The Canterbury tales and Faerie queene &c., &c., &c., ed. for popular perusal with current illustrations and explanatory notes, by D. Laing Purves.

THE FLOWER AND THE LEAF. 225
gale answers from a green laurel tree, with so merry and ravishing a note, that the lady
resolves to proceed no farther, but sit down on the grass to listen. Suddenly the sound of
many voices singing surprises her; and she sees "a world' of ladies" emerge from a grove,
clad in white, and wearing garlands of laurel, of agnus castus, and woodbind. One, who
wears a crown and bears a branch of agnus castus in her hand, begins a roundel, in honour
of the Leaf, which all the others take up, dancing and singing in the meadow before the
arbour. Soon, to the sound of thundering trumps, and attended by a splendid and warlike
retinue, enter nine knights, in white, crowned like the ladies; and after they have jousted
an hour and more, they alight and advance to the ladies. Each dame takes a knight by the
hand; and all incline reverently to the laurel tree, which they encompass, singing of
love, and dancing. Soon, preceded by a band of minstrels, out of the open field comes a
lusty company of knights and ladies in green, crowned with chaplets of flowers; and they
do reverence to a tuft of flowers in the middle of the meadow, while one of their number
sings a bergerette in praise of the daisy. But now it is high noon; the sun waxes fervently
hot; the flowers lose their beauty, and wither with the heat; the ladies in green are
scorched, the knights faint for lack of shade. Then a strong wind beats down all the
flowers, save such as are protected by the leaves of hedges and groves; and a mighty storm
of rain and hail drenches the ladies and knights, shelterless in the now flowerless meadow.
The storm overpast, the company in white, whom the laurel-tree has safely shielded from
heat and storm, advance to the relief of the others; and when their clothes have been dried,
and their wounds from sun and storm healed, all go together to sup with the Queen in
white-on whose hand, as they pass by the arbour, the Nightingale perches, while the
Goldfinch flies to the Lady of the Flower. The pageant gone, the gentlewoman quits the
arbour, and meets a lady in white, who, at her request, unfolds the hidden meaning of all
that she has seen; "which," says Speght quaintly, "is this: They which honour the
Flower, a thing fading with every blast, are such as look after beauty and worldly pleasure.
But they that honour the Leaf, which abideth with the root, notwithstanding the frosts and
winter storms, are they which follow Virtue and during qualities, without regard of worldly
respects." Mr Bell, in his edition, has properly noticed that there is no explanation of the
emblematical import of the medlar-tree, the goldfinch, and the nightingale. "But," he
says, " as the fruit of the medlar, to use Chaucer's own expression (see Prologue to Reeve's
Tale), is rotten before it is ripe, it may be the emblem of sensual pleasure, which palls
before it confers real enjoyment. The goldfinch is remarkable for the beauty of its plumage, the sprightliness of its movements, and its gay, tinkling song, and may be supposed to
represent the showy and unsubstantial character of frivolous pleasures. The nightingale's
sober outward appearance and impassioned song denote greater depth of feeling." The
poem throughout is marked by the purest and loftiest moral tone; and it amply deserved
Dryden's special recommendation, " both for the invention and the moral." It is given
without abridgement.]
WHEN that Phcebus his car of gold so high Rest, I not wist; for there n' as 6 earthly
Had whirled up the starry sky aloft, wight,
And in the Bull was enter'd certainly; As I suppose, had more hearte's ease
When showers sweet of rain descended soft, Than I, for I n' had 7 sickness nor disease.8
Causing the groundS, feli 2 times and oft,herefore marvel greatly of myself,
Up for to give many a wholesome air, TWherefore I marvel greatly of myself,
Up for to give many a wholesome air, That I so long without sleep lay;
And every plain was y-clothed fair That solongwithoutesleepelay;
And up I rose three houris after twelf,
With newi green, and maketh small flow'rs About the springing of the [gladsome] day;
To Lpringe here and there in field and mead; And on I put my gear 9 and mine array,
So wry good and wholesome be the show'rs, And to a pleasant grove I gan to pass,
That they renewe what was old and dead Long ere the brighte sun uprisen was;
In winter time; and out of ev'ry seed
ISpringeth the herbe, so that ev'ry wihtd In which were oakes great, straight as a line,
Of thilk3 season waxseoth glad and light. Under the which the grass, so fresh of hue,
Of thilke 3 season waxeth glad and light.
Was newly sprung; and an eight foot or nine
And I, so glad of thilke season sweet, Every tree well from his fellow grew,
Was happed thus 4 upon a certain night, With branches broad, laden with leaves new,
As I lay in my bed, sleep full unmeet 5 That sprangen out against the sunne sheen;
Was unto me; but why that I not might Some very red;10 and some a glad light green;
1 The sign of Taurus, which the sun enters in May. 6 Was not.
2 Many. 3 This. 7 Had not. 8 Distress, uneasiness.
4 Was thus circumstanced. 9 Garments.
5 Unfit, uncompliant. lo The young oak leaves-are red or ashen coloured.
I P