146
    • Giraldi Cinthio, 149
    • Glaskerion, the Briton, 393
    • Glatesaunt, William, an Astrologer, 440
    • Godfrey de Leigni, 134
    • od ureisun to ure Lesdi, a Saxon Po|em, 314
    • Godfrey of Bulloign's Conquest of eru|salem, a Play, 245
    • Godfrey of Bullogne, Romance of, 110, 210, 211
    • Godfrey of Viterbo's Pantheon, 350
    • God's Promises, Mystery of, by Bale, 23
    • Golden Legende, 14, 282
    • Gonzaque, Guy de, 383
    • Gordionus Bernardus, 442
    • Gorionides, Joseph, or Peudo-Gorio|nides, his translation of the Lie and Actions of Alxander the Great into Hebrew, 131
    • Gouget, Abbé, 346
    • Gower, John, 223, 233, 342, 343, 350, 388, 393, 401, 407, 448, 460
    • Graal, Saint, 211
    • Grandison, Bishop, 281
    • Granuci, Nicholas, translation of the Theseid of Boccacio into Italian Prose, by, 346
    • Graville, Anna de, 346
    • Graunt, Kaan, Histoire de, et des Mer|veilles du-Monde, 101
    • Gray, Thoma, 75. John, 75
    • Grecian Fire, Acc. of the, 157
    • Gregora Nicephorus, 348
    • Grenailles, 351
    • Greseildis, Marquis de Saues, Le Mys|ter de, 417
    • Gresieldis Vita, per Fr. Ptrarcham, de Vulgare in Latinam Linguam tra|duct, 417
    • ...

    Page ix

    • Gridal, Archbishop, 241
    • Grosthead, Robert, Bishop of Lincoln, 59, 60, 61, 62, 78, 79, 85, 262, 265, 290, 296, 393, 401
    • Gualo, a Latin Poet, 47
    • Gualtier de Belleperche, Romance of Ju|das-Macchabee, by, 417
    • Gualtier de Chatillon, 128
    • Gualvanci de la Flamma, Chronicle o the Vicecomites of Milan, by, 293
    • Guido de Colona, or Columna, 119, 124, 126, 138, 345, 385, 394
    • Guillaume le Briton, Philippeis, a Latin Poem, by, 158
    • Guldevorde, John de, 25
    • Guy, Romance of. See Sir Guy
    • Guy, Earl of Warwick, Romance of, 87, 89, 142, 145, 211
    • Guy de Warwick, Chevalier d' Angle|terre, et la belle ille Felix samie, 143
    • Guy and Colbrand, a Poem on, 87
    • Guy de Burgoyne, 88
    • Guy de Warwick, le livre de, et de Harold d' Ardenne, a Romance, 143
    • Guy of Warwyk, here gynneth the Liff of, out of Latyn, made by the Chronycler called of old Girard Cornubyence, 87
    • Gyrart de Vianne, Histoire de, et de ses Freres, 146
    H
    • Hakem, an Arabian Juggler, 404
    • Hakluyt, 101, 426, 430
    • Hales, Thomas de, 78
    • Hall, Anthony, 39
    • Hall, Joseph, Bishop, 410
    • Haly, a amou Arabic Astronomer, 440
    • Hampole, Richard, 255, 256, 257, 258, 259, 260, 261, 262, 263, 264, 265
    • Hannibal, 211
    • Hantwille, Bartholomew, 342
    • Harmony of the our Gospels, 1, 2
    • Harper, Account of the King's, 48
    • Harri's Hibernia, 85
    • Hawes, Stephen, Pastime of Pleasure, by, 213, 363
    • Heaven, Death, Judgment, &c. allitera|tive Ode on, 33
    • Hearne, 6, 13, 48, 62, 87, 88, 92, 93, 126, 131, 173, 193, 307, 390
    • Hebers, Romance of the Seven Sages of Greece, translated by, 462
    • Hegesippi de Bello Judaico, et Excidio Urbis-Hierosolymitanae Libri quin|que, 217
    • Hegesippus de Excidio Hierusalem, 311
    • Heliodorus, 348
    • Hemperius, the Erotic, History of, 348
    • Henricus Verificator Magnus, 47
    • Henry de Avranches, or Henry the Ver|siier, 47
    • Henry of Huntingdn, 47, 128, 378
    • Henry, King, the First, Elegy on, 107
    • Herbelot, Mons. 402, 404, 407, 412, 413
    • Herbert, a Minstrel, 89
    • Hercules, French Romance of, 138
    • Hercules, History of, on tapestry, 210, 211, 212
    • Herculis and Jason, Romance of, 138
    • Heregia del Preyres, or Heresy of the Fathers, a Satirical Drama, by Fay|ditt, 36
    • Hermes Trismegistus, 393
    • Herod, Pageant of, represented, 293
    • Herolt Dardenne, Le Romant de, 143
    • Hesiod, 468
    • Hibernia by Harris, 85
    • Hices's Thesaurus, 2, 7, 8, 13, 36
    • Higden, Ralph, Polychronicon, by, 5, 80, 343
    • Hildebert, Eveque du Mons. Otuvres de, 378
    • ...

    Page x

    • Hippocrates, translated into Latin, 443, 444
    • Histoire d' Angleterre, en Vers, par Maistre Wase, 63
    • Historia de Bello Trojano, 126
    • Holbein, Hans, 211
    • Holcot, Robert, 5
    • Hollingshead, 232, 237, 238, 406
    • Holofernes, Histor of, on ape••••ry, 211
    • Holy Ghost, Order of the, 252
    • Homer, 42, 124, 184, 388, 394, 468
    • Horn, Geste of King, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42
    • Horn Childe and Maiden Rinivel, a Poem, 42
    • Houdane, Raoul de, a Provençal, 463
    • Hoveden, John, 85
    • House of Fame, by Chaucer, 74, 128, 378, 389
    • Hu, or Hue. See Lucas, 115
    • Huet, 112
    • Hugh de Balsham, Founder o Pe••••r House, Cambridge, 290
    • Hugo, Prior de Montacuto, his Planctus de Excidio Trojae, 48
    • Hugo de Evesham, 439
    • Hugolin of Pisa, Story of, 390
    • Hugues de Bercy, 37
    • Humagoun Nameh, (i. e. the Royall Book). See Pilpay's Fables, 130
    • Hume, Mr. 307
    • Huon de Meri, Roman d' Antechrist, par, 285 286
    • Hurd, Dr. 286, 434
    J
    • Jacobus de Voragine, 14
    • Jack Snacker of Witney, 240
    • Jack Strawe, 420
    • Jack Upland, 306
    • Jason, Romanc of, 138, 146
    • Jason and the Golden Fleece, History of, on tapestry, 212
    • Javidian Chrad, i. e. Aeerna Sapientia, 131
    • Ici commence la Passyun Jhu Christ, en Engleys, 25
    • Jean d' Orronville, 167
    • Jeber, an Arabian Chemist, Lapis I hi|losophorum, by, 400
    • Jeffrey the Harper, 92
    • Jehan du Chesne, 133
    • Jehan de Grise, 140
    • Jehan de Nivelois, 139
    • Jehan de Vignay, French Translation of the Legenda Aurea, by, 14
    • Jerome, Saint, French Psalter, by, tran|slated, 23
    • Jerusalem, the Destruction of, a rose Romance, 217
    • Jerusalem, Battell of, a Poem, by Adam Davie, 214, 217, 218
    • Jerusalem, le Roman de la Prise de, par Titus, 217
    • Jeu de Personages, 246
    • Illyrius (Illyricus) Flacius, 8
    • Incendium Amoris, by Richard Ham|pole, 265
    • Indiae de Situ et Mirabilibu, 101
    • Job, Book of, parapbrased by Richard Hampole, 265
    • Jocatores, Account of the, 90
    • Joculator, or Bard, Account of, 12, 90
    • Joel, Rabbi, his Translation of Pilpay's Fables into Hebrew, 130
    • Johanni de Wallis, 48
    • Johannes of Capua, Translation of Plpay's Fables into Latin, by, 130
    • John Chandois Herald, Poem on Ed|ward the Black Prince, by, 331
    • John of Basing, 281
    • John de Dondi, 439
    • John de Guldevorde, 25
    • John de Langres, Translaion of Boe|thius, by, 458
    • John de Meun, 88, 148, 368, 369, 38, 453, 458
    • John of Hoveden, 47
    • ...

    Page xi

    • John of Salisbury, 47, 133, 238, 244, 403, 404, 421
    • John, Prior of Saint Swithin's, Win|chester, 307
    • Jonson (Johnson), N. 62
    • Joinville, 159, 167, 168, 173
    • Joly Chepert of Askeldown, a Romance, by Lawern, 76
    • Jordan, William, 237
    • Josaphas, Saint, Life of, 14
    • Joseph of Arimathea, History of, 134
    • Josephus, Flavius, 217, 394, 421
    • Ipomedon, Romance of, 198, 199, 200, 201, 202, 203, 204, 205
    • Ippois, Sir, Romance of, 208
    • Isagoge in Astrologiam, by Alchabitius, 426
    • Isame, Fith King of the Indians, the supposed Author of Pilpay's Fables, 131. See Pilpay
    • Isaure, Clementina, Countess of Tho|louse, 467
    • Isodorus Hispalen••••s, 230
    • Judas Macchabee, French metrical Ro|mance of, 417
    • Juglers, Account of, 225, 394
    • Juliane, Sinte, Legend of, 13
    • Julius Valerius, 131
    • Jupiter and Juno, Hist. of, on tapestry, 210
    K
    • Kaan, Histoire de Graunt, et des Mer|veilles du monde, 101
    • Kalila ve Damma, 130. See Pilpay's Fables
    • Karlewerch en Escoce, les Noms et les Armes des Seigneurs à l' Assize de, 335
    • Katherine, Saint, Life of, 14
    • Keigwin, John, 237
    • Kendale, Romance of, 75
    • Kenelme, Saint, Life of, 421
    • Kennet, Bishop, 90
    • Killingworth Castle, Entertainment at, 91
    • Kinaston, or Kynaston, Sir Francis, 385
    • King Arthur, Romance of See Arthur
    • King Horn, Geste of, 38
    • King of Tars, and the Soudan of Dam|mias, Tale of the, 190, 191, 192, 193, 194, 195, 196, 197
    • Kirther, 110
    • Knight of Courtèsy and Lady of Faguel, Romance of the, 212
    • Knight of the Swan, Romance of th, 313
    • Kolson, an Ancient Northern Chief, 50
    L
    • Labbe Pere, Romance of Beuves de Hanton, by, 142
    • Lady of Faguel and Knight of Courtèsy, Romance of the, 212
    • Lambarde, 240
    • Lambeccius Petrus, 384
    • Lamentation of Souls, a Poem, by Adam Davi, 219
    • La Morte d' Arthur. See Arthur
    • Lancelot du Lac, Romance of, 114, 115, 134, 206, 336, 421
    • Lancelot du Lac, mis en Francois par Robert de Borron, du Commande|ment d' Henri Roi d' Angleterre, avc figures, 114
    • Laneham, 91
    • Lagtot's Chronicle, 62, 66, 71, 85, 95, 97, 120, 121, 168
    • Lapidary, a Treatise on Gms, 378
    • Lapidum de Speciebus, 378
    • Lascaris, Constantius, 125
    • Lattini, 147
    • Lannoy, 3
    • Lawern, John, 76
    • Lawyers, Satiricall Balad on the, 36
    • Lazamon, 63
    • Le Brun, Monsieur, Avantures d' Apo|lonius de Thyr, par, 350
    • Legenda Aurea, 14
    • Legende of Good Women, 344, 370, 390, 466
    • ...

    Page xii

    • Leirmouth, or Rymer, Thomas, 76
    • Leland, 75, 102, 290, 291, 296, 314, 397, 440, 443
    • Leonela and Canamor, Romance of, 352
    • Leonico, Angelo, l' Amore de Troleo et Greseida, que si Tratta in buone parte la Guerra di Troja, di, 351
    • Letter of Cupide, by Occleve, 369
    • Libeaux, Sir, Roance of, 197, 208
    • Libro d' Amore, 464
    • Lidgate, 119, 120, 127, 173, 178, 210, 235, 345, 384, 401, 410, 417, 429, 451
    • Lives of the Saints, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 94, 123
    • Livre de cuer d' Amour espris, a French Romance, 417
    • Livy, 394
    • Lobeyra, Vasco, Romance of Amadis de Gaul, by, 149
    • Lollius, 384, 385, 394
    • Longland, Robert, the Author of Pierce Plowman's Vision, &c. 266, 267, 268, 269, 270, 271, 272, 273, 274, 275, 276, 277, 278, 279, 280, 282, 283, 284, 285, 286, 287, 288, 289, 290, 291, 292, 293, 294, 295, 296, 297, 298, 299, 300, 301, 302, 303, 304, 305, 306, 309, 311, 312
    • Lord's Prayer, homily, or exhortation, in Vere, 20
    • Lord's Prayer, paraphrased by Rich. Ham|pole, 265
    • Lorris, William de. See William de Lorris
    • Love and Gallantry, a Poem on, 34
    • Love Song, the earliest, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30
    • Loves of Rhodante and Dosicles, Ro|mance of the, 348
    • Louis, Duke of Bourbon, Life of, by Jean Orronville, 167
    • Louis, Saint, Romance of, by Joinville, 167
    • Lowth's Life of William of Wykham, 255
    • Lucan, 395, 432
    • Lucanus Nicholaus, 351
    • Lucas, Chevalier, Sieur du Chastel du Gast, pres de Salisberi, le Roman de Tristram et Iseult, traduit de Latin en François par, 115
    • Lucretius, 361
    • Ludus, Filiorum Israelis, 237
    • Ludus Resurrectionis Domini, 247
    • Lusores, Account of the, 90, 91
    • Lwyhd, Edward, 25, 237
    • Lybiser and Rhodamna, a Greek Poem, 347, 348
    • Lydgate. See Lidgate.
    • Lynne, Nicholas, 425, 426
    • Lyra, Nicholas de, 292
    • Lyttleton, Lord, 64, 85, 122
    M
    • Mabillon, 3, 4, 125
    • Macchabee, Judas, French Metrical Ro|mance of, 417
    • Maccabre, Dance of, on tapestry, 210
    • Maccabus, Romance of, 217
    • Macon, Count de, Romantic History of 399
    • Macrobius, 393, 394
    • Madox, 146
    • Maimonides, Moses, 444
    • Mandeule, John, Parson of Burnham Thorpe, 63
    • Mandeville, Sir John, 101, 102, 403
    • Mannyng, Robert. See Robert d Brunne
    • Manual of Sins, by Robert de Brunne, 73
    • Manuel Peche, or Manuel de Peche, translated by Robert de Brunne, 59, 73, 85
    • Mapes, Walter, 63, 421
    • Mappa Mundi, by Sir John Mandeville, 102
    • ...

    Page xiii

    • Marbode, Bishop of Rennes, Latin Poem on Precious Stones, translated into French Verse, by, 378
    • Marchaunt's Second Tale, 144, 440, 455
    • Margaret, Saint, Life of, 12, 13, 14
    • Marian, Mayd, 245
    • Marian and Robin, Play of, 245
    • Marine, Saint, Life of, 18
    • Martial d' Avergne, a French Poet, 460
    • Martin, Mr. 121
    • Massacre of the Holy Innocents, Mystery of the, 242
    • Massieu, Mon. 465
    • Masques, Account of, 255
    • Mauleon, Savarie de, 113
    • Maurus Rhabanus, 8
    • Maximus, Valerius, 419, 421, 432
    • Medea and Jason, 418
    • Medeae et Jasonis, Historia, à Guidone de Columna, 138
    • Medytaciuns of the Soper of our Lorde Jhesu, and also of his Passyun, and eke of the Peynes of his sweet Mo|dyr, Mayden Marye, the which made yn Latin, Bonaventure, Car|dynall, by Robert de Brunne, 77
    • Meliader, or the Knight of the Sun of Gold, Romance of, 338
    • Meliboeus, Tale of, by Chaucer, 433
    • Memoriae Saeculorum, by Godfrey o Viterbo, 350
    • Menesier, 134
    • Meri, Huon de, 285, 286
    • Merlin, Ambrose, 88, 401, 404, 408, 412
    • Merlini Prophetiae, versifice, 88
    • Merveilles du Mode, Histoire des, et de Graunt Kaan, 101
    • Meun, John de. See John de Meun.
    • Meurvin, preux fils d' Ogier le Danoi, l'Histoire de, 136
    • Mezeray, 111
    • Mille, Jaques, 136
    • Milton, John, 129, 468
    • Mimi, Acc. of the, 90, 237, 238, 240
    • Mimici, Account of the, 237, 238
    • Minstrels, Account of the, 74, 90, 91, 116, 238
    • Mirabilia Hierniae, Angliae, et Orien|talis, 103
    • Mirabilia Mundi, 100, 101, 102
    • Mirabilia Terrae Sanctae, 102
    • Miracles, or Miracle Plays, Account of the, 235, 236, 237
    • Miracles of the Virgin, French Romance of the, 303
    • Mirrour for Magistrates, 235
    • Mirrour which reflects the World, 407
    • Misyn, Richard, 265
    • Moller, Harlieb, translation of Pilpay's Fables into German, by, 131
    • Monchus, Johannes, 131
    • Montaniero Raymond, 462
    • Montfaucon, 136, 143, 335, 350, 351, 378, 411
    • Montfort, Simon de, Ballad on, 43
    • Montfort, Countess of, Acc. of the, 253
    • Moralities, Acc. of, 241, 243, 245, 248, 86
    • Morgan, Bishop, translation of the New Testament into Welch, by, 447
    • Morisotus, 410
    • Mort d' Arthur. See Arthur.
    • Mortimer, Roger Earl, restored, the Rites of the Round Table, 117
    • Mousques, Philipes, 137
    • Murray, Mr. 93
    • Muses Library, 107
    • Mylner of Abington, with his Wie and Faire Daughter, and two Poore Sco|lars of Cambridge, History of the, a Poem, 432
    • Mystere de Gresildis, Marquise de Saluce, 246
    • Myseries, Acc. of, 24, 243, 245, 246, 247, 248

      Page xiv

      N
      • Nasrallah, a Translator of Pilpay's Fa|bles, 130
      • Nennius, 128
      • Nepos, Cornelius, 101, 125
      • Nesle, Blondell de, 113, 117
      • Neuf Preux, le Graunt Tappis de, on tape••••ry, 211
      • Neuf Preux, le Triumphe des, a French Romance, 351
      • New Years Git, an Ancient Scots Poem, by Alexander Scott, 76
      • Nicene Creed, veriied, 23
      • Nicholas de Lyra, 292
      • Nidzarde, Adam, 378
      • Nigellus de Wireker, 419
      • Nightingale, a Book in French Rymes, 85
      • Nivelois, Jehan le, 139
      • Nostradamus, 113, 118, 463
      • Nyne Worthys, 211
      O
      • O'Flaherty, 312
      • Occleve, 369
      • Octavian, Romance of, 207
      • Odoeporicon Ricardi Regis, a Latin Po|em, by Peregrinus, 232
      • Odorick, a Friar, 101
      • Oger, or Ogier, or Oddegir the Dane, Rmance of, 135, 136, 464
      • Old and New Testament, Mystery of the, 243, 245,
      • Old and New Testament, transated into Verse, 19, 20
      • Opus Majus, by Roger Bacon, 408
      • Ordre de Bel Eyse, umorous Panageric on the, 37
      • Orientis de Reginibus, 101
      • Orleton, Adam de, Bishop of Winchester, 89
      • Orronville, Jean d', 167
      • Otrid, Monk of Weissenburgh, 7, 8
      • Otheniem, Empereur de Rome, Ro••••unce de, 208
      • Otuel, Romance of, 88
      • Ovid, 134, 361, 383, 388, 390, 391, 394, 395
      • Oure Saviour's Descent into Hell, a Poem, 18
      • Our Saviour's Crusifixon, Elegy on, 33
      • Owl and the Nightingale, Contest be|tween, a Poem, 25
      P
      • Pageant representing the Birth of our Saviour, 237
      • Pageants, Account of, 239
      • Palamon and Arcite, 344, 346, 349, 352, 353, 354, 355, 356. By Chaucer, 357, 358, 359, 360, 361, 362, 363, 364, 366, 367, 450, 45
      • Palamon and Emilia, 418
      • Palaye, M. de la Curne de Sainte, 74, 142, 149, 337, 417, 459, 461
      • Palermo, Roger de, 144
      • Panegyric on the Month of May, a Po|em, by Froissart, 465
      • Paradise of Love, a Poem, by Froissart, 465
      • Parement des Dames, 417
      • Parasols, Cinque belles Tragedies des Gestes d Jenne Reine de Naples, par, 235
      • Paris, History of, Romance of the, 146
      • Paris, Alexander de, 139
      • Paris, Matthew, 168, 236
      • Partonepex, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 French Romance, 388
      • Parvum Job, or the Book of Job par|phrased, 265
      • Paetes, a Jugler, Account of, 404
      • Pasquier, 464, 465
      • Pa••••ion of Christ, acted at Ajou, 246
      • Pasion and Death of our Saviour, a Poem, 34
      • Passyn a Jhus Crist, en Englys, 25
      • Pastime of Pleasure, by Hawes, 213, 363
      • Pa••••or Fido, translated into Greek, 349
      • ...

      Page xv

      • ... astorals, by Froissart, 465
      • Patient Griilde, Story of, 246, 415, 416, 418
      • Patrick, Saint, Life of, 17
      • Patrum Vitae, 14
      • Peacham, Henry, 176
      • Peckward, 63
      • Pencriche, Richard, 6
      • Penelope, Romance of, 418
      • Percaval le Galois, par Messenier, 134
      • Perceforest, Romance of, 346, 464
      • Percival, Sir, Romance of, 134
      • Percy, Dr. Bishop of Dromore, 59, 208, 250, 280, 312, 393
      • Percy, Henry, Fifth Earl of Northum|berland, Household Establishment of, 280
      • Pere, l'Abbe, 142
      • Peregrinus Gulielmus, 232
      • Pericles, Prince of Tyre, Play of, 350
      • Perizon, 125
      • ••••rtonape and Ipomedon, 138
      • Prtonape, Romance of, translated from the French, 388
      • Peter de Saint Clost, 139
      • Petrarch, 118, 147, 342, 344, 383, 385, 394, 415, 416, 417, 44, 425, 439, 461, 463
      • Philippa, Queen of Edward the Third, Account of, 253
      • Phillippeis, a Latin Poem, by Guillaume le Breton, 158
      • Philobiblion, by Richard de Bury, 291
      • Philosotrophos of Boccacio
      • Pierce Plowman's Vision, 60, 74, 266, 267, 268, 269, 270, 271, 272, 273, 274, 275, 276, 277, 278, 279, 280, 281, 282, 283, 284, 285, 286, 288, 312, 433
      • Pierce the Plowman's Crede, 236, 287, 288, 296, 298, 299, 300, 301, 302, 303, 304, 305, 306, 307
      • Pignatelli, 463
      • ilpay's Fables, translated into various Languages, 129, 130, 131
      • Piteaux, or Pitoux, i. e. Religious Mys|teries, 246
      • Plaids et Gieux sous l'Ormel, 460
      • Plato, 125, 361, 394
      • Plays, Account of, 239, 240, 241, 242, 243, 244, 245
      • Plays prohibited by Bishop Bonner, 241
      • Plea of the Rose and the Violet, a Poem, by Froissart, 465
      • Plowman, Pierce. See Pierce Plow|man
      • Plowman's Tale, 306, 433
      • Poetical Bilical History, 21
      • Policraticon. See John of Salisbury
      • Polo Marco, de Regionibus Oientis, by, 101
      • Polychronicon, by Higden, 5, 80 343,
      • Polyhistor of Julius Solinus, 103
      • Pope, Mr. 396, 423
      • Poul, Saint, Visions o, won he-was rapt in Paradys, 19
      • Powell's Cambria, 92, 116
      • Precious Stone, Saxon Teatise on, 378
      • Prester, John, 102
      • Pricke of Consience, by Richard Ham|pole, 256, 257, 258, 259, 260, 261, 262, 265
      • Pricke of Love, treating on the three Degrees of Love, ater Hampole, 265
      • Prickynge of Love, by Bonaventure 77
      • Procopius, 157, 351
      • Prodigal Son, Story of, on tape••••ry, 210
      • Prodromus Theodorus, 348
      • Prophecies of Banister of England, 75
      • Proserpinae de Raptu, by Claudian, 390
      • Psalms, Book of, translated, 23
      • Polemy, Account of, 410. Book of Astronomy, by, 425
      • Purchas, 101
      • Pylgrymages of the Holi Land, 214
      • Pyramus and Thise, Romance of, 352,

        Page xvi

        Q
        • Quilichinus Aretinus, 132
        • Quintus Curtius, 133
        R
        • Ramsay, Mr. 352
        • Randal of Cheser, 89
        • Randolph's Muses Looking Glas, 210
        • Raoul de Houdane, a Provencial Bard, le Voye ou le Songe d' Enfer, par, 463
        • Raoul le Feure, 138
        • Ravalerie l' Eveque de la, Revolution de Langue Francoise, à la Suite des Poesies du Roi de Navarre, 112
        • Rauf, Art de Kalender, par, 74
        • Raue de Boun, le Petit Bruit, pa•••• 62
        • Rauol de Biavais, 134
        • Reason and Sensalitie, a Poem, by Lid|gate, 429
        • Regisrum Librorum Omnium et Joca|lim i Monaserio S. Mariae de Pratis prope Leycesriam, 88
        • Renaud of Montauban, Romance of, 464
        • Rsurrectionis Domini Ludus, 247
        • Reynault de Louns, French Merical Ro|mance, de Fortune et de Fclicite, par, 458
        • Reynholds, Sir Joshua, 390
        • Reyne d' Ireland, Hist. of, on tapestry, 211
        • Rex Stultorum, Office of, 247
        • Rhasis, an Asiatic Physician, 441, 443
        • Rhees ap Gryffyth, 115, 116,
        • Rhodante and Dosicle, the Loves of, a Romance, 348
        • Riccomboni, 249
        • Richard, a Poet, 34
        • Richard the First, a Poet, Account of, 213
        • Richard Cuer de Lyon, 69, 74, 87, 119, 141, 144, 150, 151, 152, 154, 155, 156, 157, 158, 159, 160, 161, 162, 163, 164, 165, 166, 167, 1••••, 198, 07
        • Richard Roi d'Angleterre, et de Maque|more d' Irelande, Histoire de, en Rim, 121
        • Richard of Alemaigne, King of the Ro|mans, Satirical Ballad on, 43, 44, 45, 46
        • Richard de Lisle, Romance of, 458
        • Richard de Bury, Bishop of Durham, 291
        • Richard, Seigneur de Barbezeiuz, 463
        • Robert de Brune, 40, 44, 59, 62, 64, 66, 72, 77, 78, 95, 97, 105, 115, 116, 120, 121, 156, 158, 161, 166, 173, 193, 214, 225, 253
        • Robert of Gloucester, 5, 44, 48, 49, 62, 66, 72, 95, 115, 119, 120, 193, 304
        • Robert of Sicily, Romance of, 184, 185 186, 187, 188, 189
        • Robert le Diabl, Romn de, 189
        • Robin and Marian, Play of, 245
        • Roger de Palermo, translation of Sidra•••• by, 144
        • Rois d' Angleterre, Roman de, 62
        • Rollo, the Story of, a Romance, 62
        • Roman le Rou, et les Vies des Dcs de Normandie, 63, 338
        • Roman de Rois d' Angleterre, 62
        • Roman du Graal, or the Advntures of Sangral, by Chretien of Troys, 134
        • Roman de Tiebes, qui ut Racine de Troye la Grande, 126
        • Roman de la Rose, 68, 88, 177, 368, 372, 378, 383, 393, 462
        • Romanus, Aegidius, Book de Regimine Principum, by, 343
        • Romaunt of the Rose, by Chaucer, 68, 88, 173, 177, 344, 368, 369, 370, 371, 372, 373, 374, 375, 378, 379, 380, 381, 382, 383, 430, 453, 458, 459
        • Romulus and Remus, Story of, n tapestry, 211
        • Rondeaus, by Froissart, 465
        • Rosa Medica by John Gatisde, 44
        • ...

        Page xvii

        • Rosamund, Fair, History of, 304
        • Rosamund's Chamber, 304
        • Rosarium de Nativitate, Passione, Ascen|sione Jhesu Christi, or the Nightin|gale, a Book in French Rymes, 85
        • Roudeki, a celebrated Persian Poet, 130
        • Round Table of Arthur revived by Ro|ger, Earl of Mortimer, 117, and by King Edward the Third, 251
        • Rouse, John, 145
        • Rowland and Olyvere, Romance of, 122
        • Roy Marc, Romance of, 134
        • Royal Ballads in Honour of Our Lady, by Froissart, 465
        • Rubruquis, William de, 101
        • Rucher, Guillaume, 335
        • Rudell, Jeffrey, 118
        • Ruus, a Physician of Ephesus, 440
        • Runcivallum Bellum contra, 88
        • Rutebeu a Troubadour, 462
        • Rymer, 113, 318
        S
        • Sabio, or Sabiu, Stephen, his Greco|barbarous Lexicon, 351
        • Saint Alban, Martyrdom of, a Poem, 98
        • Saint Alexius the Confessor, Son of Eu|phemius, Lgend of, by Adam Davie, 218
        • Saint Ambrose, 394
        • Saint Athanasius, Creed of, versified, 23
        • Saint Austin, 394, 421
        • Saint Catharine, Play of, 236
        • Saint Clost, Peter de, 39
        • Saint Dorman, 18
        • Saint George, Feast of, celebrated at Windsor, Description of, 330. History of, on tapestry, 210
        • Saint Graal, 211
        • Saint Jerome, 14, his French Psalter, tran|slated, 23
        • Saint Josaphas, Life of, 18
        • Saint Kenelme, Life of, 421
        • Saint Katherine, Life of, 14
        • Saint Louis, Romance of, by Joinville, 167
        • Saint Margaret, Life of, a Poem, 12, 13, 14
        • Saint Marine, Life of, 18
        • Saint Theseu, le Tappis de la Vie d, 211
        • Saint Thomas of Becket, Legend of, 1, 18
        • Sainte Palaye, Mons. de la Curne d. See Palaye
        • Saint Winired, Life and Miracles of, 13
        • Saintre, French Romance of, 331, 334, 335
        • Saintre, John, 334
        • Salade, la, a Booke of Ceremonies, by An|thony de la Sale, 334
        • Saladin, Sultan, Life of the, 122
        • Sale, Anthony de la, 334
        • Salisbury, Earl of, a Poet, 342
        • Salamonis Christiani Lbyrinthus, 411
        • Sanctorum Loca, &c. 102
        • Salus Anime, or Sowle Hele, a Poem, 14, 19
        • Sandaber, an Indian Writer of Proverbs, first Composer of the Romance of the Seven Sages of Greece, 462
        • Sandford, James, translation of the Va|nity of Sciences of Cornelius Agrip|pa, by, 409
        • Sandys, 409
        • Sangral, Adventure of, Roance, 134
        • Satire on the Monastic Proession, Poem 9, 10, 11, 12
        • Savile, Sir Henry, 388
        • Saxon Homilies, 5
        • Scalds, Account of th, 112, 128
        • Scalae Chronicon, an Ancient French Chr|nicle of England, 75
        • Schilterus, Johannis, 8
        • Scotch Prophecies, 75
        • Scott, Alexander, 76
        • Scott, Johan, 80
        • ...

        Page xviii

        • Scottish Field, a Poem, 314
        • Scotu, Michael, 29
        • Scripture Histories, by Adam Davie, 218
        • Seinte Juliane, Lgnd of, 13
        • Selden, 116, 425, 432
        • Sptimus, Parapras of Dictys Cretensis, by, 125
        • Serapion, John, 440, 443
        • Seth, Simeon, 129, 133, 139, 141, 220
        • Seven Deadly Sins, Story of, on tapstry, 210, 211
        • Seven Penetntial Psalms, by Hampole, 265
        • Seven Sages of Greece, or Dolopathos, Romance of, translated into various Languge, 462
        • Seven Wise Masters, Romance of th, 410, 414
        • Shakespeare, 127, 160, 206, 350, 409
        • Sheldon, Ralph, 13
        • Sidrac, Romance of, 143, 144, 208
        • Sigeros, Nicholas, 394
        • Simon, Alexander lebrated by, 39
        • Sir Beavis of Southampton, Romac of, 87, 141, 145, 170, 177, 192, 206, 208, 211
        • Sir Blandamoure, Romanc of, 145, 208
        • Sir Degore, or Syr Dyare, 180, 181, 182, 183 184
        • Sir Eglamoure of Artoys, 146, 170, 173
        • Sir Gawaine, Romance of, 208
        • Sir Gy, Romance of, 169, 170 171, 172, 173, 174, 175 211, 442
        • Sir Ippotis, Romance of, 208
        • Sir Ipomedon, Romance of, 198, 199, 200, 201, 202, 203, 204, 205
        • Sir Lanceotdu Lak, Romance of, ••••4, 115, 134, 206, 336, 42
        • Sir Libeaux, or Lbius Disconius, Ro|mance of, 197, 208
        • Sir Percival, Romanc of, 134
        • Sir Topas, Rime of, by Chaucer, 8, 143, 175, 197, 208, 224, 429, 433
        • Sir Triamoure, Romace of, 145
        • Sir Tristram, Romance of, 74, 88, 115, 134, 224, 418
        • Smarte, John, 335
        • Solinus, ••••lius, Polyhistor of, 103
        • Solomon, King, Book on Gems, by, 378
        • Some, John, 425
        • Sowle Hele, or Salus Anime, a Poem, 14, 19
        • Spectacula, or Dramatic Spectacles, Ac|count of, 240
        • Speculum Stultorum, a Latin Poem, 419
        • Speight, 378, 449
        • Spenser, Edmund, 116, 176, 200, 301, 333 387, 404, 405, 408, 412
        • Squire of Lowe Degree, 89, 169, 175, 224
        • Stanley, Mr. 352
        • Statius, 126 360, 361, 362, 388, 394
        • Steevens Monasticon, 92
        • Stem of Jesse, Story of the, on tapestry, 210
        • Στεφανιτης και Ιχνηλατης, 129
        • Stimulus Conscientiae, by R. Hampole, 256, 257, 258, 259, 260, 261, 262, 265
        • Stonehenge, Account of, by Geoffry of Monmouth, 51, 52, 53
        • Stowe, John, 126, 236, 245, 253
        • Stricker, 8
        • Strode, 388
        • Suetonius, 432
        • Surrey, Lord, 409
        • Susanuah, Story of, on tape••••••••, 211
        • Swithin, Saint, Li•••• of, 15
        • Sylvester, op, the Second, 01, 402
        T
        • Tanced and Sigimnda, by Boccacio, 190
        • Tapestry, Accon of var••••us Romances up••••, 209, 210, 11
        • Tapetry of the Norman Conquest, 64
        • ...

        Page xix

        • Tars, King of, and the Soudan of Dam|mias, Romanc of, 190, 191, 192, 193, 194, 195, 196, 197
        • Tasso, 68, 149, 160, 184
        • Tatius Achilles, 348
        • Taylor, Silas, 14
        • Temple of Glass, by Lidgate, 345, 410, 417
        • Temple of Honour, a Poem, by Froissart, 465
        • Ten Commandments of Love, by Chau|cer, 461
        • Ten Kings of France, History of, on tapes|try, 210
        • Teseide, Le, by Boccacio, 345
        • Tesoro, by Brunetto Latini, 147
        • Testament, the Old and New, translated into Verse, 19, 20
        • Testament of Love, by Chaucer, 282, 459, 466
        • Thakei Hegiage, Ebn Yuself al, 414
        • Thebaid of Statius, 388
        • Thebes, Geste of, 388
        • Thebis, Romance of, 388
        • Theophilus, Miracl Play of, 246
        • Theophrastus, 421, 435
        • Θησεος και γαμ{ou} της Εμηλιας, 347
        • Thesei in Lingua vlgari Historia, 246
        • Thesei et Aemiliae, de Nptiis, 347
        • Theseid of Boccacio, 346, 347, 351
        • Theseus et de Gadeir, Roman de, 345
        • Theseus, Histoire du Chevalier, 345 346
        • Theseus, Saint, le Tapi de la Vie de, 211
        • Thiebault, King of Navarre, 463
        • Third Blast of Retrait from Plaies, 41
        • Thomas, the Author of the Romance of Syr Tristram, 74
        • Thoma de Hales, 78
        • Thomas the Rymer, Prophecy of, 77
        • Thomas of Shatesbury, 442
        • Thomas Plenus Amoris, 140
        • Tiebes qui ut raine de Troy la Grande, le Roman d, 126
        • Tirante il Blanco, or Tirante the White Romance of, 143
        • Titus and Vespasian, Romance of, 217
        • Tobiah, Merical Life of, in French, 85
        • Toison d' Or, Order of the, 252
        • Tom Thumb, History of, 432
        • Topas, Sir, Rime of, by Chaucer, 38, 143, 175, 197, 208, 224, 429, 433
        • Tractatus quidam in Anglico, a Religious or Mral Ode, 7
        • Trayl-baston, Libel on the Commission of, 58
        • Trebizonde, History of, on tapestry, 110
        • Trevisa, John, 5, 80, 291, 343
        • Triamoure, Sir, Romance of, 145
        • Trionso Magno, a Poem, by Dominich Falugi Anciseno, 139
        • Tristram, Sir, Romance of, 74, 88, 115, 134, 224, 418
        • Tristran et Iseult, Le Roman de, traduit de Latin en Françis par Lucas, 115
        • Trivett, Nicholas, 458
        • Triumphes, Booke of certaine, 335
        • Triumpho di Amore of Petrarch, 117
        • Trojae Chronicon, 88
        • Trojae Liber de Excidio, 88
        • Trojano de Bello Historia, 126
        • Troilus, le Roman de, 351, 384
        • Troilus and Cressida, Play of, 127
        • Troilus ad Cressida, Story of, in Grek Verse, 351
        • Troilus and Cre••••eide, Poem by Chau|cer, 220, 362, 384, 385, 386, 387, 388, 389
        • Trojomanna Saga, 138
        • Troleo et Griseida l'Amore di que i tratta in buone parte la Guerra di Troja, 351
        • Troubadours, Account of the, 110, 111, 118, 147, 457, 462
        • Troy, the Destruction of, a Romance, 88, 124, 136, 137, 146, 210, 345, 385
        • Troy, Recuel of the Histories of, trans|lated by Caxton, 127
        • ...

        Page xx

        • Tully's Somnium Scipionis, 394
        • Turke and Gawaine, Romanc of the, 203
        • Turnoyement de l'Antechrist, par Huon de Mere, 285, 286
        • Turpin, 88, 124, 132, 135, 137, 146, 420, 432
        • Twyne, 432
        • Tyrensis, Wilhelmu, 68
        • Tztes's Chiliads, 349
        V
        • Vaez, Hussien, translation of Ppay's Fa|bles, by, 130
        • Valentine and Orson, Romance of, 401, 415
        • Valerius ad Ru••••num de non ducendâ Uxore, by Waler Mapes, 421
        • Valeriu Flaccus, 126
        • Valerius Julius, 131
        • Vandyke, 351
        • Varchi, 463
        • Velserius, 350
        • Vengeance of Goddes Death, a Poem, by Adam Davie. See Davy
        • Vernon, Edward, 14
        • Versus de Ludo Scaccorum, 88
        • Versus Politici, 349
        • Versus Vaticinales, by John Bridlington, 76
        • Vertue the Engraver, 140
        • Vignay, Jehan de, Translation of the Legenda Aurea, by, 14
        • Villani Giovanni, 147
        • Villon, 382
        • Vincent de Beauvais, 137, 164
        • Vincent, Jaques, 352
        • Vinesaus, Jeffrey, 421
        • Virdungus, Hassurtus Joannes, 440
        • Virelais, by Froissart, 465
        • Virgidemarium, by Hall, 410
        • Virgil, 184, 340, 361, 390, 394
        • Virgin, Five Joy on the Blessed, a Song 30
        • Virgin, Miracles of the, a French Ro|manc, 303
        • Virgin Mary, an Antient Hymn to the, 314
        • Virtue and Vice Fighting, Story of, on a|psry, 211
        • Visions, by Adam Davie, 214, 215, 216,
        • Visions of Saint Poul won he was rapt in Paradys, 19
        • Visions of Pierce Plowman. See Pierce Plowman
        • Visions d' Ogeir le Danois au Royaume de Faerie, en Vers François, 16
        • Vitae Patrum, 14
        • Vitellio, 407
        • Vives Ludovicus, 351
        • Voragine, Jacobus de, 14
        • Voye ou le Songe d' Enser, by Raoul d Houdane, 463
        • Ury, Romance of, 208
        • Uselt le Blonde, Romance of, 134
        • Vyenne, History of, 146
        W
        • Wace, or Gasse, Maister, 62, 63, 64, 66, 67, 338
        • Wallace, Sir William, Acts and Deeds of, by Blind Harry, 322, 323, 324, 325, 326, 327, 328, 329, 330, 331
        • Wallden, John, 292
        • Walo, versificator, 47
        • Walpole, Mr. 85, 113
        • Walter of Exeter, Author of the Ro|mance of Guy, Earl of Warwick, 87
        • Wanley, 155, 206
        • Warburton, Bishop of Glocester, 287, 335
        • Warres of the Jewes, a Romance, 311
        • Warwick, Guy, Earl of, a Romance. See Guy.
        • Watson, Edward, 234, 292
        • Waynflete, William, Bishop of Win|chester, 450
        • Whittington, Sir Richard, 291
        • ...

        Page xxi

        • Why Poor Priests have no Benefices, by Wicliffe, 306
        • Wicliffe, 164, 282, 287, 306, 307, 308, 343, 358
        • William de Brooke, 290
        • William de Rubruqui, 101
        • Wiliam of Lorris, 368, 369, 373, 374, 381 393
        • William of Malmsbury, 401
        • William of Wykeham, 92, 240, 255, 306
        • William, Prior of Kenilworth, 85
        • William the First, King, Precept in Sax|on to the Sheriff of Somerstshire, from, 3
        • Williams, Richard, Dean of Lichfield 307
        • Winired, Saint, Life and Mircles of, 13
        • Wireker, Nigellus, 419
        • Wolstan, Bishop of Worceser, 4. Saint, 15
        Z
        • Zabulus, 393
        • Zeno Apostolo, an Italian Damatt Writer, 417
        • Zenophon, th Ephesian, Romanc of 348
        • Zenus Demetrius, 349, 351

        Page [unnumbered]

        INDEX TO THE TWO DISSERTATIONS Prefixed to the First Volume of WARTON'S History of English Poetry.

        • ABELARD, cxlix
        • Abdella, King of Persia; account of a Clock presented to Charlemagne by, xcviii
        • Abotika, or Aristotle's Poetics, translated into Arabic by Abou Muscha Met|ta, xc
        • Acca, Bishop of Hexham, xcv
        • Adrian, Abbot of Saint Austin' Can|terbury, xciv, ci
        • Aelssin, c
        • Aenigmata, by Aldhelm, xcix
        • Aeneid of Virgil, x, cxx
        • Aer Leo, li
        • Alanus de Insulis, cxliii,
        • Alaric, lxxiv
        • Alban, Saint, Latin Poem on the Life of, by Robert Dunsable, cxxiii
        • Albert, Abbot of Gemblour, lxxvii
        • Albin, Abbot of Saint Austins, xcviii
        • Alcuine, lxxxix, xcvi, xcvii, c, ci, cii, cxxiv
        • Aldhelm, Bishop of Shirburn, xcvii, xcviii, xcix, c, cii, cvi, cx
        • Aldrid, c
        • Aldwin, Abbot of Ramsey, cxxiv
        • Alefleck, Sagan of, lviii
        • Alexander the Great, xiv
        • Alexander, Bishop of Lincoln, cxxv
        • Alexandreid, by Philip Gualtier de Cha|tillon, cxli, cxlii, cxliii, cxliv
        • Alexandri Gesa, cxix
        • Alfred's, King, Saxon Translation of the Mercian Law, xi. His Account of the Northern Seas, xxvii—xliv, xcvii, xcviii, cxi
        • Alfred of Beverly, ix
        • Allard, Monsieur, xx
        • Al—Manum Caliph, Account of the, lxxxviii
        • Andrew, a Jew, cxlvi
        • Ae••••i, a Welch Bard, lxi
        • Angantyr, Scaldic Dialogue at the Tomb of, xl. Translated by Gray, xl
        • Anlaff, a Danish King, xliv
        • Anselm, Archbishop of Canterbury, cxiv, cxxvii, cxlix
        • Aneclaudian, by Alanus, cxliii
        • Antiocheis, by Joseph of Exeter, cxxxvi, cxxxix
        • Antiochenus, Johannes, cxx
        • Antonius, Nicholas, cxix
        • Apuleius, cx
        • Arator, lxxvi
        • Architrenius, by John Hanvill, cxxviii
        • Ariosto, xx
        • Aristotle, lxxxvii, lxxxix, xc, c, cxlvii, cxlix
        • ...

        Page ii

        • Aristotle's Logic, translated into Latin by S. Austin, lxxxix. Poetic trans|lated into Arabic by Abou Muscha Metta, xc. His Works translated, xc
        • Arthur, King, vii, viii, xi, xii, xv, xvii, xxi, lviii, lxxii, cxi
        • Asamal (or Asiatic Verses) Account of the, xxix
        • Athelard, a Monk of Bath, the Arabic Euclid translated into Latin by, xc
        • Athelstan, King, Ode on, xxxvii, xxxviii, xxxix, xl—xliv, xlv
        • Attila, Verses in Praise of, liv
        • Aventinus, Johannes, liv
        • Averroes, lxxxvii, xc
        • Augustodunus, Honorius, cxxxi
        • Aungerville, Richard. See Richard of Bury
        • Aurelianus, Coelius, cxi
        • Ausonius, lxxvi
        • Austin, Saint, lxxxv, lxxxix, xcviii
        B
        • Bacon, Roger, cxlvi, cxlvii, cxlix
        • Bale, John, xciv, civ
        • Banier, xxvi
        • Barbarossa, Frederick, Latin Poem on the Wars of, by Gunther, cxliv, cxlv
        • Bards, Irish, Account of the, xlvi. Welch, Account of the, xlvii, xlviii, xlix. Celtic, Account of the, liv
        • Barthius, cxli
        • Basingstoke, John of. See John
        • Batthall, an Arabian Warrior, Life of, &c. xii, xiii
        • Bathoniensis, Adelardus, Quintilian's Declamations, abridged by, lxxvii
        • Beauclerc, Henry, cxvi
        • Beccatelli, Antonio, cxx
        • Becket, St. Thomas of, cxxv
        • Bede, xi, lxxxv, xciv, xcv, xcvii, civ, cv, cxxiii, cxxvii
        • Belle-perche, Gaultier Arbalestrier de, cxxiv
        • Benedict, Abbot of Peterborough, cxix, cxxvii
        • Bernard's Homilies on the Canticles, lxxxii
        • Bever's Manuscript Chronicle, lxxxv
        • Bevi, Romance of. See Sir Bevis
        • Bible, lxxix. History of the, by Leoni|nus, cxxiii
        • Bible Hystoriaus la, ou les Histoires Escolastres, lxxxv
        • Bilfrid, c
        • Birinus, Saint, History of, represented on the Ancient Font in Winchester Cathedral, &c. lxxxv. Account of, xcii. Life of, cxlv
        • Biscop, Benedict, xciv, civ
        • Blaunpayne, Michael, cxliv
        • Blois, Peter de, cxxvi, cxxxi, cxxxiv. William de, cxxvi, cxxvii
        • Blondus Flavius, cxx
        • Boerhaave, lxxxvii
        • Boethius, lxxiv, lxxxiii, lxxxix, xcviii, ciii, cxviii
        • Borlase's History of Cornwall, xxxvi
        • Boston, cxxxvi
        • Boun o Hamtun Ystori, xxxvii
        • Boy and the Mantle, or le Court Man|tel, Story of, vi
        • Boyardo, xx
        • Bretomanna Saga, lviii
        • Breton, Guillaume, le, cxli, cxliv
        • Britannus Eremita, xii
        • Brut-y-Brenhined, or Hist. of the Kings of Britain, translated into Latin by Geoffrey of Monmouth, vii, viii, ix, x, xi, xii, xiii, xiv, xv, xvi, xvii
        • Bulloign, Godfrey of. See Godfrey
        • Bury's Philobiblion, lxxxiv
        • Bury, Richard of. See Richard
        C
        • Caesar, xxvi
        • ...

        Page iii

        • Caedmon, xxv
        • Calixtus the Second, xix
        • Calliopius, cxix
        • Calligraphy, Account of the Speciens of, c, ci
        • Cambrensis Gyraldus, cxxxii, xxxiii, cxxxiv
        • Camden, cxl
        • Canute, History of, xlvi, xix
        • Carpetier, cxliii
        • Cassiodorus, lxxiv, ciii
        • Catharine, Saint, Play of, by Geo••••rey Abbot o Dunstable, cxv
        • Cedrenu, lxxxviii
        • Celus Apuleius, cxi
        • Ceolrid, xcvii, ciii, civ
        • Chardin, xxv
        • Charlemagne, xi, xvii, xviii, xxi, lvii, lix, lx, lxxii, lxxviii, xci, xcvii, xcix, i, cii
        • Charle the Fith, Account of his Collec|tion of Books, lxxxiv
        • Charle the Bald, xci
        • Chaucer, vi, cxviii, cxxxi
        • Chilperic, King, Two Books of Latin Verses by, cx
        • Chiron, cxi
        • Christopher, Saint, Legend of, cxix
        • Chrysostom, Saint, xciii
        • Cicero, lxxvii, lxxxiii, xcii, cxx
        • Claudian, lxxv, cxviii, cxix, cxx, cxxiv
        • Columella, lxxvii
        • Comestor, Peter, Scholastic History of, lxxxii. Translated into French, lxxxv
        • Commediae et Tragediae, by William of Blois, cxxvii
        • Conrade, Emperor, Latin Poem on the Expedition o, against the Saracens, by Gunther, cxlv
        • Constantius, lxxv
        • Constantinople, Prose History of the Siege of, by Gunther, cxlv
        • Cor et Oculum, Disputaio inter, cxxxv, cxxxvi
        • Court Mantel le, or the Boy and the Mantle, Story of, vi
        • Cujentos de Viejas, xx
        • Curtius, Quintus, xxxii cxli
        • Cyveilog, Owain, Prince of Powi, a Po•••• by, 〈◊〉〈◊〉
        D
        • Damascenu, translated into Latin by Robert Grosthead, cxlvi
        • Danois, Mademoiselle, xx
        • Dares, Phrygius, de Bello Trojano, cxxxvii. Translated into French Rymes by Godrey of Waterord, xxi
        • Dead Man's Song, a Ballad, cv
        • Desiderius, xcii
        • De Vinesauf, Geoffrey, cxlv
        • Dha Hoel, Welch Laws by, xlix
        • Die Judicii Meditatio de, by Bede, trans|lated into Saxon Verse, cvi
        • Dionysis the Areopagite, 4 Treaties of, translated into Latin by John Eri|gena, cviii. By Robert Grothead, cxlvi
        • Dioscorides, Ancient Mss. of, cxi
        • Dodford, Robert, cxlviii
        • Domitian, lxvi
        • Donatus, xcii
        • Dubricius, xi
        • Du Cange, ii
        • Dugdale, cvii
        • Dunstable, Robert, cxxiii
        • Dunstan, Saint, c, ci
        E
        • Eadsrid Bishop of Durham, Book of the Gospel Written by, c
        • Eadmer, cxxvi, cxxvii
        • Eadwin, cxi
        • Ecbert Bishop of York, xcvi, ci
        • Edda, the, xxvi, xxxii, lxiv, lxv
        • Edda, a Monk of Caterbury, c
        • Edessenus, Theophilus, Homer, translated into Syriac by, lxxxvi
        • ...

        Page iv

        • Eginhart, curious Account of a Clock by, xcviii
        • Egill, an Islandic Poet, xliv, xlv
        • Eiddin, Mynydaw, a Poem celebrating the Battles of, lxi
        • Elfleda, Daughter of Alfred, Poetical Epitle to, by Henry of Hunting|don, cxxv
        • Elsric, a Saxon Abbot of Malmsbury, ci
        • Eliduc, Tale of, iii
        • Engelbert, Abbot of Trevoux
        • Englyn, Milur, or the Warrior's Song, xlviii
        • EINIKION, Rythmo Teutonico Ludo|vico Regi aclamatum cum North|mannos, Anno ccccxxxiii vi|cissit, lv
        • Eremita Britannus, xii
        • Eric Widsorla, Sagan af lviii
        • Erigena, John, Translation of Four Trea|tises of Dionysius the Areopagite into Latin by, cviii, cix
        • Ervene, ci
        • Espagne, Relation du Voyage d', xx
        • Esseby, Alexander, cxliv
        • Ethelwold, Bishop of Durham, c
        • Etheldryde, Panegyrical Hymn on the Miraculous Virginity of, by Bede, cx
        • Evans' Di••••ertatio de Bardis, lxii
        • Euclid, c
        • Exeter, Joseph of. See Iscanus Josephus
        • Eyvynd, Elogium of Hacon, King of Norway, by, xliii
        F
        • Fabian, xl, xli
        • Fabricius, cxx
        • Farabi, xc
        • Farice cxvi
        • Faries, Arabian Account of he, lxii, lxiii
        • Faryn, Lie of S. cxxiii
        • Felix, cx
        • Flaherty, xxxiii
        • Flaura and Marcus, a Latin Tragic Poem, by William of Blois, cxxvii
        • Flodoard of Rheims, xix
        • Florentinus. See Poggius
        • Florus, xcii
        • Fortunatus, lxxvi
        • Francus Hunnibaldus, Latin History of France by, x
        • Franeth, Nicholas, cxix
        • Fresne, Tale of, iii
        • Fridegode, cvii
        • Froissart, lxix
        • Frontinus, xcii
        G
        • Galen, lxxxvii
        • Ganna, a Prophetic Virgin, Account of, lxvi
        • Genesis. Poetical Paraphrase of, by Ju|nius, xxxv, xxxviii
        • Geoffrey of Monmouth, vii, viii ix, xiii, xiv xv. xvi xvii, xxxvi xl, xli, lvii, lxiv lxxii, cvii, cxxv, cxxviii, cxliii
        • Geoffrey Abbot of Dunstable, Play of St. Catharine, by, cxv
        • Geoffrey de Viesau, cxlv
        • Gerveys. John, Bishop of Winchester, cxxi
        • Gesta Alexandri, cxix
        • Gla••••onbury, John of. See John
        • Gleemen, Account of, xl
        • Glouce••••er, Robert of. See Robert
        • Godre of Bulloign, Latin Poem on, by Gunther cxlv
        • Godfrey of Waterord Translation of Dares Prygus into French Rymes, by, xxi
        • Godfrey, Prior of St. Swithin's, Win|chester, cxv
        • Gododin, a Poem, by Aneurin, lxi
        • Gog and Magog, Account of, xiii, xiv
        • Golius, lxxxvii
        • ...

        Page v

        • Grammaticus, Johanne, cxxii
        • Gray, xl
        • Gregory, Saint, his Pastoral Care, cxix
        • Gregory of Huntingdon, cxlviii
        • Gregory of Tours, xlviii, cx
        • Grosthead, Robert, cxlvi, cxlvii
        • Grymbald, cxvi
        • Guallensis, Johannes, cxxii
        • Gualter, Archdeacon of Oxford, vii, cxxv
        • Gualtier, Philip de Chatillon, cxli, cxliii, cxliv
        • Guigemar, Tale of, iii
        • Guillaume le Breton, cxli, cxliv
        • Gunther, cxliv
        • Guthlac, Saint, Miracles in Latin and Saxon, cx
        • Guttyn, Owen, a Welsh Bard, vii
        • Guy, Sir, Romance of, lxxxviii
        • Gyraldus Cambrensis, cxxxii, cxxxiii, cxxxiv
        H
        • Hacon, Elogium of, xliii
        • Hanvill, John, cxxviii, cxxix, cxxx, cxxxi
        • Haral the Valliant, lxix
        • Hardraade, Harold, King of Norway, a Poet, xxxi
        • Harnes, Michel de, xxi
        • Harpers, Account of, xl
        • Hearne, ix
        • Heny, a Monk of Hyde Abbey, cxviii
        • Henry of Gaunt, Archdeacon of Tour|nay, cxlii
        • Henry, a Benedictine Monk, cxviii
        • Henry of Huntingdon, viii, xxxviii, cxxiv
        • Henry the Second, King, Latin Cronicle of, by Benedict, Abbot of Peter|borough, cxix. Latin Poem on, by Henry of Huntingdon, cxxv
        • Herbelot, M. D. xii
        • Herbert de Losinga, cxvi
        • Herculides, cxi
        • Herman, Bishop of Salisbury, ci, cxiv
        • Heroes, Book of, a Poetical History, lv
        • Hervarer Saga, liii, lvi
        • Hialmar, History of, a Runic Romance, lxvii
        • Hialmter oc Oliver, Sagan af, an old Scandic Romance, lvii
        • Hickes, xxviii, xxxv, liii, c
        • Hippocrates, lxxxviii
        • Hirla, a Poem, by Cyveilog Prince of Powis, 〈◊〉〈◊〉
        • Historia Brittonum, by Geoffrey of Mon|mouth, ix
        • Historical Rymes of King Arthur, &c. lviii
        • Hoel Dha's Welh Laws, xlix
        • Holbech, Laurence, cxlviii
        • Holcott, Robert, cxxi
        • Homer, lxxiv, lxxxvi, xciii, c, cvii, cxliii
        • Homer's Iliad and Ody••••ey, written on a Dragon's Gut, lxxiv
        • Homer's Iliad and Odyssey, translated into Syriac, by Theophilus Edessenus, lxxxvi
        • Honain, Aristotle's Morals, translated by, xc
        • Horace, lxi, xcii, cxxx, cxlv
        • Hoveden, Roger, cxxvii, cxli
        • Hugh, Master, cxxi
        • Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester, lxxxiii
        • Hunnibaldus, Francus, x
        • Huntingdon, Gregory of. See Gregory. Henry of. See Henry
        J
        • Jagiouge and Magiouge, or Gog and Magog, Account of, xiii, xiv, xv
        • Jeber, an Arabic Chemist, lxxxvii
        • ...

        Page vi

        • Jerom of Padua, cxix
        • Jerome, Saint, lxxviii, cxx
        • Illuminated Mss. among the Saxons, Ac|count of, c, ci
        • Ingulphus, cxviii
        • Insula, Roger d', lxxxii
        • Jocelin, cvii
        • John of Basingstoke, clvi
        • John of Glastonbury, ci
        • John of Salisbury, lxxvii, cxix, cxxvi, cxxxi, cxliii
        • Jornande, xcii
        • Joseph of Exeter. See Iscanus, Jose|phus
        • Josephus, xcii, xciii
        • Jovius, Paulus, xxv, cx
        • Iscanus Josephus, cxxxvi, cxxxvii, cxxxviii, cxxxix, cxl, cxliii, cxliv
        • Judiciary Combats, Account of, xxiii
        • Judith, Anglo-Saxon Poem on, xxxvii, xxxviii
        • Ivent, Sagan af, lviii
        • Julianus Duke, Son of S. Giles, History of, lx
        • Junis, Poetical Paraphrase of Geesis, by, xxxv
        • Juvenal, cxxxi
        • Juvencus, lxxiv
        K
        • Karlamagnuse of Hoppum Hans, Sagan af, lix
        • Karlotis, a Pom, cxli
        • Keating's History o Ireland xlvii
        • Kenneth, King of Scotland, xlvii
        • Kytlinga-Saga or History of Canute, by Harald the Valiant. xvi, lxix
        • Kyrie Eeison, or Miltary Choru, Ac|count of, lv
        L
        • Lambeccius, cxi
        • Lanranc. Archbishop of Canterbury, lxxviii, lxxix, cxiv, cxvii, cxlix
        • Lapis Philosophorum, by Jeber, lxxxvii
        • Largus Scribonius, cx
        • Lasse, Martin, de Orespe, cxliii
        • Launval or Launsal, Tale of, by Tho|mas Chestre, iii
        • Lebeuf, L'Abbé, v
        • Leland, lxxxiii, cxxii, cxxiv, cxxv, cxxxvi
        • Leo, lxxxvi
        • Leoninus, cxxiii
        • Lhuyd, vii
        • Ligurinus, a Latin Poem by Gunther, cxliv
        • Livy, lxxxiv, xcii, cxx
        • Llanidan in the Isle of Anglesy, Account of a Druid's Mansion at, xlvii
        • Lloyd, Bishop, ix
        • Llwellyn, Ode to, by Llyzad Gwr, vii
        • Llygad Gwr, a Welsh Bard, vii
        • Llywarchen, a Welsh Bard, iv
        • Lobineau, iii
        • Lodbrog, Regner, Epicedium of, xxxi, xxxii, lvii, lx, lxviii
        • Lostunga, a Scald, xlvi
        • Lombard, Peter, Archbishop of Paris, lxxx, cxlix
        • Losinga, Herbert de, cxvi
        • Lucan, lxxxiii. Translated, cxliii
        • Lucius, Saint, Acts of, xi
        • Lucretius, lxxvii
        • Luernius, a Celtic Chief, Account of, by Posidonius, liv
        • Lupus, Abbot of Ferrieres, lxxvii
        • Lyra, Nicholas de, lxxxv
        • Lyttleton, Lord, cxxvii
        M
        • Maban, a celebrated Chantor, xcv
        • Maccabeus, Judas, Romance of, by Gual|tier Arbalestrier de Belle-perche, cxxiv
        • Machaon, cxi
        • Macpherson, lvi
        • Maiduph, xcix
        • ...

        Page vii

        • Mailros, John, cii
        • Mallet, Monsieur, xxii
        • Maniliu, lxxvii
        • Maps, Walter, cxxxv, xxxvi
        • Mara, or Night Mare, Account of, xxxv
        • Marcellu, cx
        • Martal, cxix
        • Marville, M. de Vigneul, cv
        • Maundevlle, Sir John, li
        • Mauranus, Rabanus, ci, cii, cxviii cxlv
        • Maximus, a Roman General, Account of, iii, iv
        • Maximu, Saint, cix
        • Mayan Dn Gregorio, Life of Cer|vantes, by, xxi
        • Mead, a Favorite Liquor of the Goths, Account f, xlviii
        • Menologe, or Saxon Poctic Calendar, xxxvii
        • Mensa Rotunda de, et Strenuis Equiti|bu xii
        • Mergian Peri, or Mergian the Fairy, Ac|count of, lxi
        • Merlac, Daniel, cxiv
        • Mer in's Prophecies, viii, xv, xvi
        • Merlin, Pom on, by Geoffey of Mon|mouth, cxxv
        • Metamorphsis of Ovid Explanation of, by Johannes Grammaticus, cxxii
        • Metta Abou Mu••••ar, Aristotle's Petics, translated into Arabic by, xc
        • Meun, John de, lxxxv
        • Michel de Harnes, translation of Turpin's Charlemagne, by, xxi
        • Milton, John, iv cv, cxxviii
        • Mimus or Mimic, Account of, lix
        • Misetoe, Divine Virtue attributed to the, xxvi
        • Mogiah-edir Scirat al, xiii
        • Monk's Tale, by Chaucer, cxviii
        • Monmouh, Geo••••rey of. See Geoffrey
        • Montague, W. Earl of Salisury, lxxxv
        • Montague, Mrs. Essay on Shakespeare, by, lvi
        • Monte, Robert de, ix
        • Mon••••aucon, cxxvi
        • Montichelli, Cardinal, cxliii
        • Morris, Mr. of Penryn, viii
        • Mulso de, eu Hydomeli, or, Mead and Methlegin, a panegyrical Ode on, xlvii, xlviii
        • Mutus, cxxiii
        N
        • Naiton, a Pctish King, ciii
        • Nazianzen, Gregory cix
        • Necham, Alex. cxx, cxxxiv, cxxxv
        • Nennius, xi, cx
        • Nepo, Cornelius, cxxxvi
        • Neville, Archbishop of York, cxxxii
        • Nicholas de Lyra, lxxxv
        • Nicholas de Ely, lxxix
        • Nigel, cxviii
        • Niger, cxi
        O
        • Odin or Woden, Account of, xxiv, xxv, xxvi xxvii, xxviii, xxxvi, xliii
        • Oell, Earl xix
        • Ohther, xxvii
        • Offa, King, xxxvii
        • Oienhart, xx
        • Oilly, Rbert d', cxvi
        • Olave, King of Norway, xliii
        • Olaus, Magnus, lix
        • Orosiu, istory of the Pagans, by, xcviii
        • Ossian's Poem, xxvi, lii, iii, lvi, lxi
        • O••••ald, Arhbishop of York, cxii
        • Oswad, Saint, Lie and Miracles of, cxliii
        • Ovid iii, lxxxiii, xcii, cx, cxxii, cxxxvii
        • Ovid's Art of Love, First Book of, in Saxn haracters, cx
        • Ovid' Metamorphses, Explanatin of, by Joannes Grammaticus, cxxii
        • ...

        Page viii

        • Owen, Guttyn, a celebrated Welsh Bard, vii
        P
        • Pagans, History of the, by Orosius, xcviii
        • Pamphilus, cxi
        • Paris, Matthew, lxxxi, cxlvi
        • Parker, Archbishop, cvii
        • Pastoral Care, by Saint Gregory, cxix
        • Paulin, Abbot, cxvii
        • Paulinus, lxxvi
        • Peckham, Archbishop, ix
        • Pedianus, Asconius, lxxvii
        • Pelloutier, iv
        • Percy, Dr. xxii, xxxii
        • Pergaus, Appolonius, lxxxviii
        • Periphismerismus, by John Erigena, cviii
        • Persius, cxx, cxxx
        • Peter de Rupibu, cxliv
        • Peter of Blois, cxxvi, cxxxi, cxxxiv
        • Petrarch, cxxi
        • Petronius, cxxvi
        • Philippid, by Guillaume le Breton, cxli, cxliv
        • Philobiblion, by Richard of Bry. lxxxiv cxx, cxxi
        • Philoponus, Johannes, cxxii
        • Philosophorum Lapis, by Jeber, lxxxvii
        • Phrygius, Dares, Poem on the Trojan War by, cxxxvii. Translatd ito French Rymes by Godrey of Wa|terford, xxi
        • Pindar, lxxxvi, c
        • Pithou, cxli
        • Plato, translated into Arabic, lxxxvii
        • Plutu, xcii
        • Pliny, cxi
        • Poggius, lxxvii, lxxviii, xcii, cxx
        • Policraticon, John of Salisbury, cxxvi
        • Ponissara, John de, Bishop of Win|cheser, lxxix
        • Posidonius, liv
        • Powel's History of Wales, iv
        • Priscus, cxi
        • Prophets, Extracts from the Books of, in Greek and Latin, cvii
        • Prosper, lxxvi
        • Pruda, Asbiom, xxxi
        • Prudentius, cix
        • Psalter, illuminated with Letters of Gold, by Eadwin, ci
        • Psalter, Account of an Ancient MS. of the, in Hebrew, cii
        • Psycomachia cix
        • Pulice & Musca de, by William of Blois, cxxvii
        Q
        • Quintilian's Institutes, lxxvii, cxx
        R
        • Rabanu, Mauru, ci, cii, cxviii, cxlv
        • Reginald, Abbot of Ramsey, cxxiv
        • Regner, Lodbrog, Ode of. See Lodbrog
        • Reinesius, lxxxvi, lxxxvii
        • Repingdon, Bishop of Lincoln, lxxx
        • Reveltion of St. John, lxv
        • Richard of Bury, cxx, cxxi
        • Richard the First omnc of, xix, cxl
        • Robert de Monte, ix
        • Robert d'Oilly, cxvi
        • Robert of Gloucester, cxxvii
        • Rodburn, Thomas, cxliii
        • Roger de Insula, lxxxii
        • Roger de Wescham, cxlvi
        • Rogwald, Lord of Orcades, xlii
        • Rollo, a Norman Leader, Account of, lx
        • Romae de Mirabilibus, cxxxvii
        • Romaunt of the Rose, by Chaucer, vi
        • Rosamund and Earl William, lix
        • Rose, Roman de la, by John de Meun, lxxxv, cxxvi
        • Rosso Philippo, lxxviii
        • Rudbeckius, Olaus, xxv
        • Runes, or Letters, Account of the, xxv, xxvi, xxvii
        • Rupibus, Peter de, cxliv
        • Russell, John, Bishop of Lincoln, lxxxi

          Page ix

          S
          • Saint Austin, lxxxv, lxxxix, xcviii
          • Saint Birinus, History of, represented on the Antient Font in Winchester Ca|thedral, &c. lxxxv
          • Saint Catharine, Play of, cxv
          • Saint Chrysostom, xciii
          • Saint Christopher, Legend of, cxix
          • Saint Dunstan, c
          • Saint Gregory's Pastoral Care, xcviii
          • Saint Jerom, lxxviii
          • Saint Lucius, Acts of, xi
          • Saint Oswald, Life and Miracles of, cxliii
          • Saint Ursula, Legend of, xi
          • Saint, Lives of the, i Latin Verse, by Alexander Esseby, cxliv
          • Salisbury, John of. See Joh
          • Sallust, lxxvii, cxx
          • Sanchem, Graal, by Eremita Britannus, xii
          • Sanctamund, Bishop of Maestricht, lxxvii
          • Saxo Grammaticus, xxxii
          • Scalds, Account of the, xxxii, xxxiv, xxxvi, 1
          • Schilters, Thesaurus Antiquitatum Teu|tonicarum, lv
          • Schola Salernitana, by Giovanni di Mi|lano, lxxxvii, cxxiii
          • Scotus, Michael, cxlvi
          • Sedulius, lxxvi. Hymns of, cix
          • Selling, William, cxx
          • Seneca, xcii, cxix, cxx
          • Shakespeare, William, lvi
          • Sidelas, Marcellus, a Physician, cxi
          • Sidonius, Appolinaris, lxxv, lxxvi
          • Sigusson, Soemnd, the First Edda, compiled by, lxv
          • Simeon of Durham, cxxvii
          • Siod, Sagan af, or History of Siod, lvii
          • Sir Bevis, Romance of, xxxvii
          • Sir Guy, Romance of, xxxvii
          • Snorro Sturleston, Second Edda, com|piled by, lxv
          • Solymarium, or a Latin Poem on the Expedition of the Emperor Conrade against the Saracens, by Gunther, cxlv
          • Somner, cx
          • Spenser, Edmund, xv, xxxvi, lvii
          • Statius, xcii, cxx, cxxxvii
          • Stephen, King, Latin Poem on, &c. by Henry of Huntingdon, cxxv
          • Stephen of Tournay, cxxxvii
          • Stonehenge, Ancient Fictions relating to, xvi, xvii
          • Sturleson, Snorro, the Second Edda, compiled by, lxv
          • Suetonius, cxviii
          • Suidas, Lexicon of, translated by Robert Grosthead, cxlvi
          • Summaripa, Georgio, cxxxi
          • Symposius, xcix
          T
          • Tacitus, lxvi, xcii
          • Tale-tellers, or Poetical Historians, Ac|count of, xlvi, xlvii, lxi
          • Taliessin, Ode in Praise of Mead, by, xlix, lxi
          • Tasso, lxi, cxxxvii
          • Terence, xcii, cxviii, cxix, cxx
          • Tertullian, lxxvii
          • Thamyris, xxiv
          • Thebaid of Statius, cxx
          • Theocritus, xcii
          • Theodoric the Second, King of the Os|trogoths, lxxiv, lxxv
          • Theodore, Archbishop of Canterbury, xciii, xcviii, ci
          • Theodosius the Younger, lxxiv
          • Thetide de, et de Lyaeo, cxxxv
          • Toraeus, xxxiv
          • Tours, Gregory of. See Grgory
          • Tristram a Wales, Tale of, iii
          • ...

          Page x

          • Trithemis, lv
          • Tivet, Nicholas, cxix
          • Troilus and Cresseide, by Chaucer, cxxxi
          • Tully. See Cicero
          • Turpin's History of Charlemagne, xvii, xviii, xxi, lvii, lix, lxxii
          • Tyssilio, History of Britain, by, vii
          V
          • Valens, lxxiv
          • Valeriu, lxxvii
          • Vellida, a German Prophetess, Account of, lxvi
          • Victorinus, Marius, cxxiv
          • Vincent of Beauvais, lxxvii
          • Vinesauf, Geoffrey de, cxlv
          • Virgil, x, xcii, cxx, cxliii
          • Voltaire, xviii, cxxxvii
          • Ursula, Saint, Legend of, xi
          W
          • Wallingford, Abbot of St. Alban's, cxx
          • Walter, Prior of Saint Swithin's, lxxxiv
          • Walter or Gualter, Archdeacon of Ox|ford, vii, cxxv
          • Wareham, Archbishop, cxxxiii
          • Wassenback, Ernest Cassimer, lvi
          • Waterford, Godfrey of. See Godfrey
          • Wescham, Roger de, cxlvi
          • Wilrid, Saint, Archbishop of Canter|bury, Life of, by Fridegode, cvii
          • William the Bastard, History of, lviii, cxiv cxlvii
          • William Ruus, History of the Destruc|tion of the Monastris, by, lviii
          • William of Blois, cxxv, cxxvii
          • William of Bretagne. See Guillaume l Breton
          • William of Chester, cxxvii
          • William of Malmsbury, viii, xcv, cvii, cxxvii
          • Willibold, xcii
          • Woden or Odin, Account of, xxiv, xxv, xxvi, xxvii, xxviii, xxxvi, xliii
          • Wolstan, a Monk of Winchester, c
          • Wonnius, Olaus, xxvii, xxxiii, xxxiv, liii, lvi
          • Woton, xlix
          • Writing on the Rocks, Account of the Ancient Custom of, xxv
          X
          • Xenocrates, cxi
          Z
          • Zeno, xxvi
          • Zonares, lxxiv
          • Zaid, Mahomet's Secretary, lxxxv

          Notes

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