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SPECIMENS
OF THE
to WHICH IS PREFIXED
AN HISTORICAL SKETCH
OF THE
RISE AND PROGRESS
OF THE
ENGLISH POETRY AND LANGUAGE;
IN THREE VOLUMES.
BY GEORGE ELLIS, ESQ.
THE FOURTH EDITION CORRECTED.
VOL. L
LONDON:
PRINTED FOR LONGMAN, HURST, REES, OKME, AND
BROWN, PATERNOSTER-ROW.
1811.
Edinburgh :
Printed by James Ballantyne & Co.
PR
PREFACE
TO THE SECOND EDITION.
1 HE first edition of this Miscellany, which ap-
peared in 1790, was intended as an attempt *' to
** comprise, within the compass of one volume,
** all the most beautiful small poems that had
** been published in this country during the
** sixteenth and seventeenth centuries ;" but it
was, at the same time, admitted, that ** the
** completion of the publisher's plan had been
*' prevented by the difficulty of procuring a
*' sufficient stock of materials.'*
This difficulty has been since removed by
the kind assistance of my friends ; and the work,
in its present state, contains a selection, made
with some care and attention, from a consider-
able number of the best poetical libraries in this
countrj'. That it is still deficient, and that by
{jreater industry it might have been improved.
C iv ]
is very certain : * but the reader, who shall
fairly examine the stock of materials here col-
lected, will not be much surprised if the curio-
sity of the compiler was at length satiated, and
if the labour of transcription became too irk-
some to be farther continued.
It has been objected to the former collection
that it consisted, almost exclusively, of love-
songs and sonnets. The objection was certainly
just, but the blame cannot fairly be imputed to
an editor, who must be satisfied to take such
instances of literary excellence as he can find ;
and who, though he may lament, with his read-
ers, that beautiful poetry is more frequently
calculated to inflame the imagination than to
chasten the morals, can only lament, without
being able to remedy, such a perversion of ta-
lent.
The collection, in its present state, will be
• To what degree it is defective, the reader will be bet-
ter able to judge, when Mr Ritson shall have printed his
*' Bibliographia Poetica, a Catalogue of English Poets of
" the twelfth, thirteenth, fourteenth, fifteenth, and six-
" teenth centuries, with a short account of their Works."
It is said to be completed, and intended for immediate
publication. [Tliis accurate repertory has since appeared
in one volume 8vo, 1802, Nicol]
[ V ]
found to contain much more variety. The two
parts into which it is divided are, indeed, di-
rected to one principal object ; which is, to ex-
hibit, by means of a regular series of Speci-
mens, the rise and progress of our language,
from the tenth to the latter end of the seven-
teenth century. In the former part, which
terminates with the reign of Henry VIII. the
extracts are generally chosen with a view to
picturesque description, or to the delineation
of national manners ; whereas the second divi-
sion of the work is meant to exhibit the best
models that could be found, in each reign, of
regular and finished composition. In the
former, which consists of very early fragments,
it was thought that a few critical remarks, as
well as biographical anecdotes, were absolutely
necessary; and that these could not be given
more concisely than in the form of an historical
sketch : but in the latter, a short outline of the
literary character of each reign, and a few no-
tices respecting the several writers, appeared
to be sufficient. To the whole is added a sort of
Essay on the formation and early gradations of
our language, which, being little more than a
repetition of some observations contained in the
[ vi ]
first volume, is perhaps superfluous ; but may
be convenient for the purpose of reference.
The title of these volumes will shew, that
they are by no means intended to supersede
Mr Warton's very learned and entertaining,
though desultory work, from which they are,
in part, abridged ; but rather to serve as an
useful index to his History. Neither do they
interfere with the valuable modern Miscellanies
of Bishop Percy, Mr Pinkerton, Mr Ritson,
the late Mr Headley, and Mrs Cooper j from
all of which they differ materially, except in
the general purpose of selecting what is most
valuable from the scarcest and least accessible
compositions of our early literature.
It is only necessary to add, that the Saxon
Ode, which in this work will be found to differ
materially from the text of Dr Hickes, and of
Gibson's Saxon Chronicle, was kindly furnish-
ed by the Rev. Mr Henshall, who collated the
printed copies with two excellent MSS, in the
Cotton Library ; and who had the farther com-
plaisance to supply the literal English version,
as well as the learned notes with which it is ac-
companied.
[ vii ]
ADVERTISEMENT
TO THE THIRD EDITION.
Notwithstanding the care with which the
former edition of this work was revised during
its progress through the press, it was found to
contain very numerous, though not very impor-
tant typographical errors. For the detection
and the removal of these j for the collation of
nearly all the extracts contained in the work with
the earliest and best copies of the originals,
whether printed or manuscript ; for the inser-
tion of some new Specimens j and for much
additional information in the notices prefixed
to the several authors ; the editor is indebted
to the kindness of his friend Mr Heber, and to
the frequent assistance of Mr Park.
The defects which still remain are solely
chargeable to the editor. Many of these,
however, will, it is hoped, be removed by the
[ viii 3
publication of a second series of Specimens,
selected from our Early Metrical Romances^
which will complete the sketch of our poetical
antiquities, and is now nearly ready for the
press.
CHRONOLOGICAL LIST OF POETS,
FROM WHOSE WORKS EXTRACTS HAVE BEEN GIVEN
IN THESE VOLUMES.
As in many instances it has not been possible to ascertain the
precise year of an author's birth or death, the reader is re-
quested to observe, that when the word about precedes the
date, it roust be understood to be correct within two or three
years ; where a mark of interrogation is annexed, the date is
only offered as an approximation deduced from the author's
earliest compositions.
HISTORICAL SKETCH.
Bora. Died.
1 Robert of Gloucester, - - - 1230?
2 Robert Mamnyng, - - about 1270
3 Adam Davie, 1280?
4 Robert Langland? - - - - 1300?
5 JohaGower, - - - - - 1326? 1402
6 John Barbour, - - - about 1326 1396
7 Geoffrey Chaucer, - - - - 1328 1400
8 Andrew of Wyntown, - - - 1352?
9 John Lydgate, 1375 ?abt. 14^2
10 James L (of Scotland). - - 1395 1437
11 Henry VI 1421 1471
C X 3
12 Robert Henrysoun,
13 Juliana Berners, -
14- Henry the Minstrel,
15 Patrick Johnstoun,
16 Mersar, - -
17 William Dunbar, -
18 John Skelton, - -
19 Gawin Douglas,
20 Stephen Hawes,
21 Walter Kennedy -
22 Quintyn Schaw,
23 William Roy, - -
24f Sir David Lindsay,
25 Henry VHL, - -
26 John Heywood,
Born.
, .- U25?
*^ - 144-0?
about 1446
Died.
1495 ?
- - 1455?
about 1463
- - 1475
- - 1480?
. - 14— abt.
- - 1490?
about 1490
- - 1493
1520
1520
1529
1522
15—
1520
15—
1553
l.'>47
1500? abt. 1565
SPECIMENS.
27 G eorge Boleyn, visct. Rochford, 1 500 ? 1 536
28 Sir Thomas Wyatt, - - - 1503 1541
29 Thomas Vaux, Lord Vaux, - 1507? abt. 1557
30 Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey, 1520? 1546-7
31 John Hall, 1520 ?
32 Nicholas Grimoald,
33 Richard Edwards, -
34 Thomas Tusser,
35 Thomas Norton,
36 Alexander Scot, -
- - 1520 abt. 1563
about 1523 1566
about 1523 1580
. . 1524?
- - 1525?
[
]
Born.'
37 Clapperton, - - - - 1525?
38 Elizabeth, - - - - - 1533
39 Webster(George?) Puttenham, abt. 1 534
40 John Harington, - - - -
41 Edward Vere, Earl of Oxford,
42 Barnaby Googe, - - - - -
43 George Gascoigne, - - - -
44 George Turbervile, - - -
45 Sir Edward Dyer, - - - -
46 Henry Willoby,
47 Dr John Still, -
1534?
1534?
1535?
1540?
1540?
1540?
1 540? abt. 1595
Died.
1603
1582
1604
1578?
161-
. - about 1542 1607
48 Robert Green, 1550? 1592
49 Humfrey GiflPord, -
50 Sir Walter Raleigh, -
51 Timothy Kendall, -
52 Edmund Spenser, -
53 John Lylie, - - -
54 Sir Philip Sidney, - - -
55 Fulke Greville, Lord Brook,
56 Nicholas Breton, - - -
57 George Chapman, - - -
58 William Warner, - - -
59 Robert Southwell, - . -
60 Thomas Watson, ...
61 Thomas Lodge,
62 Sir John IJarington,
- - 1550?
- - 1552 1618
- - 1552?
about 1553 1598-9
about 1553 abt. 1600
- - 1554 1586
1554 1628
• - 1555? 1624?
- - 1557 1634
- - 1558? 1608-9
- - 1560 1595
- - 1560 abt. 1591
about 1560 1625
- - 1561 1612
63 Samuel Daniel, 1562
1619
[ xii ]
Born. Died.
64 Christopher Marlowe, - - - 1562? 1592
65 Joshua Sylvester, - . - - 1563 1618
66 Michael Drayton, - - - - 1563 1631
67 William Shakspeare, - - - 1561- 1616
68 Simon Wastel, - - - about 1566
69 Henry Constable, - - about 1566
70 Robert Devereux, Earl of E^ex, 1567 1601
71 James I. 1567 1625
72 Sir Henry Wotton, - - - - 1568 1639
73 Barnaby Barnes, .... 1569 16—
74 William Fowler, , - . - - 1569 ?
75 Sir John Davis, - ~ . about 1570 1626
76 William Smith, 1571 ?
77 Dr John Donne, .... 1573 1631
78 Dr Joseph Hall, 1574- 1656
79 Ben Jonson, 1574 1637
80 Richard Barnfeild, - - about 1574
81 Henry Peacham, - - - . 15 — 16 —
82 Thomas Campion, .... 1575 ?
83 John Fletcher, 1576 1625
84 Robert Burton, 1576 1639
85 George Sandys, - -" - - - 1577 1643
86 Thomas Carew, * - . . . 1577? 1634
87 Thomas Hey wood, . - - - 1580? 16—
* Notwithstandiog what is said in III. 156, it has been
thought best, on deliberate consideration, to place Carew's
birtb as above. His death certainly happened in 1634.
[ xiii ]
Born. Died.
88 Wm Alexander, Earl of Sterline, 1 580 1 640
89 Wm Herbert, Earl of Pembroke, 1580 ? 1630
90 Dabridgcourt Belchier, about 1581 1621
91 Lord Herbert of Cherbury, - 1582 164-8
92 Francis Davison, - - - - 1582? 16—
93 Sir John Beaumont, - - - 1582 1628
94 Phineas Fletcher, - - about 1584 abt. 1650
95 Francis Beaumont, - - - - 1585 1615
96 William Drummond, - - - 1585 1649
97 Sir Francis Kinaston, - about 1585 abt. 1642
98 David Murray, 1586? 16—
99 Giles Fletcher, 1588 ? 1623
100 George Wither, - - - - 1588 1667
101 Richard Brathwait, - - - 1588 1673
102 William Browne, - - about 1590 abt. 1645
103 Thomas Freeman, -. - about 1591 16 —
ia4 Dr Henry King, ... - 1591 1669
105 Robert Herrick, - - - - 1591 16—
106 Francis Qnarles, - - - - 1592 1644
107 George Herbert, . - - - 1593 1632-3
108 Isaac Walton, 1593 1683
109 James Shirley, - - - about 1594 1666
110 Patrick Hannay, - - - - 1594? 16—
111 Thomas May, 1595 1650
112 John Hagthorpe, - - - - 1597? 16—
113 Sir John Mennis, - . - - 1598 1670
1 14 Robert Gomersall, - - - 1600
f xlv ]
115Dr William Strode, -
116 Sir Kenelra Digby, -
117 Dr Jasper Mayne, - -
118 Dr James Smith, - ^
119 Sir William D'Avenant,
120 Edmond Waller, - -
121 William Habington, -
122 Thomas Randolph,
123 Sir Richard Fanshaw, -
124? Sir Aston Cokain, - -
125 John Milton, • - -
126 Sir John Suckling, -
127 Sidney Godolphin - -
128 William Cartwright, -
129 Henry Delaune, - -
130 Thomas Nabbes, - -
131 George Digby, Earl of Bristol, 1612 1676
132 Henry Glapthorne, - - - 1614?
133 Richard Crashaw, - - about 1615 abt. 1650
134 Sir John Denham, * - - - 1615 1668
135 John Tatham, 1615?
136 Thomas Beedome, - - - - 1616?
137 Sir Edward Sherburne, - - 1618 17—
138 Richard Lovelace, - - - - 1618 1658
* In both editions of the Biographia Britannica, Gibber's
Lives of the Poets, and Mr Ritson's Anthology, Sir John
Denham's death is erroneously placed twenty years later.
Born.
Died.
about 1601
1644
- - 1603
1665
- - 1604
1672
- - 1604
1661
- - 1605
1668
- - 1605
1687
- - 1605
1654
- - 1605
1634
- - 1607
1666
- - 1608
1683
- - 1608
'l674
- 1608-9
1641
- - 1610
1642-3
- - 1611
1643
- - 1611?
- - 1612?
I XV ]
Born.
139 Abraham Cowley, - - - - 1618
140 Andrew Marvell, - - - ^ 1620
l^l Alexander Brome, - - - 1620
142 Thomas Stanley, - - about 1620
143 Henry Vaughan - - - - 1621
144 Sir Robert Howard - about 1622
145 Samuel Sheppard, - - - 1622 ?
146 Dr Martin Lluellyn, - - - 1623?
147 Dr John Collop, - - - - 1623 ?
148 Robert Heath, 1625?
149 Edmund Prestwick, - - - 1626?
150 John Hall, 1627
151 Richard Fleckno, - - - - 1628?
152 Matthew Stevenson, - - - 1629?
153 Robert Baron, 1630
154 Charles Cotton, - - - - 1630
155 John Dryden, 1631
156 Thomas Flatman, - - about 1635
157 Sir Charles Sedley, - about 1639
158 Aphra Behn, - - . about 1644
159 Robert Veel, - - . . . 1648
160 John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester, 1648
161 Sir Francis Fane, - - - - 1650?
Died.
1667
1678
1666
1678
1695
1698
1656
1678
1687
1701
1688
1701
1689
1680
ALPHABETICAL LIST OF POETS,
FROM WHOSE WORKS EXTRACTS HAVE BEEN GIVEN
IN THESE VOLUMES : WITH THEIR TITLES AN0
ACADEMICAL DEGREES.
Vol. P.
Alexander, William, Earl of Sterline (Sc), III. 34?
Barbour, John, Archdeaconof Aberdeen (Sc), I. 228
Barnes, Barnaby, . - -
BamfeUd, Richard (A. B. Oxf.), -
Baron, Robert, - - - -
Beaumont, Francis,
Beaumont, Sir John, Bart.
Beedome, Thomas, - -
Behn, Aphra, - - . .
Belchier, Dabridgcourt (A. B. Oxf.),
Bemers, Juliana, (Prioress of the Nunnery of
Sopewell,) - . . .
Boleyn, George, Viscount Rochford,
Brathwait, Richard, - . -
Breton, Nicholas, - - .
Bristol, Earl of. Vide Digby.
Brome, Alexander, - - - , ni. 298
Brook, Lord. Vide Grcville.
VOL. I. b
II.
373
II.
356
in.
357
III.
62
III.
59
III.
268
IIL
359
III.
47
I.
363
II.
93
IIL
103
IL
270
[ xviii ]
Vol. P.
Browne, William (A. M. Oxf.), - - III. 108
Burton, Rev. Robert (A. M.Oxf.), - III. 7
Campion, Thomas, - - - - III. 22
Carew, Thomas, III. 156
Cartwright, Rev. William (A. M. Oxf.), III. 231
Chapman, George, - " - - II. 294<
Chaucer, Geoffrey, - - - - I. 201
Clapperton,— (Sc.) - - - - II. 127
Cokain, Sir Aston, (A. M. Oxf.), - - III. 218
CoUop, John (M. D.), - - - . III. S76
Constable, Henry (A. B. Camb.), - - II. 304!
Cotton, Charles, - . - - - III. 361
Cowley, Abraham(A. M. Camb.M. D. Oxf.), III. 279
Crashaw, Richard, Canon of Loretto, (A. M.
Camb.), III. 224.
Daniel, Samuel, II. 316
D*Avenant, Sir William, Knt. - - III. 183
Davie, Adam, - - - - - I. 139
Davis, Sir John, Knt. M. P. (A. B. Oxf.), II. 369
Davison, Francis, _ . - - III. 14,
Delaune, Henry, . - - - HI. 270
Denham, Sir John, K. B. - - - III. 255
Devereux, Robert, Earl of Essex, (A. M.
Camb. and Oxf.), - - - - II. 361
Digby, George, Earl of Bristol, - - HI. 399
Digby, Sir Kenelm, Knt. - - - III. 179
Donne, Rev. John, Dean of St Paul's (A. M.
Oxf. D. D. Camb.), - - - - II. 383
Douglas, Rev.Gawin,Bishop of Dunkeld (Sc.), I. 390
Drayton, Michael, - - - - II, 337
C xix ]
Vol. p.
Drummond, William (Sc.) - - - - III. 70
Dryden, John (A.M. Camb.), - - III. 372
Dunbar, William, I. 377
Dyer, Sir Edward, Knt. - - - - II. 186
Edwarda, Richard, II. 137
Elizabeth, II. 14-3
Essex, Earl of. Vide Devereux.
Fane, Sir Francis, K. B. - - - - III. 406
Fanshaw, Sir Richard, Knt. Bart. - - III. 222
Flatman, Thomas, ----- HI. 382
Fleckno, Richard, III. 333
Fletcher, Rev. Giles (B. D. Camb.), - III. 55
Fletcher, John, III. 62
Fletcher, Rev. Phineas (A. M. Camb.), III. 50
Fowler, William (Sc), - - - - II. 379
Freeman, Thomas (A. B. Oxf.), - - III. 113
Gascoigne, George, - - - - - II. 174?
Gifford, Humfrey, II. 208
Glapthorae, Henry, III. 24-2
Gloucester, Robert of (Monk), - - I. 91
Godolphin, Sidney, M. P III. 229
Gomersall, Rev. Robert (A. M. Oxf.), - III. 176
Googe, Barnaby, -- - - - - II. 171
Gower, John, I. 169
Green, Robert (A. M. Camb.), - - II. 191
GreviUe, Fulke, Lord Brook, K. B. (A. M.
Oxf.), II. 26
Griraoald, Rev. Nicholas (A. B. Camb.
A.M. Oxf.), II. 68
Habington, William, III. 203
C XX ]
Vol. p.
Hagthorpe, John, ----- . III. 138
Hall, John, II. 118
Hall, John, III. 324.
Hall, Rev. Joseph, Bishop of Norwich (D. D.
Camb.), - II. 386
Hannay, Patrick, ----- III. 135
Harington, John, - II. 165
Harington, Sir John, Knt. (A. M. Camb.), U. 314<
Hawes, Stephen, ------ I. 409
Heath, Robert, III. 319
Henry VI. I. 352
Henry VIII. II. 2
Henry the Minstrel, commonly called Blind
Harry (Sc), I. 354.
Henrysoun, Robert (Sc), - - ~ - I. 366
Herbert, Edward, Lord Herbert of Cher-
bury, K. B. III. 4.2
Herbert, Rev. George (A.M. Camb.), - III. 125
Herbert, William, Earl of Pembroke, - III. 40
Herrick, Rev. Robert, - - - . III. 307
He3rwood, John, -- - - - -II. 16
Heywood, Thomas, ----- III. 31
Howard, Henry, Earl of Surrey, K. G. - II. 54
Howard, Sir Robert, Knt. M. P. - - III. 304
James I. of Scotland, II. 299
James I. of England, ----- III. 5
Johnstoun, Patrick (Sc), - - - - I. 372
Jonson, Ben (A. M. Oxf.), - - - 11. 388
Kendall, Timothy, II. 228
Kennedy, Walter (Sc), - - - - I. 403
[ xxi ]
Vol. P.
Kinaston, Sir Francis, Knt. (A. M. Camb.) III. 265
King, Rev. Henry, Bishop of Chichester
(D. D. Oxf.), m. 116
Langlandi Roberty {Fellotv of Oriel College f
Oxf.), - I. 147
Lindsay, Sir David (Sc.) - - - - II. 21
Lluellyn, Martin (M. D. Oxf.), - - H. 370
Lodge, Thomas (A. B. Oxf.), - - - IL 289
Lovelace, Richard (A. M. Oxf.), - - IL 273
Lydgate, John (Benedictine Monk of Bury,) I; 276
Lylie, John (A.M. Oxf.), - - - IL 24-1
Mannyng, alias de Brunne, Robert (Gilber-
tineMonk), L 112
Marlowe, Christopher, - - - II, 326
Marvell, Andrew, M. P. - - - IIL 292
May, Thomas, III. 134
Mayne, Rev. Jasper, Canon of Ch. Ch. and
Archdeacon of Chichester (D. D. Oxf.), IIL 181
Mennis, Sir John, Knt. - - - III. 378
Mersar,— (Sc.) L 374
Milton, John (A. M. Camb. and Oxf) IIL 222
Murray, David (Sc.) - - - - III. 80
Nabbes, Thomas, .... HI. 239
Norton, Thomas, - - - - IL 136
Oxford, Earl of. Vide Vere.
Peacham, Henry (A. M. Camb.), - - IL 406
Pembroke, Earl of. Vide Herbert.
Prestwich, Edmund, ... - III. 327
Puttenham, Webster, alias George, - II. 164
Quarles, Francis, .... HI. 121
Raleigh, Sir Walter, Knt. M. P. - - IL 215
C xxii ]
Vol. P,
Randolph, Thomas, (A. M. Camb. and Oxf.), III. 210
Robert of Gloucester. Vide Gloucester.
Rochester, Earl of. Vide Wilmot.
Rochford, Viscount. Vide Boleyn.
Roy, William, - - - -
Sandys; George,
Schaw, Quintyn (Sc),
Scot, Alexander (Sc),
Sedley, Sir Charles, Bart.
Shakspeare, William,
Sheppard, Rev. Samuel,
Sherbui-ne, Sir Edward, Knt. (A. M. Oxf.), III. 259
Shirley, James - - . .
Sidney, Sir Philip, Knt.
Skelton, Rev. John, - . -
Smith, Rev. James (D. D. Oxf), -
Smith, William, - - - -
Southwell, Robert, - - -
Spenser, Edmund, - - .
Stanley, Thomas, (A. M. Camb. and Oxf.), III. 312
Sterline, Earl of. Vide Alexander.
Stevenson, Matthew, - - - - III. 336
Still, Rev. John, Bishop of Bath and Wells
(D.D. Oxf), II. 188
Strode, Rev. William, Canon of Ch. Ch.
(D.D. Oxf.), III. 173
Suckling, Sir John, Knt. - - - III. 243
Surrey, Earl of. Vide Howard.
Sylvester, Joshua, - - - - II. 330
Tatham, John, III. 257
II.
11
HI.
24.
I.
404.
II.
123
III.
385
II.
342
III.
322
III.
259
III.
129
II.
247
11.
5
III.
378
II.
381
II.
199
II.
232
[ xxHi ]
Vol. P.
Turbervile, George, - - - - II. 180
Tusser, Thomas, - - - - II. 14'3
Vaughan, Henry, - - . - III. 331
Vaux, Thomas, Lord Vaux, - - II. 82
Veel, Robert, HI. 401
Vere, Edward, Earl of Oxford, (A. M. Oxf), II. 167
Waller, Edmond, M. P. ... HI. 189
Walton, Izaac, HI. 127
Warner, William, - - - - H- 297
Wastel, Simon, (A. B. Oxf.), - - 11. 359
Watson, Thomas, . - - .II. 307
Willoby, Henry, - . - - II. 375
Wilmot, John, Earlof Rochester(A.M.Oxf.), HI. 404
Wither, George, . - . . HI. 82
Wotton, Sir Henry, Knt. (Provost of Eton), II. 363'
Wyatt, Sfr Thomas, Knt Bart. - - II. 43
Wyntown, Andrew of (Prior of the Monastery
of St Serfs Island,) (Sc), - - - 1.249
3
CONTENTS
OF VOL. I.
CHAP. I.
Introductory Remarks on Language. — On the
Poetry of the Anglo-Saxons. — Specimen of Saxon
Poetry. ----- page 1
CHAP. n.
The same Subject continued. — Account of Norman
Poets in England. — Specimen of IVace's Brut. 35
CHAP. HI.
State of our Language and Poetry in the Reign of
Henry H. and Richard I. exemplified by an
Extract from Layamon^s Translation of IVace. —
Conjectures concerning the Period at which the
Anglo-Norman or English Language began to
he formed, — Early Specimen of English Poetry
from Jliches's Thesaurus. - - 60
VOI.I I. c
C xxvr ]
CHAP. IV.
Robert of Gloucester — Specimen. — Various small
Poems apparently imitten during the latter part
of the thirteenth Century. — Robert de Brunne —
Specimen. ----- 97
CHAP V.
Reign of Edward II.
Change in the Language produced by Jrequent TranS'
lationsfrom the French, — Minstrels, — Sources of
Romance. — Adam Davie — Specimens of his Life
of Alexander. — Robert Baston, - 124<
CHAP VI.
Reign of Edward III.
Richard Rolle, the Hermit of Hampole. — Laurence
Minot, — Pierce Ploughman's Vision — Specimens
of the Vision.— Pierce the Ploughman's Creed —
Specimen. - - - - - 146
CHAP. VII.
Reign of Edward III. continued.
John Gower — Specimens of his Poetry. - 169
[ xxvii 3
CHAP. VIII.
Reign of Edward IIL-^continued.
Geoffrey Chaucer— Specimens. - - 199
CHAP. ix.
SAME PERIOD CONTINUED.
John Barbour. — Remarks on the Language of Scot-
land at this Period- — Sketch of the Bruce,— Ex-
tracts Jirom that Poem. - - - 228
CHAP X.
Reign of Henry IV.
Andreiu of Wyntoxmi — Extractsjrom his Chronicle
of Scotland. — Thomas Hoccleve. — Anonymous
English Poetry. _ - - . 249
CHAP XL
Reign of Henry V.
Life ofLydgate — Character of his Writings — Spe-
, cimen of his Troy Book, - - 276
CHAP XII.
Reign op Henry V. continued.
James I. King of Scotland — Extractfrom the King's
Quair. 299
t xxviii 3
CHAP. XIII.
Keigm of Henky VI.
Digression on the Private Life of the English. 316
CHAP. XIV.
Reign of Henry VI. continued.
Hugh de Campeden, — Thomas Chestre. — Scotish
Poets — Clerk of Tranent. — Holland. — Henry the
Minstrel — Extracts. — Reigns of Edwahu IV.
and V. — Harding. — Scogan. — Norton. — Ripley.
— Lady Juliana Berners. — Specimen from the
Booh of Haxuking and Hunting. — William of
Nassyngton. — Lord Rivers. — Scotish Poets. —
Robert Henry soun — Specimens. — Patrick John-
stoun — Specimen. — Mersar — Specimen. 350
CHAP. XV.
Reign of Henky VII.
fVUliam Dunbar — Extracts. — r-Gaivin Douglas-^
Account of his Worksy and Extracts from the
Prologues to his Virgil. — Minor Poets of this
Reign. — Alexander Barclay. — Stephen Hatves—-'
Specimens. ... - - 377
Additional Extract from Robert de Brunne. 417
HISTORICAL SKETCH, S^c.
CHAPTER I.
Introductory Remarks on Language. — On the
Poetry of the Anglo-Saxons. — Specimen of
Saxon Poetry.
1 HERE is, perhaps, no species of reading so popu<
lar as that which presents a description of manners
and ciistomR considerably different from our own ;
and it is thefrequency of such pictures, interspersed
in the relations of voyages and travels, that princi-
pally recommends them to notice, and explains the
avidity with which they are usually received by the
public. But, as the pleasure we derive from this
source must be proportionate to the degree of in-
terest which we take in the persons described, it
VOL. 1. A
[ 2 ]
is probable that a series of the works of our own
ancestors, and particularly of their poetry, which,
whatever may be its defects, is sure to exhibit the
most correct and lively delineation of contempo-
rary manners, would attract very general notice, if
it were not considered, by the greater number of
readers, as a hopeless attempt, to search for these
sources of amusement and information, amidst the
obscurity of a difficult and almost unintelligible
language.
To appreciate this difficulty is one of the objects
of the present sketch : it may, therefore, be proper,
for the benefit of the unlearned reader, to preface
it by a few general remarks on this part of the
subject.
It is well known that our English is a compound
of the Anglo-Saxon, (previously adulterated with a
mixture of the Danish, ) and of the Norman- French :
but the proportion in which these elements were
combined, at any period of our history, cannot be
very easily ascertained. Hickes is of opinion, that
no less than nine -tenths of our present English
words are of Saxon origiij ; as a familiar proof of
which he observes, that there, are in the Lord's
Prayer only three words of French or Latin extrac-
tion. On the other hand, Mr Tyrwhitt contends
that, about the time of Chaucer, " though the
C 3 ]
y&rw of our language was still Saxon, the matter
was, in a great measure^ French." These opinions,
indeed, relate to such different periods, that they
are not, strictly speaking, capable of being opposed
to each other ; but it is nearly evident that both are
exaggerated : Dr Hickes having probably imagined
that he saw traces of a Gothic etymology in words
which were, in fact, purely French ; while Mr
Tyrwhitt, being misled by his own glossary of ob-
solete words, (in which the two languages are
pretty nearly balanced, ) has neglected to observe
that the greater part of his author's text, which
required no explanation, was almost solely derived
from the Saxon. But, be the proportion what it
may, it should seem that we ought to possess in
the various existing glossaries of the Gothic and
Romance dialects, the means of recovering nearly
all the original materials of our language.
It is true that these materials, in passing from
the parent tongues into Enghsh, are likely to have
undergone considerable changes in their appear-
ance: it may, therefore, be worth while to exa-
mine for a moment the probable nature and ex-
tent of these alterations.
Dr Adam Smith, in his very ingenious essay on
the formation of languages, has observed, that the
order in which the several kinds of word* (or parts
[ 4 ]
of speech) were invented, may fairly be inferred
from the degree of reasoning and abstraction which
was necessary to their invention : that it was a
much simpler expedient to represent what gram-
marians call the cases of nouns, and the moods
and tenses of verbs, by varying their terminations
and inflections, than to invent prepositions expres-
sive of relation in general, or auxiliary verbs con-
veying the very abstract ideas of existence, posses-
sion, &c. and, consequently, that all original lan-
guages will be found to be very complicated in
their mechanism, and full of varieties of termina-
tion and grammatical intricacy, but extremely li-
mited in the number of their elementary and ra-
dical words
But although the speech of any nation, in which
the paucity of its distinct words is thus supplied
by the number of their inflections, may become
perfectly applicable to every purpose, it is evident
that two such languages cannot easily be amalga-
mated, because the radical words in each, having
been arbitrarily chosen, will probably be very dif-
ferent ; their respective schemes of grammar will
have been formed on different analogies ; and,
consequently, the number of declensions and con-
jugations resulting from a mixture of the two would
be almost infinite. When, therefore, a very close
intercourse takes place between the natives of two
C 5 ]
countries, in consequence of their commercial pur-
suits, or the operations of war and conquest, it is
likely that they will be under the necessity of form-
ing an intermediate language, whose grammatical
construction shall be so simple as to be capable of
admitting indifferently, from either of the compo-
nent parts, as many words as it may from time to
time become convenient to adopt. And observa-
tion will soon teach them, that this simplicity is
easily attainable by means of the prepositions and
auxiliary verbs, which are capable of being substi-
tuted for all the varieties of the ancient declensions
and conjugations.
Whether this theory be universally true or not,
it is perfectly evident that the expedient here men-
tioned has been adopted in the formation of all the
mixed European languages ; from the Latin (which
is supposed to be a compound of the Greek and
ancient Tuscan), to that I'mgua-franca^ of which
the various dialects are spoken along both coasts of
the Mediterranean : and that in Italy, France, and
England, the scheme and mechanism of grammar
has become progressively more simple, in propor-
tion to the number of heterogeneous parts of which
the respective languages have been composed.
It is remarkable that Dr Johnson, though he has
noticed, and even accurately described the grada-
C 6 ]
tions by which the Saxon was insensibly melted
into the English language, has considered the cause
of these changes as inexpUcable. " The adultera-
tion of the Saxon tongue (says he,] by a mixture
of the Norman, becomes apparent ; yet it is not so
much changed by the admixture of new words,
which might be imputed to commerce with the Con-
tinent, as by changes of its otxmjhrm and termina-
tions ; for •oihich no reason can be given.** The
reader, however, who shall take even a cursory sur-
vey of the extracts which gave rise to this remark,
will probably be convinced, that these changes in
the Saxon consist solely in the extinction of its an-
cient grammatical inflections, and that they are ex-
actly similar to the alterations by which the Latin
was gradually transformed into the several Ro-
mance dialects.
But it is evident that, although the new scheme
of grammar was perfectly simple, and composed of
few elements, yet the precise and definite use of
those elements could not be suddenly established.
In employing our prepositions, for instance, though
we are seldom aware of the nice shades of discri-
mination which we observe, till the remark is forced
upon us by some striking violation of the usual
practice, it is certain that mere reasoning and ana-
logy would prove very insufficient guides. Whea
C ^7 ]
our neighbours the Scots talk of going till instead
of to a place, or of asking a question at rather than
of a man, we are immediately startled, without
reflecting that our own practice is only founded on
convention and habit. Amongst our elder writers
the use of the prepositions was, as might be ex-
pected, extremely vague and indefinite.
With the auxiliary verbs there was less difficulty ;
indeed the Normans, having only two words of this
class, were accustomed to apply them to a greater
variety of purposes than was usual with the Saxons.
Hence perhaps arose the transitive use of the verb
do, which is so frequent in our early writers ; as in
do make {Jairejaire) &c. ; and the old Scotish poets
carry their imitation of the French still farther, so
as to use doing make ; done make ; &c. an employ-
ment of the verb which I do not recollect to have
seen in English.
It is unnecessary to pursue these remarks any
farther, because the reader will find, in Mr. Tyr-
whitt's " Essay on the Language and Versification
of Chaucer," a complete analysis of our grammar,
as it subsisted during the thirteenth and fourteenth
centuries. Indeed, from what has been already pre-
mised, we are perhaps authorized to conclude that,
notwithstandingthe pretended fluctuation ofspeech,
a fluctuation which has been oftcner supposed than
i: 8 ]
proved,* the great body of our language has con-
tinued, with very few material or intrinsic altera-
tions, from its first formation to the present hour :
and that, if the study of our early writers be at-
tended with considerable difficulty and embarrass-
ment, these are principally to be attributed to a
cause very distinct from the mere influx of new^
or changes in the structure of old words.
The Saxon alphabet may be supposed to have
been tolerably well suited to its purposes, as it
contained five and twenty letters, besides a certain
number of points, or accents, which are generally
supposed to have been employed for the purpose
of fixing the prosody, and distinguishing the short
fi*om the long vowels. These accents, however, to-
gether with those minute delicacies of pronunciation
• It is well known that the Welsh soldiers who served in
our army at the siege of Bellisle (in the war of 1756), found
little difficulty in understanding the language of the Bretons.
The Sclavoniao sailors, employed on board of Venetian
ships in the Russian trade, never fail to recognize a kindred
dialect on their arrival at St Petersburgh. Many more
examples might be adduced to shew that the language of a
country is never destroyed, but by the annihilation of its ^
inhabitants, nor materially changed, but by their amalga-
mation with some other people. Indeed, all over the
world, children endeavour to speak like their parents, and
it may be presumed that they seldom fail in the attempt.
C 9 3
which they were intended to represent, gradually
fell into disuse, when the language became corrupt-
ed, first by the Danish, and afterwards by the Nor-
man invasion : and it is to be observed that the
many new sounds which, at the latter of these pe-
riods, were introduced into the language, were by
no means accompanied by a correspondent number
of new and distinctive signs, because the French
or Latin alphabet was already familiar to the Sax-
ons, who had adopted many of its letters, on ac-
count of their superior beauty, as early as the time
of Alfred.
It has been observed by those writers who have
particularly directed their attention to this subject,
that, in the present state of our language, we have
no less than thirteen distinct vowel sounds, and
twenty-one modifications of those sounds, making
in all thirty-four, which we express, as well as we
can, by six-and-twenty letters ; but at an earlier
period of our language, when the spelling of the
Norman words was intended to convey the Nor-
man pronunciation, the deficiency of adequate
signs must have been still more sensibly felt ; so
that our ancestors, finding it absolutely impossible
to adopt any consistent mode of orthography, fairly
left it to the discretion or caprice of the several
writers and transcribers.
[ 10 ]
Chaucer, it seems, was perfectly aware of this
inconvenience. In his address to his book he says,
*' And, for there is so great diversite
** In English, and in writing of our tongue,
*' So pray I to God that none mis-write thee,
*' Ne thee mis-metre for default of tongue :
** And, read whereso thou be, or elles sung,
*' That thou be understond^ God I beseech /"
Troilus and Cress. End of Book V.
It was easier to prefer a prayer, than to suggest
any human means of accomplishing the object of
his wishes.
The veil which obscures the writings of our early
poets cannot now be wholly removed : and perhaps,
among the admirers of antiquity, there may be some
who would regret its removal ; because, like other
"veils, it leaves much to the imagination. But the
present trivial work having been compiled for the
convenience of indolent and cursory readers, it ap-
peared necessary to adopt, as generally as possible,
in all the extracts which are hereafter given, the
orthography of the present day ; not as being quite
rational (which it certainly is not), but as being in
some degree consistent, and fixed by custom and
authority. Those obsolete words which, having
[ II ]
been long since elbowed out of the language by
French, or Latin, or Greek substitutes, were not
reducible to any definite mode of spelling ; — those
which, having undergone a change in their vowel
sounds, or in their number of syllables, could not be
reformed without disturbing the rhyme or metre ;—
and those which were so far disguised as to offer no
certain meaning, have been left to that fortuitous
combination of letters which tlie original transcri-
bers or printers had assigned to them. Such are
printed in italics, for the pui*pose of more easy re-
ference to the glossarial notes, in which their mean-
ing is explained or conjectured.
After these short preliminary observations on the
language of our ancestors, it becomes necessary to
say a few words concerning their poetry. This, in
its spirit and character, seems to have resembled
those Runic odes so admirably imitated by Mr
(jiray ; but its mechanism and scheme of versifica'
tion, notwithstanding all the pains which Hickes
lias employed in attempting to investigate them,
are still completely inexplicable. Mr Tyrwhitt has
justly observed, that we do not discover in the spe-
cimens of Anglo-Saxon poetry preserved by Hickes
any very studied attempts at alliteration (a species
of ornament probably introduced by the Danes),
uor the enibellifchment of rhyme, nor a metre de-
[ 12 ]
pending on a fixed and determinate number of syl-
lables, nor that marked attention to their quantity
which Hickes supposed to have constituted the dis-
tinction between verse and prose. Indeed, it may
be observed, in addition to the arguments adduced
by Mr Tyrwhitt, that as the distinctive character
of the Greek and Latin prosody was obliterated by
the invasion of the northern nations, it is not pro-
bable that the original poetry of these nations
should have been founded on a similar prosody ;
particularly, as the harmony of all the modem
languages depends much more upon accent and
emphasis, that is to say, upon changes in the tone
or in the strength of the voice, than upon qiiantity,
by which is meant the length of time employed in
pronouncing the syllables. Upon the whole, it
must still remain a doubt, whether the Anglo-
Saxon verses were strictly metrical, or whether
they were only distinguished from prose by some
species of rhythm : to a modern reader it will cer-
tainly appear that there is no other criterion but
that which is noticed by Mr Tyrwhitt, namely,
*' a greater pomp of diction, and a more stately kind
of march." The variety of inflection, by which the
Anglo-Saxon language was distinguished from the
modern English, gave to their poets an almost un-
limited power of inversion ; and they used it almost
[ 13 ]
without reserve : not so much perhaps for the pur-
pose of varying the cadence of their verse, as with
a view to keep the attention of their hearers upon
the stretch by the artiBcial obscurity of their style ;
and to astonish them by those abrupt transitions
which are very commonly (though rather absurd-
ly) considered as Pindaric, and which are the uni-
versal characteristic of savage poetry.
That the reader may be enabled to judge for him-
self concerning the truth of all the foregoing ob-
servations, he is here presented with a specimen
of Anglo-Saxon poetry. The only liberty which
has been taken with it, is that of substituting the
common characters instead of the Saxon ; and a
literal translation is added, for the purpose of shew-
ing the variety of inversions in which the Saxon
poets so much delighted. But as such a transla-
tion is very ill calculated to convey the spirit of a
poetical original, I am happy in being enabled, by
the kindn«ss of a friend, to subjoin a second and
a metrical version. This was written several years
ago, during the controversy occasioned by the
poems attributed to Rowley, and was intended as
an imitation of the style and language of the four-
teenth century. The reader will probably hear
with some surprise, that this singular instance of
critical ingenuity was the composition of an Eton
school-boy.
[ 14^ ]
AN ODE ON ATHELSTAN'S VICTORY,
From Two MSS, in the Cottonidn Library^ Bri-
tish Musewity Tiberius, B. iv. and Tiberius, A.
vi. dated 937 in Gibson^s Chronicle^ and in
Hickes*s Saxon Grammar 938, and supposed to
he "written by a contemporary Bard.
SAXON ORIGINAL.
Her jiEthelstan cyning,
Eorla drighten,
Beorna beah ^ gifa *
And his brothor eac.
' Ballice is boldly, Mar. xv. 47, in the Rush worth gloss,
and bealh varies little in sound from beak.
* Whiter in his Etymol. p. 347, gives geuar, Chaldaic,and
thence deduces our corresponding chief, captain, &c, g and c
[ 15 ]
This celebrated ODE is rendered into English as
literally as possible ^ to shotu the very great qfinity
between our present language and its Saxonjbre-
JatheVy Uihich, it is hopedy vdll be admitted as an
excuse for some occasional obscurity.
LITERAL RENDERINO.
Here Athelstan King,
Of Earls the Lord,
Of Baroiv3 the bold chief,
And his brother eke.
are certainly letters of the same organ ; and in Saxon cafrc
and caj'ott, are chief, chiefeat ; and Matt, xxvii. 57, Gothic,
gabigt is applied to Joseph of Arimatfaea, an honourable
man.
[ 16 ]
Eadmund iEtheliDg,^
Ealdor langne tyr,*
Geslogon aet saecce,
Sweorda ecgum,
Ymbe Brunanburh.
Heord weal clufan,
Heowan heatholindga.
Ha mera^ lafum,
Eaforan Eadwardes.
Swa him gaaethele'' waes,
Fram cneo' ma;gum,
Thaet hi set campe oft
With lathra^ gehwaene'
Land geal'° godon ;*'
3 Mthel, haleth, halettan, cilt, clyto, on Mr Whiter 's ele-
mentary principle, are all deducible from I, t, disregarding
the vowels, and the Latin altui, inclylus, Greek xXvres,
our exalted, lofty, &c. ^tbeling is the young jEthel, or
noblei
* Thrym, derived from turma, is a common term for a
train, and the Saxons sometimes added, frequently omitted,
the m final ; and in English tier, as tier of guns, a row, a
long liil^of ancestors.
* The marches of Wales and the North of England eluci-
date this term to an English reader, but it is derived from
the Gothic Markos, Mat. ix. 34, where mar is the corre-
sponding SsxoD, and signifies marks defining boandariei.
6
C n 3
Edmund Atheling,
Elders a long train,
Slew in the shock {of tear)
Witli the edges of swords
Round Brunanburgh.
They cloven the hard walls,
They hew the lofty ones.
The marches (borders) they leave.
As aforec in Edward's days.
So to them it destined was
From their mighty kindred.
That they at camp oft
Gainst robbers on each sidd
Their land wholly cleared ;
c Th and d are the same letter in Saxon ; and in Caed-
oion, whose style alone resembles this Ode, there is adaledy
portioned, destined, and dal, Saxon, and dalgs, Gothic, are
common terms for portion, or lot, synonlmous with the mo-
dern deal.
7 This word corresponds with cyn, genus, and certainly
the knees of Gibson conveys no appropriate idea.
* The Latin latro.
9 Each whence, literally.
•" Geall is all, in the Lambeth Psalter, Ps. Ixv. 15.
" Geaton is found for /• get, in the Saxoa Chronicle, An;
665, 675, 963.
VOL. I. B
[ 18 ]
Hord and hamas
Heted crungon. **
Scotta leode *'
And scip flotan
Feoge feollon.
Feld demode,
Secga ^* swate,
Siththan sunne up
On morgen tid ;
Maere tungoi
Glad ofer grundas,
Godes candel beorht,
Eces drihtnes,
0th se aethele gesceaft '*
Sahto setle.
Thaer laeg secg monig,
Garum ageted, **
Guman ^^ northaerne
Ofer scyld sceoten,
" This may be derived from raginon, regere, Goth.
Luc. ii. 2.
'' This word is retained in the English lad, and the
Scotch laddies.
*^ General name for soldiers ; and our old English word
segge, a man.
[ 19 ]
Their hoards aqd homes
Nobly ruling.
The Scottish lads
And the men of ihe fleet
In fight fell.
The field dinned,
The soldiers swat,
Sith that the sun up
On morning tide ;
The major twinkler
Glided over the grounds,
God's candle bright.
Eke so the Lord's,
Until this handy-work of the high
Sought his setting.
There lay soldiers many,
Their gore flowing out.
Northern men
Over their shields shot.
'* Whatever is created, shaped.
'• Ageotenne, Ps. xiii. 0, where the Trinity College MS.
has Kcdende to shed, to go out ; Gothic, giutid.
'"' Ghomo, homo, pronounced with their favourite £, or
ge i in Gothic, Luc, xix, 2, fuma.
[ 20 ]
Swylce Scyttisc eac
Werig wiges read. '*
Wes-Seaxe forth,
Andlangne dasg^
Eorod cystum.
On last laegdon
Lathum theodutq.
Heowan heora flyman»
Hindan thearle '^
Mecum *° mycel scearputn.
M)rrce ne wyradon **
Heardes hand to plegan. *•
Haeleth a nanum
Thaera the mid Anlafe
Ofer Maera gebland,**
On lides *" bosme.
Land gesohton,
Faege to gefeohte.
'* The MS. Tiberius, A. vi. gives read, not $xd, the print*
ed reading.
" Here to thrill^ or drill, as Exod. xx'u 6, thirlie his care
mid anum cele, " drill his ear with an awl," a custom retain*
ed by our forefathers, and executed on their slaves at the
church door.
*^ The Trinity College MS. supplies us with the deriva-
6
[ 21 ]
So Scotish men eke,
Red with worrying war.
The West-Saxon forth {army)
All the long day,
(A chosen herd,)
On the last laid
Of the loathed people.
They hew their fleeing men,
The hind ones pierce
With swords mickle sharp.
The Mereians (toere) not wearied
Hard hands to ply.
Health aye (was) non«
To them who with Anlaf
Over the seas blown were,
On the bosom of the waves,
The land they sought,
Foe to fight,
lion of this word, Ps. xvi. 14, giving tneche where anoth^
has sword : the first syllable of the Greek ftux^'C "^ f**X^-
** Bede uses the word in this sense, 5'i3, 31.
*^ Alfred, in his translation of Bocthius, gtva plegian,
to brandish.
^^ Gebleow, Rushworth Gloss. John. xx. 22.
»* This probably is an error for yth», the common word
for waves.
[ 22 ]
Fife lagon
On tham campstede
Cyningas uinga
Swordum aswefede. *'
Swylce seofene eac
Eorles Anlafes.
Unrim '^ herges *'
Flotan and Scotta
Thaer geflymed wearth.
Northmanna bregu '*
Nyde gebaeded
Tolides*5stefne3*
Litle werede **
Cread 5* cnear on
Elot cyning,
*^ Sioebbatit C»dinon ; b,f, and p, are letters of the same
organ, and asurpan, swept away, Lye. The Greek, <r C ^.
^ Unrim, unnumbered, from innumerus ; n, r, m, the
commanding consonants, the same as rim is numervs, the
termination us dropped.
^^ This word implies Harassers, according to Lye, from
hergian, to barrow. The Gothic hargis, a legion.
** This word proves beyond the possibility of doubt that
b and / are used indiscriminately by Saxon writers ; for
bregyd is frequently used for fregyth, frighted, here literallf
thefrighter, as in the Gothic, Mar. v. 4:2,faurhtei.
[ 23 ]
Five lay
On the camp-stead
Of kings the young
By swords swept away.
So seven eke
The earls of Anlaf.
Unnumbered harasser^
Of the fleet and Scots
There to flee made were.
Of North-men the terror,
By need forced, bidden
With a loud stefen {voice)
His remaining warriors
For to crowd near on
The fleet of the king,
^9 Luddor is louder, Chr. Sax. An. 654, though lud it
more generally transmitted with the aspirate h. Mud.
^° Steven is a common term fur voice, even in Chaucer.
*' The modern marivd, engaged in waging war. Vide
tceored. Lye's Dictionary.
^' Cread, a crowd, Lye ; here wed as a verb.
C 24 3
Utgewat on feolene 3* flod, 3*
Feorh generede. ^^
Swilce thaer eac se froda^'*
Mid fleame com on his cyththe
Nordh Constantinus.
Har Hylderinc,
Hryman ne tborfte,
Mecga gemanana
He wses his maega.
Sceard freonda
Gefylled on folc-stede,
Forebeslagen aet secge.
And his sunu forlet
On wael stowe,
Wundum forgrunden.
Geongne ^tguthe
Gylpan ne thorfte
Beorn bland en-feax
Bill gislihtes.
Bald in wuda.
3J Feoll, feft. Deut. ix. 18.
3*^Luc. vi. 49,jfioci. Sax. — Goth, aquafiodar.
3S Gener is the general term for a place of refuge.
[ 25 3
Out-going on falling flood,
Far escaped.
So there eke the prudent
With flight came to his country
The northern Constantine.
The haary Hilderic,
To scream not throve it, {availed notf)
Much bemoan
He did his mates.
Short {Jew) friends
Filled his folk* stead.
Fore-slain they were at the shock.
And his son was left
On the wailful stow, {afield,)
With wounds weltering on the ground.
The young iEtguth
To bewail availed not
His barons bold in fight.
Slaughtered by the bill.
Old in wisdom.
'^ Froda U the Gothic/rods, Afa(. vii. 21, the Latin pru-
d9n$ p changed into f'—f, r, d, s, commanding consonants.
[ 26 ]
Ne Anlaf the ma,
Mid hyra here leafum,
Hlihhan ne thorflan,
Thaet hi beado^' weorca
Beteran wurdon
On camp-stede.
Cutnbol 33 gehnastes,
, Gar 39 mittunge '»°
Guraena gemotes,
Waepen ge wrixles *'
Thaes the hi on wael felda
With ead "* weardes
Afaran plegodan.
Gewiton *3 him tha Northmen,
t Daeggled on garmn,
Dreorig dare tha laf.
On duniges mere,
Ofer deopne waeter,
Dyflen secan,
3' Bate is the term of contention ; and beat, to beat.
'^ Cutnbol sounds as sytnbd, assembly.
3^ Gar K great, as gar segg, Oros. I. 1 , the ocean.great sea,
^ Mittunge and gemotis are from the same source, the
Gothic motaitada, Luc. v. 27, the Moot'Stadt, place of meet-
ing.
^' This is generally lued for exchange, and is the word in
[ 27 ]
Nor Anlaf the more,
With the left {remainder) of the army.
To laugh not throve it,*
That they battles work
Better wrought
In camp-stead.
At assembly the nighest,
The great meeting
Of the men of the motes, f
Weep the ransoms
Of those that they on wail-field
Guarded by an oath
Aforcn pledged.
Quit them the Northmen
With tackled gear, {xvith sails repaired^ )
Dreary those the left, {the remainder. )
On the dingy sea.
Over deep waters,
Dublin they seek,
(hat passage of the Evangelist, " what shall a man give in
etchange for his soul." Matth. xvi. S6. Mark, viii. 37.
^ Ead, an eath, an oath.
*^ This word pronounced sounds as quitten.
* To laugh, to boast, availed not.
f Ward-motu is still in constant use to expreM a meet-
ing of tke priocipal inbabitaats of the ward.
[ 28 -]
Eft yra land,
^wi scamode.
Swylce tha gebrothor, «*
Bege aetrunne **
Cyning and Etheling,
Cyththe sohton,
West-Seaxna land.
Wiges hremige
Laetan him behindan-.
Hra Bryttinga,
Salowig padan,
Thone sweartan hraefan
Hyrnet nebban,
And thone hasu-wadan eara
^ftan hwit aeses brucan,
Graedigne cuth haofoc.
And thaet grege deor,
Wulfon wealde,
Ne wearth wael mare
On thisne iglande.
** Gedecan is to deck, thatch, cover.
*' Gibson reads atsunne, but Tiberius, A. vi, a:trunne,
togetheren.
C 29 3
Afterwards tlieir land.
Each were shamed.
So also the brothers.
Both together
The King and Atheling,
Their country sought,
West- Saxon land.
The war screamers
Left they behind ;
The hoarse bittern.
The sallow paddock^
The swarth raven
With homed nib,
And the house-wooding * heron
Eating white fish of the brooks,
The greedy gos-hawk,
The grey deer.
And wolf wild.
Never was there wail more
In this island,
* That builds his house in the loftiest woods.
C 30 3
(JEfre gita
Folces gefyUed)
Beforan thyssum
Swordes ecgum,
(Thaes the us secgath *^ bee
Ealde uth witan,)
Siththan eastan hider,
Engle and Seaxe,
Up becomon.
Ofer brade briniu,
Britene sohton.
Wlance wig smithas
Weales ofer comon,
Eorlas arhwaete,
Eard begeaton.
♦6 -This rendering is confirmed by the Heptateuch of
T^aites, p. 163.
C 'ii ]
(Ever since
By folks fiUed)
Before this
By 8word*s edge,
(Thus they that seek books,
Elders of the witens,*)
Since that the easterns hither,
Angles and Saxons,
Up became, {arrived)
Over the broad brine {sea)
Britain they sought.
Smiting with lances
The Welch they conquered.
The earls harrowed.
The earth gotten, {the land obtained)
• Thus it is related by the Clerks, the learned.
C 32 ]
METRICAL VERSION OF THE FOREGOINa
POEM.
The mightiest of alle manne
Was the gude king Athelstan.
Alle his knytis to hir medis
Weren riche and ryal wedis.
Edmond, his brother, was a knyt
Comelich, brave, and fair to syht.
At Brunenbruc in stour they faught ;
Fiercer fray was never wraught.
Maille was split, and helmis roven.
The wall of shieldis down they cloven.
The Thanis which cold with Edmond fare
To meet the foemen well were yare :
For it was comen to hem of kynde
Hir londis and tresours to fend.
The kempis, whych was of Irlond,
On ilka dale, on ilka strond,
Weted with blude, and wounded, fell
Rapely smatin with the stell.
Grislich on the grund they groned ;
A&oven, alle the hyls resouned.
C S3 ]
What for labour, and what for hete,
The kempis swate til they wer wete.
From morrow til the close of day
Was the tyme of that journee.
Monie mon from Dacie sproog
The deth tholid, I imderfong.
The Scottis fell in that bataille,
Whyche wer forwerid of travaille.
The West Sexonis wer ware
When their foen away wold fare ;
As they fled they did hem sewe
Wyth ghazed swerdis, that wel couth hew.
The cokins they n'olden staie.
For thir douten of that fraye.
The Mercians fought I understond ;
There was gamen of the hond.
Alle that with AnlafF hir way nom
Ovef the seas in the shippes wome.
And the five sonnes of the kynge
Fel mid dint of swerd fightinge.
His seven erlis died alswo ;
Many Scottes wer killed tho.
The Normannes, for their migty host,
Went hame with a lytyl host.
VOL, I. c
C 3* ]
The kynge and frode syked sore
For hir kempis whyche wer forlore.
The kynge and frode to schyppe gan flee
Wyth mickel haste, but her meguie.
Constantine gude and Anlaff
Lytyl host hadde of the laif.
Maie he nat glosen, ne saie
But he was right wel appaie.
In Dacie of that gaming
Monie wemen hir hondis wring.
The Normannes passed that rivere
Mid hevy hart and sory chere.
The brothers to Wessex yode,
Leving the crowen, and the tode,
Hawkes, doggis, and wolves tho,
Egles, and monie other mo,
With the ded men for their medef,
On hir corses for to fede.
Sen the Saxonis first come
In schippes over the sea-fome,
Of the yeres that ben forgone.
Greater bataile was never none.
C 35 ]
CHAPTER II.
The same Subject continued. — Account of
Norman Poets in England.
Xt has been seen that, although the great mass of
our language is derived from our Anglo-Saxon
ancestors, the mechanism and structure of our
poetry is to be referred to some other source ; and
it is generally supposed that all the modes of ver-
sification now in use were borrowed from the
French, who appear to have adopted them, to-
gether with the ornament of rhyme, in imitation of
the Latin monkish versifiers. To whom we should
ascribe the original invention of this ornament is
not quite so certain. Fauchet claims it for his
countrjnmen ; but, as he founds their pretensions on
the Frankish translation of the scriptures by Otfrid,
a monk of Weissembourg, who wrote about the
year 870, succeeding antiquaries have opposed to
this authority the superior antiquity of the Latin
specimens, some of which are to be referred to the
sixth century. This date is certainly anterior even
to any that can be assigned to the Runic ode.
[ 36 ]
called Elgin's Ransom, which has been translated
by Dr Percy in his specimens of Runic poetry,
and wliich affords, perhaps, the earliest example of
rhyme in any modern language. But, on the other
hand, it may be fairly argued, that, as our stock of
northern literature is very incomplete, we cannot
draw any positive conclusion from the deficiency
of specimens among the works of the Scalds ; — >
that rhyme, which certainly is not congenial to La-
tin verse, may have been a natural appendage to a
system of versification less strictly metrical ; — and
that, as the date of its original introduction into
Latin can only be conjectured, it is not more ab-
surd to ascribe it to some northern proselyte, de-
sirous of bestowing on the learned language an or-
nament which he admired in his own, than to sup-
pose it was invented by the Italian monks, as a
succedaneum for that regular prosody, the harmo-
ny of which had been lost in the corrupt pronun-
ciation of the barbarous conquerors of Italy.
But, be this as it may, the Norman poets were
certainly our immediate masters : to them we owe
the forms of our verse ; and translations from them
were among the earliest compositions of the English
language ; so that some notice of them is necessary
to connect the* links of our literary histor}.
Indeed it has not been sufficiently considered,
t 37 ]
that there was a period, and that of considerable
duration, during wliich the English language did
not exist, or at least was not, and could not be,
applicable to any literary purpose. The language
of the church was Latin ; that of the king and
nobles, Norman ; that of the people, Anglo-Saxon ;
The Anglo-Norman jargon was only employed in
the commercial intercourse between the conquer-
ors and the conquered. It was likely to be composed
almost entirely of synonymous terms, which evi-
dently can only incumber, without enriching the
speech of any nation ; and that this was the case,
is proved by our existing language, in which the
names of the necessaries of life, as ox and beef,
sheep and mutton, flesh and meat, besides many
other words of frequent recurrence, had originally
an identical meaning. This state of things would
necessarily continue so long as the Norman and
Anglo-Saxon people were separated by mutual
hatred and prejudice ; and their languages could
only be amalgamated into one common and con-
sistent form of speech, when the conquerors and
the conquered became confounded in the same
mass, by intermarriages, and by a general unity of
interest. Hence, the Norman and Anglo-Saxon,
which for some time existed in England as distinct
and rival tongur?, have long since disappeared ;
C 38 ]
while, from a series of opposite causes^ the Welsh
has continued to the present day ; and it is proba-
ble that, by a careful examination of our political
and legal history alone, we might be able to trace
the gradations of our language with tolerable ac-
curacy. In the mean time it is impossible not to
see that a great deal too much has been attributed
to the personal character of the Conqueror, and
that historians have ascribed to particular parts of
his policy effects directly opposite to those which
they were naturally calculated to produce.
We are told, for instance, that William hated
and determined to eradicate the language of this
island, and to introduce the Norman in its place ;
and this has been so often repeated, that Mr Tyr-
whit has thought it necessary to refute the asser-
tion by the authority of Ordericus Vitalis, a con-
temporary historian, who tells us, that William
had, in fact, taken great pains to acquire the An-
glo-Saxon. But surely, the absui-dity of the charge
is its best refutation. William must have known,
that the Franks who conquered Gaul, and his own
ancestors who subdued Neustria, had not been
, able to substitute the Teutonic for the Romance
language in their dominions ; that the measure was
not at all necessary to the establishment of their
power ; and that such an attempt is, in all casef.
C 39 3
no less impracticable than absurd, because the pa-
tient indocility of the multitude must ultimately
triumph over the caprice and tyranny of their
armed preceptors. But, having conquered a king-
dom, and wishing to retain his conquest, he intro-
duced a code of laws which placed his power on a
military basis ; and he introduced it in the language
in which it was originally compiled, and which was
famiUar to that army to which he looked for his
security. By encouraging the study of French in
the schools, he gave his subjects the means of un-
derstanding ihe laws which he expected them to
obey. He did this, perhaps, tyrannically and harsh-
ly ; but it is not proved that he did it with the view
of making the Norman the universal language of
his subjects, or that he expected them, at their re-
turn from school, to talk French in their own fami-
lies : he might, with equal wisdom, have supposed
that they would converse habitually in Latin, which
they learned in the same schools. Even during the
reign of Edward the Confessor the Anglo-Saxon
had ceased to be cultivated; and after the con-
quest it was sure to become more and more bar-
barous, because it was the language of an oppress-
ed and enslaved people ; but it continued to exist.
Indeed, the obscurity of our earliest poets is well
known to arise from this source ; and tjic subse-
[ 40 ]
quent influx of French words, which gradually
formed the Anglo-Norman or English language,
was so far from being an effect of the tyrannical
policy of the Conqueror, that it was most rapid at
the very period when that policy was abandoned,
(that is to say, a little before the time of Minot,
Gower, and Chaucer,) and was the natural result
of the increasing intercourse between the Norman
nobles and their English vassals.
In the mean time, the English monarchs were
the most liberal, and, perhaps, the earliest patrons
of French poetry : indeed we are told by a correct
and diligent antiquary, M. de la Rue, Royal Pro-
fessor of History in the University of Caen, (See
Archaeologia, vol. XII. pages 50 and 297, for his
able dissertations on this subject,) that it was
FROM England and Normandy that the
French received the first works which
DESERVE to BE CITED IN THEIR LANGUAGE.
The historians of Provence have assigned to the
first specimens of their poetry a very high degree
of antiquity ; but La Combe, in his short account
of the French poets prefixed to the second volume
of his Dictionnaire du Vieux Langage, supposes the
earliest troubadours of eminence, William Count
ov Poitiers, and Raymond Count of Thou-
LOUSE, to have flourished in 1071 and 1092, so
I
C 41 3
that the only known poet confessedly anterior to
the reign of William the Conqueror, is Thibaut de
Vernon, Canon of Rouen, who translated from
Latin into French verse the lives of JVandnl and
some other Saiiits held in reverence by the Nonnans.
The next names with which .we become ac-
quainted, are those of the minstrel Taillefer,
who is said to have been the first person that broke
into the English ranks at the battle of Hastings ;
and of Berdic, another French, minstrel attached
to the Conqueror, by whom he was rewarded with
the gift of three parishes in Gloucestershire. The
succeeding reign was principally distinguished by
numbers of serventoisj or satirical songs, from
which it is not improbable that Robert of Glouces-
ter may have borrowed his sarcasms against Wil-
liam Rufus : but we do not possess any monuments
of the poetry of this early period, nor have the
names of the writers been transmitted to posterity.
The first Anglo-Norman poet mentioned by M.
de la Rue, is Phillippe de Than. He composed,
for the use of the clergy, a didactic French poem,
under the title of " Liher de Crenturis ;" it is a
treatise of practical chronology, full of erudition,
and dedicated to his uncle, Humphrey de Than,
Chaplain to Hugh Bigod, who became Seneschal
to Henry I. in the year 1107, soon after which
C 42 ]
the poem appears to have been written. His next
work is entitled Le Bestiare, dedicated to Adelaide
de Louvain, who was married to Henry 1. in 1121,
so that the poem must have been written after
that time. It is a treatise on beasts, birds, and
precious stones, translated from a Latin essay
called Bestiarium, a manuscript copy of which still
remains in the library of Mr Douce, F. A. S. Both
these works are to be found in the British Mu-
seum. MSS. Cotton, Nero, A. v. " With respect
to the kind of poetry which Phillippe de Than has
used, (says M. de la Rue,) we believe it would be
difficult to find any authors who have adopted it.
His method does not consist in making one line
rhyme with another, but one half with the other
half, as,
** Al busuin est truved, I'amie e epruved,
" Unches ne fud ami, qui al busuign failli," &c.
But this mechanism of verse, which he borrowed
from the Latin versifiers of his time, and in which
he has had no imitators among the Frenph poets,
became very popular among the English. It is
adopted in the old metrical tale of King Horn, and
in many other works. Indeed, if we write the two
hemistichs as separate verses, we obtain that form
©f verse of which Skelton was so fond, and which^
3
C 43 ]
from its frequent application to metrical romances,
was usually called the minstrel-metre.
Samson de Nanteuii. translated the Proverbs
of Solomon into French verse, at the instance of
Adelaide de Conde, whom he calls his Lady. She
was wife of Osbert de Conde, and proprietor of
Horn-castle in Lincolnshire, which was forfeited to
the crown in the last year of Stephen's reign. The
composition of the poem was probably, by a few
years, anterior to this event. It is written in eight-
syllable verse, and is to be found in the Britisli
Museum, MSS. Harl. No. 4-388.
Geoffroi Gaimab is known by a metrical His-
tory of the Anglo-Saxon Kings continued to the
reign of William Rufus. This however is appa-
rently only part of a larger work, comprehending
the whole history of Britain ; since the author de-
clares that he had begun his poem with the Argo-
nautic expedition, and had amended and corrected
the work of Geoffrey of Monmouth, by means of
two MSS. which he cites. It appears, from clear
internal evidence, that this work must have been
written as early as the year 1146. It is in verses
of eight syllables, which possess uncommon facility
and elegance. The only known copy is intheBritish
Mus. Bib). Reg. 13. A. xxi. in which it is placed
as a continuation of Wacc's Brut d'Angleterre.
David is mentioned by Gaimar as his contempo-
C 44 ]
rary, and as a trouveur of considerable eminence ;
but his works are now lost.
The next poet in the order of time is the cele-
brated Maistre Wace : he was a native of Jersey,
born in the reign of Henry I. whom he professes
to have seen. He commenced his studies at Caen,
and returned thither after having completed his
(education in France. The order of time in which
he composed his several works cannot be correctly
ascertained, but it is probable that the Brut d*An-
gleterre, which he finished in the year 11 55, is the
earliest of those that have come down to us. It is
a French metrical version of the History of Bri-
tain from the time of the imaginary Brutus to the
reign of Cadwallader, A. D. 689, which Geoffrey
of Monmouth had previously translated into La-
tin prose from the British original, given him by
Walter, Archdeacon of Oxford. Layamon and
Robert de Brunne made use of Wace's work for
their English poetical versions ; and lastly, Rusti-
cien de Pise* translated it into French prose. There
are several copies of the Brute still remaining ;
three in the British Museum, viz. Bib. Reg. 13. A.
xxi. and MSS. Cott. Vitellius A. x. both of the
13th century; and MSS. Harl. No. 6508 of the
♦ Mr RitsoD considers Robert de Borron, Lucas, Ruslicien
de Pise, and other pretended authors and translators whose
names ,ippcar in the old prose romances, as men of straw.
C 45 3
Hth : a copy (likewise of the 14th century) in the
library of Corpus Christi College, Cambridge ; and
a superb folio, supposed to be coeval with Wace,
in the Royal Library at Paris.
Although a French quotation may have an awk-
ward appearance in a treatise exclusively dedicated
to English poetry, I shall venture to lay before my
readers a specimen of Wace's Brut ; partly for the
purpose of interrupting the dry and uninteresting
catalogue of names of which the present chapter is
composed ; and partly because, this piece of ima-
ginary history having employed the pens of so many
successive writers, it may be entertaining to com-
pare their several styles in treating the same sub-
ject. The following extract is taken from Wace's
description of the ceremonies and sports at King
Arthur's coronation ; and the corresponding pas-
sages from Layamon, Robert of Gloucester, and
Geoffrey of Monmouth, will be given in the two
next chapters.
* Quand li service fut fine,
£t iTE MissA EST chautc,
Li roi a sa corone ostle
Qu'il avoit au mostier^ portee,
Une corone menor * prist ;
Et la reine ensement ' prist.
* MS. Harl. C.W8.
' Monastery. * Mineure, smaller. ' At the same time.
C 46 ]
Jus mistrent les greignors ^ ators,
Plus legiers pristrent, et menors.
Quand li roi torna del mostier,
A son palais ala manger.
La reine a une autre ala,
Et les dames o sei * mena.
Li roi mangea avec les homes,
Et la reine avec les dames,
O^ grant deduist* et grant joye,
Come soloit estre a Troie :
Et Bretons encor la tenoent.
Quant enserable^w^^ feisoent,
Li roi et les homes mangoent,
Que nule fame n' i menoent :
Les dames mangoent aillors,
N' i avoit que lor servitors.
Quant li roi fut au dels assiz,
A la costume del pais,
Assiz sont les barons enter,
Chescun en Pordre de s*enor.^
Li senescal Kei avoit nom,
Vestu d'un ermin pelli^on,
Servi a son mangier li roy.
Mil gentilzhomes avec soi,
' Greater They laid down their greater and heavier
garments. * O sei, avec soi, ^ With.
♦ Pleasure. ^ Ffete, feast. ^ Son honeur, — his rank.
C 47 3
Qui tuiz * fiirent vestus d' ermine,
Cil servirent a la quesine. *
Sovent aloent, et espezy *
Esqueles* portant, et mes.
Beduer, de I'autre partie,
Servi de la boteillerie.
Ensemble o li mil dandoisealz,
Vestuz d*ermine, genz et bealxy^ '
O copes et o pos^ d'or fin,
Et o henas7 porteint vin,
N'i avoit home qui servist
Qui d'ermine ne se vestit. *
Beduer devant euls aloit,
Que la cope li roi portoit,
Li damoiseals apres aloent,
Qui les barons de vin servoent.
La reine ost * ses servanz,
Ne vos sat dire quanz ne qucmz ;'
Richement et bel fut servie
Le (roi) et toute sa compagnie.
Mult veisez riche vesele.
Qui mult ert^° riche et mult belc,
Et de manger riche servise,
Et de beivre ' ' en mainte guise,
' Tous. * Cuisine. ' Epais — thickly crowded.
♦ Ecuelles. ' Oentils et beaux. * Cups and pots.
' Hanaps — tankards. « f,ut. * I cannot tell who,
Dor how Diaoy. "> Erat — was. " Boire.
C 48 ]
Ne puis nc ne sei nomcr,
Ne les richesses aconter.
Mult ost a ]a cort jugleors,
Chanteors, et rumenteors, '
Mult poissez oir chan9ons,
RotuengeSf* et voialx^ sons,
Vileors,^ lais, et notez,
Laiz de vielesy^ laiz de rotez,^
Laiz de harpez, laiz dejietealxy''
Liresy^ tempes,^ et clialemealx,
Symphoniezy'^° psalterions,^^
Monacors,^* des cymbeSy^'^ chorons.^*
Assez i ot tregetourSf'^^
Joierresses, et joieors ;^^
* Rhymers ? * Songs played on the rote. This is
thought to have been the modern vielle, used by the Savoy-
ards in our streets.
^ Voialx sons, sous voyaux, probably meau vocal songs.
* Vileors are probably players on the viele or violin.
^ Lays accompanied by the fiddle.
^ Lays accompanied by the rote or virile.
^ These seem to have been a sort of flute.
8 Probably some variety of the harp.
5 Drums, '" Another sort of drum. Vide Sir J.
Hawkins, Hist. Mus. vol. II. 284, 5. " Dulcimers.
" The monochord. '^ Cymbals. •♦ A sort of trumpet.
*^ Jugglers. See Tyrwhitt's note on v. 11453. Cant. Tales.
'^ Probably the timbesteres or tumbtsteres mentioned by
Chaucer. See Tyrwhitt's Glossary : joieors are apparently
also jugglers.
C 49 3
Li uns disoent contes et fables ;
Auquant* demandoent dez et tables.
Tielx joient au hasart ;
C'estoit UD gieu de male part.
As eschiez joient plusors,
Ou a la mine* au gieu majors \^
Dui et dui* au gieu s*escompaignent,
Li uns perdent, li autres gaignent,
Cil enjuent qui plus getent,
As autres dient qu'ils y metent.
Sor gages emprestent deniers,
Unze por douze volontiers.
Sovent jurent, sovent affichent.
Gages prenent, gages plenissent ;
Mult estrivent, mult se courroucent.*^
Telx i puest soiez vestu,
Qui au partir se lieve nu.
' Ancnns, some.
* — ^ In the CoUoD MS. Vitell. A. x. the line stands thus,
*' A la mine u al greignor." Both readings seemtu indicate
two games played with tables, and distinguished as the
greater and the les$ ; but whether they were species of back-
gammon or draughts is uncertain.
♦ Two and two.
* I have omitted the remainder of this passage, which I
thought rather tedious ; perhaps, because it is not easily in-
telligible. The transition from this subject to Arthur's pre-
sents is rather sudden.
VOL. I. S
I so 2
Dona deduis,^ dona belezy*
Dona livriers,^ dona brockierSy*
Dona pelligon, dona henaps^
Dona peilez, dona anealx,
Dona bliaux, dona mantealx, '
Dona lances, dona esp6es.
Dona saites barheleez; *
Dona coivres, dona escuz,
Ars et espies bien esmoluz ;
Dona li dars, et dona ors,
Dona lorains et chaceors ;^
Dona hauberz, dona destriers^
Dona heaumes, dona deniers ;
Dona argent, et dona or,
Dona le mielx de son tr^sor.
N'i ost home qui rien vousist,
Qui d'autre terra a li venist.
Qui le roi li donast tel don.
Qui enor fust a tel baron.
De bons homes, et de richesse,
Et de plant6, et de largesse,
Et de corteise, et d'enor,
Portoist Bretaigne lors la flor
» Probably trinkets. * Weasel fur. 3 Liveriei ?
* Clasps. 5 Barbed arrows.
* Lorrains are reins ; but I do not understand which of
the accompaniments of hunting was called a chassoir.
I 51 ]
Sot tous les regnes d'environ,
£t sor tous ceulx que nos savon$»
Plus erent corteis et vaillanz,
N'eis 11 povres paisanz,
Que chevaliers en autre regnes :
£t autresi erent les fames.
Ja ne veissiez chevalier
Qui de rien feist a epriser,
Que armes, et dras, et ator,
N*en eut tout d'une color ;
D'une color annes feisoent,
D*une color se vestissoent.
Si erent les dames prisiezj
D*une color appareilleez;
Ja nul chevalier n'i eust,
De que quel parage il fust,
Ja peust avoir druerie,
Ne corteise dame a amiee,
Se il n'eust trois fois est6
De chevalerie prove.
Li chevalers mielx en valoent,
Et en I'estor mieulx en fesoent,
Et les dames meillores estoent,
Et plus chastement en vivoent.
Quand li roi leva del manger,
Alez sunt tuit esbanoier, '
■ To amuse themselves.
C 52 ]
De la cit^ es champs issirent ;
A plusors gieux se despartirent.
Li uns alerent hotorder^^
Et les ineaux^ chevalx monstrer:
Li autres alerent escrimir,
Ou pierres gctier, ou saillir,^
Tielx i avoit qui dars lancoent,
Et tielx i avoit qui lutoent ;
Chascun del gieu s*entremestoit,
Qui entremetre se savoit.
Cil qui son compaignon vainqueit,
Et qui d'aucun gieu pris avoieit,
Etoit sempres mene au rei,
Et a tous les autres monstre ;
Et li roi del sien li donost,
Tant done cil liez s'en alost.
Les datnes sor les murs aloent,
Por esgarder ceulx qui joient.
Qui ami avoit en la place.
Tout li tornost l*oil ou la face.
Trois jorz dura la feiste ainsi ;
Quand vint au quart, au mercredi,
Li roi ses bacheliers^ew^*
Evors deliverez devisa, *
Lor servise a cplx rendi.
Qui por terre I'orent servi :
• To just. ^ Fleet (isnel) 3 Xo leap.
* Fieffa, gave fiefs, ^ j cannot explain this.
C 5S 1
Bois dona, et chasteleriez,
£t evesquiez, et abbaiez.
A ceulx qui d'autres terres estoient,
Qui par amor au roi venoent.
Dona coupes, dona destriers.
Dona de ses avers plus chers. &c.
An account of this author's remaining works will
be found in the note below. *
Benoit was contemporary with Wace. M. de
la Rue supposes him to be the Benoit de St More,
who wrote the History of the Wars of Troy^ a
• Wace's second work is a HUtory of the two Irruptions
of the Normans into Neustria and England. Like the Brut,
it is written in verses of eiglit sj^llables, with that facility
which distinguishes Wace from all his contemporaries : it
is compiled from the best chronicles, and evinces an extra-
ordinary knowledge of general history. This work is only
to be found in France, where there are two ancient copies,
one in the Koyal, and the other in the Colbertine Library {
and a modern copy by M. Lancelot, with the variations
added in the margin, is also in the Royal Library.
The third poem of Wace is the famous Reman du Rou,
that is to say, of Kaoul, or Rollo, fir»t Duke of iNormandy.
It was written, as Wace himself declares, in 1160, and is
composed in Alexandrine verse of twelve syllables. It is
annexed to the MSS. just mentioned, as are also his fourth
woik, which is the Life of William Long-sioord, son of
C 54. ]
French poem of about twenty thousand verses,
imitated from the apocryphal Latin histories of
Dares Phrygius and Dictys Cretensis. This work
is preserved among the MSS. Harl. No* 4482, and
RoUo, — and the fifth, or Romance of Richard, son of Wil-
liam Long>sword ; both in the same Alexandrine metre.
Wace's sixth work is a poem of considerable lenfrth,
containing near twelve thousand verses, and gives the re-
maining History of the Dukes of Normandy, which it carries
down to the sixth year of Henry I. It mentions the coro-
nation of Henry the Second's eldest son, who was associated
to the crown in the year 1170, soon after which the poem
may be supposed to have been written. It is in eight-
syllable metre, and was mistaken by Mr Tyrwhitt for the
Roman du Rou. A copy of it is in the British Maseum^
Bib. Reg. 4. C. xi.
The seventh work is a Compendium of the History of the
Dukes of Normandy, beginning with Henry II. and ascend-
ing to Rollo. It is in Alexandrine verse, and preserved in
the Royal Library at Paris.
The eighth is a History of the Origin of the Feast of the
Conception, which is supposed to have been established by
William the Conqueror, and was kept in Normandy with
such magnificence, that it was usually called in France the
Feast of the Normans, It is to be found in the Royal Li-
brary at Paris.
The ninth is a Life of St Nicholas, written, like the pre-
ceding, in eight-syllable verse. It is to be found in the li-
brary of Trinity Coll. Cambridge, and in the Bodleian ; and
a third MS. is in the possession o fUv Douce, F. A. S. ParL«
C 55 ]
i« supposed by M. Galland to have been written,
very soon after Wace*s Brut d' Angleterre. It was,
perhaps, the success of this poem that induced
Henry II. to confide to Benoit the task of wri-
ting in French verse the history of the dukes of
Normandy : and this royal mandate exciting the
emulation of Wace (by whom the circumstance is
mentioned) induced that poet to complete liis own
series of compositions on the same subject, in the
hope of proving the inferiority of his rival's talent.
Benoit, however, persevered, and accomplished his
task to the entire satisfaction of the monarch.
This work, containing about twenty-three thousand
verses of eight syllables, is preserved in the British
of this poem are extracted by Hickes. Vide Thesannu,
p. 145, 149, &c.
The tenth b the R«man du Chevalier au Lion. Fauchet
and others ascribe this to Chrestien de Troyes, who (says
M. de la Rue) perhaps converted it into prose, as he did
the Romance of Perceval le Galois. It is to be observed,
liowever, that Faucbet's quotations from the Romance of
the Chevalier au Lion are in ver$e. — Vide Fauchet, L. II.
e. 10. ad fioem.
Lastly, it seems not improbable that Wace may have
composed some parts of the Romance of Alexander ; and
Mr Tyrwhitt suspects that he is the Robert Giuisco who
translated the Martyrdom of St George, The number and
excellence of Wace's compositions induced Henry II. to
bestow on him a canonry in the Cathedral of BayeBJc.
i 56 ]
Museum, MSS. Harl. No. 1717. Though inferior
to Wace in perspicuity and elegance, Benoit is
much commended by M. de la Rue for the accuracy
of his facts, and for the various and lively pictures
of contemporary manners which he has preserved,
and which are not to be found in any other author.
In descriptive poetry he seems to have possessed
considerable merit ; and, supposing him the author
of the Song on the advantages of the Crusade, which
M. de la Rue, with great probability, ascribes to
him, he is to be considered as the father of French
lyric poetry, so that the high reputation he enjoy-
ed appears to have been well deserved.
GuERNES, an ecclesiastic of Pont St Maxence,
in Picardy, wrote a metrical Li/e of Thomas a
Bechet ; and, from his anxiety to procure the most
authentic information on the subject, came over to
Canterbury in 1172. He states that, having begun
his work in France, he had been inaccurate in
many of his facts, but that, by conversing with per-
sons who had known St Thomas in private life, he
bad been enabled to correct many of his mistakes,
and to make a considerable progress in his poem,
when kis secretary robbed him of his manuscript :
that this principally afflicted him from the fear
that his name might be employed to cover untruths,
and that purchasers might be deluded into buying
C 57 3
an imperfect work : but that, far from being dis-
couraged by this unlucky robbery, he had redoubled
his zeal for collecting materials, and had finally
perfected his work in 1 177. He farther assures us,
that he had more than once publicly read his
poem at the tomb of the Archbishop ; a proof
(says M. de la Rue) that the Romance tongue was,
at this time, very generally understood in England.
Perhaps, however, there never was a period when
the town of Canterbury would not have furnished
a sufficient audience for such an exhibition. This
work of Guernes is written in stanzas of five Alex-
andrines, all ending with the same rhyme ; a mode
of composition which may possibly have been
adopted for the purpose of being easily chanted.
It is in the British Mus. MSS. Harl. No. 270; and
M. de la Rue suspects that the stolen copy exists
in the MSS. Cotton. Domit. A. xi.
Such is the short and meagre abstract of the in-
formation which M. de la Rue has communicated
to the public in his two very curious dissertations.
He is since returned to France, after pledging
himself to resume and continue the subject, and it
certainly is to be wished that he may be enabled
to accomplish a task for which he is so well qua-
lified. But it is not sufficient that the mines of
literature contained in our public libraries should
C 58 ]
be distinctly pointed out, unless some steps are
taken to render them generally useful. All the
information that can be obtained from the professed
historians of the middle ages has been collected
by the successive labour of our antiquaries, whose
activity, acuteness, and perseverance, do them the
highest honour : and their ingenuity has often been
successful in detecting, and extorting by compara-
tive criticism, many particulars respecting the state
of society, and the progress of arts and manners,
th^ direct communication of which would have
been considered by the monkish annalists as degra-
ding to the dignity of their narrative. But these
details, which are neglected by tlie historian, form
the principal materials of the poet. His business
is minute and particular description ; he must seize
on every thing that passes before his eyes ; and the
dress, the customs, the occupations, the amuse>
ments, as well as the arts and learning of the day,
are necessary, either to the embellishment or the
illustration of his subject. An edition of the works
of the Norman poets, or at least of a copious and
well-selected series of extracts from them, would
be a most valuable present to the public ; and,
indeed, it is only in this shape that they can be
very generally useful : because the difficulty of the
old manuscript characters is a permanent tax on
C 59 ]
the ingenuity of each i^uccessive student ; it is in
every case a delay to the gratification of his curi-
osity } and the talent of decyphering obsolete cha-
racters is not necessarily attached to the power of
profiting by the information which is concealed
under them. Besides, a scarce and valuable ma-
nuscript cannot possibly be put into general cir*
culation ; and many learned men are necessarily
debarred, either by distance, or by infirmity, or
by the pressure and variety of their occupations,
from spending much time in those public reposi-
tories of learning, to which the access has indeed
been rendered easy, but could not be made con-
venient, by the liberality of their founders.
I 60 3
CHAPTER III.
State of our Ijanguage and Poetry in the Reign
of Henry II. and Richard I. exemplified by
an Extract Jrom Layamons Translation of
Wace. — Conjectures concerning the Period
at which the Anglo-Norman or English
Langtmge began to be formed. — Early Spe-
cimen of English Poetry from Hickes's
Thesaurus.
While Norman literature was making a rapid
progress in this country under the fostering influ-
ence of royal patronage, and the Latin composi-
tions of John of Salisbury, Peter of Blois, Joseph
of Exeter, and others, bore testimony to the no less
powerful encouragement of the church, the Saxon
language, however degraded, still continued to
maintain its ground, was generally spoken, and
even employed in works of information and amuse-
ment, for at least a century after the Norman con-
quest. This is incontestably proved, not only by
part of the Saxon Chronicle, which, as it relates the
death of King Stephen, must havebeen written after
3
[ 61 ]
that event,but by a much more curious composition,
a poetical translation of Wace*s Brut, written by one
Layamon, *' a priest of Emleye upon Severn,*'
(as he calls himself,) a copy of which is preserved
in the British Museum, MSS. Cot. Calig. A. ix.
As this very civious work never was, and proba-
bly never wiU be printed, it appeared necessary to
depart, in this instance, from the practice usually
adopted in the present sketch, and to give the fol-
lowing extract in the spelling of the original MS.
This minute accuracy was requisite for the satis-
faction of such readers as may choose to collate the
transcript with the original, and for the purpose of
enabling every reader to correct such mistakes as
may have been committed in the glossarial notes.
Perhaps, too, it may not be amiss to exhibit a single
specimen of the strange orthography adopted in our
early MSS. as a proof that the degree of obscurity
attributed to this cause has not been over- rated.
Tha ' the masse tves isungeny *
Ofchirccken heo thrungen. '
The king mid his folke
To his mete verde, <
« When. * Was sung
3
When. ' Was sung.
Out of church (kirk) they thronged.
Went, fartd.
♦ Wentj/arerf.
[ 62 ]
And mucle his du^ethe t *
Drem tves on hiredcf *
Tha quene, an other halvet '
Hire herebervoe isohte ; *
Heo * hafde of tvif-monne *
Wunder ane moni en-'
jTha the king wes iseten
Mid his monnen to his mete.
To than 8 kinge com tha biscop,
- Seind Dubrij, the uoas stua god^ ^
And worn " of his hqfde "
His kinC'helm hcehne^ **
' Many of fa i$ nobility, Sax.
* Joy was in the houseliold ? drem, dream, jubilatio.
Hirede, Sax. a retinue, houseliold, &c« nearly equivalent to
the French word, mesnie.
3 On the other half, side.
* Her lodging (harbour) sought.
5 She, sometimes they, sometimes you,
^ Women.
7 Wonder a many one; i. e, she bad wonderfully many
women with her.
8 The accustive of the, Sax.
^ Saint Dubric, that was so good.
*° Took, Sbakspeare's Nitn.
^' Off his head.
*' His high 9 royal? kiog-helm, i. e. crown.
[ 63 3
(For than mucle golde
The king hine beren naldcy ^)
And dude enne lasse cnine
On thas kinges hqfde ,• *
And seoth-then ^ he gon do
Athere quene aUxw.^ !.
Inne Troie this •uies la^e^
Bi heore celdeme da^e ^
Tha BruUes of come. '
The xveoren rvel idone
Alle tha toepmen
At heore mete seten
Sundi bi heom seohen ; ^
That heom thuhte ueldon,^
And alswa tha wifinen
Heore ixvune '° hafden.
* The king him bear ne would, L e. did not choose to
carry so much gold on his head.
* And did (i. e. placed) a less crown on the king's head,
^ Sitb-then, afterwards.
* lie did the same to the queen.
^ Was the law or custom.
* From their elder days.
7 When Britons came from thence ?
* All the women that were well done (well educated) at
tiieir meat sate atuiuler hy themselves,
9 That they thought well done.
'° Habitation. Tu von, Johnson.
6
[ «4 ]
Tha the king wes isete
Mid alle his du^eth to his mete,
Eorles and beornes.
At horde thas kinges,
The stiward com steppen.
The Kay wes ihaten,
Haxt cnhit on londe.
Under than kinge.
Of all than hcepe ^
Of Arthures hirede.
Kay hehte him bivoren
Moni heah mon iboren.*
Ther weoren a thusen cnhite bald,
Wunder tvel italde.
That theineden than kingen,
And his here thringen. ^
JE\c cnhit hafde pal on, *
And mid golde bigon ;
' Heap, number, — i. e. when the king was seated with all
bis nobility at his meat, carls and barons at the king's table,
the steward came stepping, that Kay was called, the highest
knight in the land, under the king, of all the number of
Arthur's heusekold.
^ Kay summoned before him many high men bom, i, e.
high-born men.
^ There were a thousand bold knights, wonder well num-
bered, that served the king, and thronged as his servants ?
* Each knight bad a pall on, (i< e. mantle,) and bordered
with gold.
t 65 3
And alle heore vingeres
I riven * mid gold ringes,
Thas beorn tha sunde *
From kuchene ^ to than klnge.
An other half was Beduer,
Thas kinges hoe^e birle.*
Mid him weoren eorlene sunen.
Of athele ^ cunne iboren ;
And there heh^e cnihtene sunen*
Tha thider weoren icunen ;*
Seoven kingene sunen,
That mid him quehten. '
Beduer avormest eodcy ^
Mid guldene boUe ;
After him a thuisend
Thrasten ' to hirede ;
* Their ^x\f,ttn fattened with gold rings.'
* That bore sundry things ? or, what was sent?
3 Kitchen. The word seems to have been pronounced
cockeene.
* On another part was B«dwer, the kin^^s Mgh-butltt
{hirliany haorire, Sax.)
S Of noble kin bonu
8 Probably for icumen — " that thither were come."
^ Marched, CKtten, Sax.
* Aforemott yode, went first, with a gold bowl.
9 Thrust, or pressed forward, to serve.
VOfc. I. E
r 66 :
And alie thas cunnes^ drenche,
ITiem cQthe on bithenche.
And the quene, an hire end,
Wifmen swide hende ;*
A thusend hire eode bivoren,
Riche men and wel icoren.
To thainen there quene
And than that mid hire weoren.
Nes he ncevere iboren, *
Of nane cnihte icoren^
Ilaered, no laewed,
Anauere n'are leode,
Tha cuthe him itelle
An (pies cunnes sjpelle
* All hintU of drink that they could think of? or, they
can drink all that they could think of?
^ Very beautiful, handsome ; the construction seems io
be — " And the queen on her part [was with] very beau-
" tiful women. A thousand men, rich and well chosen,
'* (coren, Sax.) went before, to serve the queen, and those
" that were with her."
3 « Ne was he never born of none chosen knight, learned
" nor lewd (ignorant,) nor any where was there a people
" that could tell, in any kind of spell (language), of half
'♦ the rich-dom (riches) that was in Caerlion." The second
verse seems to have been introduced solely for the sake of
the rhyme.
[ 67 ]
Of halve than richedome
The was inne Kairliune ;
Of seolvere and of golde,
Ami gode itveden *
Of hehje iborene monnen
Tha inne hirede •vouneden^*
Of horsen, and of hafucken,'
or kunden to deoreuy
And of riche itvederif
Tha athan hirede weoren.
And ofalle thanfolke*
The wuneden ther onjblde
Wes thisses londes folk
Leodene hendest itald.
And alswa tha wlmmen,
Wunliche on heowen.
' Good weeds, t. e, rich dresses.
* " Of bigli-born men that dwelt in the king's household."
The word hirede. Sax. has three interpretations; a house-
hold— service— and a palace.
3 " Hawks, Sax. The next article is deer hounds.
*> '< And of all the folk that dwelt on fold (i. e. on earth)
" was this land's folk the handsomest (or noble) people told^
" And also the women handsome {winsome, vanlich) of hu^,
" and Itighpst shrowded (most richly dressed) and best in-
" ilructcd. (i<£»jfne, peritus, Sax.) taughtenf Lat. docens.
C 68 3
And hahlukest iscrudde.
And aire best ito^ene.
For heo hqfdenon iquethen alle*
By heore quike live
That heo wolden of ane heowen
Heore clathes hafben.
Sum hafde whit, sum hafden reedy
Sum hafde god grene aec,
And alches cunnesjf^A-clath ;
Heom wes wunder anelath ;
And elche untutle
Heo talden unworthe* *
* " For they had declared (iquethen. Sax.) all, by their
" lives (quike leve, living lives), that they would of one hue
** their [intire] dress have. Some had vehite, some had red,
" some had good green also, and each kind of variable cloth,
" fah-clath. Sax.) They were wonderfully uniform (anelich,
" Sax.)" It seems, from this passage, that Layamon thought
it indecent to wear the different parts of dress of different
colours. Wace, indeed, seems to express the same opinion.
^ The word untutle in this passage, and tuhtle, which oc-
curs hereafter, may possibly de derived from tticht, tught,
or tucht, which, in several Gothic dialects, signifies disci-
pline, education, and aovaetimeschastity, &c See Ihres'sGloss.
in voce Tuckt. The passage seems to mean, that the womc»
were severe in their manners, and " told (i. e held) as un-
*» worthy those who were irregular in their conduct or
'» dress."
[ 69 ]
TTia hafde cenglene ard}
That alrebezte here word,
And this leodisce vole sec
Leqfoest than kinge.
Tha wifmen heh^e iborene*
Tha wuneden athissen londe
Hafden iquethen aUe
On heore guides sothe
That man lauerd taken nolde
Inne thissere leode
Naever naenne chnit,
(Neore he noht swa well idiht)
Bute he icostned weoren
Thrie inne compe.
And his oht scipen icudde^^
And ifonded* hine seolve.
' If this mean English earth, it is certainly a violent ana-
chronism ; and yet it seems to mean, " Then had the Eng-
" lish earth all that was best worth> and the very commonest
" people {leoditce vole) also thought themselves of more
" value than kings>"
* " The women high-born, that dwelt in this land, had
" declared all, on their word's truth, that [any] man for
" their lord take they ne would among this people, never
" none knight (ne were he nought so well idigbt) unless
** (*u/) he proved (icoitned) were thrice in camp."
3 And hb fear escape could.
* And be tried himself.
[ 70 ]
Baldeliche he tnltte thenne ^U)
Nen him brude.^
For ther ilke tuhtle
Cnihtes weoren ohte ; *
Tha wifmen wel idone,
And tha better biwitene, ^
Tha toeoren i brutene
Blissen ino;^e.'^
Tha the king i^eten * hafde
And al his mon-txieoredey^
Tha bu^an"^ out of burhje
Theines swithen balde.
AUe tha kinges,
And heore here-thringes.^
Alle tha biscopes,
And alle tha clarckes,
' Boldly he might then go, none him upbraided?
* For there all the knights were disciplined by the fear
of disgrace? (ohte. Sax. timor.)
3 The women acted well, and were more prudent.
* Then were the Britons blessed enough ?
5 Eaten.
P Multitude of attendants, Sax.
' Fled— Then fled out of the town the people very quickly.
* Their throngs of servants.
[ 71 ]
AUe the eorles,
And alle tha beornes^
AUe tha theines,
Alle the sweines,
Feire iscrudde *
Helde ^eondjelde. *
Summe heo gunnen ^ ceruerii*
Summe heo gunnen urnen, *
Sunune heo gunnen lepen,
Summe heo gunnen sceoteut^
Summe heo wraestleden
And rvither-gome makedeuy '
Summe heo on velde
Pleowvoeden under scelde^ *
Summe heo driven balles
Wide ^eond the feldes.
' Fairly dressed.
* Held [their way] over the fields ; or, perhaps, covered
the fields (helm. Sax.) 2«<"td is beyond.
' Began.
* To discharg« arrows.
5 To run.
^ To shoot or throw darts.
7 Made, or played at, wither-gameSf Sax, (<;aiiiet of emu-
lation), i. e. justed.
' Some they oo field played under shield ; i, e, fought
ivith swords.
[ 72 ]
Moni ane kunnes gomen
Ther heo gunnen drinen. *
And wha swa mihte iwenne
Wurthscipe of his gomeney *
Hine me ^ laddc mide songe
At foren than leod kinge;
And the king, for his gomene,
jaf him jerew" gode.
Alle tha queue *
The icumen weoren there.
And alle tha lafdies,
Leoneden ^eond walles,
To bihalden tha dw^e then.
And that folc plaeie.
This ilceste threo dce^esy^
Stvtdc gomes and stimlc pla^hs,
Tha, atahan veortke daie
* "Many a kind of game there they gan urge." Dringen,
(Dutch) is to urge, press, or drive.
* And whoso might wis worship by his gaming.
^ " Him they led with song before the people's king."
Me, a word synonymous with the French on, introduced,
perhaps, by the Danes or Normans.
* Gave him givings, gifts,
^ " All the queens who were come to the festival, and all
" the ladies, leaned over the walls to behold the nobles there,
** and that folk play."
^ This lasted three days, such games and such plays.
[ 73 ]
The king gon to spekene "
And a^af his gode cnihten
All heorere rihten ; *
He jef seolver, he jaef gold.
He jef hors, he jef lond,
Castles, and clsethes eke ;
His monnen he iquende.^
The reader is certainly aware that a large pro-
portion of the French words which have found
their way into our language were introduced
through the medium of translations from Norman
literature ; and it is evident that such terms are
particularly to be expected in descriptions of dress,
of feasts, and of amusements ; it is therefore pre-
sumed that the foregoing extract, both on account
of its subject and its length, may be received as a
tolerably fair specimen of Layamon's phraseology.
And as it does not contain any word which we are
under the necessity of referring to a French origin,
we cannot but consider it as simple and unmixed,
though very barbarous Saxon. At the same time,
the orthography of this MS., in which we see, for
the first time, the admission of the soft ^ together
' Then, on the fourth day, the king went to council f
^ And gave his good knigbt< all their rights or rewards,
3 lie satiffied.
3
C 74. ]
with the Saxon 5, as well as some other peculiari-
ties, seems to prove that the pronunciation of our
language had already undergone a considerable
change. Indeed, the whole style of this composi-
tion, which is broken into a series of short, uncon-
nected sentences, and in which the construction is
as plain and artless as possible, and perfectly free
from inversions, appears to indicate that little more
than the substitution of a few French for the pre-
sent Saxon words was now necessary to produce
an exact resemblance with that Anglo-Norman, or
English, of which we possess a few specimens sup-
posed to have been written in the early part of the
thirteenth century.
Layamon's versification also is no less remark-
able than his language. Sometimes he seemsanxious
to imitate the rhymes, and to adopt the regular
number of sjllables which he had observed in his
original ; at other times he disregards both ; either
because he did not consider the laws of metre, or
the consonance of final sounds, as essential to the
gratification of his readers, or because he was un-
able to adopt them throughout so long a work,
from the want of models in his native language on
which to form his style. The latter is, perhaps,
the most probabte^upposition ; but, at all events, it
is apparent that the recurrence of his rhymes is
[ 75 ]
much too frequent to be the result of chance ; so
that, upon the whole, it seems reasonable to infer
that Layamon's work was composed at or very near
the period when the Saxons and Normans in this
country began to unite into one nation, and to
adopt a common language. As this is a most cu-
rious epocha in our literary as well as political his-
tory, it is worth while to inquire how far it is ca-
pable of being ascertained, if not with precision,
at least within some definite limits.
Geofifrey of Monmouth's history was written in
or about 1138; and we know from Wace's con-
cluding words that his translation was not finished
till 1155. This appears, at first sight, to be rather
a long interval ; because a work containing the
whole early history of Britain, supposed to be com-
piled from authentic materials, written in Latin,
and consequently addressed to all the learned men
of the age, could not fail to excite very general
curiosity. But before the invention of printing,
when books could only be multiplied by transcrip-
tion, it must be expected that a considerable time
would elapse before a long work would become so
popular as to require a translation, or fall in the
way of those who had leisure and ability for such
a task. If we assume a periodrof about 25 years
for the con)pletion of Layamon's version, we shall
I 76 3
fix it at 1180 ; and this is, perhaps, the earliest date
that can be assigned to it, because Wace*s Brut
was longer than Geoffrey's history, and was likely
to be less rapidly difiused among the learned ; be-
sides which, being written in rhyme, its imitation
was accompanied with greater difficulty.
It is apparently impossible to establish, with any
degree of certainty, a chronological series of those
English poems which we still possess in manuscript,
or to determine the year in which that series ought
to commence ; but if any conclusion can be drawn
from internal evidence, arising from a comparison
of the many pieces ascribed to the middle of the
thirteenth century, it may be presumed, from the
facility of rhyming evinced in many of them, and
even in the very dull history of Robert of Gloucester,
which con tains more than thirteen thousand rhymes,
that much poetry had been written before this pe-
riod, and some probably as early as the accession
of Henry III. in 1216. Perhaps, therefore, we
may fairly infer, that the Saxon language and lite-
rature began to be mixed with the Norman about
1180; and that in 1216 the change may be consi-
dered as complete.
If, instead of assuming these data for our con-
jecture, we should choose to establish it on such
documents as can be easily drawn from our political
C 77 ]
history, we shall arrive at nearly the same conclu-
sion. This will appear from the following consi-
derations.
It must be remembered that, for many years af-
ter the Conquest, the English could not be brought
to a quiet acquiescence in William's usurpation ;
that the number of his troops bore a very small
proportion to the whole population of the island ;
and consequently that they could not have been
safely scattered over the country, but were, of ne-
cessity, collected into garrisons, so as to form at all
times the elements of an army, which it was the
object of the feudal system to connect and perpe-
tuate. There were therefore two classes of per-
sons, whose respective languages could not be im-
mediately affected by the Conquest ; these were
the Norman nobles and the Saxon peasants. The
first, — immured in fortified castles with their fami-
lies ; anxiously preserving their original conneC'*
tion with France, vihere many of them possessed
estates ; associating only with their own country-
men at the state festivals, when they repaired to
the court of their sovereign ; and too haughty to
converse with their vassals, — retained the exclusive
use of the French language to a much later period
than that with which we are at present occupied.
The second, or uplandith men, as they are fre-
[ 78 J
quently called, (the cities being usually situated in
plains,) having little intercourse with their foreign
masters, continued for ages to preserve the Saxon
speech with very little adulteration, and in many
provinces, retain it to the present day.
" It is therefore in the towns only that we can ex-
pect to find a mixture of speech, resulting froni a
mixture of inhabitants ; and to their history must
we look for the evidence of its operation. But in
the first instance, the Norman garrisons, and such
colonies of their countrymen as may have been set-
tled under their protection, were effectually sepa-
rated from the native inhabitants, by contempt on
one side, by fear on the other, and on both by op-
position of interests. The two nations formed se-
parate and hostile societies : they were in a state
of juxta-position, but without intercourse. Even
their commercial relations were very trifling, the
internal as well as external trade of the country be-
ing principally carried on by Jews.
This mutual hatred was encouraged by the par-
tialities, and still more by the policy, of William
and his immediate successors. All the towns in the
kingdom were attached as demesnes either to the
crown or to its tenants in capite ; their inhabitants
were subjected to all the feudal services, and, be-
ing arbitrarily governed by a regal or baronial of-
[ V9 3
ficer, were exposed to every exaction of partial
and capricious tyranny. Anderson, in his History
of Commerce, gives us a curious instance of the
general poverty resulting from this system. " We
'* find in the first volume of Rymer'sFcedera" (p. 80.)
says he, " a letter from that king, dated [119L>] at
** Haguenau in Germany, where the Imperial Diet
" was then assembled, to his mother queen Elinor,
" and to the judges of England, earnestly pressing
** them to raise the money for his ransom to the said
" sordid Emperor, being 70,000 marks of silver, and
** urging thatjbr this end all the money oflheclmrches
*• may be borrotoedy as also of the barons. Here is
** NOT THE LEAST MENTION OF THE MONEY OF
" MERCHANTS OR CITIZENS, which shcws the poor
" State of England at this time, in point of com-
" merce or wealth.'*^ He had, however, previously
noticed a most material and beneficial change which
took place a few years before in the political situa-
tion of the citizens and burghers; a change, indeed,
so important, that Madox, in his History of the
Exchequer, (chap, x.) considers it as the adoption
of an entirely new system, and as the foundation of
all their future prosperity. This was the grant of
various immunities by charter, and the formation
of corporate bodies in certain towns and cities ; the
earliest of which is assigned to the 26th year of
C 80 3
Henry II. 1 180, when such charters were granted to
the city of London, and the town of Southampton.
The object of Henry's policy in this measure
was, by encouraging the growth of the towns, to
erect a ban-ier against the encroachments of the
aristocracy; and this policy, in which he persevered
during the remainder of his reign, was also adopted
by his sons. Several proofs of it are recorded by
Anderson, even in the short and busy reign of Rich-
ard I., and they are much more numerous in that
of his successor. " Notwithstanding all the faults
" too justly (it is to be feared) charged on King
" John," says this historian, — " we find him, in
*' this very first year of his reign ( 1 199,) beginning
" the good purpose as a king, — which he farther in-
*' creased in the course of his reign : — this was the
*' erecting of his demesne towns intoyree burghs ;
" which thereby paved the way for the gradual in-
" troduction of commerce into his kingdom." The
barons, on the other hand, with no less policy,
declared themselves the champions of all the pri-
vileges obtained or claimed by the cities, who thus
derived a double advantage from the contest for
popularity between the king and the aristocracy.
It is not our present business to pursue the
gradual effects of these measures in disseminating
liberty and prosperity, but it seems probable that
[ 81 ]
their operation on our language must have been
immediate and extensive. The Norman and Saxon
inhabitants of England were now permanently uni-
ted by the bonds of common interest ; and the
establishment of a popular form of municipal go-
vemment, under an annually elective magistracy,
by encouraging the spirit and furnishing the topics
of daily discussion, could not fail of giving currency
to new forms of speech, and of forming a language
adapted to their new situation.
It is evident that nothing less than the most
minute inquiry into all the circumstances of our
history under the first Norman kings would be suf-
ficient for the full investigation of this subject; but
the preceding observations will perhaps authorize
us to assume, that the formation of the English lan-
guage took its rise, and was probably far advanced,
during the interval of not quite forty years which
preceded the accession of Henry III.
After quitting Layamon, we shall waste little time
•n the compositions of his immediate successors.
The earliest of these, according to Mr Tyrwhitt, is
a paraphrase of the gospel histories called Ormulum,
composed by one Orme '^r Ormin, which seems to
have been considered as mere prose by Hickes and
Wanley, who have given extracts from it, but is
really written in verse of fifteen syllables, without
rhjrme, in imitation of the most common form of
VOL. I. F
[ 82 ]
the Latin tetramtieter iambic. The next is a Moral
Poem on Old Age, written in rhyme, and extracted
by Hickes, part of which is to be found in the
introduction to Dr Johnson's Dictionary. Ano-
ther poem, also transcribed from Hickes's extract,
by Dr Johnson, is a Life of St Margaret, which,
as Mr Warton tells us, forms part of a volumi-
nous MS. in the Bodleian library, containing vari-
ous lives of the saints, translated, perhaps, from
some eai'lier Latin or French original.
But the most entertaining and curious specimen
preserved in Hickes's Thesaurus is one which that
learned editor has characterized as a most malevo-
lent satire on the religious orders. It, however, by
no means deserves this disgraceful appellation, be-
cause it does not contain one of those opprobrious
expressions which are so liberally employed, as a
substitute for wit, by the early satirists. The author,
whoever he was, takes advantage of a popular tra-
dition respecting the existence of an imaginary
terrestrial paradise, in some unknown quarter of
tlie globe, which he calls the land of Cohaygne; in
which his houris are nuns, and their happy com-
panions white and grey monks ; and his object is
to insinuate that the ease and luxury enjoyed in
the monasteries had scarcely less effect in peopling
the monastic orders than the inducements more
lisually assigned by the proselytes of zeal and de-
C 83 ]
votion. In the Harleian MSS. there is an ancient
French poem, quoted by Mr Warton, on a nearly
similar plan, called Le Ordre de hel Eyse. The
same idea is also pursued hy Rabelais, and seems
to have been a great favourite with the early French
satirists. The word Cokaygne seems to be Frenchi-
fied Latin ; and our poem bears the strongest
mark of being a translation ; because the elegance
of the sketch, and the refined irony of the general
composition, are strongly contrasted with the rude-
ness of the language. As the poem is not exces-
sively long, it is here printed entire, with such
notes as appeared necessary to render it tolerably
intelligible. There are, however, some passages,
corrupted, perhaps, by the negligence of transcri-
bers, the obscurity of which I have not been able
to remove.
- Far in sea, by West Spain,
Is a land ihote^ Cokaygne,*
* Called. CSaxon.)
^ From coquina ; whence ctieina, cuisine, &c. and the old
Eiy^Iish word cockney. In P. Plowman's Vision, fol, xxv.
Ed. 1. 1550 (quoted hereafter), P. P. says,
1 have no salt bacon.
Ne no cokeney, by Christ ! coilopsfor to make.
Perhaps the iotellif;ence which the inhabitants of the metro-
polis displayed in the culinary art may have procured them
the appellation of cockneys from uplandith or countn/-men.
C 8* )
There n'is land under heaven-rich*
Oftoel* of goodness it y-like.
Though Paradise be merry and bright,
Cokaygne is of fairer sight.
What is there in Paradise
But grass, and flower, and green-me ? 5
.Though there be joy and great dute *
There n'is meat but fruit.
There n*is ball, bure ^ no^ bench ;
But water, man-is thirst to quench.
Beth ' there no men but two.
Hell/ 8 and Enoch also.
ClingUch ' may hi ^° go
Where there wmkh " men no mo,**
* Heaven, the kingdom of heaven. Sax.
^ Wealth, abundance of goodness. Sax.
3 Branches. Sax.
♦ Pleasure, deduit. Old Fr.
^ Bower, (Sax.) synonimous with chamber. F.
^ No, and sometimes nether, are nsed for nor.
' There are. ^ Elias.
9 The sense seems to be, " It is easy for them (o be clean
" and of pure heart, because they are only two, and cannot
" be corrupted by bad example." — M'hy Paradise should
contain only two inhabitants is not very intelligible, but it
was thus represented in the pageants, as appears from a pas-
sage in Fabian, quoted by Strutt (View of Manners, &c.
voU II. p. 53) : " In the border of this delicious place,
[ 85 ]
In Cokaygne is meat and drink.
Without care, haw * and simnk*
The meat is tricy ^ the drink so clear.
To noon, russin^ * and suppere ;
I sigge 5 (Jbr sooth boot were ^)
There n'is land on earth is ' peer.
Under heaven n'is land I ioiss *
Of so mochil ^ joy and bliss.
There is many swete sight :
All is day, n*is there no night ;
" vhieh was named Paradise^ stood two forgrowen fathers,
" resembling Enocke aod Hely, the which had this sa>iog
" to the king," &c. [Reign of Hen. VI. vol. II. p. 425.
£d. 1559.
'° They- The words they and them, instead of hi and
Aem, seem to have been introduced, as Mr. Tyrwbitt ob-
serves, about the time of Chaucer.
" Dwell. "More.
' Anxiety. Sax. * Labour. Sax.
• Choice, trie. Fr.
• Rushing is still used in the northern counties for what
the French call a gouter, or meal between dinner and supper.
Vide Grose's Prov. Glossary. Noon was the usual time of
dinner. ' I say, or affirm.
^ This kind of phrase is now obsolete; and yet we might
•ay, " for falsehood boot-less were."
' Apparently for hii, instead of its.
• I know. » Muekle, much.
[ 86 ]
TTiere n*is baret * nother strife,
N'is there no death, ac * ever life.
There n'is lack of meat, no cloth ;
There n'is man no woman wroth ;
There n'is serpent, wolf, no fox,
Horse no capily^ cow no ok;
There n'is sheep, no swine, no goat;
No none horwylcy* God it wot,
Nother karate, * nother stud :
The land is full of other good.
N'is there fly, flea, no louse,
In cloth, in town, bed, no house.
There n'is dunnivy ^ sleet, no hail ;
JVb none vile worm, no snail :
No none storm, rain, no wind :
There n'is man no woman blind :
Ok ' all is game, joy, and glee.
Well is him that there may be !
There beth rivers, great and fine,
Of oil, milk, honey, and wine.
• Wrangling. * But.
3 Steed, from caballus. It is used by Chaucer, &c.
* Probably a groom, as karate and stud are mentioned
immediately afterwards : the Sazon word is hors-viealh.
5 Huras. Fr. A place where horses are bred,
6 Thunder. Sax. ? But.
C 87 ]
Water serveth there to no thing
But to suft ' and to washing.
There is * manner fruit :
AH is solace and dedute.
There is a well-fair Abbey
Of white monkes, and of grey ;
There beth bowers, and halls ;
All of pasties beth the walls,
Of flesh, of fish, and a rich meat.
The likefullest that man may eat.
Flouren-cakes beth the shingles 3 all
Of church, cloister, bowers, and hall.
The pirmes * beth fat puddings.
Rich meat to princes and kings.
' T« seetb, or boil.
^ Here the word many iSj perhaps, omitted.
' Wooden tiles, for which those of clay were afterwards
substituted. Those ships in which the edges of the planks
cover each other like tiles, and which we now, with less
apparent reason, call clinker-hwU vessels, were formerly
called shingled thipt. " That in thy shingled ship shall be
" saved." P. Plowman, fol. xliv.
* Pinnacles. Mr Gray, in one of his letters to Mr Mason,
seems to say that these ornaments were not introduced into
our Gothic architecture before the reign of Henry III.
(Vide quarto Edit. p. 296.)
[ 88 ]
Man may there o£eat enoy,
All with 7ii/t, * and nought with woy. •
All is common to young and old,
To stout and stern, meek and bold.
There is a cloister fair and light,
Broad and long of seemly sight.
The pillars of that cloister all •
Beth y-turned of chrystal.
With harlas 3 and capital
Of green jaspe and red coral*
In the praer * is a tree,
Stoithe 5 likeful for to see.
The root is ginger and galingaki ^
The scions beth all sediuale. '
' — ^ The meaning seems to be, that meat was not teeighed
out, but in abundance, and at the disposal of all who chose
to seize it Eat, meat. Sax, ette, cibus.
3 Probably the plinthj in Italian orlo. In Cotgrave's Diet,
we have orle, for a hem or border ; hence the word ourler.
* Meadow, prairie. Ft. ' Very.
* The sweet cyperus, a sort of rash, the roots of which
were supposed to be an excellent stomachic. It was pro-
bably, like the real galanga, one of the ingredients in the
hypocras, or medicated wine, used at the conclusion of
their meals.
' Valerian ; or perhaps the mountain spikenard j for
Parkinson calls them both by the name of setwall.
[ 89 ]
Trie * maces beth the flower.
The rind canel * of sweet odour ;
The fruit gilofre ^ of good smack.
Oi cucubes* there n'is no lack.
There beth roses of red bke^ *
And lily, likeful for to see :
They Jalloiueth ^ never day no night ;
This ought to be a sweet sight.
There beth four iuetls ' in the abbey
Of treacle ^ and haltoei, '
Of baunif *° and eke pimentt **
Ever emend '* to right rent ; '*
■ Choice. Fr.
^ Cinnamon. Fr.
3 Cloves. Fr. They were fint introduced into the West
in 1190. Anderson's Hist, of Coramerce.
* Probably cuckoo-flowers, or lady-smocks,
s Colour.
* They/oie ; grow yellow. Our word/aZ/oto had origi*
Daily the same meaning.
7 Springs.
' Any sovereign remedy was at this time called treacle :
Venice treacle is still in some repute. The sirop of the bu>
gar-bakers, now called treacle, cannot have been known so
early.
9 Holy-watcr ? '° Balsam. Fr.
" Spiced-wine. Fr. " Running. Sax.
'3 In a full stream.
[ 90 ]
Of they streames all the mould,
Stones precious, and gold.
There is sapphire, and uniune, *
Carbuncle, and astiuney *
Smaragde, ^ lugrCf ^ and prassiunCy ^
Beryl, onyx, toposiune,
Amethyst, and chrysolite,
Chalcedon, and epetite. ^
There beth birdes, many andjalcy ^
Throstle, thrush, and nightingale,
Chalandrey ^ and imod-'voaley^
And other birdes without tale.
That stinteth never by har might
Merry to sing day and night.
\_Here a Jew lines are lost."]
Yet I do you mo to wit.
The geese y-roasted on the spit
1*3456 Of these names three only are intelligible ;
the uniOi or pearl ; the smaragde, or emerald ; and the
prassiune (prasius,) a stone generally found in the emerald
mines. Astiune may, perhaps, be the astrios, or astroites, of
I'liny ; lugre the leuco-chrysns, or chrysolite ; and epetite
the haematites, or blood-stone. The virtues formerly as-
signed io gems will account for the length of this list.
7 Numerous. Sax.
8 Gold-finch.
9 Wood-lark?
[ 91 ]
Flee to that abbey, God it wot.
And gredith,^ " Geese all hot ! all hot 1"
Hi bringeth galeky * great plente.
The best y-dight ^ that man may see.
The leverokes * that beth couthf *
Lieth adown to man-is mouth,
Y-dight in stew full svoithe * well,
Powder'd with gingelofre and cartel. ''
N*i8 no speech of no drink ;
All take enough without smnh. *
When the monkes geeth ' to mass,
All xix^jienestres, *** that beth of glajss>
Turneth into chrystal bright.
To give monkes more light.
When the masses beth isend, "
And the bookes up-ilendj **
The chrystal turneth into glass
In state that it rather was.
The young monkes each day
After meat goeth to play ;
■ Cry. Sax. * Singing-birds? ' Dressed.
* Larks. s taught. ^ Quickly.
' 'iiiij;er and ciiioamon. • labour. ^ Go.
'■ Windows. " Lodcd. '» Laid up.
8
t 92 3
N'is there hawk no fowl so swift
Better fleeing by the lift
Than the monkes, high of mood.
With har sleeves and har hood.
When the abbot seeth ham flee,
That he holds for much glee.
Ac natheless, all there among.
He biddeth ham 'light to eve song.
The monkes 'lighteth nought adown,
Ac far fleeth into randun ; * .
When the abbot him y-seeth
That his monkes from him fleeth.
He taketh maiden of the route.
And turneth up her white toute ; *
And beateth the tabor with his hand.
To make his monkes 'light to land.
When his monkes that y-seeth,
To the maid down hi fleeth.
And goeth the wench all aboute.
And thwacketh all her white toute :
* At random.
^ There is much pleasantry in this picture of the young
monks taking wing, by means of their sleeves and hoods,
and flying like so many Cupids ; and our ancestors nere
probably not offended by the direct mention of the dram
by which the reverend abbot called them back to their
devotions.
r 93 ]
And sith, after her swink,
Wendeth meekly home to drink ;
And goeth to har collation,
A well-fair procession.
Another abbey is thereby.
Forsooth a great fair nunnery :
Up a river of sweet milk.
Where is plenty great of silk.
When the summer's day is hot,
The young nunnes taketh a boat.
And doth ham forth in that rivere.
Both with oares and with steer.
When hi beth far from the abbey.
Hi maketh ham naked for to play.
And lieth down into the brim.
And doth ham slily for to swim.
The young monkes that hi * seeth.
Hi doth ham up, and forth hi fleeth.
And Cometh to the nunnes anon.
And each monke him taketh one.
And snellich * beareth forth har prey-
To the mochil grey abbey.
And teacheth the nunnes an orison
With jambleuc ' up and down.
1 Them. * Swiftly.
Gaunbolfl.
i: 94, 3
The monke that wol be staluu * good,
And can set aright his hood,
He shall have, without dangere.
Twelve wives each year :
All through right, and nought through grace,
For to do himself solace.
And thilk monke that clepith * best,
And doth his likam ' all to rest,
Of hira is hope, God it wot,
To be soon father abbot.
Whoso will come that land to.
Full great penance he mot do.
Seven years in swine's dritte *
He mot wade, •vool ye y-voitte, ^
All anon up to the chin.
So he shall the land win,
Lordings, good and hendy ^
Mot ye never off world wend,
'Fore ye stand to your chance.
And fulfill that penance ;
* Stout.
* Is declared ; or, perhaps, clippeth, i. e. embracetfa.
3 He who forces all his likes, or fellows, to take rest
* Dirt. ^ You must know.
' Civil,
[ 95 1
That ye mot that land y-see.
And never more turn aye. *
Pray we God so mot it be !
Amen, per saint charite.
A great many of our poets in the sixteenth
century allude to this story of CokaygnCy but they
change its name without much improving it : they
call it Lubber-land. In France and Italy the ori-
ginal expression is become proverbial. In the
second volume of Mr Way's translations from
Le Grand's abridgment of the ancient French
Fabliaux is a poem on the Pays de Cocagne ;
but not at all resembling the work which we have
been examining. This was, perhaps, imported by
the Crusaders, and bears some resemblance to the
story told by Sir J. Maundevile, of the Chief of
the Assassins, or Old Man of the Mountahiy as he
is usually called. ** Men clept him," says our tra-
veller, " Gatholonahes ; and he was full of cauteles
** and of subtle deceits : and he had a full fair castle,
" and a strong, in a mountain — And he had let
" muren all the mountain about with a strong waU
** and a fair. And within — the fairest garden that
" any man might behold ; and therein were trees
[ 96 3
*' bearing all manner of fruits — and — all manner
** virtuous herbs of good smell, and all other herbs
** also that bearen fair flowers. And he had also—
*' many fair wells. And, beside tho wells, he had
" let make fair halls and fair chambers, depainted
** all with gold and azure. And there weren in that
" place many a diverse things, and many diverse
*' stories : and of beasts, and of birds, that sungen
" full delectably, and moveden by craft, that it
*• seemed that they weren quick. And he had also
** in his garden all manner of fowls and of beasts,
** that any man might think on, for to have play or
*• disport to behold them. And — the fairest damsels
** that might been found under the age of 15 year ;
** and the fairest young striplings — of that same
*• age. — And he had also let make three wells, fair
** and noble ; and all environed with stone of
*' jasper, of chrystal, diapered with gold, and set
** with precious stones, and great orient pearls.
** And he had made a conduit under earth, so that
'* the three wells, at his list, one should run milk,
** another wine, and another honey. And that
** place he clept Paradise" (Sir J. Maundevile,
p. 336. Ed. 1727.
L W 3
CHAPTER IV.
Robert of GUmceUer. — Various small Poem^
apparently written during the latter Part of
the thirteenth Century. — Robert de Brunne,
W E are now arrived at the poet whom his editor,
Mr Heame, emphatically calls ** the British En*
nius,** but concerning whom we know little more,
than that he was a monk of the abbey of Glou-
cester ; that his christian name was Robert ; that
he lived during the reigns of Henry III. and Ed-
ward L ; and that he wrote in English rhymes a
history of England from the days of the imaginary
Brutus to his own time. His work seems to have
been completed about the year 1280. *' This
*• rhyming chronicle," 8a3rs Mr Warton, " is totally
** destitute of art or imagination. The author has
*' clothed the fables of Geoffrey of Monmouth in
" rhyme, which have often a more poetical air
" in Geoffrey's prose. The language— is full of
*' Saxonisms ; — but this obscurity is, perhaps, ow-
** ing to the western dialect, in which our monk
'* of Gloucester was educated."
VOL. I. o
[ 98 ]
It would be quite hopeless to attempt a defence
of Robert of Gloucester's poetry : perhaps his
own wish was merely to render moi'e generally in-
telligible a body of history which he considered as
curious, and certainly believed to be authentic,
because it was written in Latin, the language of
truth and religion. Addressing himself to his illi-
terate countrymen, he employed the vulgar lan-
guage as he found it, without any attempt at
embellishment, or refinement ; and, perhaps, wrote
in rhyme, only because it was found to be an use-
ful help to the memory, and gave his work a chance
of being recited in companies where it could not
be read. The latter part of his poem, in which he
relates the events of his own time, will not appear
quite uninteresting to those who prefer the simple
and desultory narratives of contemporary writers
to the philosophical abridgments of the moderns ;
and a great part of his obscurity will be found to
result from that unnecessary mixture of the Ger-
man, or black letter, with the Saxon characters, in
which Mr Hearne, from his inordinate appetite for
antiquity, has thought proper to dress this ancient
English author.
Robert of Gloucester, though cold and prosaic,
is not quite deficient in the valuable talent of
arresting the attention; and the orations, with
[ 99 ]
which he occasionally diversifies the thread of his
story, are, in general, appropriate and dramatic,
and not only prove his good sense, but exhibit no
unfavourable specimens of his eloquence. In his
description of the first crusade he seems to change
his usual character, and becomes not only enter-
taining, but even animated; and the vision, in
which a " holy man" is ordered to reproach the
Christians with their departure from their duty,
and, at the same time, to promise them the divine
intervention, to extricate them from a situation in
which the exertions of human valour were appa-
rently fruitless, would not, perhaps, to contempo-
rary readers appear less poetical, nor less sublime
and impressive, than the introduction of the hea-
then mythology into the works of the early classics.
The expectations awakened by this grand incident
are, indeed, miserably disappointed by the strange
morality which our monk ascribes to the Supreme
Being, who declares himself ofiended, not by the
unnecessary cruelties of the crusaders, nor by the
general profligacy of their manners, so much as by
the reflection, that they
** With women of Paynim did their foul kind,
" Whereof the stench came into heaven on high."
But these absurdities and inconsistencies present,
perhaps, a more lively picture of the reigning man-
C 100 ]
ners and opinions than could have been intention-
ally delineated by a writer of much superior abili-
ties to Robert of Gloucester.
Our sententious annalist has given, in the follow-
ing few lines, the same description which we have
already examined, as exhibited more at length by
Wace, and imitated by Layamon :
The king was to his palace, iAo* the service was y-do,
Y-lad with his menye^ and the queen to hers also.
For hli 3 held the old usages, that men with men
were
By hem * selve, and women by hem selve also there.
Tho hit were each one y-set, as it to her ^ state
become,
Kay, king of Anjou, a thousand knights nome •*
Of noble men, y-clothed in ermine each one
Of one suitf ' and served at this noble feast anon.
Bedwer the butler, king of Normandy,
Norn also in his half^ a fair company.
Of one suit, for to serve of the butlery.
Before the queen it was also of all such courtesy.
' When, sometimes then^ but never though, which our old
authors sometimes spell they, sometimes thogh, &c. &c.
» Fr. Attendants. ^ They. * Them.
S Their. ^ Took. Sax. "^ In the same dress.
8 On his behalf, or on his part. The use of the several
{{repositions was not fixed as it now is, but many of them
[ 101 3
For to tell all the nohleye ^ that there was y-do,
Though my tongue were of steel, me should nought
dure • thereto.
Women ne kept qf^ no knight as in drueryy *
Bui ^ he were in arms well y-proved, and at least
thrye. *
That made, lo, the women the chaster life lead.
And the knights the staltoorder,'' and the better in
her deed.
Soon after this noble meat,^ as right was of such
tide,
The knights atyled* hem about, in each side,
In fields and in meads to prove her bachelry, '^
Some with lance^some with sword, without viUany :*'
With playing at tables, other *» at chekere, *'
With casting f other idth settingf^* other in some
ogyrt " manere.
were used indifierently. Repeated proofs of this occur in the
present extract, and they are, therefore, marked in italics.
■ Noble feats. Old Fr. * Endure, last.
3 Took no account of. * Gallantry. ^ Unless.
« Thrice. 7 Bolder. Sax. « Feast.
^ Prepared, or, perhaps, armed. It seems to be the
French word attelUr ; and the English word hameu was
also synonymous with armour.
■° Knighthood. Fr. " Meanness. Fr.
" Or. '^ Chess. Chekere u properly a chess-board.
'* This may possibly refer to tric-trac, or back-gammon ;
but casting and setting may also relate to throwing the bar.
'5 Other.
[ 102 ]
And which-so of any game had the mastery.
The king hem of his gifts did large courtesy.
Up the alurs * of the castles the ladies then stood.
And beheld this noble game, and which knights
were good.
All the three hext*" days y-laste this nohleyct
In halls and in fields, of meat, and eke of play.
These men came the fourth day before the king
there.
And he gave hem large gifts, ever as hii worth
were.
Bishopricks and churches clerks he gave some.
And castles and towns knights that were y-come.*
{P. 190.)
* The walks on the roof of the castle.
* Highest, or feast-days.
* For the parpose of shewing how exactly Robert of
Gloucester translates from his original, I shall here add the
whole coiresponding passage from Geoffrey of Monmouth.
Ilex et regiua diademata sua deponunt, assumptisque
levioribus ornamentis, ille ad suum palatium cum viris,
hsc ad aliud cum mulieribus,epulatnra incedunt : antiquam
namque coosuetudinem TrojaE servantes Britones, consueve-
rant mares cum maribus, mulicres cum mulieribus, festivos
dies separatim celebrate.
Collocatis postmodum cunctis ut singulorum dignitas
expetebat, Caius dapifer, herminio ornatus, mille vero
nobilissimis juvenibus comitatus est, qui omnes, herminio
induti, ferculu cum ipso rainistrabant. £x alia vero parte
Beduerum ptncemam totidem vario amicti sequuntur, qui
[ 103 ]
The reader who compares the foregoing extract
with the satirical piece contained in the last chap-
ter, will probably think that Robert of Gloucester's
in scyphis diversorum generam multimoda pocula cum ipso
distribuebant. In palatio quoque reginse, innumerabiles
mioistri, diversis ornamentis induti, obsequium suuin prs-
stabant, morem suum exercentes ; quern si omnino descri«
bere pergerem, nimiain historiae prolixitatem generarem.
Ad tantum etenim statum dignitatis Britannia tunc pro-
Tccta erat, quod copi& divitiarum, luxu ornamentorum,
faceti& iocolaruni, cetera regna excellebat. Quicunque
ergo famosus probitate miles in e&dem erat unius colorii
▼estibus atque armis utebatur* Facetae autem mulieres, con-
■imilia indumenta habentes, nuUius amoreni habere digna-
bantur, nisi tertio inmiliti& approbatus esset. lifficieban-
tnr ergo castae mulieres, et milites amore illarum meliores.
Refecti tandem epulis, diversi diversos ludos composituri,
campos extra civitatem adeunt. Mox milites, simulacrum
proelii ciendo, equestrem ludum componunt : mulieres in
•dito murorum aspicientes in curiales amoris fiammas
more* joci irritant. Alii telis, aiii hastd, alii ponderosorum
lapidum jactu, alii saxis, alii aleis, cetererumque joconim
diversitate contendentes, quod diei restabat, postpositd lite,
prstereunt. Quicunque veroludisui victoriam adeptuserat,
ab Arturio largis muneribus ditabatur. Consumptis ergo
primis in hunc modum tribus diebus, instante quarto vocantur
cuncti qui ipsi propter lionores obsequium praestabant, et
ftinguli singulis possessionibus, civitatibus videlicet, atque
• Amore, £d. 1687.
12
I 104 :j
language very nearly resembles that of his con-
temporaries, and is not particularly marked with
Saxonisms or provincial phrases, llie oddest pe-
culiarity in his style is the strange use of the word
me, which we have seen once used by Layamon,
but which here occurs as a mere expletive in almost
every page. There is an instance of it in the fol-
lowing couplet, which is not quoted for this reason,
but because it relates to our literary history. Our
author, speaking of Richard I., says,
** Me ne may not all tell here, ac whoso it wiU
** y-wite,
" In romance of him ynnade «<e it may find
«' y-write." [P. 487.]
The simple meaning of which seenK to be, that he
refers such of his readers as shall wish for farther
details, to the French or Romance history of this
monarch. Mr Hearne, however, in his note on this
passage, assures us that our grave historian here
quotes dijabulom narrative; that it is in English,
in short verse, that he remembers to have seen it
castellis, archiepkcopatibus, episcopatibas, abbatiis, ce-
terisque honoribns dotantur.
£Galfr. Mon. ed, 1517, p- 7T. et ap. Rer. Brit. Script.
Vet. 15S7, p. 70, 1, 89.]
The reader has already seea Wace's curious amplifica>
tioa of this picturci
4
I 105 ]
in print, and that for this reason, and because it
is a very indifferent performance, it is. not worth
transcribing from his copy, which he distinguishes
as Codex. Ar. and, lest we should doubt the fact,
he tells us all this in Latin. If there exist an Eng-
lish metrical romance on the life of Richard Coeur
de Lion anterior to Robert of Gloucester, it is cer-
tainly a great curiosity.
It is, however, very probable, that a few of those
compositions which we now call metrical romances,
and which by (Ader writers are termed gesis (from
the Latin word gesta, which was become the fa-
shionable appellation of every learned story-book)
were written about tiiis time ; because Robert de
Brunne expressly mentions two poets, Erceldoun
and Kendale, as excelling in this mode of writing,
and says of the story o£ Sir Tristrartiy that
Over gestes it has th* esteem :
Over all that is or tuas.
If men it said, as made TTiom^s.*
The bard who is thus distinguished from a crowd
of competitors, is supposed to be Thomas Ler-
mont of Ercildoun, or Erceldoune, a village in
Tweedale, generally known by the honourable ap-
pellation of Thomas the Rhymer, who lived in the
* lieame'i Fref. to LAiigtoft, zcix»
C 106 ]
reign of Edward I. and was reputed (though it
seems falsely) to be the author of some metrical
prophecies not yet forgotten in Scotland. His
contemporary Kendale is only known by the acci-
dental mention of Robert de Brunne. There is,
however, an unclaimed metrical romance apparent-
ly belonging to this period, which the generosity
of future critics may possibly assign to him. This
is the Geste of King Horn, preserved in a very cu-
rious miscellany in the British Museum, (HarL
MSS. No. 2253) and mentioned by Chaucer as
one of the romances of price. Mr Warton has given
an excellent abridgment of it, together with a
considerable extract, in the first volume of liis
Hist, of Poetry, p. 38.*
In the same manuscript which contains this ro-
* Having procured from the Museum a transcript of this
very curious work, I should not have failed to insert it en-
tire, but that I bad reason to hope that the task of editing
it would fall into much better hands. The reader will cer-
tainly learn with pleasure that Mr Ilitson has it in contem-
plation to publish a series of our old metrical romances, ma-
ny of which exist only in manuscript. Such a work, exe-
cuted by him, is likely to prove the most valuable reper-
tory of early language and manners that has yet been pre-
sented to the public.
Since this note was written, Mr Ritson's projected pub-
lication has been completed io three volumes, and contaim
the romance in question.
[ 10^ ]
mance are found some political satires of consi-
derable merit ; one of which was certainly com-
posed in the year 1265 : (it is inserted in Percy's
Reliques, as is also an elegy on the death of Edward
I. written in 1307) another, on the defeat of the
French army by the Flemings, in 1301 ; and a
ballad against the Scots, composed in 1306. As
the first of these pieces may be considered as ante-
rior to the composition of Robert of Gloucester's
poem, and the others were written very soon after
its conclusion, Mr Warton seems to have employed
them as terms of comparison, for the purpose of
ascertaining by internal evidence the dates of se-
veral love-songs, devotional and moral poems, and
other smaller pieces contained in the same miscel-
lany. He was perhaps mistaken in referring some
of these to so early a period as the year 1200 ; but
they certainly appear to have been written near the
middle of the thirteenth century; and, as specimens
of our earliest lyric compositions are not unworthy
of our curiosity, the reader is here presented with
two, one of which is a moral ditty, and the other
a love-song : both copied from the volume of an-
cient songs published by Mr llitson, who has cor-
rected some trifling mistakes committed by Mr
Warton in decyphering the obsolete characters of
the ancient MS.
C 108 3
DITTY
Upon the Uncertainty of this Lifcy and the Approach
of Death.
Winter wakeneth all my care ;
Now these leaves waxeth bare.
Oft 1 sigh, and mourne sare.
When it cometh in my thought,
Of this world's joy, how it go'th all to nought I
Now it is, and now it n'is,
All so * it ne^er n'toere I wis :
That many men saith, sooth it is.
All go'th * but Godes will :
All we shall die, though us like iU, ^
All that grain me groweth green ;
Now, it Jalloweth * all by-dene, *
Jesu help, that it be seen,^
And shield us from hell,
For I n*ot ' whither I shall, ne how long here dwell.
' As if it bad never been. ^ Passeth away.
3 Thougb we may dislike it ? * Fadeth,
' Presently. ^ The meaning seems to be, " May
" Jesu help ns so that his help may be manifest"
^ Ne wot, know net.
C 109 ]
SONG
In Praise of the Author's Mistress^ xohoseName was
Alysoun.
Between March and Averil,
When spray beginneth to spring,
The little fowl hath hire will
On hire Itid ' to sing.
I live in love-longing
For seemlokest * of alle thing
She may me blisse bring,
I am in her bandoun. ^
An hendy * hap I have y-hent, *
Ichot ^ from heaven it is me sent,
From all women my love is lent.
And *light ' on Alysoun.
On hen ^ her hair is fair enough.
Her brow brown, her eye black :
With loisum ' cheer she on me lotigh '*
With middle small and well y-mak.
' Songs, or odes. The word Uudi occurs in tfae same
sense in the barbarous Latin of the times, as Mr Pinkerton
has justly obserred.
* Seemliest, handsomest. ' Command. Fr«
* Lucky. 5 Caught.
^ I think. 7 Alighted.
* This apparently inexplicable phrase is perhaps an error
of the transcribers. '^ Lovesome, lovely. '° Laughs.
C no 3
But ' she will me to her take.
For to been her otven makey *
Long to liven I shall forsake.
And, Jar/ J ' fallen adown.
An hendy hap, &c.
Nightes, when I wend and wake,
For thee my •voonges * waxeth wan :
Lady all for thine sake
Longing is y-lent me on !
In world n'is non so ixyter ^ man.
That all her bounty ^ telle can :
Her siuire ' is whiter than the swan,
And fairest may s in town.
An hendy hap, &c.
I am, for wooing, all for weak.
Weary, so water in ixiore ; '
Lest any reave '° me my malte
I shallibe^y-yeflrwec?"^ sore.
* Unless. * Own mate.
3 In faith. Fr, * Cheeks. Sax,
' Wise. ^ Excellence, honti, Fr.
' Neck, 8 Virgin. Sax.
• Wear, pool. *° Bereave me of.
** Vexed, anxious.
[ 111 ]
Better is tholien * fthUe * sore
Than mournen evermore.
Gainest under gorey ^
Hearken to my roun ! ♦
An hendy hap, &c.
It b not impossible that Chaucer, at the same
time that he ridiculed the romances, may have in-
tended to laugh at the fashionable love-songs of
his age ; for in his rhyme of Sir Thopas he has
borrowed two apparently affected phrases from the
foregoing composition.
Sire Thopas fell in lovC'longing
All when he heard the throstle sing.
And afterwards :
Me dreamed all this night, pardie.
An elf-queen shall my lemman be,
And sleep under my gore.
* To suffer. Sax.
* Awhile.
' Perbaps, " Most graceful in dress." The word gainest
•ccurs in the same sense in Dunbar's " Twa mariit Women,"
Terse 78. Ungaia 'u still used in the provinces for the oppo»
site idea ; and gore appears to be the same with gtar,diess,
from the Saxon gearwa, vestis.
* Song.
[ 112 3
To the same period with the foregoing we ought,
perhaps, to refer the following short descriptive
song, preserved by Sir John Hawkins in his Historjr
of Music, vol. II. p. 93.
Summer is y-comen in,
Loude sing cuckoo :
Groweth seed,
And blotveth ' mead.
And spring'th the wood now ;
Sing cuckoo !
Ewe bleateth after lamb,
Low'th after calf cow :
Bullock starteth.
Buck verteth, '
Merry sing cuckoo !
Cuckoo, cuckoo !
Well sings thou cuckoo !
Ne siuick ^ thou never now.
The first poet who occurs in the beginning of the
fourteenth century is Robert Mannyng, com-
monly called RoBERi de Brunne. He was, as far
as we know, merely a translator. His first work,say8
Mr Warton, was a metrical paraphrase of a French
* Blooms. * Goes to harbour anioDg the fern.
3 Cease.
[ 113 ]
book, written by Robert Grosthead, bishop of Lin-
coln, called Manuele Pecche {Matiuel des Peches,)
being a treatise on the decalogue, and on the se-
ven deadly sins, which are illustrated with many
legendary stories. It was never printed, but is pre-
served in the Bodleian library, MSS. N. 415, and
in the British Museum, MSS. Harl. No. 1701.
His second and more important work is a me-
trical chronicle of England^ in two parts, the
former of which (from TEneas to the death of Cad-
wallader) is translated from Wace's Brut d'Angle-
terre, and the latter (from Cadwallader to the end
of the reign of Edward I. ) from a French chroni-
cle, written by Peter de Langtoft^ an Augustine
canon of Bridlington, in Yorkshire, who is suppo-
sed to have died in the reign of Edward II. and
was, therefore, contemporary with his translator.
Robert de Brunne has furnished his biographers
with the only particulars that are known concern-
ing his life. In the prologue to his first work he
says that he had Uved fifteen years at Brunne, in
the priory of black canons, when he began his
translation in 1 303. He was therefore received into
the order in 1288, and was probably born before
1270. With respect to his second work, he says.
Of Brunne I am, if any me blame,
Robert Mannyng is my name :
VOL, I. H
C 114 ]
Blessed be he of God of heaven
That me Robert with good will neven. *
In the third Edward's time was I
When I wrote all this story.
In the house of Sixille I was a throiu. *
Dan Robert of Malton that ye know
Did it write for fellows' sake.
When they willed solace make.
[Hearne's Pref. to Pet. Langt. ci.]
- By this passage he seems to mean, that he was
born at a place called Malton ; that he had resided
some time at a house in the neighbourhood called
Sixhill ; and that there he, Robert de Brunne, had
composed at least a part of his poem during the
reign of Edward III, Mr Warton, therefore, is
perhaps inaccurate in his account of this author,
when he says,. that ** he was a Gilbertine monk
*' in the monastery of Brunne, or Bourne, near
" Depyng in Lincolnshire : but he had been before
** professed in the priory of Sixhille, a house of
" the same order, and in the same county."
Mr Hearne, the editor of Robert de Brunne,
has thought fit lo suppress the whole of his transla-
tion from Wace, excepting the prologue, and a few
extracts which he found necessary to illustrate his
glossary. The learned antiquary perhaps thought
' ^ames. ^ For some time.
C 115 ]
that, having carefully preserved the whole of Ro-
bert of Gloucester's faithful and almost literal ver-
sion of Geoffrey of Monmouth, it was unnecessary
to print the more licentious paraphrase which had
passed through the medium of a Norman poet.
The following description of the first interview
between Vortigern and Rowena is one of the few
specimens that he has preserved. It is not given
as an example of beautiful poetry, or of refined
language, for its style is scarcely to be distinguish-
ed from that of the Monk of Gloucester ; but it is
a curious description of ancient manners : —
Of chamber Rouwcn so gent.
Before the king in hall scho ' went;
A cup with wine she had in hand.
And her attire was voell-farand ; *
Before the king one knee set,
And on her language scho him gret :
" Laverid ^ king, Wassaille /" said she.
The king asked what should be ?
On that language the king ne couth. *
A knight ther language lerid * in youth :
Breg hight that knight, born Bretoun,
That lerid the language of SessoHn : *
• She. * Very becoraiaj. S Lord.
* Knew. 5 Learned, * SaXon.
[ 116 3
I'his Breg was thre laiimery ^
What scho said told Vortager.
** Sir," Breg said, " Rouwen you gretis,
** And king calls, and lord you letis. *
*' This is their custom and their gest,
" When they are at the ale, or feast ;
*• Ilk man that loves where him think,
*• Shall say, Wassaille ! and to him drink.
** He that bids ^ shall say Wassaille !
" The tether shall say again Drinkhaille !
" That says Wassaille ! drinks of the cup ;
** Kissand* his fellow he gives it up.
*• Drinhhaille ! he says, and drinks thereof,
*' Kissand him in bourd and scoff". " ^
The king said, as the knight gan hen, ^
" Drinkhaille /" smiland on Rouwen.
Rouwen drank, as her list.
And gave the king ; sine ' him kist.
' Latinier. Fr. ; an icterpreter.
* Esteems. ^ Invites.
^ Kissing. This is the usual termination of the participle
in old English, as it is in French.
5 In sport and in play.
6 " As the knij;ht had signified." The word gan (began)
is often used to form the tensea of verbs.
7 Since, afterwards.
12
[ in ]
There was the first Wassaille in deed,
And that first of fame geed. *
Of that JVassaille men told great tale, &c.
Fele sitkes * that maiden ying
WassaiUed, and kist the king.
Of body she was right avenant, ^
Of fair colour, with sweet semblant : *
Her attire full well it seemed ;
Marvellich the king she quemed,^
Out of measure was he glad,
For of that maiden he u>ex ^ all mad.
Drunkenness the fiend wrought :
Of that paen ' was all his thought.
A mischance that time him led ;
He asked that paen for to wed, &c.
(Glossaiy to Rob. of Gloucest. p. 695.)
It is hoped that the reader will forgive a second
extract from this obsolete author, in support of a
conjecture started by Mr Hearne, who (as Mr
Warton justly observes) is not often fortunate in
his conjectures. He supposes that many of our
ancient ballads were nothing more than extracts
' Went. • Many times. ' Handsome. Fr.
♦ Appearance, s Pleased. ^ Grew.
' Payenne. Fr. Pagan.
[ 118 ]
from metrical chronicles written by persons of
learning ; and that such relations were styled anci-
ent gests, in opposition to romances. It is not in-
tended to defend the latter position, because the
word gest, which signified an action, or adventure,
was never opposed to the word romance, which was
originally applied to language only : but a consi-
derable part of Robert de Brunne's chronicle is in
fact broken into small parts, which have all the
appearance of a series of ballads ; and the author,
as he proceeded in his work, acquired such a facility
in rhyming, as to be enabled to write a consider-
able part of his translation from Langtoft in what
is now considered as the genuine ballad metre, that
is to say, what de Brunne himself calls the rhyme
entrelacee- The reader will judge from the follow-
ing extract, part of which is printed by Mr Wart on,
and given in its original Alexandrine form. It is
a chapter beginning at p. 182 of Hearne's edition.
Richard at Godis hoard *
His mass had and his rights :
Hear now siuilk * a word
He spake to his knights.
" Of this king Philip
" Have we no manner of help :
' At the altar, God's table. ' Such.
[ 119 ]
" Together, I redcy * we keep,
" That men of us yelp. *
" I vow to Saint Michael,
" And till hallows ^ that are,
" That, for woe, ne wea],
" Hithen * ne shall I fare,
** Ne till Acre go,
" Till the castle be taken
« That Philip went fro,
" For us has it s forsaken.
** For his own default
** With ^ us he has envie.
** Go we to the assault,
«* That God us aU condie .'" '
The dikes were full wide
That clos'd the castle about ;
' I advitc.
* To cry, vail, boast ; the meaning is, " that men may
" talk loudly of us."
3 «« To the saints that are." * Hence,
^ Apparently an error of the transcriber, for he,
^ Against. Sax. In the same sense we should say, he is
aagry vith qs. ' Coodttct.
[ 120 ]
And deep on ilka ^ side.
With bankis high without.
Was there none entre
That to the castel gan ligge *
But a straight cause ;
At the end a draw>brigge :
With great double chains
Drawn over the gate ;
And fifty armed swains.
Porters at that gate.
With slings and magneles '
They cast to king Rich^d,
Our Christians, by parceles,
Casted again-ward.
Ten Serjeants, of the best.
His targe * gan him bear ;
Each.
» Lay.
^ Mangonels. Ft. A sort of catapuUa which threw large
ones, and was employed for the purpose of battering
alls.
* Shield ; apparently a sort of mantelet serving as a port-
>Ie rampart.
able rampart
[ liJl ]
That eager were, and prest *
To cover him, and to x»ear% *
Himself, as a giant.
The chaines in two hew :
The targe was his tvarrantf^
That none 'till him threw.
Right unto the gate
With the targe they^^erf:*
Fightand on a gate^ ^
Under, him they slew his steed.
Therefore ne will'd he cease ;
Alone into the castel
Through them all will'd press :
On foot fought he full well.
And when he was within.
And fought as a wild lion.
' Ready. Fr. • Defend ; voeran. Sax.
3 Security ; garant ; Fr.
* Went ; but geed seems the proper perfect tense of the
verb go, or gee, as toent is of wend, {wandan. Sax.)
* At the gate, says Mr Hearoe.— >Quere if it does not
mean on a time? as in aW-gcUtt, i. e. {toutt* fois. Fr,) at
all times, always.
[ 122 3
Hejbnder^d * the Saracens o'twain,
And fought as a dragon.
Without, the Christians gan cry,
*' Alas! Richard is taken !"
The Normans were sorry,
Of countenance gan blacken.
To slay down and to *stroy,
Never will'd they stint :
Thei/ left for dead no ^noyy *
Ne for no wound no dint.
That in went all their press,
Maugre the Saracens all.
And found Richard on des ^
Fightand, and won the hall.
* Forced. (Hearne's Glossary) Perhaps, however, it is a
mistake of tlie transcriber iox sonder^d, i. e. sundered, sepa-
rated.
* " They would not leave off, either on account of the dead
** who fell round them, or of the annoyance of the enemy."
^ Probably a platform : and for this reason the principal
table in the hall, being elevated above the common floor,
was particularly called the tfe*. The canopy placed over
such a table afterwards acquired the same name. Hence a
good deal of dispute about the meaning of the word ; but
the conjecture here given, which is Mr Tyrwhitt's, appears
the most reasonable.
C 123 ]
Nobody but he alone
Unto the Christians came ;
And slain he had ilk-tme
The lords, but three he name. *
With tho three alive
His messengers went ;
Till Acre gan they drive,
To Philip made present.
Mr Warton has given us a very long extract
from an English translation of a work written by
Grosthead, Bishop of Lincoln, in French verse, and
called by Leland Chateau d*Amoury which he con-
jectures to be from the pen of Robert de Brunne ;
and Hearne ascribes to him, though perhaps with-
out reason, the metrical English romance of ^icAarrf
Cceur de Lion. He was, upon the whole, an indus-
trious and certainly ( for the time ) an elegant wri-
ter ; and his extraordinary facility of rhyming (a
talent, indeed, in which he has been seldom sur-
passed), must have rendered his works an useful
study to succeeding versifiers.
' Took. Sax.
t 124 3
CHAPTER V.
Ueign of Edward II. — Change in the Language
produced bt/ frequent Translations Jrom the
French. — Minstrels. — Sources of Romance.
— Adam Davie. — Specimens of his Life of
Alexander, — Robert Baston.
JL/URiNG the first period of our poetry, compre-
hending the greater part of the thirteenth, and
about half of the fourteenth century, our English
versifiers are divided into two classes, the ecclesi-
astics and lay-minstrels, who are generally dis-
tinguished from each other by a very different
choice of subjects ; the former exhibiting their ta-
lents in metrical lives of the saints, or in rhyming
chronicles ; the latter in satirical pieces, and love-
songs. Tales of chivalry, being equally the favour-
ites of all descriptions of men, were, to a certain
degree, the common property of both.
There is reason to believe that a marked differ-
ence of style and language was apparent in the
compositions of these rival poets, because the in-
C 125 ]
ferior orders of the priesthood, and the several
monastic societies, being chiefly conversant with
the inhabitants of the country and of the villages,
were likely to retain more of the Saxon phraseo-
logy, and to resist the influx of French innovations
much longer than their competitors : and it is prin-
cipally to this circumstance that it seems reason-
able to attribute those peculiarities of style, which
Mr Warton thought he discovered in Robert of
Gloucester, and which he has ascribed to the pro-
vincial situation of the writer. The northern pro*
vinces, it is true, on account, perhaps, of their
long subjection to the Danes, are represented by
John de Trevisa (in a passage often quoted) as
differing materially in their pronunciation from
those of the south : but Gloucester is not a north-
em county. The charge of provincial barbarism
might with more justice be imputed to Robert de
Brunne, as being a native of Yorkshire ; but he
has taken care to assure us that his simple and un-
adorned diction was the result of care and design ;
that he considers his " fellows" as the depositaries
of pure and true English ; that he
" made nought for no disourSf*
** Ne for no seggers,^ no harpours.
• Di$eurt. Fr. Reciters.
^ Sayers, the Engliih name foi tbe same pr«fc$»ioii.
[ 126^ ]
*• Butyor the love of simple men
*' That strange English cannot ken."
[De Brunne's Prol. Vide. Hearne*s Pref. xcix.]
These disoursy or seggerSy he tells us, took the most
unwarrantable liberties with the diction of tlie works
they recited ; and he omits no opportunity of pro-
testing against their licentious innovations in our
language. .
The reader, who shall take the pains of compa-
ring a few pages of the glossary annexed by Mr
Tyrwhitt to his edition of Chaucer with that which
Mr Hearne has compiled for the illustration of Ro-
bert de Brunne, will probably think that our au-
thor's complaints were just, and that the language
of the city and inns of court was much more infect-
ed with Gallicisms than that of the monasteries 5
although a rapid change in both appears to have
taken place during the reign of Edward III. Many
of the Norman words then introduced have, in-
deed, long since become obsolete, and the Saxon
has recovered its superiority ; because the gradual
dissemination of wealth and liberty and learning
among the common people has, in sqme measure,
blended in our language all the provincial dialects ;
but the torrent of fashion, at the period of which we
are now treating, was irresistible. It was, perhaps,
in some degree assisted by the practice of the dig-
C 127 3
nified ecclesiastics, who, when they did not write
in Latin, universally affected to use the French lan-
guage ; but it is principally to be ascribed to the
numerous translations which were made at this
time from the French writers of those fabulous
histories which we now call romances. Such trans-
lations were hastily written, because eagerly called
for ; and their authors took the liberty ( in which
they were imitated by the disours or reciters) of
admitting without scruple such " strange** words
as happened to suit their rhyme, as well as those
for which they could not immediately recollect the
correspondent term in English.
As tJie public reciters here mentioned by Robert
de Brunne may possibly be unknown to many
readers, it will perhaps be proper in this place to
take some notice of them, as well as of the min-
strels, with whom they were nearly connected.
It appears that, during the reign of our Norman
kings, a poet, who was also expected to unite with
the talent of versifying those of music and recita-
tion, was a regular officer in the royal household,
as well as in those of the more wealthy nobles, whose
courts were composed upon the same model. Thitf
practice seems to have originated in the admira-
tion which all the northern nations entertained for
their ancient scalds ; and it gave rise to the appel-
[ 128 3
lation of minstrel (ministrellus, an officer or ser-
vant), which therefore, as Dr Percy has observed
in his learned dissertation on this subject, was not
strictly synonymous with that of jougleur, or jori'
gleur (joculator), called in old English Hglee-marif
juggler, or jangler ; because the latter might or
might not be attached to a particular patron, and
frequently travelled from castle to castle, for the
purpose of reciting his compositions during the
principal festivals. But as it is very difficult for
the same person to attain equal excellence in all
the sister arts, the professions of the poet, the
harper, and the reciter, were afterwards under-
taken by several associates, all of whom, on ac-
count of the privileges attached to the official min-
strels, thought fit to assume the same honourable
but equivocal title.
That these purveyors of poetry and music to the
king and principal barons were, during the eleventh,
twelfth, and thirteenth centuries, a privileged class,
is perfectly certain from the universal testimony of
contemporary writers. Indeed they were essential,
not only to their amusement, but, in a great mea-
sure, to their education ; because even the use of
arms, and the management of a horse, were scarcely
more necessary to a courteous knight than the
talent of playing on the hai*p, and composing a
[ 129 3
song in praise of his mistress. But in the course of
the fourteenth century the minstrels, in France
at least, had greatly declined in talents and repu-
tation. There was a street at Paris, called la Rue
St Julien des MenetrierSf peculiarly appropriated
to their habitation ; and they had a fraternity, or
confrerie., in the church of that saint, the well-known
patron of hospitality : but tliese minstrels are de-
scribed as a set of pantomimical fiddlers, accompa-
nied by monkies or bears, who were hired at wed-
dings for the amusement of the guests : so much
had they degenerated from the ingenious invent-
ors of the fabliaux.
The history of this order of men in England is,
for various reasons, very obscure and embarrassed.
On the one hand, it is evident that if English be-
gan to be introduced at court as a colloquial lan-
guage about the beginning of the fourteentli centu-
ry, it was not yet considered, either by our kings,
or by the nobles, or by the dignitaries of the church,
as fitted for literary purposes : and as our native
minstrels, not having yet attempted any original
poetry, could only have offered to their courtly
audience translations much more barbarous, and
at the same time less familiar to their cars, than
the compositions of the French trouveurs, it is no(
YOI.. I. J
[ 130 ]
likely that such rivals could have displaced the Nor-
man minstrels, already established in the post for
which they were candidates. On the other hand,
the testimony of Robert deBrunne to the existence
of a body of disours^ or seggers, accustomed to re-
cite English metrical compositions in public, who
were listened to with applause, and habituated
to make arbitrary alterations in the language or
metre of such compositions, is direct and positive.
The most obvious solution of this difficulty would
be to suppose, that the more opulent inhabitants
of the towns, in imitation of their superiors, had
adopted the mode of introducing at their banquets
the amusements of music and recitation, and thus
laid the foundation of a native minstrelsy on the
French model ; and this order of men,beingoncees-
tablished, might,on the decline of the rival language,
find their way to the castles of our nobility; to which
they would be recommended by their previous ex-
hibitions at the neighbouring fairs, where they never
failed to appear as attendants on the merchants.
Indeed we have numerous proofs of their in-
creasing popularity; for Chaucer, in his address
to his Troilus and Cressida, tells us that it was in-
tended to be read " or elles sung,** which must
telate to the chanting recitation of the minstrels •
C 131 3
and a considerable part of our old poetry is simply
addressed to an audience, without any mention of
readers.
That our English minstrels at any time united
all the talents of the profession, and were at once
poets, and reciters, and musicians, is extremely
doubtful : but that they excited and directed the
efforts of their contemporary poets to a particular
species of composition, is as evident as that a body
of actors must influence the exertions of theatri-
cal writers. They were, at a time when reading
and writing were rare accomplishments, the prin-
cipal medium of communication between authors
and the public ; and their memory in some mea-
sure supplied the deficiency of manuscripts, and
probably preserved much of our early literature till
the invention of printing : so that their history, if
it could be collected, would be by no means unin-
teresting. But our materials for this purpose are
too scanty to enable us to ascertain the date of
their formation, their progress, or their disappear-
ance. Judging from external evidence, we should
be disposed to place the period of their greatest
celebrity a little before the middle of the fifteenth
century ; because at that time our language had
been successively improved by the writings of
Gower, Chaucer, and Lydgate : much wealtii anA
[ 132 3
luxury had been introduced by the two victorious
reigns of Edward III. and Henry V., and the
country had not yet suffered any distress either
from internal revolution, or from the length and
disastrous termination of the war with France.
The general poverty and discontent that prevailed
during the subsequent period, the declension of
cliivalry, and the almost utter extirpation of our
principal nobles, during the contest between the
houses of York and Lancaster, must have been fatal
to the prosperity of the minstrels ; and two causes
of a different nature, viz. the invention of printing
in H?*, and the taste for religious disputation in-
troduced by Henry VIII., may have tended to com-
plete their ruin.
Though the minstrel character be now lost both
in England and France, the traces of it are not
universally effaced. In Wales, the modern harper
is occasionally found to possess the accomplish-
ments of the ancient bard ; and among the Ita-
lians, the improvisatori of Rome and Florence,
who are usually ready to attend the table of a tra-
veller, and greet him with an extemporary poem
on any subject which he shall prescribe, and pro-
tracted to a length which is only measured by his
patience, are no bad representations of the antique
oainstrels ; particularly when they are accompanied
C 133 ]
{as frequently happens) by an attendant musician,
who gives the tone to their recitative, and fills up
the pauses between the stanzas by a few notes on
his instrument. The third character, or disour, is
also to be found in many parts of Italy, but par-
ticularly at Venice ; where, mounted on a tem-
porary scaffolding, or sometimes on a stool or
barrel, he recites from memory whole cantos of
Ariosto.
The situation of a minstrel prescribed to him the
choice of his subject. Addresithig himself to an
audience who lived only for the purpose of fight-
ing, and who considered their time as of little va-
lue when otherwise employed, he was sure of be-
ing listened to with patience and credulity so long
as he could tell of heroes and enchanters : and he
could be at no loss for either, because the histo-
ries of all the heroes and enchanters that the
world had produced were to be found in a few
volumes of easy access.
As vanity is not easily subdued, a people who
are not quite satisfied with their present insigni-
ficance will often be tempted to indemnify them-
selves by a retrospective warfare on their enemies ;
and will be the more prodigal in assigning triumphs
to their heroic ancestors, because those who in
former ages contested the battle can no longer be
[ 134- ]
brought forward to dispute the claim of victory.
This will explain the numerous triumphs of King
Arthub. We have already seen, that a book in the
British tongue, containing the relation of his ex-
ploits, and those of his knights of the round table,
and of his faithful enchanter. Merlin, together
with the antecedent history of the British kings
from the destruction of Troy, was by Walter, Arch-
deacon of Oxford, a learned antiquary of those
days, confided to Geoffrey of Monmouth, a
Welsh Benedictine monk, afterwards the Bishop
St Asaph, who translated it into Latin, with some
additions and interpolations. The French transla-
tions of Wace and Rusticien de Pise,* and the
Saxon and English versions of Layamon and Ro-
bert de Brunne, laid open this mass of history to
readers of every description.
A second worky equally abounding in marvellous
adventures, and apparently written about the same
time with Geoffrey of Monmouth's chronicle, is
THE History of Charlemagne and the
TWELVE Peers of France, forged under the
name of Turpin, a monk of the eighth century,
who, for his services against the Saracens, was
raised to the archbishoprick of Rheims. The real
author was perhaps a Spaniard. This work was
• Vide supra, p. 44.
C 135 3
traDslated from Latin into French by Michael de
Hames, in 1207. *
The third source of romantic fiction was the
History of Troy. Homer's works were unknown
at the period of which we are speaking, but the
story was kept alive in two Latin pieces, which
passed under the names of Dares Phrygius, and
DiCTYS Cretensis ; and from these, as we have
already seen, a French poem on the Trojan war had
been compiled by Benoit de St More, the con-
temporary and rival of Wace. A more improved
compilation from the same sources, under the title
of Historia de BcUo Trojanoy comprehending the
Theban and Argonautic stories, from Ovid, Sta-
tius, and Valerius Flaccus, was written by Guido
DE CoLONNA, a native of Messina, about the year
1260.
Alexander the Great was known to the
writers of romance not only by translations from
Quintus Curtius, an author much admired in the
middle ages, but also by a work much better suited
to the purposes of the historians of chivalry, origi-
* Mr Ritson says that Michael de Haroes did not tran-
slate the psendo-Turpin's History of Roland's achievements
in Spain, but a very different work, comprehending the ad-
Tentures of another of Cbarlemagne'i knights, viz. Renaud
de MoDtauban.
r 136 ]
nally written in Persic, and translated into Greek,
under the assumed name of Calisthenes, by Simeon
Seth, keeper of the wardrobe at Constantinople
to the emperor Michael Ducas, about the year
1070. Such a narrative could not fail of obtain-
ing a very general circulation. A Latin transla-
tion of it is quoted by Giraldus Cambrensis ; and
the famous Roman d* Alexandre, written (as Fau-
chet tell us ) about the year 1 200, by four confe-
derates " en jonglerie," appears to be partly a pa-
raphrase of that translation.
These fouk works may be considered as the
foundation on which was erected the vast Gothic
fabric of romance ; and materials for the super-
structure were readily found in an age when anec-
dotes and apologues were thought very necessary
even to discourses delivered from the pulpit, and
when all the fables that could be gleaned from an-
cient writings, or from the relations of travellers,
were collected into story-books, and preserved by
the learned for that purpose.
TheGESTARoMANORUM, a work of this descrip-
tion, which is still very common, appears to have
had so great an influence on the literature of Eu-
rope during the romantic ages, that Mr Warton has
thought it deserving of a dissertation of ninety -seven
pages. He also mentions a manuscript collection
C 137 3
of 215 stories, preservied in the Museum, which
was evidently compiled by a professed preacher for
the use of the monastic societies. The legendary
lives of the saints were no bad repositories of anec-
dote : and the bards of Armorica, who had sup-
plied Geoffrey of Monmouth's regular history,
continued to contribute detached fragments, or
what we might now call memoirs, of the court of
King Arthur, which were successfully converted
into French lays and fabliaux.
If we should search in real history for a model
of that imaginary excellence which constituted a
hero of romance, we should find it in the person of
our Richard I. He was profusely liberal, particu-
larly to the minstrels : he was, perhaps, himself a
minstrel ; he possessed the most astonishing bodily
strength, and the most intrepid valour, sufficiently
blended with enthusiasm, and directed to no intel-
ligible purpose. The poets whom he patronized,
would have been no less deficient in taste than in
gratitude, had they failed to place him afler his
death among the heroes whom he imitated, and
perhaps surpassed ; particularly as the materials
for his apotheosis were to be found in all languages
and countries. Tanner mentions, (says Mr War-
ton,) as a poet of England, one Gulielmus Pere-
grinus, who accompanied Richard I. into the Holy
[ 138 ]
Land, and sung his achievements there, in a Latin
poem, entitled Odoeporicon Ricardi Regist dedica-
ted to Herbert, Archbishop of Canterbury, and
Stephen Turnham, a captain in the expedition.
He is called " Poeta per earn aetatem excellens.'*
The French minsttels in Richard's army were so
numerous, that the writer of his life would only be
embarrassed by the trouble of selection ; and it may
be supposed that his romance must have been
finished by the middle of the thirteenth century,
because it is referred to by Robert of Gloucester
as a work already in general circulation. When
or by whom it was translated is not known ; but as
the exploits of so popular a monarch were likely
to find their way into the language of his subjects
as soon as the art of rhyming began to be general-
ly practised in England, we may safely refer the
translation to the reign of Edward U.
To the same period Mr Warton also assigns th^
popular stories of Sir Guy, the Squire of low
Degree, Sir Degore, King Robert ob Sicily,
The King of Tars, Ipomedon, and La Mort
Artur ; from all of which he has given us ex-
tracts. But as he suspects that they have, in com-
mon with the romance of Richard Cceur de Lion,
undergone considerable alterations in their lan-
guage from frequent transcription, it maybe proper
C 139 3
to dismiss them for the present, and pass on to tlie
only writer of English rhymes in tliis reign whose
name has been transmitted to us, and whose works
appear to have been preserved in their original sim-
plicity of language ; this is Adam Davie. " He
" may be placed," says Mr Warton, " about the
"year 1312. I can collect no circumstances of
" his life, but that he was marshall of Stratford-le-
*• bow near London. 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 its
" author." It is in the Bodleian library * (MSS.
Laud. L T^. fol. membran.), " has been much da-
" maged, and on that account is often illegible."
Adam Davie's \vork consist of Visions ; The
Buttle of Jerusalem ; The Legend of St Alexius ;
Scripture Histories ; Of fifteen Tokens before the
Day of Judgment ; Lamentations of Souls ; and
THE Life of Alexander. This last is his prin-
cipal work, and, as we are told, well deserves to be
printed entire. It is founded on Simeon Seth's
histor}', lately mentioned, but with many passages
• Mr Warton afternardi pointed out another MS. of
the Life of Alexander in the library of Lincoln's Ino. (Hist,
of £. P. Vol. III. xxxiii.) from which a transcript has
been lately made with a view tu publication.
12
C 140 ]
that are apparently borrowed from the French Ro-
man d* Alexandre.
The following is the description of a splendid
procession made by Queen Olympias :
* In this time, fair savAjolyfy '
Olympias, that faire wife,
Woulde make a x\che Jest
Of knightes, and ladies honesty *
Of burges, and of jugelers.
And of men of each mesQrs. '
* * * * #
Mickle she desireth to shew her body.
Her fair hair, her face rody.
To have lees^ * and all praising :
And all is folly ! by heaven king !
In faire attire in diverse quaintise
Many there rode in riche wise.
So did the dame Olympias
For to show her gentil s face.
* Mr Warfon not having transcribed the MS. correctly,
these extracts have been revised from the original in tiie
Bodleian.
• Pretty. Fr. * Well-bred. Fr.
3 Trade, occupation, Fr. * Commendation. Fr«
' Elegant. Fr.
C 14-1 ]
A mule also, white so milk,
With saddle of gold, sambu ' of silk,
Was y-brought to the queen.
And many bell of silver sheen,
Y-fasten'd on ot/rcyi o/'wiowm/*
That hangen nigh down to ground.
Forth she fared mid her rout ;
A thousand ladies of rich soute. *
A sparrow-hawk that was honest
So sat on the lady's fist.
Four trumps toforne her blew ;
Many men that day her knew :
An hundred thousand, and eke mo,
All alouten her unto.
All the town be-hanged was.
Against the lady Olympias.
OrgueSf chymbesy each manner gleCy *
' A saddle-cloth, or housing. Fr.
* Orfrais, aurifrigium, is gold embroidery. It appears,
however, from a passage io Maundevile to have meant a
border of embroidery. " And all tho robes ben orfrayed all*
« abouten. — The second thousand is all clothed in clothes
" diapered of red silk, all wrought with gold, and the or-
'^frayet set full of great pearl," &c. 8vo. edit. p. 279. The
meaning of the word mound is not easy to ascertain : does it
relate to rai$ed, or emboued, work ? or docs it mean em-
broidery of pure gold, from the French word mender ?
^ Suit, apparel.
*■ Organs, cymbals, and all sorts of music.
[ 142 ]
Was drynan, * ayein * that lady free.
Withouteh the townes murey ^
Was mered * each manner play.
There was knights tournaying.
There was maidens caroling.
There was champions skirmingf ^
------ also wrestling.
Of lions* chace, of bear-baiting,
A bay of boar, of bull slay ting.
All the city was be-hong
With rich samytes ^ and pelles ' long.
Dame Olympias among this press
Single rode, all mantle-less.
tF tIP 1^ t(P tIf "W
Her yellow hair was fair-attired,
Mid riche stringes of golde wired ;
It helyd^ her abouten all
To her gentile middle small :
Bright and shene was her face ;
Every fair-head in her was.
* Ringing ? drignon, 0!d Fr. is a chime of bells. Vide
La Combe, Diet, du Vieux Lang.
^ Against ; in the presence of.
3 Walls. Fr.
* Probably seen, gazed at ; mir£. Fr.
^ Skirmishing.
fi Satins. Fr.
' Palls, or perhaps furs ; pelisses. Fr.
* Hid, Halan. Sax.
[ 143 ]
The following is part of a description of a battle :
Alexander made a cry hard^,
«' Ore tost, ahyy ahy /" '
Then the knights of Achayd
Justed with hem of Arabyd :
******
Egypt justed with hem of Tyre ;
Simple knight with riche sire ;
There v^d&foregift HQj'orberyvg
Between vavasoure * ne king.
Tqfore ^ men mighten and behind
Cuntek * seek, and cuntek find.
With Persians foughten the Gregeys : s
There rose cry, and great honteys ! *
* * * *
There might knight find his peer ;
There les ' many his destrere. '
There was quick in little thratoe *
Many gentil knight y-slawe.
Many arme, many /ia;crf'°
Sone from the body reaved.
Many gentle lavedy
There lese quick her amy,
' Perhaps the same as aboil ; the cry whcnlhestagU taken.
* Servant. 3 Before. ♦ Contest.
^ Greeks; Gregeois. Fr, « Shame. Fr. ' Lost. Sar.
* War-horse. Fr.; go called from its bcinp led on tLe
right hand. 9 Time, ''-> J/ead.
[ 144. ]
There was many maym ^ y-led,
Many fair penscl * be-bled ;
There was swerdes liklakyngy ^
There was speres bathing, *
Both kings there sans doute
Beeth in dash'd with all her route.
* # m * *
Many landes near and far
Lesen her lord in that war.
The earth quaked of her riding :
The weather thicked of her crying :
The blood of hem that weren y-slawe
Ran by floodes to the lovue. ^
The procession of Olympias, described in the first
of these specimens, is given by Gower (Conf. Am,
fol. 137 ; edit. 1532,) but is by no means equal in
spirit, or elegance, to the picture drawn by Adam
Davie : and we probably should search in vain
among our poets anterior to Chaucer for lines so
full of animation as the four last in the preceding
extract. The language, as far as we can judge from
the specimens selected by Mr Warton, is exactly
such as we should expect, and marks that popularity
' Maimed. * Standard. Fr. ^ Clashing. An unusual
word, like cliquetis, Fr. from which it is, perhaps, derived.
♦ Perhaps here is an omission by the transcriber, and
the line should run thus : " There was spears in blood bath-
ing," otherwise we do not know what the kings and their
ronte dusked into.
' Low, t. e, to the low grounds.
C 145 3
which French phrases were beginning to acquire,
and which continued to increase during the whole
of the following reign. Upon the whole, it is cer-
tainly to be wished that some editor may be found,
who shall have the courage to decipher the obso-
lete manuscript of Adam Davie's romance of Alex-
ander, and give it entire to the public.
A poet named Robert Baston, a carmelite
friar of Scarborough, is mentioned as attending
Edward II. to the siege of Stirling castle. He was
taken prisoner by the Scots, and compelled, for his
ransom, to write a panegyric on Robert Bruce.
This was probably in English ; and he is described
by Bale as the author of " Poemata et Rhythmi,
Lib. I." and " Tragaediae Vulgares, Lib. I. ;" but his
only poem now extant, viz. An Account of the
Siege of Stirling Castle, is written in Latin monkish
hexameters. It is not easy to understand what Bale
meant by "tragaediae," which word does not always
imply scenic representations. It appears, indeed,
that before the reign of Edward II. many scrip-
tural histories in dialogue were exhibited in our
churches under the name of mysteries or miracles,
but these dialogues were not poems ; on the other
hand, many poems were written about this period
under the name of tragedies and comedies, but
these poems were not in dialogue.
VOL. I. K
CHAPTER VI.
Reign of Edward III, — The Hermit of Ham-
pole. — Laurence Minot. Pierce Plough-
man's Vision — Specimen of the Vision. —
Pierce the Ploughman's Creed — Specimen.
X HE first English poet that occurs in the reign of
Edward III. is Richard RoLLE, hermit of theorder
of St Augustine, and doctor of divinity, who lived
a life of solitude near the nunnery of Hampole,
four miles from Doncaster, in Yorkshire. He was
a very popular and learned though inelegant writer
in Latin on theological subjects; and his pretensions
to the character of an English poet are founded on
a metrical Paraphrase of the Book of Joby of the
Lord*s Prayer, of the seven Penitential Psalms, and
THE Pricke of Conscience, all of which are in
MS. and usually attributed to him. This latter
piece is divided into seven parts : I. Of Man*s
Nature. II. Of the World. III. Of Death. IV. Of
Purgatory. V. Of the Day of Judgment. VI. Of
the Torments of Hell. VII. Of the Joys of Heaven.
Mr Warton, however, suspects that they were all
translated by contemporary poets from the Latin
prose original composed by him ; and he has proved
C 147 ]
by a long extract that they are not worth transcri-
bing.* The Hermit ofHampoIe died in 1349.
The next poet in succession is Laurence Mi-
NOT, whose name was unknown to our antiqua-
ries, till Mr Tyrwhitt, in searching after the ma-
nuscript of Chaucer,accidentally discovered a copy
of his works, consisting of a collection of poems
upon the events of the former part of this reign. It
is sufficient in this place to have mentioned his
name, as a very elegant edition of his works, ac-
companied with all the illustrations that could be
drawn from contemporary history, has within these
very few years been published by Mr Ritson.
Laurence Minot appears to have flourished about
the year 1350, a few years after which was written
the very curious poem called the Visiox of
Pierce Plowman. Its reputed author is Robert
Langland, a secular priest, bom at Mortimer's
Cleobury, in Shropshire, and fellow of Oriel College,
Oxford.f His work is divided into twenty distinct
♦ Mr Kitson, notwithstanding, in his " Bibliographia
I'oetica" (where he enumerates no less than seventeen
pieces attributed to our author) asserts Ilampole's claims
upon the express authority of Lydf;ate.
+ That Robert Langland was the author of this work
leems to have been solely admitted on the authority of
Crowley, its earliest editor. The only remaining evidence
on the subject appears to indicate that the writer's name
wafi Tr»7/j<im . but a discussion which ran only cud iu nncer
tainty is not worth undertaking.
C 148 3
passus, or breaks, forming a series of visions, which
he supposes to have appeared to him while he was
asleep after a fatiguing walk amongst the Malvern
Hills in Worcestershire.
A dream is certainly the best excuse that can
be offered for the introduction of allegorical per-
sonages, and for any incoherences that may result
from the conduct of a dialogue carried on between
such fanciful actors : and it must be confessed that
this writer has taken every advantage of a plan so
comprehensive and convenient, and has dramatized
his subject with great ingenuity. His work may
be considered as a long moral and religious dis-
course, and, as such, is full of good sense and piety ;
but it is farther rendered interesting by a succes •
sion of incidents, enlivened sometimes by strong
satire, and sometimes by the keenest ridicule on
the vices of all orders of men, and particularly of
the religious. It is ornamented also by many fine
specimens of descriptive poetry, in which the genius
of the author appears to great advantage.
But his most striking peculiarity is the structure
of his versification, which is the subject of a very
learned and ingenious essay in the second volume
of the " Reliques of Ancient English Poetry." His
verses are not distinguished from prose either by a
determinate number of syllables, or by rhyme, or
indeed by any other apparent test, except the stu-
C U9 ]
died recurrence of the same letter three times in
each line ; a contrivance which we should not sus-
spect of producing much harmony, but to which (as
Crowley, the original editor of the poem, justly ob-
serves) even a modern ear will gradually become
accustomed. This measure is referred by Dr Percy
to one of the 136difFerentkindsof metrewhichWor-
mius has discovered amongst the works of the Islan-
dic poets ; but the princioal difficulty is to account
for its adoption in Pierce Ploughman's Vision.
Perhaps this alliterative metre, having become
a favourite with the northern scalds during the in-
terval which elapsed between the departure of the
Anglo-Saxons from Scandinavia and the subse*
quent migration of the Danes, may have been in-
troduced by the latter into those provinces of Eng-
land where they established themselves ; and being
adopted by the numerous body of minstrels, for
which those provinces were always distinguished,
may have maintained a successful struggle against
the Norman ornament of rhyme, which was uni-
versally cultivated by the poets of the south. This
at least seems to be suggested by Mr Tyrwhitt,
who observes that Giraldus Cambrensis describes
by the name of minomi nation what we now call
nlliteiation, and informs us that it was highly fa-
shionable amongst the English, and even the Welsh
C 150 ]
poets of his time. That it effectually stood its
ground in some parts of the kingdom during the
reign of Edward III. and long afterwards, appears
from the numerous imitations of Langland's style
which are still preserved ; and it is evident that a
sensible and zealous writer in the cause of religion
and morality was not likely to sacrifice those great
objects, together with his own reputation, to the
capricious wish of inventing a new, or of giving
currency to an obsolete mode of versification.
Mr Warton is of opinion, that " this imposed c'on-
" straint of seeking identical initials, and the affec-
" tation of obsolete English, by demanding a con-
*' stant and necessary departure from the natiu-al
" and obvious forms of expression, while it cir-
" cumscribed the powers of our author's genius,
*' contributed also to render his manner extremely
** perplexed, and to disgust the reader with obscu-
" rities." Bat it may be doubted whether a work
apparently addressed to the plain sense of common
readers was written with an affectation of obsolete
English ; and much of its obscurity may perhaps
be ascribed to the negligence of the transcriber of
the MS. from which the printed copy is taken.
Neither is it certain that the " imposed constraint
of seeking identical initials" is at all more embar-
rassing to those whose ear is accustomed to such a
C 151 ]
scheme of poetry, than the imposed constraint of
identical ^naZ sounds ; a constraint which, by ex-
acting from the author greater attention to the
mode of expressing his thoughts, is rather likely
to increase than to diminish the precision and clear-
ness of his language.
The following extract will give a good general
idea of this author's manner, because it contains
some of those practical and simple precepts in
which he so much abounds, and a httle accidental
ridicule of physicians, together with a very curious
picture of the domestic economy of the poor of this
country in the middle of the fourteenth century.
It is a scene in which Pierce Ploughman, the fa-
vourite character of the piece, addresses himself
to Hunger, and (to use the expressions in the mar-
gin of the original) " prayeth Hunger to teach
*• him & leech-craft for him and for his servant.'*
1 wot well, quoth Hunger, what sickness you
aileth :
Ye have manged ' over much ; and that maketh
you groan.
And 1 hole * thee, quoth Hunger, as thou thy heal^
wiliest.
That thou drink no day ere thou dine somewhat :
' Eaten, Fr. * Advise, exhort. ' Health.
C 152 ]
Eat not, I bote thee, ere Hunger thee take
And send thee of his sauce to saviour with thy lips :
And keep some 'till supper-time, and sk not too
long.
And rise up ere appetite have eaten his fill.
Let not Sir Surfeit sit on thy board :
Leve ' him not, for he is lecherous and licorous of
tongue,
And after many manner of meat his maw is a-
hunger'd.
And if thou diet thee thus, I dare lay my ears
That Physic shall his furred hood for his food sell.
And his cloak of Calabri/e, ' with all his knaps^ of
gold.
And be fain, by my faith, his physic to let *
And learn to labour with hand ; for live-lode ^ is
sweet.
For murderers are many leeches : Lord Aerw amend !
They do men die by their drinks, ere destiny it
would.
' Believe. Sar.
^ The physicians of the middle ages were principally
Jews, who learnt their art from the Arabians. A consi-
derable colony of this people was established in the king-
dom of Naples. The medical school of Salerno is well
known.
^ Buttons. Sax. ; literally knobs. * To leave.
' liife-leading; we now say livelihood%
C 153 3
By St Paul, (quod Pierce) these are profitable
words !
Wend thee. Hunger, when thou wilt, yet well be
thou ever !
For this is a lovely lesson. Lord it thee for-yield !
Bihote^ God ! (quod Hunger) hence ne will I
wend
Till I have dined by this day, and drunken both.
I have no penny, (quod Pierce) pullets for to buy,
Ne neither goose, negrys ; * but two green cheeses,
A few curds, and cream, and an haver-cake ^
And two loaves of beans and bran, bake lor my folk.
And yet^ ♦ I say by my soul, I have no salt bacon,
Ne no cokeney, * by Christ ! collops for to make-
And I have parsley, onH porcts^'^ and many cole*
plants.
And eke a cow and a calf, and a cart- mare
To draw a-field my dung the while the drought
lasteth ;
And by this live-lod I must live 'till Lammas time.
By that, I hope to have harvest in my croft ;
And then 1 may dight ^ mt/ dinner as my dear liketh.
' If God permit? ^ Gryce, pig. lianuatxiie Gloss.
5 Oat-cake. ♦ Still farther. ' Cook. <• Leeks, Fr.
" Drets my diuaer as me pleasett)."
[ 154 ]
And all the poor people tho peas-cods fet;
Beans and baken apples they brought in her laps,
Chyboles, ' and chervil, and ripe cherries many.
And profFer'd Pierce this present to please with
Hunger.
(" Poor folk feed Hunger" — marginal note.)
All Hunger ate in haste, and asked after more.
Then poor folk, for fear, fed Hunger yern *
With green poret, and peasen ; to poison him they
thought.
By that it nighed to harvest; new corn came io-
cheaping. ^
Then was folkya/n,* and fed Hunger with the best.
With good ale, as Glutton taught, and gart ^
Hunger asleep.
And tho would Waster no work, but wandren
about ;
Ne no beggar eat bread that beans in were,
But ofcoket^ and clermatyncy^ or else of clean wheat;
' Ciboule. Fr. cipolla. Ital. a species of onion.
* Eagerly. Sax. 'Cheap. * Glad. Sax.
' Made. Sax. ^ A particular sort of bread.
' Perhaps another sort of bread used at breakfasts
C 155 ]
Ne no half-penny ale in no wise drink,
But of the best and of the brownest that in burtk '
is to sell.
Labourers that have no land to live on but her
hands
Deigned not to dine a day night * old tvortes : '
May no penny-ale hem pay, nor no piece of bacon ;
But if it be fresh flesh, o^Aer fish fried either or bake.
And that chaiid or plus chaudy for chilling of her
maw, &c.
[Crowley's first edition, fol. 35. pass, vi.]
The following passage has the marginal admo-
nition, " Read this :" indeed the prediction with
which it concludes is very curious.
And now is Religion a rider, a roamer by street,
A leader of lovedaysy * and a loud beggar.
' Booth ? or borough ?
* In some editions the word not is omitted, which will
only increase the perplexity. The moaning, .is the line
stands here (from ed. I. 1550), seems to he, that labourers,
&c. refused their usual dinner (or rather supper) of old worts
or cabbage ; this, however, is strangely expressed.
3 Cabbage.
* Loveday (says Tyrwhitt, note on v. 26() Cant. Tales) is a
day appointed for the amicable settlement of differences.
C 156 ]
A pricker of a palfrey from manor to manor.
An heap of hounds at his-. as he a lord were :
And but ifblsknave ' kneel that shall his cope bring,
He loured on him, and asked, who taught him
courtesy ?
Little had lords to done to give lands from her
heirs
To Religious, that have no ruth if it rain on her
altars.
In many places there the parsons be by hemself at
ease;
Of the poor have they no pity : and that is her
charity !
And they letten hem as lords, her lands lie so
broad.
And there shall come a King and confess
you, Religious,
And beat you, as the bible telleth, for breaking of
your rule.
And amend monials, * monks, and canons.
And put hem to her penance —
And then shall the Abbot of Abingdon, and all his
issue for ever
Have a knock of a King, and incurable the
WOUND. [fol. 50. pass, x.]
* A male servant * Nuus.
C 157 3
The limits of the present publicjJtian will not
admit of many extracts from this curious work,
but the following description, in whicii Nature
or Kind is represented as sending forth diseases
from the planets, at the command of Conscience,
and of his attendants. Age and Death, is too
striking to be omitted ; particularly since it appears
to have suggested to Milton his sublime description
of the lazar-house (Paradise Lost, B. xi. 1. 477)
This coincidence is remarked by Mrs Cooper, in
her " Muses* Library."
Kind 1 Conscience tho heard, and came out of the
planets.
And sent forth hi&Jbrriours,* fevers, and fluxes,
Coughs, and cardiacles, ^ cramps, and tooth-aches,
Boils, and botches, and burning agues,
Phrenesis, and foul evil, foragers of Kind !
There was " Harrow ! and help ! here cometh Kind
" With Death that is dreadful to undone us all !"
******
Age the hoar, he was in the va-ward.
And bare the banner before Death ; by right he
it claimed.
' Nature. * Foragers, Fr. 3 CardialgU, beart-acbe, Gr.
C 158 3
Kind came afler, with many keen sores,
As pox and pestilences, and much people shent.
So Kind, through corruptions, killed full many.
Death came driving after, and to dust pashed
Kings and kaysers, knights and popes.
******
Many a lovely lady and lemans of knights
Swoonden and swelten for sorrow of Death's
dints, &c. [Fol. 112. pass, xxi.]
The editions of Pierce Ploughman that usually
occur are those of Crowley, of which, as Dr Percy
informs us, there were three published in the same
year, 1550. There is also an edition printed in
1561, by Owen Rogers, to which is sometimes an-
nexed a poem of nearly the same tendency, and
written in the same metre, called Pierce the
Ploughman's Creed. * It was evidently com-
posed after the death of Wickliffe, which happen-
ed in 1384-, and is therefore more modern than
many of the poems of Chaucer, but is noticed here
on account of its style and subject.
Mr Warton says, that in a copy of the Creed
presented to him by the Bishop of Gloucester, and
once belonging to Mr Pope, the latter, in his own
hand, has inserted the following abstract of its plan.
• The first Ed. of P. the P.'s Creed was printed by R.
Wolfe, in 1553.
[ 159 3
" An ignorant plain man having learned his
" Paternoster and Ave-mary, wants to learn his
" creed. He asks several religious men of the
" several orders to teach it him. First of a friar
" Minor, who bids him beware of the Carmelites,
" and assures him they can teach him nothing,
*' describing their faults, &c. But that the friars
" Minors shall save him, whether he learns his
" creed or not. He goes next to the friars Preach-
" ers, whose magnificent monastery he describes :
" there he meets a fat friar, who declaims against
<* the Augustines. He is shocked at his pride, and
" goes to the Augustines. They rail at the Mino-
" rites. He goes to the Carmes ; they abuse the Do-
" minicans, but promise him salvation, without the
" creed, for money. He leaves them with indigna-
" tion, and finds an honest poor plowman in the
" field, and tells him how he was disappointed by
" the four orders. The plowman answers with a
" long invective against them."
For the full explanation of this poem it is essential
to premise that, in consequence of the many abuses
which had gradually perverted the monastic insti-
tutions, it became necessary, about the beginning
of the thirteenth century, to establish a new class
of friars, who, possessing no regular revenues, and
relying for a subsistence on the general reverence
[ 160 ]
which they should attract by superior talent, or
severer sanctity of manners, should become the
effectual and permanent support of the papal au-
thority againstthose heresies which were beginning
to infect the church, as well as against the jealousy
of the civil power. The new institution consisted
of four mendicant orders : the Franciscans, who
were also called friars-minors, or rainorites, or
grey-friars : the Augustine, or Austin-friars : the
Dominicans, or friars-preachers, or black-friars :
and the Carmelites, or white-friars.
For the purpose of quickening their zeal, the popes
bestowed on them many new and uncommoii pri-
vileges ; the right of travelling where they pleased^
of conversing with persons of all descriptions, of
instructing youth, and of hearing confessions, and
bestowing absolution without reseiTe : and as these
advantages naturally attracted to the privileged
orders all the novices who were distinguished by
zeal or talent, excited their emulation, and ensured
the respect of the people, they quickly eclipsed aH
their rivals, and realized the most sanguine hopes that
had been entertained from their establishment.
The mendicant orders of the thirteenth and four-
teenth centuries, but particularly the Dominicajis,
very nearly resembled the Jesuits of modern times.
In these orders were found the most learned men,
3
[ 161 3
and the most popular preachers of the age. The
almost exclusive charge of the national education
enabled them to direct the public taste and opi-
nions ; the confessional chair placed the consciences
of their penitents at their disposal ; and their lead-
ing members, having discovered that an association
in which individual talents are systematically di-
rected to some general purpose is nearly irresisti-
ble, soon insinuated themselves into the most im-
portant offices of church and state, and guided at
their will the religion and politics of Europe. But
prosperity, as usual, made them indolent and im-
prudent. They had long been envied and hated,
and the progress of general civilization raised up
numberless rivals, possessing equal learning, ambi-
tion, and versatility of manners, with superior acti-
vity and caution. They quarrelled among them-
selves, and thus lost the favour and reverence of
the people ; and they were at last gradually sink-
ing into insignificance, when they were swallowed
up in the general wreck of monastic institutions.
The magnificence of their edifices, which exci-
ted universal envy, was the frequent topic of Wick-
liffig's invective ; and this poet, who was apparently
much attached to the opinions of that reformer,
has given us the following elaborate description of
a Dominican convent :
VOL. r. J.
[ 162 ]
Then thought I tofrayne^ the first of these four
orders ;
And pressed to the preachers, to proven her will.
Ich hied to her house, to hearken of more,
And when I came to that court, I gaped about.
Such a build bold y-built upon earth height
Saw I not, in certain, sith a long time.
I seemed* upon that house, and^^ernHhereonlooked,
How the pillars wtjren y-paint, and ptdched'* full
clean.
And quaintly y-carven with curious knots.
With windows well y-wrought, wide up aloft ;
And then I entered in, and even forth went.
And all was walled that toone,^ though it wide were,
With posterns, in privity to passen when hem list.
Orchards and erberes^^ evesed'^ well clean,
And a curious cross craftily entailed,^
With tabernacles y-tight^ to toten ^° all abouten.
The price of a plough-land, of pennies so round,
To apparel that pillar were pure little.
* To ask. Sax. * Gazed.
' Eagerly. Sax. * Polished.
' Uabitation, Sax. ^ Arbours.
7 Turfed ? from waisons (i, e. gazons), old l"r. ? or is it
trimmed, from efecian, tonderc. Sax. ?
* Carved. Fr. » Probably for ydight.
^ Look.
L 163 ]
Then I mu7ite me ^ forth the minster to knowen.
And atvaited * tooon ' wonderly well y-built.
With arches on every half, * and bellech ^ y-carven.
With crotchets on corners, with knots of gold.
Wide windows y-wrought, y-written full thick,
Shining toith shapen shields, to shewen about.
With marks o£ merchants i/-meddled'^ between.
Mo than twenty and two, twice y-numbered ;
There is none herald that hath half stoich a roll.
Right as a rageman ' hath reckon'd hem new ;
Tombs upon tabernacles, tyled upon Iqfte, *
Housed in homes ' hard set abouten.
Of armed alabaster clad for the nonce,
Made upon marble in many manner wise.
' Mounted ? * Watched, observed. Fr.
3 One ? or vione, a habitation ?
* Part. 5 Beautifully. Fr.
•5 Y-meddled Is mixed; the marks of merchants are put
in opposition to the shapen shields, because merchants bad
no coats of arms.
^ This word sometimes means simply an accompt : but it
here seems to allude to the famous Ragman^s roll, and to
he put as an antithesis to the herald's roll.
8 Raised aloft.
^ Mr Warton supposes that horns may mean irons, i. «,
iron rails ; or that, perhaps, we ought to read hurnei, which
mean corners, niches, arches. But why not hamit, hamttSf
r. e. armour?
[ 164. 3
Knights in their conisante* clad for the nonce :
All, it seem*d, saints ; y-sacred upon earth ;
And lovely ladies y-wrought, layen by her sides,
In many gay garments that weren gold-beaten.
Though the tax of ten year were truly gathered,
N'old it nought maken that house half as I trow.
Then came I to that cloister, and gaped abouten,
How it was pillai*d, and paint, and pourtray'd well
clean,
All y-heled * with lead, low to the stones,
And y-paved with poyntil^ ^ each point after other.
With conduits of clean tin, closed all about
With lavers of latten "* lovely y^greithed. *
I trow, the gainage of the ground in a great shire
N'old apparel that place, oo point till other end. ^
Then was the chapter-house wrought as a great
church,
Carven, and cover'd, and quaintly entailed.
' Cognisances, devices.
* Hid, covered. Sax.
3 Probably lozenge^sbaped stones ; pantile?.
* A sort of brass. Fr.
' Prepared, adorned.
' From one end to the other.
C 165 3
With seemly cielure y-set on loft,
As a parliament>house y-painted about*
Then fared I into Jrat^tour, * and found there
another ;
An hall for an high king, an house-hold to holden ;
With broad boards abouten, y-bench«d well clean ;
With windows of glass wrought as a church.
Then walked IJarrery and went all abouten.
And saw halls full high, and houses full noble,
Chambers with chimneys, and chapels gay,
And kitchens for an high king in castles to holden.
And her dortour * y-dight with doors full strong,
Fermerye ' zxAJraytour^ with^fe * mo houses.
And all strong stone wall, stern * upon height.
With gay garrets, and great,and each hole y-glazed.
And other houses enow to harbour the queen.
And yet these builders will beggen a bag full of
wheat
Of a pure poor man, that may unneth ^ pay
Half his rent in a year, and half been behind.
[Rogers's ed. sign. A 4-. Ac]
Mr Warton has transcribed a very large portion
' Fratry, or common-ball. * Dormitory. Fr.
' Infirraary. ♦ Many. Sax.
'' Strewn, built. ^ Scarcely.
[ 166 3
of this curious poem, which> as he justly observes,
is nearly as rare as a manuscript ; but the printed
copies, like those of Pierce Ploughman's Vision,
seem to be full of typographical errors ; and an
editor who should from a collation of MSS. reprint
a correct edition of these two forgotten poems
would make a valuable addition to our stock of
early literature. *
Langland's work, whatever may be thought of its
poetical merit, cannot fail of being considered as an
entertaining and useful commentary on the general
histories of the fourteenth century, not only from
its almost innumerable pictures of contemporary
manners, but also from its connection with the
particular feelings and opinions of the time. The
reader will recollect that the minds of men were
greatly incensed by the glaring contradictions that
appeared betweeii the professions and actions of
the two great orders of the state.
The clergy of a religion founded on humility and
* No one is more competent to supply this desideratum
than Mr Ritson (vide his Bibliographia Poetica, pp. 29
and 404, for some very valuable information with respect
to the MSS. of P. P.*s Vision) ; and it is much to be wish-
ed that he could be prevailed upon to add this to the many
obligations he has already conferred on the lovers of aut
pitat English poetry.
C 167 ]
self-denial united the most shameless profligacy of
manners with the most inordinate magnificence.
An armed aristocracy, who by their oath of knight-
hood were bound to the maintenance of order, and
to the protection of the helpless and unfortunate,
were not satisfied with exercising in their own
persons the most intolerable oppression on their
vassals, but were the avowed protectors of the
subordinate robbers and assassins who infested the
roads, and almost annihilated the internal inter-
course of every country in Europe. The people
were driven to despair, flew to arms, and took a
most frightful revenge on their oppressors. Various
insurrections in Flanders, those of the Jacquerie
in France, and those of Wat Tyler and others in
England, were the immediate consequences of this
despair ; but the popular discontents had been in
a great degree prepared and fomented by a set of
itinerant preachers, who inveighed against the lux-
ury and crimes of the great, and maintained the
inalienable rights and natural equality of man.
Langland's poem, addressed to popular readers,
written in simple but energetic language, and ad-
mirably adapted, by its dramatic form, and by the
employment of allegorical personages, to suit the
popular taste, though it is free from these extra-
vagant doctrines, breathe* only the pure spirit ©f
t 168 3
the Christian religion, and inculcates the principles
of rational liberty. This may possibly have prepared
the minds of men for those bolder tenets which,
for a series of years, were productive only of
national restlessness and misery, but which ulti-
mately terminated in a free government and a re-
formed religion.
The reader who may be desirous of seeing farther
specimens of alliterative versification, will find in
Mr Warton*s history some extracts from a Poem
on Alexander^ written perhaps by a contemporary
of Langland, and a Hymn to the Virgin^ of much
earlier date, neither of which are mentioned in Dr
Percy's Essay.
[ 169 3
CHAPTER VII.
Reign of Edward HI. contimied. — John
Gower — Specimens of his Poetry.
J. HE next place in our poetical history is usually
assigned to John Gower, who is supposed to have
been bom before Chaucer, although he survived
him by two years, and died in 14'02. We do not
possess any materials for the history of his life ; but
it is probable that he was well bom \* and we have
* There b a remarkable passage in Sir John Fortescne's
treatise " de Laadibus Le^m Angliae," which tends to
confirm the popular opinion, that Gower, Chaucer, and
Occleve, all of whom received their education at the Tnns
of Court, were of noble origin. It is in the 49th chapter,
where, after enumerating the necessary expenses incurred
by the students at those seminaries, he sa}s, " Quo fit, ut
" vix doctus in legibus illis reperiatur iu regno qui non
** sit nobilis et [aut^] de nobilium genere egreuus. In his
" reverb hospitiis, ultr^ studium legum, est quasi g\mna«
" sium omnium morum qui nobiles decent. Ibi cantare
" ipBi addiscunt, similiter etseexercent in omni gcnere har-
" monix ; ibi etiam tripudiare, ac Jocos singulos nobilibus
" conTenientes,9ua/i<er in domo regid exercere to/ent, enutriti.
" Ita ut milites, barones, alii quoque magnates et nobiles
" regni, in hospitiis illis ponant filios suos," &.c.
8
[ no ]
an indirect proof of his wealth as well as of his
munificence, because we know that he contributed
largely to rebuild, in its present elegant form, the
conventual church of St Mary Overee in South-
wark, where his very curious tomb still remains.
It is probable that Gower's earliest compositions
were his French ballads, of which fifty are still
preserved in a folio MS. formerly belonging to
Fairfax, CromwelPs general, and now to be found
in the library of the Marquis of Stafford, by whom
they were communicated to Mr Warton. These
juvenile productions are more poetical and more
elegant than any of his subsequent compositions
in his native language : perhaps they would not
suffer by a comparison with the best contemporary
sonnets written by professed French poets : at all
events they shew extraordinary proficiency in a
foreigner ; for which reason, and because they
may be useful for the purpose of comparing the
state of the two languages at this period, it is hoped
that the reader will forgive the insertion of the
following short specimen. It is a sonnet on the
month of May.
Pour comparer ce joli tempts de Mai,
Je [le] dirai semblable a Paradis ;
Car lors chantoit et merle et pepegai ;
[ 171 3
Les champs sont verds, les herbes sont fleuries ;
Lors est Nature dame du pais ;
Dont Venus point Hamant a tel essai
Q,u*encontre amour nest qui petit dire nai.
[The second stanza, being scarcely intelligible
from the mistakes of the transcriber, is omitted.J
En lieu de rose ortie cuellerai,
Dont mes chapels ferai, par tel devis.
Que toute joie et confort je lairrai,
Si celle seule en qui j'ai mon coeur mis,
Selon le point que j'ai souvent requis
Ne daigne alleger les griefs mals que j'^,
Qu'encontre amour nest quipeut dire nai.
Pour pitie querre, et pourchasser intris *
Va-t'en, baladc, oii je t'envoyerai,
Qu'ores en certain je I'ai tres bien appris
Qu^encontre amour nest qui peut dire nai.
But the three principal works of our author are
the Speculum Meditantis, the Vox Cla-
MANTis, and the Confessio Amantis, which
are represented by the three volumes on his tomb.
The first of these is in French verse : this was
' Entree, i. e, adniisiiion to the presence sf bis mbtress.
C 172 3
never printed.* The Vox Clamantis consists of
seven books of Latin elegiacs, written with some
degree of purity, and a tolerable attention to the
prosody : it is little more than a metrical chronicle
* Gower's Speculum Meditantis has never, I believe, been
seen by any of our poetical antiquaries ; nor does it exist in
the Bodleian library. Campbell, the author of Gower's ar-
ticle in the Biographia £r. and Warton, who profess to
give an account of its contents, were deceived by the ambi-
guity of a reference in Tanner, and, instead of the work in
question, describe a much shorter poem, or balade, by the
same author. At the end of three very ancient and valua-
ble Bodleian MSS. of the Confeisio Amantii is subjoined a
notice (in the Latin of those days) of Gower's three prin-
cipal works, possibly written by himself, from which, as it
has never (to the best of my knowledge) been hitherto pub-
lished, as much as relates to the SpectUum is here given for
the satisfaction of the curious reader.
These MSS. may be found in the general Cat. for Engl,
and Irel. (Oxf. 1697. folio) by the following references: —
I. Bodl. 3883. Fairfax. MS. 3. [Given by Thos. Lord
Fairfax, Cromwell's general. Vide Warton, Emend, and
Add. to Vol. II. sign. g. note b.]
II. Bodl. 2449. Fletjewood. NE. F. 8. 9.
III. BodL 2875. [Given by Dr John King, Dean of
Ch. Ch.] This, notwithstanding the catalogue, contains only
the Confessio ^mantis. A more modern MS. of the Conf.
Am. apparently a transcript of this, with the same Latin
memorandum of Gower's works, may be seen in the cat,
X. 3357.
As the three copies vary in the language (though much
[ 173 ]
of the insurrection of the commons, in the reign of
Richard U. This, also, exists only in manuscript.
The CoNFESSio Amantis, which was printed by
Caxton, in 1483, and afterwards by Berthelette,
in 1532, and 1554, folio, appears to have been
composed at the command of Richard II. who
less in the account of the French than of the Latin and
English poem,) the text of MS. Fairf. is first given, and
then the different readings, futile as they may be, from MS.
Fletew. and King.
Quia unusquisqne prout a Deo accepit aliis impertiri te-
netur, Johannes Gower, super his quae Oeus sibi semuali-
ter ' donavit villicationis suae rationem, dum tetnpus imtat^
secundum aliquid alleviare cupiens, inter labores et otia ad
aliorum notitiam tres^ libros^ doctrinae cans& /brmd subsC'
qutnti propterea compusuit. *
Primus liber, Galiico sermooe editus, in decern dividitur
partes, et tractans de vitiis et virtutibus, necnon et de variis
hujus tecculi gradibus, ^ viam ^ quk peccator transgresstu ad
sni Creatorii agnitionem redire debet recto tremite docere cO'
natur.^ Titulusque libelli istius Speculum Meditantis' nun<
cupatus est.
* Jntellectualiter. King.
* These three words wanting in Fletew.
' Tres pr*ci/)u« I ibros. Fletew.
* Per ipium dum vixit doctr. Fletew.
^ instead of these words, Fletew. has compositot ad aliO'
rum notitiam in lucem seriose produxit,
* These words are not in Fletew.
7 Warn prxcipue quk.
* Fletew. has instead, in penitendo Christi misericordiam
nuequi polerit lot& mentit devotione finaliter contemplatur.
9 A/{Jian(ij. Fletew. Hominis. King.
C m 3
having met our poet rowing on the Thames near
London, invited him into the royal barge, and, af-
ter much conversation, requested him to " book
** some new thing"
It is rather extraordinary that Mr Warton, wh»
repeats this anecdote, should have passed it over
without a comment; because, having previously
told us that Gower, ** by a critical cultivation of
** his native language, laboured to reform its irre-
** gularities, and to establish an English style," he
might naturally have been tempted to inquire, why
this style was never employed till the poet was past
fifty years of age. Perhaps the circumstance may
be partly explained by a remark of Mr Tyrwhitt,
who observes that Edward III. was insensible even
to the poetical merits of Chaucer himself, " or at
*' least had no mind to encourage him in the cul-
*• tivation or exercise of them." He adds, " It
*' should seem that Edward, though adorned with
** many Royal and Heroic virtues, had not the gifl
*• of discerning and patronizing a great poet ; a gift
** which, like that of genuine poetry — is only be-
** stowed on the chosen few by the peculiar favour
** of heaven." It is very certain that the gift of
discerning the merits of a great English poet might
have been bestowed on Edward by the peculiar
favour of heaven, but it may be doubted whether
[ 175 ]
he could reasonably be exj)ected to possess it ttiUh-
out such a special interposition.
It is to be remembered, that French had hitherto
been the only language that was studied, though
English was certainly not quite unknown at court ;
that Isabella, the mother of Edward, was a French
woman ; that he was sent to Paris at the very ear-
ly age of thirteen, to assist her in her negociations
with her brother the king of France ; that he was
married by her means to Philippa, a princess of
Hainault ; that he was only fifteen years old when
he mounted the throne ; and that, after this pe-
riod, the active scenes in which he was incessantly
engaged were not likely to allow him much lei-
sure for the purpose of completing his education.
He began his reign two years before the birth of
Chaucer, and could then have seen no specimens '
of English poetry superior to the dry chronicles of
Robert of Gloucester. It may be presumed, there-
fore, that if he read any poetry it would be that of
the French minstrels ; and that his preference of
their compositions to those of his countrymen was
no great disparagement to his taste may be infer-
red from the testimony of Chaucer himself, who
lays, in the envoi to his Complaint of Venus,
t 1T6 3
" And eke to me it is a great penhnce,
" Sith rhyme in English hath such scarcity,
" To follow word by word the curiosity
" 0£Graunson,Jloxoer of hem that make in France*'
What was worth the penance of translating cer-
tainly deserved to be consulted in the original.
But political motives induced Edward to discou-
rage the cultivation of French, the language of his
enemies. Our native poetry received considerable
improvements in the course of his long reign ; and
his grandson, who found it in this cultivated state,
and who was, perhaps, acquainted with Gower*s
poetical talents by means of his French sonnets
already mentioned, may have naturally been soli-
citous that he should employ them in some English
composition.
To return to the Confessio Amantis. This poem
is a long dialogue between a lover and his confessor^
who is a priest of Venus, and is called Genim. As
every vice is in its nature unamiable, it ought to
follow that immorality is unavoidably punished by
the indignation of the fair sex; and that every fortu-
nate lover must, of necessity, be a good man and a
good Christian ; and upon this presumption, which,
perhaps, is not strictly warranted by experience,
the confessor passes in review all the defects of the
C 177 ]
human character, and carefully scrutinizes the
heart of his penitent with respect to each, before
he will consent to give him absolution.
Because example is more impressive than precept,
he illustrates his injunctions by a series of apposite
tales, with the morality of which our lover professes
to be highly edified ; and, being of a more inquisitive
turn than lovers usually are, or perhaps hoping to
subdue his mistress by directing against her the
whole artillery of science, he gives his confessor
an opportunity of incidentally instructing him in
chemistry and in the Aristotelian philosophy. At
length, all the interest that he has endeavoured to
excite, by the long and minute details of his suffer-
ings, and by manifold proofs of his patience, is
rather abruptly and unexpectedly extinguished ;
for he tells us, not that his mistress is inflexible or
faithless, but that he is arrived at such a good old
age that the submission of his fair enemy would not
have been sufficient for ensuring his triumph.
Through this elaborate work Gower appears to
have distributed ail the contents of his common-
place book, and Mr Warton has traced back many
of these fragments to the obscure sources from
whence they were derived. These are (besides
Colonna's romantic history of Troy, and the Gesta
Romanorum, already mentioned, which, with the
VOL. I. M
C 178 3
romance of Sir Lancelot, though histories of a less
general nature, Gower seems more immediately to
have followed in some of his tales ;) the Pantheon,
or Memorice Sectdorum, a Latin chronicle, written
partly in prose and partly in verse, by Godfrey of
Viterho, who died in 1190 ; the Speculum Regum
of the same author ; the Chronicle of Cassiodorus,
called Chronicon breve, written at the command of
Theodoric king of the Goths ; and the Chronicle of
Isidorus, called Hispalensis. *' It is extremely pro-
** bable," says Mr Warton, " that the plan on
" which they are all constructed, that of deducing
** a perpetual history from the creation to the wri-
*' ter's age, was partly taken from Ovid's Meta-
^' morphoses, and partly from the Bible.'*
For the scicHtific part of his work Gower was
most probably indebted to a spurious work attri-
buted to Aristotle, called Secretum Secretorum,
and to the Latin original of a treatise called Les
Dictes moraux des Philosophes, les Dictes des Sages,
et les Secrets d*Aristote, which was afterwards
translated into English by the unfortunate Anthony
Widville, first Earl of Rivers.
Chaucer, who knew and loved our poet, has
comprised his character in a single epithet, and
every reader must concur in the judgment of this
great contemporary critic. While he is satisfied
I 179 ]
with being " the moral Gffwer," he always appears
to advantage ; he is wise, impressive, and sometimes
almost sublime. The good sense and benevolence
of his precepts, the solemnity with which they are
enforced, and the variety of learning by which they
are illustrated, make us forget that he is preaching
in masquerade, and that our excellent instructor is
a priest of Venus. But his narrative is often quite
petrifying ; and when we read in his work the tales
with which we had been familiarized in the poems
of Ovid, we feel a mixture of surprize and despair
at the perverse industry employed in removing
every detail on which the imagination had been
accustomed to fasten. The author of the Metamor-
phoses was a poet, and at least sufficiently fond of
ornament : Gower considers him as a mere anna-
list ; scrupulously preserves his facts ; relates them
with great perspicuity ; and is fully satisfied when
he has extracted from them as much morality as
they can be reasonably expected to furnish.
Tlie popularity of this writer is, perhaps, not
very likely to revive : but, altliough few modern
readers will be tempted to peruse a poem of mere
than thirty tlwusand verses, written in obsolete
English, without being allured by the hopes of
more entertainment than can easily be derived
from the Confessio Amantis, there are ports of the
C 180 3
work which might very probably be reprinted with
advantage. Such are, the tale in folio 70, (edit.
1532,) beginning, "of Armenye I rede thus:" the
tale in folio 85, from which Shakspeare has pro-
bably taken his incident of the caskets in the Mer-
chant of Venice : a fable in folio 110, beginning,
" To speak of an unkind man :" the story of a
Faun and Hercules, folio 122, beginning, " The
" mightiest of all men ;" that of Nectanabus and
Olympias, folio 137 : and the beautiful romantic tale
of AppoUynus Prince of Tyre, folio 175 to 185. It is
also to be observed, that the fourth and seventh books,
containing a very good compendium of nearly all
the learning of the age, may be worth consulting.
It is usual to couple the names of Gower and
Chaucer, as if these contemporary poets had pos-
sessed similar talents : the fai-rest method, therefore,
to form an estimate of both, will be to give from
the one a subject wliich has been attempted by the
other. Gower's Florent, which he appears to have
taken from the Gesta Romanorum, is generally
supposed to be the original of Chaucer's Wife of
Bathes Tale. The story has considerable merit ; and
it is told in Gower's best manner. These reasons,
it is hoped, will excuse the insertion of so long a
specimen from an author who was once extremely,
popular, and whom we have been accustomed to
[ 181 ]
venerate, upon trust, as one of the fathers of Eng-
lish poetry. *
There was, whilom, by dayes old,
A worthy knight, as menne told ;
He was nephew to the emperor.
And of his court a courtier :
Wife-less he was, Florent he hight.
He was a man that mochel ^ might : *
Of armes he was desirous,
Chevalerous, and amorous.
And, for the fame of worlde's speech,
Strange aventures for to seche, ^
He rode the marches all about.
And fell a time, as he was out.
Fortune (which may every threde
To-break and knit of mannes speed)
Shope, as this knight rode in a pass.
That he by strength y-taken was ;
And to a castle they him lad*
Where that he fewe friendes had.
* In order to render this extract as correct as possible,
the text of edit. 158^ has been collated with three very an-
cient and valuable MSS. in the Bodleian library, quoted in
the note at the bei^inning of this chapter.
' Much. • Could do. 3 seek. ♦ Led.
[ 182 ]
For so it fell, that like stound *
That he hath, with a deadly wound.
Fighting, [with] his own hande slain
Branchus, which to the captain
Was son and heir, whereof ben wrotli
The father and the mother both ;
And fain they woulde do vengeance
Upon Florent, but remembrance
That they took of his worthiness
Of knighthood, and of gentleness.
And how he stood of cousinage
To th* emperor, made them assuage,
And durst not slayen him for fear.
In great disputeson they were
Among them self, what was the best.
There was a lady, the sliest
Of all that menne knewe tho .• *
So old, she might unnethes 5 go.
And was grandame unto the dead :
And she, with that, began to redey'*
And said how she will bring him in,
That she shall him to death win.
All only of his owen grant
Through strength of very covenant,
' At that same time. • Then.
^ Scarce. ♦ Advise.
[ 183 ]
Without blame of any wight.
Anon she sent for this knight.
And of her sonne she aleyd *
The death, and thus to him she said :
*• Florent, howso thou be to-m/te*
«* Of Branchus' death, men shall respite
" As nffu}^ to take avengement,
*' Be so thou stand in judgement,
" Upon certain condition :
" That thou unto a question
** Which I shall aske shalt answere.
" And, over this, thou shalt eke swear,
« That if thou of the sothe fail,
" There shall none other thing avail,
" That thou ne shalt thy death receive.
" And (for men shall thee nought deceive)
" That thou thereof might ben advised,
" Thou shalt have day and time assised ;
" And leave safely for to wend :
" Be so that at thy dayes end
" Thou come again with thine avise." *
This knight, which worthy was, and wise,
This lady pray'th that he may tc^,*
' Alleged. ^ Accused. 'At present.
* Opinion. ^ Know.
C 184 ]
And have it under seales writ,
What question it shoulde be.
For which he shall, in that degree,
Stand of his life in jeopardy.
With that, she feigneth company.
And saith, " Florent, on love it hongeth,
" All that to mine askinge Mongeth ;
*• What \lle women most desire,
*' This will I ask : and in th' empire,
*' Whereas thou hast most knowledging
** Take counsel upon this asking.'*
Florent this thing hath undertake ;
The day was set, the time take :
Under his seal he wrote his oath
In such a wise, and forth he go'th.
Home to his enters ' court again :
To whom his aventure plain
He told of that him is befall ;
And upon that they weren all.
The wisest of the land, assent ! ^
But natheless, of one assent
They mighte not accorde plat : '
One saide this, another that.
• Uncle's. * Sent for. 3 plainly
[ 185 ]
After the disposition
Of natural complexion.
To some woman it is pleasance.
That to another is grievance :
But such a thing, in special.
Which to them all in general
Is most pleasant, and most desired
Above all other, and most conspired,
Such a thing can they not find.
By constellation ne kind ; ^
And thus Florent, withoute cure.
Must stand upon his aventure.
******
When time came, he took his leave,
That longer would he not beleve,*
And pray'th his erne he be not wroth,
For that is a point of his oath.
He saith, that no man shall him tvreakf '
Though afterward men heare speak
That he peraventure die.
And thus he wente forth his way
Alone as knight aventurous.
And in his thought was curious
To Jvite what was best to do.
' Neither by the itars, nor by the laws of kind, or nature,
* Remain. ^ Reveofe.
[ 186 ]
And as he rode alone so.
And came nigh there he woulde be,
In a forest under a tree,
He saw where sat a creature,
A loathly womanish figdre.
That, for to speak of flesh and bone,
So foul yet saw he never none.
This knight beheld her readily.
And, as he would have passed by.
She cleped him, and bade abide ;
And he his horse's head aside
Tho ^ turned, and to her he rode,
And there he hoved* and abode.
To ivite what she woulde mean.
And she began him to bemene^
And saide, " Florent, by thy name !
" Thou hast on hande such a game,
" That, but thou be the better avised,
" Thy death is shapen and devised,
" That all the world ne may thee save
" But if that thou my counsel have."
Florent, when he this tale heard.
Unto this olde wight answer'd,
' Then. » Hover'd. 3 Bemoan-
L 187 3
And of her counsel he her pray'd,
And she again to him thus said :
" Florent, if I for thee so shape,
" That thou through me thy death escape,
" And take worship of thy deed,
" What shall I have to my meed ?*'
" What thing," quod he, " that thou wilt axe*
*' I bidde never a better tax.
Quod she, " but first, or thou be sped,
** Thou shalt me leave such a toed '
" That I will have thy troth on hand
" That thou shalt be mine houseband.**
" Nay," said Florent, " that may not be !"
" Ride thenne forth thy way! " quod she.
" And if thou go forth without rede*
" Thou shalt be sekerliche^ dead."
Florent behight* her good enow, ■ .
Of land, of rent, of park, of plough.
But all that counteth she at nought.
Tho fell this knight in mochel thought.
Now go'th he forth, now com'tli again,
He wot not what is best to sayn.
And thought, as he rode to and fro.
That choose he must one of the two ;
' Pledge, Sax. * Counsel. Sar.
» Surely. ♦ Promised.
C 188 3
Or for to take her to his wife.
Or elles for to lose his life :
And then he cast his avantage.
That she was of so great an age.
That she may live but a while ;
And thought to put her in an isle.
Where that no man her shoulde know
Till she with death were overthrow.
And thus this younge lusty knight
Unto this olde loathly wight
Tho said : " If that none other chance
*' May make my deliverance,
" But only thilke same speech
** Which as thou say'st thou shalt me teach,
** Have here mine hand, I shall thee wed !"
And thus his troth he lay'th to wed.
With that, she Jrounceth^ up the brow:
" This covenant I will allow;"
She saith, " if any other thing
" But that thou hast of my teaching,
" Fro' death thy body may respite,
" I will thee of thy troth acquite :
" And elles, by none other way.
" Now hearken me what I shall say.
** When thou art come into the place
' Wrinkleth.
[ 189 ]
" Where now they maken great menace,
** And upon thy coming abide :
" They wil], anon, the same tide^
" Oppose thee of thine answer.
" I wot thou wilt no thing forbear,
" Of that thou weenest be thy best,
** And, if thou mightest so find rest,
** Well is : for then is there no more ;
** And elles, this shall be ray lore.
" That thou shalt say — Upon this mold *
*' That ALLE WOMEN LIEVEST WOULD
** Be sovereign of mannes love :
** For, tvhat wom^n is so above,
" She hath (as who sayth) all her toill :
" Ana elles may she notjulfill
** What thing her were lievest have.
" With this answere thou shalt save
** Thy self, and otherwise nought :
*• And when thou hast thine ende wrought,
" Come here again, thou shalt me find,
" And let no thing out of thy mind."
He go*th him forth with heavy cheer.
As he that n*ot » in what manere
* J'imc. Sax. * Lartb.
' Knew not.
[ 190 ]
He may this worldes joy attain.
For if he die, he hath a pain :
And if he live, he must him bind
To such one, which if alle kind
Of women is th* unseemliest.
Thus wote he not what is the best.
But, be him lief, or be him loth.
Unto the castle forth he go'th,
His full answere for to give.
Or for to die, or for to live.
Forth with his council came the lord.
The thinges stooden of record.
He sent up for the lady soon :
And forth she came, that olde mone, ^
In presence of the remenant;
The strength of all the covenant
Tho was rehearsed openly,
And to Florent she bade Jbrthi *
That he shall tellen his avise
As he that wote what is the price.
Florent saith all that ever he couth, ^
But such word came there none to mouth,
" Monne, a monkey. (Cotgrave's French Dictionary.)
* Forthwith. 3 Knew.
[ 191 ]
That he for gift or for behest
Might any wise his death arrest.
And thus he tarrieth long and late
Till that this lady bade algate
That he shall for the doom final
Give his answer in special
Of that she had him first opposed.
And then he hath truly supposed
That he him may of nothing yelp *
But if so be tho * wordes help
Wliich as the woman hath him taught :
Whereof he hath an hope caught
That he shall be excused so.
And told out plain his wille tho.
And when that this matrdne heard
The manner how this knight answered.
She said, " Ha ! treason ! woe thee be !
" That hast thus told the privity
" Which alle women most desire.
" I woulde that thou were a-fire !'*
But nathelcss, in such a plight
Florent of his answer is quite.
And tho began his sorrow new ;
For he must gone, or be untrue
• Prafr. * Those.
[ 192 ]
To hire which his trothe had.
But he, which alle shame drad, *
Go'th forth in stead of his penance ,
And tak'th the fortune of his chance,
As he that was with troth qffayted. *
This old wight him hath awaited
In place where as he hire left.
Florent his woeful head up-lift,
And saw this vecke ^ where she sit,
Which was the loathlieste wight
That ever man cast on his eye.
Her nose has, * her browes high.
Her eyen smalle, and depe-set.
Her chekes ben with teres wet.
And rivelen ^ as an empty skin
Hangende ^ down unto the chin<
Her lippes shrunken ben for age ;
There was no grace in her visage.
Her front was narrow, her locks hoar ;
She looketh forth as doth a Moor.
Her neck is short, her shoulders courh, '
That might a mannes lust distourb.
' Dreaded. * Adorned. Old Fr.
' Old woman. * Low. * Shrivelled.
^ Hanging. ' Crooked.
3
( I9S 3
Her body, great, and nothing small :
And, shortly to describe her all.
She hath no lyth ' without a lack.
But like unto a wolle-sack.
She proffer'th her unto this knight.
And bade him, as he hath behight '
( So as she hath been his warrant, )
That he her holde covenant ;
And by the bridle she him seizeth,
But God wot how that she him pleaseth !
Of suche wordes as she speaketh
Him thinketh well-nigh his heart breaketh
For sorrow that he may not flee
But if he woulde untrue be.
Look how a sick man for his hele '
Tak*th haldemoyn * with the candcy^
And with the myrrh taketh the sucre ; '
Right upon such a manner lucre
Stands Florent, as, in this diete,
He drink'th the bitter with the sweet ;
He meddleth ' sorrow with liking,
' Limb. * ProiuiBe.i. ' Cure.
♦ Perhaps a mistake of the copyist for holearmene, i. e.
Armenian bole, once thought a specific against poison, dc
5 Cionnmon. '' Sugar. ' Mixeth.
VOL. I. N
C 194 ]
And liveth (as who saith) dying.
His youthe shall be cast away
Upon such one which, as the way,
Is old, and loathly over all.
But, nede he must that nede shall.
He would, algate* his trothe hold.
As every knight thereto is hold.
What hap soever him is befall.
Though she be the foulest of all.
Yet, to honoijr of woman-hed.
Him thought he shoulde taken heed ;
So that, for pure gentilessy
As he her couthe best address.
In ragges as she was to-tore,
He set her on his horse to-fore.
And forth he taketh his way soft.
No wonder though he sigheth oft !
But, as an owl flyeth by night
Out of all other birdes' sight,
Right so this knight on dayes broad
In close him held, and shope his road
On nighte*s time, till the tide *
That he come there he would abide :
And privily, without noise,
' Always. * Time.
[ 195 ]
He bring'th this foule greate coise *
To his castell, in such a wise
That no man might her shape avise.
Till she into the chamber came,
Where he his privy council namcy*
Of suche men as he most trust ;
And told them that he nedes must
This beste wedde to his wife.
For elles had he lost his life.
Tlie privy women were a-sent,
That shoulden ben of his assent :
Her ragges they anon off draw,
And, as it was that time law.
She hadde bath, she hadde rest.
And was arrayed to the best.
But with no craft of combes brode
They might her hore lockes shode^ ^
And she ne woulde nought be shore*
For no counsel : and they therefore.
With such attire as tho was used,
Ordainen that it was excused.
And hid so craftily about
That no man mighte seen them out.
' Probably incumbrance, from coiner, incommoder. Old
Fr. See La Combe's Diet.
• Took ; nim. Sax. " Nima purfe," Sbakspeare.
^ Shed, i. e. separate, disentangle. * Shorn.
But when she was fully array*4.
And her attire was all assay' d,
Tho was $he fouler unto see !
But yet it may none other be :
They were wedded in the night.
So woe-begone was never knight
As he was then of marriage !
And she began to play and rage,
As who saith I am well enough.
(But he thereof nothing ne lough*)
For she took thenne cheer on hand.
And clepeth * him her houseband,
And saith, " My Lord, go we to bed !
*' For I to that intent thee wed,
** That thou shalt be my worldes bliss ;'*
And profFer'th him with that to kiss.
As she a lusty lady were.
His body mighte well be there ;
But as of thought, and of memoiref
His hearte was in purgatoire.
But yet, for strength of matrimoinej
He mighte make none essoined
That he ne mote algates plie ♦
To go to bed of company.
* Laughed. * Calletb. Sax.
3 Excuse. Fr. * ¥ield. Fr.
[ 19t ]
And when they were a-bedde naked,
Withoute sleep he was awaked ;
He turneth on that other side,
For that he would his eyen hide
Fro looking of that foule wight.
The chamber was all full of light ;
The curtains were of sendall * thin :
This newe bride which lay within,
Though it be nought with his accord.
In armes she beclipt her lord.
And pray'd, as he was turned fro.
He would him turn again-ward tho.
For " now,'* she saith, " we be both one ;*'
But he lay still as any stone ;
And ever in one she spake and pray*d.
And bade him think on that he said
When that he took her by the bond.
He heard, and understood the bond.
How he was set to his pendnce :
And, as it were a man in trance,
He turneth him all suddenly,
And saw a lady lie him by
Of eighteteene winter age,*
Which was the fairest of visage
' Silk. * The Saxoos always computed time by
wintcra and nights.
[ 198 ]
That ever in all the world he sigh ; *
And as he would have take her nigh.
She put her hand, and by his leve *
Besought him that he woulde leave.
And say'th, that for to win or lese *
He mote one of two thinges chescy *
Wher^ he will have her such o'night.
Or elles upon daye's light,
For he shall not have bothe twp.
And he began to sorrow thoy
In many a wise, and cast his thought.
But for all that, yet could he nought
Devise himself which was the best : •
And she, that would his hearte rest,
Pray'th that he shoulde chuse algate :
Till at the laste, long and late
He said, " O ye, my life's helcy'^
" Say what ye list in my querele^
" I n'ot what answer I shall give,
*' But ever, while that I may live,
** I will, that ye be my mistress,
" For I can nought myselve guess
** Which is the best unto my choice..
" Thus grant I you mine whole voice :
Saw. "^ Love. ^ Lose. * Choose.
Whether. 6 Medicine. ^ Dispute.
[ 199 ]
" Chuse for us bothen, I you pray !
" And, what as ever that ye say,
" Right as ye wille, so will L'*
** My lord," she saide, " grand-merci ! '
" For of this word that ye now sayxit
" That ye have made me sovereign,
" My destiny is over passed ;
" That never hereafter shall be lassed^
** My beauty, which that I now have,
" Till I betake unto my grave.
" Both night and day, as I am now,
" I shall alway be such to you.
" The kinges daughter of Sicile
" I am ; and Jell ^ but sith a while,
" As I was with my father late,
** That my step-mother, for an hate
" Which toward me she hath begun,
*' For-shope,* till I hadde won
** The love and the sovereinety
" Of what knight that in his degree
** All other passeth of good name :
** And, as men seyn, ye be the same,
" The deede provetli it is so.
" Thus am I yours for everrao."
' Many thanks. ^ Lesiened.
3 It befeil. * Mis-shaped.
2
t 200 3
Tho wa& pleasance and joy enough ;
Each one with other play'd and lough ; *
They hved fong, and well they far'd.
And clerkes, that this chance heard,
They written it in evidence,
To teach, how that obedience
May well fortune a man to love,
And set him in his kist above.
[Fol. 15 ; ed. 1532.]
' Laughed.
C 201 ]
CHAPTER VIIl.
JUign of Edward III. continued. — Geoffrey
Chaucer.
VTeoffrey Chaucer has had many biographers ;
but the authentic documents respecting his life are
so few, that his last editor, Mr Tyrvvhitt, to whom
this great poet will be principally indebted for the
rational admiration of posterity, has contented him-
self with a bare recital of the following genuine
anecdotes, instead of attempting to work them in-
to a connected narrative, in which much must
have been supplied by mere conjecture, or by a
forced interpretation of the allusions scattered
through the works of the poet.
The original inscription on his tombstone is said
to have proved that he died in 1400, aged 72, so
that he was born in 1328 ; and he has himself told
us that his birth-place was London. Of his family
we know absolutely nothing. From a passage in
his Court of Love, where he calls himself " Philo-
" genet of Cambridge, clerk," it may be inferred
that he was educated in that university ; and it is
presumed that he was afterwards entered at the
Inner Temple, because the records of that inn
r>
[ 202 3
are said to state that he was fined two shillings for
beating a Franciscan friar in Fleet-street. *
By what means, or at what period, he first re-
commended himself to his patron, John of Gaunt,
whose persevering kindness seems to have accom-
panied him through life, is not known ; but the
mysterious descriptions in his Dream, are con-
sidered as evidence that he enjoyed the confidence
and familiarity of that prince during his courtship
of Blanche, the heiress of the house of Lancaster,
whom he married in 1359 ; and it was probably to
their recommendation that our poet owed his in-
troduction into the royal household, in which we
find him established in the year 1367.
In this year (the 41st of Edward III.) a patent
occurs, by which the king grants to Chaucer an
annuity of 20 marks, by the title of Valettus nos-
ier ; an ofiice which, by whatever name we trans-
late it, might be held even by persons of the highest
rank,because the only science then in request among
the nobility was that of etiquette, the knowledge
♦ Mr RitsoD (B- jliogr. Poet. p. 19, note) says that tbis
anecdote is " a hum of Thomas Chatterton." See his Mis-
cellanies, p. 137.— But as the story is related in Spcgbt's
editionsof Chaucer (1 5S)8, 1602), on the evidence of a Mas-
ter Buckley, it remains for Mr Ritsou to prove that what
he elegantly calls Chatterton's hum has had a retroactive
effect on the understanding of the said Master Buckley, who
lived, and probably died, in the 16th century.
[ 203 ]
of which was acquired, together with the habits of
chivalry, bypassing in gradation through the several
menial offices about the court. Chaucer was at this
time thirty -nine years of age, and did not acquire
the rank oi scutifer, ox esquire, till five years after-
wards. By this new title he was appointed, with two
others, king's envoy to Genoa, and it was perhaps
on this occasion that he made acquaintance with
Petrarch, whom he professes to have seen at Padua.
Tlie object of this mission is not mentioned, but
it may be supposed to have related to some pecu-
niary or commercial negotiation ; and it may be
farther presumed, that Chaucer acquitted himself
much to the king's satisfaction, because firom this
time we find him distinguished by repeated marks
of royal favour. In 1374? he obtained' a grant for
life of a pitcher of wine daily ; and was appointed
to the office of comptroller of the customs of wool,
&c. in the port of London. In the next year the
king granted him the wardship of Sir Edmund
Staplegate's heir, for which he received je.l04,
and the year following some forfeited wool to the
value of £11. \s. 6d. : and in the last year of this
reign he was sent to France, with Sir Guichard
D'Angle,and Richard Stan [or Sturry,] to treat of
a marriage between Richard, then prince of Wales,
and a daughter of the French king.
[ 204 ]
Chaucer fre^ently alludes to a period of his K^, .
jkt which he was possessed of considerable opulence ;
and it will appear, by a review of the several grants
just mentioned, that he had great reason to be
satisfied wkh the munificence of his royal master.
The mark of silver, in which these grants are esti-
mated, contained eight ounces, and consequently
was equal to 40 shillings, as the potmd was to £4;,
of our present denomination ; and as the repre-
sentative value of silver is generally supposed to
have been five times greater in the reign of Edward
III. than it is at present, it will follow that the
value of the mark in our present money may be
estimated at jCIO, and Chaucer's original annuity
at ie200. The grant of wine was of the same va*
lue, because it was afterwards exchanged for an
tenuity of 20 marks. The two gratifications in
money, amounting together to £175. 4s. 6</. were,
upon the same principles of calculation, equivalent
to ^3500: so that Chaucer appears to have re-
ceived, during the three last years of this reign, a
sntn equal to the present value of ^^4700, ( inclu-
ding the two annuities), without taking into ac-
count his receipts as comptroller of the customs,
^hich were probably much greater, nor the re-
wards of his mission to France, which may be sup-
posed to have been Considerable.
[ 3QS ]
It has been already observed that Mr Tyrwhltt
wag a little displeased with Edward III. for having
exposed Chaucer's genius to the /je^ri/^/*/?^ influence
of custom-house accounts : but it should be remem-
bered that Chaucer voluntarily exposed his talents
to an almost equal risk by composing a treatise on
the astrolabe ; that his mathematical skill was per-
haps not very uselessly employed in unravelling
the confusion of the public accounts ; that the
task thus imposed upon him was at least no mean
compliment to his probity ; and that, after all, it
produced no fatal effect on his genius, if, as Mr
Tyrwhitt conjectures, it did not prevent him from
writing his House of Fame during the intervals of
his labour.
The succeeding reign was by no means equally
propitious to the fortunes of Chaucer. The grant
of lus pension was, indeed, confirmed to him, and
his grant of wine replaced by an equivalent annuity
of 20 marks, at the accession of Richard II., but
his real or supposed interference in the intrigues
of city politics, during the mayoralty of John of
Northampton, appears to have drawn upon him
the displeasure of the king, and to have involved
him in pecuniary distresses from which he was ne-
ver afier able to extricate himself. In 1388 he
was obliged to part with his two pensions, and
though, by the intervention, a» it seems, of the Duke
C 206 3
of Lancaster, he was, in 1 390, restored to favour, and
successively appointed clerk of the works at West-
minster and Windsor, besides which he received,
in 1397, a grant of a new pension of 20 marks, we
find him obliged to accept, in 1 398, a protection for
two years, a proof that he had by no means reco-
vered his former affluence. In the last year of this
reign he obtained a new annual grant of a pipe of
wine, and the revolution in favour of Henry IV.,
the son of his constant benefactor, would probably
have raised him to greater affluence than he had
ever enjoyed, but he died in the next year, after
having received a confirmation of the last favours
. . /
bestowed on him by Richard II., and a farther
grant of an annuity of 40 marks.
After reading, in the circumstantial accounts of
Chaucer's biographers, that he was married in
1360 to Philippa Rouet, by whom he had issue
Thomas Chaucer and other children, we are sur-
prized to learn that it is doubtful whether Thomas
Chaucer was his son ; that the earliest known evi-
dence of his marriage is a record of 1381, in which
he receives a half-year's pajTnent of an annuity of
10 marks granted by Edward III. to his wife as
one of the maids of honour (domicellce) lately in
the service of Queen Philippa ; that the name of
Philippa Rouet does not occur in the list of these
maids of honour, but that Chaucer's wife may pos-
C 207 ]
siblyhavebeen PhilippaPykard; that, notwithstand-
ing this, his said wife was certainly sister to Catha-
rine Rouet, who married a Sir John Swynford, and
was the favourite mistress, and ultimately the wife,
of the Duke of Lancaster ; and that Chaucer him-
self mentions no son but Lewis, whom he states to
have been bom in 1381, a date which seems to
agree with the record above-mentioned, and to
place the date of his marriage in 1380. The task
of unravelling these obscurities must be left to fu-
ture biographers.
As our principal concern is with the literary
character of this poet, it would be unpardonable
to omit the following estimate of his writings, ex-
tracted from Dr Johnson's introduction to his Dic-
tionary.
" He may, perhaps, with great justice, be styled
" the first of our versifiers who wrote poetically.
*' He does not, however, appear to have deserved
" all the praise which he has received, or all the
" censure that he has suffered. Dryden, who,
** mistaking genius for learning, and in confidence
" of his abilities, ventured to write of what he had
" not examined, ascribes to Chaucer the first refine-
" ment of our numbers, the first production of easy
" and natural rhymes, and the improvement of
" our language, by words borrowed from the more
" polished languages of the continent. Skinner
C 208 3
** contrarily blames him in harsh terms for having
^* vitiated his native speech by tiohole cartloads of
*'^ foreign ivords. But he that reads the works of
" Gowerwill find smooth numbers and easy rhymes,
*• of which Chaucer is supposed to have been the
** inventor, and the French words, whether good
** or bad, of which Chaucer is charged as the im-
** porter. Some innovations he might probably
** make, like others, in the infancy of our poetry,
** which the paucity of books does not allow us to
" discover with particular exactness ; but tlie works
*• of Gower and Lydgate sufficiently evince, that
*' his diction was in general like that of his con-
** temporaries ; and some improvements he un-
*' doubtedly made by the various dispositions of
*' his rhymes, and by the mixture of different num-
" hers, in which he seems to have been happy and
** judicious."
This compendious piece of criticism contains a
full refutation of Skinner's veiy absurd chax'ge, at
the same time that the severe and unnecessary
censure on Dryden exhibits a strong instance of
the very haste and inaccuracy which it condemns.
It is scarcely credible that Dryden, while he was
employed in paraphrasing the Knight's Tale, and
the Flower and the Leaf, which are perhaps the
most finished specimens of his poetry, and at the
same time very faithful copies of his original.
[ 209 ]
should have entirely neglected to consult the con-
temporary poets, whose works were necessary to
the explanation of Chaucer's language. Perhaps
he was likely to read them in search of those beau-
ties which tradition reported them to contain, and
which he might hope to appropriate without detec-
tion. Dryden, indeed, who was condemned to write
in haste, had not leisure, perhaps he would not have
had patience, to consult the various manuscripts
of his author, and to compare Chaucer with him-
self and with the obscure versifitrs who preceded
him : his opinion, therefore, is inaccurate ; but he
is mistaken in his censure, not in his encomium.
The researches of Mr Tyrwhitt have proved
what Dryden denied, viz. that Chaucer's versifica-
tion, wherever his genuine text is preserved, was
uniformly correct ; although the harmony of hb
lines has in many instances been obliterated by
the changes that have taken place in the mode of
accenting our language. But Chaucer's reputation
as an improver of our versification principally
rests on the invention (or at least on the first
adoption) of the ten-syllable or heroic verse, of
that verse which has been ■employed by every
poet of eminence from Spenser to Dr Johnson,
and in which its original inventor has \e(t many
specimens, both in the Knight's Tale and in the
VOL. r. o
C 210 3
Flower and the Leaf, which Dryden despaired of
improving.
With respect to Chaucer's language, it is impos-
sible not to feel some disappointment at the cautious
and doubtful opinion delivered by the author of
our national dictionary, and delivered in the intro-
duction to that truly noble monument of his genius.
That Chaucer *' might probably make some innovu'
*' tions," and that " his diction was in general like
** that of his contemporaries," we should have con-
jectured without Dr Johnson's assistance ; because
a writer of genius and learning will be likely to
make some innovations in a barbarous language,
but, in so doing, will not choose to become quite
unintelligible. From a critic so intimately ac-
quainted with the mechanism of language we should
have expected to learn, whether Chaucer had in
any degree added to the precision of our English
idiom by improvements of its syntax, or to its har-
mony by the introduction of more sonorous words ;
or whether he was solely indebted for the beauty
and perspicuity of his style to that happy selec-
tion of appropriate expressions which distinguished
every writer of original thinking and real genius.
All Chaucer's immediate successors, those who
studied him as their model, Hoccleve, Lydgate,
King James I., &c. speak with rapture of the ele-
C 211 3
gance and splendour of his diction. He is ** the
" flower of eloquence ;'* " superlative in elo-
" quence ;'* his words are " the gold dew-drops
** of speech." Such exaggerated praises certainly
imply an enthusiastic, though, perhaps, absurd ad-
miration ; and, as these poets would probably at-
tempt to imitate what they considered as eminent-
ly beautiful, it seems likely that an examination
of their style must enable us to discover what they
considered as the improvements introduced by
Chaucer.
Now the characteristics of our poetry during
the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries are an exube-
rance of ornament, and an affectation of Latinity,
neither of which peculiarities are to be found in
Robert of Gloucester, Robert de Brunne, Minot,
Langland, or indeed in any of the poets anterior
to Chaucer. This, therefore, may be supposed to
be what Chaucer himself and his successors meant
by what they called an ornate style, of which the
following stanza, extracted from the Court of Love,
is a curious specimen :
Honour to thee, celestial and clear.
Goddess of love, and to thy celsitude.
That giv'st us light so far down from thy sphere,
Piercing our heartes with tliy pidchritxide !
[ 212 ]
Comparison none of similitude
May to thy grace be jnade in no degree,
That hast us set with love in unity.
[St. 88. fol. 330. ed. 1602.]
It is not meant that this is an example of Chau-
cer's usual style ; indeed no poet is, in general,
more free from pedantry : but the attentive reader
will find that in the use of words of Latin deriva-
tion, most of which are common to the French and
Italian languages, he very generally prefers the
inflections of the latter, either as thinking then4
more sonorous, or because they are nearer to the
original ; and that in his descriptive poetry he is
very fond of multiplying his epithets, and of copy-
ing all the other peculiarities of the Italian poetry
(from which his favourite metre is unquestionably
derived), with the view of "refining our numbers, and
" improving our language by words borrowed from
** the more polished languages of the Continent."
With respect to his success in these endeavours
there has been a considerable difference of opi-
nion ; but he has been most admired by those who
were best qualified to appreciate his merit. Spen-
ser, his warmest panegyrist, had studied him with
very minute and particular attention ; and though
many readers will not concur with him in thinking
C 21S ]
that Chaucer's compositions are " the well of Eng-
" Ush undefiled," they will admit that Spenser
formed his judgment with due deliberation, and
that he evinced the sincerity of his belief by trust-
ing the success of his own poetical reputation to
the same antiquated phraseology.
From a general review of all Chaucer's works it
will appear that he entertained a very mean opinion
of his native language, and of the poets who had
employed it ; and that he was, during a great part
of his life, incessantly occupied in translating the
works of the French, Italian, and Latin poets.
His Romaunt of the Rose is a professed transla-
tion from WiUiam de Lorris and John de Meun :
the long and beautiful Romance of Troilus and
Creseide is principally imitated from Boccacio*s
Filostrato : the Legend of Good Women is a free
translation from Ovid's Epistles, combined with
histories of his heroines derived from various Latin
chronicles ; the House of Fame is a similar com-
pilation : Palamon and Arcite is known to be an
imitation of the Teseida ofBoccacio. On the whole,
it may be doubted whether he thought himself suf-
ficiently qualified to undertake an original compo-
sition till he was sixty years of age, at which time
it is conjectured that he formed and began to ex-
ecute the plan of h\& Canterbury Tales.
C 2H ]
This elaborate work was apparently intended to
contain a delineation of all the prominent characters
in society ; these were to be sketched out in an
introductory prologue, to be contrasted by cha-
racteristic dialogues, and probably to be engaged
in incidents which should farther develope their
peculiarities of disposition : and, as stories were
absolutely necessary in every popular work, an ap-
propriate tale was to be assigned to each of the pil-
grims. It is not extraordinary that the remainder
of Chaucer's life should have been insufficient for
the completion of such a plan. What is actually ex-
ecuted can only be considered as a fragment ; but,
imperfect as it is, it contains more information re-
specting the manners and customs of the fourteenth
century than could be gleaned from the whole mass
of contemporary writers, English or foreign ; and
the poetical beauties with which it abounds have
ensured to its author the first rank among the £ng-
ish poets anterior to Shakespeare.
As it would be absurd to crowd the present short
sketch with formal extracts from a work so gene-
rally known and admired, the following specimens
will be principally taken from Chaucer's less popu-
lar compositions, and will be selected with an at-
tention to other objects than that of exhibiting
proofs of his poetical excellence.
C 215 3
Addison has observed that " a reader seldom
** peruses a book with pleasure, till he knows whe-
" ther the writer of it be a black or a fair man,
** of a mild or cholerick disposition, married or a
" bachelor, with other particulars of the like na-
" ture, that conduce very much to the right un-
" derstanding of an author." Montaigne was cer-
tainly of the same opinion ; and Chaucer, though
he has told us nothing of his birth, has taken care
to inform us that he was corpulent, and had a habit
of looking on the groimd, the result of frequent
meditation.
our host to japen ' he began.
And then at erst * he looked upon me.
And saide thus : " What man art thou ?" quod he:
" Thou lookest as thou wouldest find a hare !
*' For ever upon the ground I see thee stare.
** Approche near, and look up merrily !
** Now ware you, sirs, and let this man have place ;
** He in the waist is shapen as well as I.
" This were a puppet in arms to embrace
** For any woman, small and fair of face !
" He seemeth elvish by his countenance,
*' For unto no wight doth he dalliance.'*
[The words of the Host to Chaucer, prefixed
to the rime of Sir Thopa8.3
' Jest. » At first.
C 216 3
His love of reading is mentioned repeatedly ; but
the following passages are perhaps the most re-
markable for the quaint simplicity of the style.
Of usage, what for hist^ * and what for lorCf *
On bookes read I ofl, as I you told
But, wherefore speake I all this ? not yore '
Agone, it happed [for] to behold
Upon a book was y-written with letters old.
And thereupon a certain thing to learn.
The longe day full fast I red and yem. *
Four out of the old fieldes, as men saith,
Cometh all this new corn fro year to year ;
And out of olde bookes, in good faith,
Cometh all this new science that men lere : ^
But now to purpose : as of this mattere
To rede forth, it gan me so delight
That all that day methought it but a lite. *
[ Assemb. of Fowls, st. 3.]
Again, in the Legend of Good Women :
And as for me, though that I can ' but lite,
On bookes for to read I me delight,
' Pleasure. * Learning. 3 par, long. * Eagerly.
? Learn. ^ Little. ^ j^en, know.
[ 217 ]
And to hem give I faith and full credence.
And in mine heart have hem in reverence
So heartily, that there is game none
That fro my bookes maketh me to gone.
But it be seldom, on the holy day ;
Save, certainly, when that the month of May
Is comen, and that I hear the fowles sing.
And that the floures 'ginnen for to spring.
Farewell my book and my devotion.
[Prologue, verse 29.3
To his frequent morning walks we are indebted
for the many beautiful specimens of descriptive
poetry with which his works abound : as, for in-
stance, in the Complaint of the Black Knight :
I rose anon, and thought I woulde gone
Into the wood, to hear the birdes sing.
When that the misty vapour was agone.
And clear and faire was the morronyng ;
The dew also like silver in shining '
Upon the leaves as any baume sweet :
Till fiery Titan with his persant ' heat
Had dried up the lusty liquor new
Upon the herbes in the grene mead ;
And that the flowers, of many divers hue,
' Piercing.
C 218 3
Upon her stalkes gonne* for to spread.
And for to 'splaye out her leves in brede*
Again the sun, gold-burned ' in his sphere.
That downe to hem cast his beanies clear.
And by a river forth I gan costat/ *
Of water clear as beryl or chrystal.
Till, at the last, I found a little way
Toward a park, enclosed with a wall
In compass round, and by a gate small :
Whoso that woulde, freely mighte gone
Into this park walled with grene stone.
And in I went to hear the birdes' song.
Which on the branches, both in plain and vale.
So loude sang that all the woode rong
Like as it should shiver in pieces smale ;
And as methoughte that the nightingale
With so great might her voice gan out-wrest
Right as her hearte for love woulde brest.
The soil was plaine, smooth, and wonder soft,
All over-spread with tapets that Nature
Had made herself; covered eke aloft
With boughes green, the floures for to cure,
' Began. * Abroad. 3 Gold-burnished.
♦ Costoyer, cotoyer. Ft. ; to coast.
C 219 ]
That in her beauty they may long endure
From all assault of PhcEbus' ferventyere,^
Which in his sphere so hote shone and clear.
The air attemprc, and tlie smoothe wind
Of Zephyrus among the blossoms white
So wholesome was and so nourishing by kindy
That smale buddcs and round blossoms lite
In manner gan of her breathe delight.
To give us hope there fruit shall take
Against autumne ready for to shake.
There saw I eke the fresh haw-thorn,
In white motley, that so sivote doeth smell ;
Ash, fir, and oak, with many a young acorn,
And many a tree mo than I can tell ;
And, me before, I saw a little well
That had his course, as I gan behold.
Under an hill, with quicke streames cold.
The gravel gold ; the water pure as glass ;
The bankes round the well environing ;
And softe as velvet the younge grass
That thereupon lustily came springing.
The suit of trees aboutc compassing
' Fire. * In its nature.
[ 220 ]
Her shadow caste closing the well round,
And all the herbes growing on the ground.
[St. 4.]
Chaucer has also taken care to tell us that he
was magnificently lodged :
And sooth to sayn, my chamber was
Full well depainted, and with glass
Were all the tvindotos toell y-glazed
Full clear, and not an hole y-crazed.
That to behold it was great joy :
For wholly all the story of Troy ^
Was in the glazing y-wrought thus.
Of Hector and of king Priamus ;
Of Achilles, and of king Lamedon,
And eke of Medea and of Jason ;
Of Paris, Helen, and of Lavine.
And all the walls with colours fine
Were painte bothe text and glose.
And all the Romaunt of the Rose.
[Book of the Duchess, verse 321. fol. 228.
ed. 1602.]
He mentions another room which was curiously
painted :
' The Painted Chamber, adjoining the House of Lords,
represents the Biege of Troy ; and the tapestry was placed
there at the marriage of Richard 11.
C 221 3
on the walls old portraiture
Of horsemen, hawkes, and hounds,
And hurt deer, full of wounds.
Some like bitten, some hurt with shot.
[Chaucer's Dream, ad finem. fol. 343. ed. 1602.]
A modem reader may possibly not be aware that
glass Mdndows were so rare in the reign of Edward III.
as to merit a particular description ; but it appears
from Hejrwood's " Spider and Flie," that glazed
windows were considered as a luxury in the time
of Henry VIII. Heywood's window was only lat-
ticed. The Trojan war was indeed of little use, ex-
cept as a provocative to dreaming, which Chaucer
perhaps did not much want ; but, though an unne-
cessary, it must have been an expensive ornament.
In the Legend of Cleopatras we are surprised by
the following description of the battle of Actiura :
in the sea it happed hem to meet,
Up go'tli the trump, and for to shout, and s^rfe,*
And painen hem to set on with the sun.
.With grisly sound out goeth the great gun :
And heartily they hurtlen in all at once ;
And fro the top down cometh the great stones.
In go'th the grapenel* so full of crooks,
' Shoot. * Grappling-iron. Fr.
C 222 -}
Among the ropes ran the sheering hooks ;
In with the pole-ax presseth he * and he ;
Behind the mast beginneth he to flee ;
******
He rent the sail with hookes like a scythe ;
He bring'th the cup, and biddeth hem be blithe ;
He poureth pesen * upon the hatches' slider.
With pottes full of lime, they gone together ;
And thus the longe day in fight they spend.
[Verse 56.]
In the Legend of Dido the situation of ^neas *
at her court is thus curiously described :
This ^neas is come to Paradise
Out of the swallow of hell : and thus in joy
Remembereth him of his estate in Troy.
To dancing chambers, full of paraments, ^
Of riche beddes, and of pavements.
This iEneas is led after the meat.
And with the quene when that he had seat.
And spices parted, and the wine agone.
Unto his chamber was he led anon
To take his ease, and for to have his rest.
With all his folk, to done whatso hem list.
* This. * Ptix, Fr. Pitch.
' ParemenU Fr. ; from parer, to adorn.
2
C 223 ]
There ne was courser well y-bridled none,
Ne steede for the justing well to gone,
Ne large palfrey, easy for the nonce,
Ne jewel fret full of riche stones,
Ne sackes full of gold of large weight,
Ne ruby none that shineth by ftight,
Ne gentil hauten falcon heronere,^
Ne hound for herte, wilde boar, or deer,
Ne cup of gold with florins new y-bet *
That in the land of Libye may ben get.
That Dido ne hath it JEneas y-sent :
And all is payed, what that he hath
SPENT.
Thus can this honourable queen her guestes call.
As she that can in freedom passen all.
[Verse 178. p. 190. ed. 1602.]
In the romance of Troilus and Creseide, Chaucer
says —
And after this the story telleth us
That she him gave the faire baye steed
The which she ones^ won of Troilus,
And eke a broche* (and that was little need)
That Troilus* was she gave this Diomede ;
' Gentil, haulaxn, heronier. Fr.
* Beateo, stamped, coined.
^ Odcc. ^ A clasp, or buckle; any jewel. Fr,
C 224. ]
And eke the bet' from sorrow him to relieve,
She made him wear a pencil ' of her sleeve.
[B. V. St. 149. p. 179. ed. 1602.]
The attributes of chivalry and the fashions and
customs of the middle ages do not, perhaps, sit
very gracefully on classical characters ; but we are
glad to find them anywhere.
The following description of the entry of Troilus
into Troy is inserted, because it seems to have
suggested to Mr Gray some very beautiful lines in
his Latin epistle from Sophonisba to Massinissa ;
" Jam flexi regale decus," &c. (Letter to Mr
West, May 27, 1742.)
This Troilus sat on his baye steed
All armed, save his head, full richely.
And wounded was his horse, and gan to bleed,
On which he rode a pace full softely :
But such a knightly sighte, truely.
As was on him, was not withouten fail
To look on Mars that god is of battayle.
So like a man of armes and a knight
He was to seen, fulfiU'd of high prowess.
For both he had a body, and [a] might
* A small streamer ; pennmeel. Ft.
[ 225 ]
To doen that thing, as well as hardiness ;
And eke to seen him in his geare dress.
So fresh, so young, so wieldy seemed he, -
It was an heaven upon him for to see.
His helm to-hewen was in twenty places.
That by a tissue hung his back behind.
His shield to-dash*d with swordes and with maces,
In whiche men might many an arrow find.
That thirled * had both home, nerve, and rind ;
And aye the people cried •' Here com'th our joy,
** And, next his brother, holder up of Troy.'*
For which he wex'd a little red for shame.
When he so heard the people upon him cryen,
That to behold it was a noble game
How soberly he cast adown his eyen.
Creseide anon gan all his cheer espyen.
And let it so soft in her hearte sink.
[B. II. St. 83. foL 151. ed. 1602.]
The Romaunt of the Rose furnishes a great va-
riety of beautiful descriptions ; but they have been
frequently quoted, and are, probably, familiar (o the
reader, who will, perhaps, be better pleased with the
following lines, containing advice on dress, and
' Pierced through, Sax. Hence our thrill, and drill,
VOL. I. V
[ 226 ]
directed to the fine gentlemen of the fourteenth
century.
And look alway that they be shape
(What garment that thou shalt make)
Of him that can best do ;
With all that p^rtaineth thereto ;
' Pointes and sleeves be well sittand,
Kight and streight on the hand :
Of shone and bootes, new and fair.
Look, at the least, thou have a pair.
And that they sit sojetously^
That these rude [menj may utterly
Marvel, sith that they sit so plain.
How they come on or off again.
Wear streighte gloves, with aumere *
Of silk ; and alway with good cheer
Thou give, if thou have richess :
And if thou have nought, spend the less.
Alway be merry if thou may.
But waste not thy good alway.
Have hat of floures fresh as May ;
Chaplet of roses of Whitsunday ;
For such array ne costeth but lite. ^
Thine handes wash, thy teeth make white,
* Neatly; " foot hfeatly." Shakspeare.
* Aumoniere, purse. ^ Little.
[ 227 3
And let no filth upon thee be.
Thy nailes black if thou may'st see,
Void it away deliverly, *
And kembe ' thine head right jolily.
Farce not thy visage in no wise;^
For that of love is not th' emprise ;
For love doth haten, as I find,
A beauty that cometh not of kind.
[Rora. of the Rose, fol. 119. ed. 1602.]*
* Quickly, * Comb.
3 This seems to imply that even the geatlemcD of Chau-
cer's time were addicted to painting.
* The above extracts were in the first intance taken from
Urry's edition, in which the measure is, doubtless, more
uniformly smooth and harmonious than in the early printed
copies. But this agreeable effect having been produced by
unwarrantable interpolations, changes, and omissions (on
account of which the credit of Mr Urry's book has suffered
in the opininnof all goodjudges), it has been thought better
to revert to the bl. letter editions. These, till some able
Knglish critic, following the example of the admirable Tyr-
wbitt in the Canterbury Tales, shall have actually reformed
from a collation of MSS. the text of Chaucer's remaining
works, can alone be tafely trusted, rude aod faulty as tliejr
may appear.
[ 228 ]
CHAPTER IX.
Same Period continued. — John Barbour. — Re-
marks on the Language of Scotland at this
Period. — Sketch of the Bruce. — Extracts
from that Poem.
xV.T the same time with Chaucer flourished John
Barbour, archdeacon of Aberdeen. We learnfrom
Wyntown's Chronicle that he was author of a con-
siderable historical work, which has not descended
to posterity, called the Brute, comprising the whole
genealogy of the kings of Scotland, probably com-
piled from Geoffrey of Monmouth, or translated
from Wace. But he is only known to us by his bio-
graphical poem entitled the Bruce, containing a
history of the life and reign of Robert I. It is di-
vided, by its last editor, into twenty books, and
consists of about HOOO eight-syllable verses.
It has been already mentioned in the account of
Robert de Brunne, that the " Thomas" whom he
cites with so much praise, as author of the gest of
SirTristrem, is conjectured by Mr Tyrwhitt to be
Thomas of Ercildoun ; so that our ancestors appear
[ 229 ]
to have been indebted to a Scotish poet for the
earliest model of a pure English style. But, be ,
this as it may, the very interesting poem now be-
fore us, the phraseology of which does not differ
in any material point from that of Chaucer and his
contemporaries, is a sufficient evidence that in our
attempts to trace the history, and mark the grada-
tions of our language, we have been much too in-
attentive to the progress of that language amongst
•ur northern neighbours.
The learned and ingenious editor of the " Poeti-
cal Remains of James the First" has endeavoured to
account for the identity of speech in the two coun-
tries by a reference to historical documents. He
observes, that Malcolm III. (after the murder of his
father Duncan) was rescued from the hands of Mac-
beth, and carried into England, to the court of Ed-
ward the Confessor, where he received his educa-
tion ; and was afterwards ( 1057 ) replaced on the
throne of Scotland by mpans of an English army
commanded by Siward, earl of Northumberland.
Before this time, the residence of the kings of Scot-
land had been in the northern parts of the island ;
but Malcolm, soon after his restoration, removed
his court to Dunfermline, on the north of the Forth ;
either with the view of being nearer to a country for
which he had contracted a partiality, or, perhaps,
[ 230 3
for the purpose of securing himselC by the vicinity
of his own subjects in Cumberland, in case any
attempts might be made against him by the par-
tizans of Macbeth in the north. Not long after
this, Edgar Atheling, together with his mother and
sister, and a number of their adherents, having
been driven by a storm into the mouth of the
Forth, were received with great kindness by Mal-
colm, who ultimately espoused the princess Mar-
garet, and distributed grants of land among the
Anglo-Saxon nobles who had accompanied her.
From these premises Mr Tytler infers that Mal-
colm was the first cause of introducing into Scot-
land the Anglo-Saxon language, which he supposes
to have been disseminated over the Lowlands,
partly by means of these followers of Edgar Athe-
ling, and partly by means of the intercourse which
prevailed between the inhabitants of Scotland and
those of the four northern counties of England,
Cumberland, Northumberland, Westmoi'eland, and
Durham, which were held by the kings of Scotland
as fiefs of the crown of England.
This conjecture, however, does not seem to be
perfectly satisfactory ; nor are the causes in them-
selves sufficient to have wholly changed the lan-
guage of a country. If at the present moment the
Celtic language prevailed over the whole of Scot-
C 231 ]
land, instead of being confined to the Highlands,
such a testimony would compel us to admit, either
that the Saxons and Danes had been prevented
by some unaccountable cause from attempting to
form a settlement on the northern shores of tliis
island, or that their attempts had been rendered
abortive by the superior bravery and skill of tlie
inhabitants. But, as the same Teutonic dialects
are found to form the basis of the language both
in England and in the Lowlands of Scotland, Mr
Hume has been induced, and apparently with great
reason, to infer from this similarity of speech a
similar series of successful invasions ; although this
success is not recorded by the historians of Scotland.
If this conclusion be admitted, it is evidently
unnecessary to refer us to the much later period of
Malcolm's reign ; or to seek in his marriage with
an English princess, in his distribution of lands
among her followers, or in the policy which in-
duced him to change his place of residence, for the
establishment of a language which the Saxons and
Danes could not fail of bringing with them ; and
which, if it had not been thus introduced, the in-
habitants of the plains would probably have rejected
as obstinately as those of the mountains. But the
principal difficulty is to account for the introduc-
tion into Scotland, not of the Anglo-Saxon, or
I 232 3
Danish, but of the English language ; of that com*
pound in which, as Mr Tyrwhitt has justly ob-
served, though the scheme andjbrmation were in a
great measure Saxon, a large proportion of the
elements was French. In the dissemination of this
the followers of Edward Atheling were not likely
to be instrumental, because, even if it had not been
already formed in England, instead of being the
result of their expulsion, they could not have
wished to introduce into the country which af-
forded them an asylum, a language which they
must have considered as a badge of slavery. The
phraseology of Barbour, of Wyntown, and of James
I., (though certainly marked by many peculiarities
of dialect) is not less Norman than that of their
respective English contemporaries, Chaucer, Hoc-
cleve, and Lydgate. In this case, neither the
French schools, nor the French laws, nor any part
of the tyrannical policy attributed to William the
Conqueror, can have had any influence, because
Scotland was never reduced under the Norman
dominion.
As the influx of French words did not begin to
produce a sensible change in the language of the
English till the beginning, or perhaps the middle, of
the thirteenth century, its importation from thence
into Scotland ought to be capable of being distinctly
[ 233 ]
proved. We might expect, too, that as the succes-
sive improvements of the common language would
pass by slow gradations from the original into the
provincial idiom, the compositions of our native
bards would be clearly distinguished by superiority
of elegance, and that Barbour and Wyntown would,
like their successors, avow their obligations to their
English models. This, however, is not the case.
Wyntown has preserved a short elegiac sonnet on
the death of Alexander III. (1285) composed, as
it should seem, by a contemporary bard, and far
superior to any English song of that early date.
It is as follows :
When Alexander our king was dead,
That Scotland led in love and lee^ *
Away was sons * of ale and bread.
Of wine and wax, of gamy 71 and glee:
Our gold was changed into lead.
Christ ! born into virginity.
Succour Scotland and remede.
That stad ^ is in perplexity ! [Vol. I. p. 401.]
' Lie, Hesse i joyous, joy. Old Fr.
* CenM. Fr. The gloss, of the Bann. Poems translates it
htupitality : cent usually mrans census, tribute ; in some pro-
vinces it means a farm, or small domain ; here it seems to
mean abundance, or, perhaps, produce.
^ Placed. The nouo {stead) still remains in English.
C 234j ]
Nether Barbour nor Wyntown make mention of
Chaucer or of any anterior English writer, though
both are full of references to French authors,
whom they seem to consider as perfectly familiar
to their readers ; and Barbour expressly terms his
poem a romance ^ a proof that it was written on a
French model.
Upon the whole, unless we suppose Scotland to
have remained perfectly stationary during the pro-
gress of all their neighbours in civilization, it is
scarcely probable, even if the intercourse with
England had never existed, that they could have
persevered in retaining without any change the
very corrupted Anglo-Saxon dialect of the eleventh
century, and which, from that very imperfection,
was so susceptible of every necessary addition.
If they proceeded to enrich it with new terms, it
was natural that they, like the English, should
borrow these from the Norman Romance, the most
widely diffused and most cultivated language, ex-
cepting the Italian, of civihzed Europe. It is also
evident that, as the French and Scotch were very
early united by interest and alliances, the progress
of the new language would neither be retarded by
that jealousy whichHhe native English entertained
of their conquerors, nor would it be checked by a
struggle with the Norman, which was spoken at
[ 235 ]
the courts of the English monarchs and of their
nobles ; whereas the dialect of the Scotish kings
was the same with that of their subjects.
This at least may be inferred from the manner
in which Wyntown notices the custom of Ed-
ward I. of addressing his hearers in French, and
from the care with which he records his original
words, and afterwards translates them for the be-
nefit of his readers.
When Sir Anton the Bek had done
His speak, the king him answered soon
All intill Frankishf as tised he,
'• Par le sang Dieu, vous avez chante.'*
" By Goddis blood," he said, " ye sang:
" So shall not all our gaming gang."
(Vol. II. p. 46. See also pages 76, 83, and
87, for similar instances. )
Would it be very absurd to suppose that our
common language was separately formed in the
two countries, and that it has owed its identity to
its being constructed of similar materials, by simi-
lar gradations, and by nations in the same state of
society ? If this opinion should be thought very
improbable, must wc not, at least, admit that the
I 236 ]
migration of our language from England into Scot-
land has not yet been fully established, and that
much remains for the investigation of future anti-
quaries i
To return to Barbour. " He seems to have been
" born," says Mr Pinkerton, *' about the year 1326.
** In 1357 it appears, from a passport published by
" Rymer, dated the 1 3th day of August in that year,
** that he was then archdeacon of Aberdeen. This
" passport permits him to go to Oxford, there to
*' place three scholars to pursue their studies and
" scholastic exercises. By a deed, dated the 13th
" of September in the same year, also published
" by llyraer, we find our author appointed by the
*' bishop of Aberdeen one of his commissioners
** to meet at Edinburgh concerning the ransom of
*' David II. king of Scotland, then a prisoner in
" England. In 1365, Rymer gives us the title of
" another passport for John Barbour, archdeacon
** of Aberdeen, to go through England, with six
** knights in company, to St Denis, near Paris.
*' AH we find further evidenced relating to our
** author is, that he died aged, in the year 1396,
** as we learn from the chartulary of Aberdeen."
Barbour is to be considered in the double cha-
racter of historian and poet. In the first, his
12
C 237 3
authority is quoted by writers who immediately
succeeded him as the most authentic that can be
adduced ; and Wyntown, in his " Orygynale Cro-
nikil," either professedly transcribes, or refers to
him, for the whole history of Bruce's reign. But
the attentive reader will probably think the au-
thenticity of his narrative better established by its
own internal evidence than it can be by such ex-
ternal testimony. The series of events is not only
related with as much attention to chronology as
was compatible with any degree of connection, or
interest, but is strictly confonnable to the known
opinions and manners of the time, and clearly il-
lustrates the principles of policy by which Ed-
ward I. endeavoured to keep possession of Scot-
land, and the system of tactics adopted by Bruce,
for the purpose of weakening in detail a power
which he was unable to combat when united.
It is well known that the Anglo-Saxons and
Danes, though warlike nations, were very little
versed in the art of constructing or attacking forti-
fied places. William the Conqueror, therefore, had
filled England with castles, which rendered the
position of his forces impregnable ; and Edward I.
having over-run the whole low country of Scot-
land, adopted the same expedient, and appeared to
be equally secure in his usurpation. Here the poem
C 238 ]
commences, and Barbour, contemplating the en-
slaved condition of his country, breaks out into the
following animated lines on the blessings of liberty:
Ah ! freedom is a noble thing !
Freedom makes man to have liking 1
Freedom all solace to man gives !
He lives at ease, that freely lives !
A noble heart may have none ease,
Na ellys * nought that may him please.
If freedom fail : for free hking
Is yearned* o'er all other thing.
Na he that aye has lived free
May not know well the property.
The anger, na the wretched doom
That is coupled to foul thraldom.
But, if he had essayed it.
Then all perquer ^ he should it toiV,
And should think freedom more to prize
Than all the gold in world that is.
Thus contrary things evermare
Discoverings of the tother are.
(B. I. verse 225.)
The misfortunes which attended Bruce during the
* Nor else. * Eagerly desired.
■ 3 Perfectly ; farceur ?
[ 239 ]
first years of his reign are well known, but Barbour'*
minute details give them a new interest. While his
hero is wandering among the mountains after the
fatal defeat of Methven, indebted to the ever-in-
ventive genius of Sir James Douglas for the scanty
supply of game and fish which was barely sufficient
for the subsistence of his new adherents; — obliged
to separate himself from his queen and family, to
traverse the whole country as an outlaw, and to seek
an asylum in the unfrequented island of Uuchrin ; —
his biographer gives a circumstantial detail of his
daily difficulties, of his paternal solicitude for hig
httle army, of his personal exploits, and of the pa-
tience with which he submitted to more than a
soldier's share in the common hardships.
In this desperate situation he was relieved from
utter ruin by the death of his formidable antagonist
Edward I. and the supineness of his successor. But
Bruce had already faced his enemies, had formed
the plan which he never afterwards abandoned, and
had trained his followers to a mode of warfare which
could scarcely fail of success. Always watchful,
enterprising, and invisible, he fell upon the strag-
gling parties of his enemies by rapid and unexpected
marches, and easily eluded a contest with dispro-
portionate forces, in a country with which he was
intimately acquainted, but where they were under
[ 240 ]
the necessity of trusting to unexperienced or faith-
less guides. Though often on the brink of ruin,
though actually hunted by blood- hounds, he never
despaired. Success gave him new friends, his con-
ciliating manners preserved the old ; fort after fort
was surprised, or reduced to surrender, and was
immediately dismantled, because he was sure of a
retreat in his native mountains ; whereas the de-
feats of his enemies became irretrievable.
It was in these circumstances, and when the
whole of Scotland was cleared of his enemies, that
he ventured his crown and life in the decisive bat-
tle of Bannock-burn, which crushed the whole
army, and nearly the courage, of the English.
This battle, on which Barbour naturally dwells
with considerable exultation, occupies two books,
the twelfth and thirteenth ; and the remaining se-
ven contain the exploits of Edward Bruce in Ire-
land ; the several predatory incursions into Eng-
land, which were undertaken by Douglas, Mur-
ray, and other leaders ; the death of Douglas in
Spain ; and all the remaining incidents of Robert
Bruce's reign.
In describing the campaign in Ireland, in which
the king had marched an army to the assistance
of his brother, Barbour suddenly stops to relate an
anecdote which a monkish historian would pro-
bably have thought beneath the dignity of history;
but the simple and affectionate heart of our poet
would have prompted him to risk a much greater
indecorum for the purpose of illustrating the hu-
mane character of his hero. The king was at this
time preparing to return with his army from the
south of Ireland towards Carrickfergus.
And when that they all ready were.
The king has heard a woman cry ;
He asked what that was in hy.^
** I^s the layndar,* sir," said ane^
*' That her child-ill right now has tane :
" And mott leave now behind us here ;
*• Therefore she makes yon evil cheer."
The king said, " Certs, it were pity
** That she in that point left should be ;
*' For certs, I trow there is no man
** That he ne will rue a woman than."
His host all there arrested he.
And gert ^ a tent soon stinted * be ;
And gert her gang in hastily.
And other women to be her by.
While she was delivered, he badct
And syne forth on his way is rade,
' In haste.
* Layndar, or lavender, a laundress, washer-woman. La-
Ttndirre, Fr, * Caused. * Stretched.
VOL. I. Q
C ^*2 3
And, how she forth should carried be,
Or ever he forth Jhr, * ordained he.
This was a full great courtesy !
That sivilk a king and so might^
Gert his men dwell on this manner
But for a poor lavender !
[B. XVr. verse 270.]
This little incident, and innumerable details con-
tained in Barbour's narrative, shew that it musthave
been very principally compiled from the relations
of eye-witnesses. Hence the variety in his descrip-
tions of battles, which are as much diversified as
the scenery of the country where they were fought.
But a soldier will sometimes exaggerate the exploits
of a leader in whose glory he participates ; and
Barbour was occasionally in a very awkward di-
lemma between his love of veracity and his fear of
depreciating the value of a hero to whom, in his
own opinion, no efforts were impossible. Of this
there is a curious instance in the beginning of the
sixth Book, where Bruce singly discomfits a body
of two hundred men of Galloway, of whom he kills
fourteen. Barbour seems to have hesitated ; but
fortunately his learning comes in aid of his propen-
sity : he recollects a pai-allel instance in the history
of Thebes, relates it much at length, and thus si-
• Fared.
[ 24S ]
lences all his scruples : those of his readers probar
bly would hive been still more easily satisfied.
Barbour's poetical character cannot be more cor-
rectly described than in the words of his editor.
" Here indeed," says Mr Pinkerton, " the reader
** will find few of the graces of fine poetry, little of
" the Attic dress of the Muse ; but here are life, and
** spirit, and ea'^e, and plain sense, and pictures of
** real m mners, and perpetual incident, and enter-
" tainment. The language is remarkably good for
** the time ; and far superior, in neatness and ele-
** gancc, even to that of Gawin Douglas, who
*' wrote more than a century after.**
The following extract from the Bruce is selected,
not as giving the most brilliant specimen of Bar-
bour's poetical talent, but as forming a distinct epi-
sode, and consequently possessing an independent
interest ; and because it is sufficiently long to af-
ford a fair estimate of the poet's general style and
language, and is an example of the fashionable
mode of argument in that story-telling age, when
apologue was necessary even in the eloquence of
the pulpit, and employed in the discussion of the
fate of armies and of empires.
Douglas is represented as dissuading Murray
from hazarding a battle against the superior forces
of Edward III.
C 244. ]
The Lord Douglas said, " By Saint Bride,
" It were great folly at this tide
** Till us with smlk an host to fight :
" It growis, ilka day, of might,
" And has victual therewith plenty ;
" And in their country here are we,
" Where there may come us no succours ;
" Hard is to make us here rescours ;^
** Na we us may Jerrar * meat to get :
** Swilk as we have here we mon eat*
" Do we with our foes therefore,
" That are here li/and us before,
** As ich heard tell this other year
« That a fox did with a fisher."
*• How did the fox ?" the earl gan say.
He said, " A fisher whilom lay
" Besides a river, for to get
*' His nets that he had therin set.
" A little lodge thereby he made ;
" And there-within a bed he had,
" And a little fire also.
** A door there \vas,Jbrout^n ^ mo.
" A nighty his nettis for to see,
" He rose ; and there well long dwelt he.
* Re&wie. Ff. * farther,
3 Without.
C 245 3
" And when he had done his deed, .
*' Toward his lodge again he yeid ; "
" And, with light of the little fire,
" That in the lodge was brynand* schyr, '
" IntiU his lodge a fox he saw,
** That fast on a salmon gan gnaw.
" Then tUl the door he went in hy,
'* And drew his sword deliverly :
" And said, * Reiffar ! * you mon here out !*
" The fox, that was in full great doubt,
" Looked about, some hole to see ;
" But none issCle perceive couth he,
" But where the man stood sturdily.
" A lauchtane^ mantle then him by
" Lyand upon the bed he saw ;
" And with his teeth he gan it draw
" Outo'er the fire : and when the man
" Saw his mantle lye brynand than,
•* To rid it ran he hastily.
" The iox got out then in great hy,
" And held his way his warrand^ till.
" The man let him beguiled ill, ^
' Went, hied. * Burning.
3 Clear. Anglo-Sax. itifrc. ♦ Be-reavcr, reaver, robber.
^ Mr Pinkerton is unable to explain this word. Query,
if it be Louthian, the place where it was manufactured, or
where such mantles were usually worn ?
? Place of security. Gurant.l'r. Warrant, warren. Eng,
[ 246 ]
" That he his good salmon had fynf, *
" And also had his mantle brynt ; *
" And the fox scaithless^ got away.
" This ensample well I may say
" By yon host and us that are here ;
" We are the fox ; and they the fisher,
" That steks *Jbrouth * us the way.
** They ween we may na get away,
" But right where they lie. But, pardie,
** All as they think it shall not be ;
" For I have gert see us a gate^
" (Suppose that it be some deal wet)
" A page of ours we shall not tyne.''
" Our foes, for this small truantine, *
" Meanis well we shall pride us stjoa ^
" That we plainly on hand shall td ***
*• To give them openly bataill :
" But at this time their thought shall fail.
' Lost.
* Burnt ; in old Fnglish, Irent. The place of llie vowel
jn s uch wonls was, during a long period, undetermined.
3 AVithout harm. * Bars, shuts.
5 Before. ^ Way. ' Lose.
« Wandering. Fr. It seems to mean, " Our foes hope
«' that, to avoid this little circuit, we shall be so proud as to
" give them battle."
9 So. '° Take.
C 247 3
" For we tomorn here ail the day
" Shall make us merry as we may ;
" And make us boon again the night ;
" And then ger make our fires light,
*• And blow our hornys, and make fare
" As all the world our owne were,
** tVhile that the night well fallen be ;
*' And then, with all our harness, we
" Shall take our way homeward in h?/.
*' And we shall gi/it ' be graithly, *
" While we be out of their dangere
*• That lyes now enclosed here.
" Then shall we all be at our will :
" And they shall let them trumpet ill,
*• Fra they toyt well we be away."
To this wholly assented they.
[B. XIX. verse 635]
The story here told by Douglas has every ap-
pearance of being a French fabliau : and Harbour
has unquestionably borrowed from the same lan-
guage the romance of Fierahras, which the king
relates to his followers during their tedious passage
of Loch Lomond (See Book III. v. 435. edit.
1790.) It is not transcribed here, because it
' Gtiised. * Cautionslv'
C 248 ]
unnecessary to multiply extracts from a work which
is so easily attainable : it might, indeed, be proper
to apologize for the length of the foregoing speci-
men, but that the capricious and obselete ortho-
graphy of the ancient MS- to which Mr Pinker-
ton assures us he has (with great propriety) scru-
pulously adhered, may possibly have deterred ma-
ny readers from attempting to peruse this very cu-
rious and entertaining historical poem.
C 249 ]
CHAPTER X.
Reign of Henri/ IF. — Andrew of Wyntown —
Extracts from his Chronicle of Scotland.
— Thomas Hoccleve. — Anonymous English
Poetry,
Andrew of Wyntown claims a place in our
catalogue of English poets in consequence of ha-
ving written, in tolerable eight-syllable verse, and
in very pure language, his " Orygynale Cionykil
of Scotland" from the creation of the world to the
year 1408. This is a very curious work, of which
a most sumptuous and apparently correct edition
(in 2 vols, large 8vo,) from a comparison of the
best MSS. has lately (1795) been given to the
public by Mr Macpherson, together with a list of
various readings, many valuable historical notes, a
copious index, and a most useful glossary.
All the information that the learned editor has
been able to collect respecting his author amounts
to this : that Andrew of Wyntown was a canon
regular of the priory of St Andrews, and that, in
or before the year 1395, he was, by the favour of
his fellow-canons, elected prior of the monastery
C 250 ]
of St Serf's island, in Loch-Levin, one of the most
ancient religious establishments in Scotland. As
he was not likely to be chosen for such an office
in very early youth, and as he complains much of
the infirmities of age while occupied in his Chro-
nicle, which appears from internal evidence to
have been finished between the years 14-20 and
14'24', he was probably born not long after the
middle of the fourteenth century.
With respect to his poetical talents, the opinion
of his editor is, that " though his work in general
" partakes little or nothing of the nature of poetry,
*' unless rhyme can be said to constitute poetry, yet
** he now and then throws in some touches of true
** poetic description." This, indeed, seems to be as
much as can be fairly expected from a metrical
annalist ; for dates and numerals are of necessity
unpoetical ; and, perhaps, the ablest modern versi-
fier who should undertake to enumerate in metre
the years of our Lord in only one century would
feel some respedt for the ingenuity with which
Wyntown has contrived to vary his rhymes through-
out such a formidable chronological series as he
has ventured to encounter. His genius is certain^
ly inferior to that of his predecessor, Barbour ; but,
at least, his versification is easy, his language pure,
and his style often animated. As an historian, he
E 251 3
is highly valuable ; but, perhaps, it may be more
amusing to the reader to examine him both as a
narrator and as a poet in the early and nearly
fabulous part of his work, for which purpose some
extracts are here selected fi-om his history of
Macbeth.
It is well known that Shakspeare's immediate
model was Holinshed, who abridged the work of
Bellenden, translated from the Latin of Boyse.
Wyntown*s narrative is in some respects very dif-
ferent, and, in one instance at least, is much more
dramatic
This author gives the following as the popular
and fabulous account of Macbeth's parentage :
But, as we find by some stories,
Gotten he was on ^ ferly* wise.
His mother to woods made oft repair
For the delight of wholesome air.
So she past upon a day
Til a wood, her for to play ;
She met of case ^ with a fair man
(Ne'er none so fair as she thought tlian
Before then had she seen with sight,)
Of beauty pleasant, and of height
> Id. * WonderfcU.
' By chance ; per cat, Fr.
12
C 2o2 ]
Proportion'd well, in all measure.
Of limb and lyth ' a fair figure.
In svoilk acquaintance so they fell,
That, thereof shortly for to tell, —
(Vol. I. p. 227.)
The reader certainly has foreseen that this very,
beautiful man was no other than the devil, who
became the father of Macbeth, as he had, some
centuries before, become the father of Merlin ; and
who presented to his paramour a ring, in token that
their future son should be a great man, and that —
" No man should be born of wife
" Of power to 'reave him his life."
Macbeth's ambition is excited, not by actually
meeting the weird sisters, but, by a dream :
A night * he thought in his dreaming ,
That sittand ^ he was beside the king
At a seat in hunting : so
Intil his leash had grey-hounds two.
He thought, while he was so sittand.
He saw three women by gangand ; *
' Joint; lilhaneaso. Goth. * /. e. one nij^lit.
5 Sitting : and is the old Saxon as well as French termi-
nation of the participle, •* Going.
[ 253 ]
And they ' women then thought he
Three weird sisters most like to be.
The first he- heard say, gangand by,
** Lo ! yonder the thane of Crumbauchty !"
The 'tother woman said again,
** Of Moray yonder 1 see the thane."
The third then said, " I see the king."
All this he heard in his dreaming.
Soon after that, in his youth-head.
Of thyr * thanedoms he thane was made ;
Sj/ne next he thought to be king,
Fra 5 Duncan's days had ta'en ending.
The fantasy thus of his dream
Moved him most to slay his emCy*
As he did all forth indeed.
As before he heard me rede.
And dame Gruok his eme^s wife
Took, and led with her his life,
And held her both his wife and queen.
(Vol. I. p. 22:.)
The storj' of Lady Macbeth, therefore, seems to
have been afterwards added. Duncan's two legi-
timate sons and Malcolm (who it seems was ille-
' These, or those : in the original thai. * T!icsf.
' From; from the timewbeo; as.ioon as.
* Uocle. Anglo-Sax.
[ 254. ]
gitimate) fly to England : but the enmity between
the usurper and MacdufF has a separate origin.
Macbeth, according to Wyntown, meaning to
fortify the hill at Dunsinnane, pressed all the
teams in the neighbourhood, and having observed
some oxen, the property of Macduff, to fail in
their work, he threatened " despiteously" to put
Macduff's own neck into the yoke. The subse-
quent conduct of the thane of Fife is thus minute-
ly and curiously related :
Fra the thane Macbeth heard speak
That he would put in yoke his neck.
Of all his thought he made no song ;
But privily out of the throng
With slight he got ; and the spensere '
A loaf him gave till his suppere.
And, as soon as he might see
His time and opportunity.
Out of the court he past, and ran,
And that loaf bare with him than
To the water of Erin. That bread
He gave the boat-wards, him to lead.
And on the south half him to set
But * delay or any let.
* Le dispensier ; the dispenser of provisionSi
* Without; be-out. Sax.
[ 255 3
That passage call'd was after than
Longtime Port Nebaryan;
The HAVEN OF BREAD that should be
Called in-tyl property.
(Vol. r. p. 230.)
Then follows a fine Gothic incident. Macduff,
aware that his flight would be discovered, and that
he should be immediately pursued, passes through
Fife to his strong castle of Keniiauchy, a >d then
proceeds to hasten the march of the English forces ;
having first apprised his wife of his intention, and
directed her to " hold Macbeth in fair treaty" till
she should discover a boat sailing to the south-
ward ; at sight of which she should inform the king
that his enemy was escaped to England, but would
speedily meet him in arms at Dunsinnane.
Til Kennauchy Macbeth came soon.
And fi'lni/ ' great there would been done ;
But this lady with fair treaty
His purpose letted * done to be.
And soon, J'ra she the sail up saw
Then til Macbeth with little awe
She said, " Macbeth look up, and see,
" Under you sail forsooth is he,
" The thane of Fife whom thou host sought.
" Trow thou well, and doubt right nought,
' Ftlonie. Vr. ; cruelty, * l*revriik'(l.
[ 256 ]
" If ever thou shall see him again,
" He shall thee set intil great pain ;
** Syne thou would have put his neck
** Intil the yoke. Now will I speak
" With thee no more : fare on thy way,
" Either well, or ill, as happen may.*'
(P. 232.)
Had Shakspeare met with this spirited scene,
he would probably have been glad to contrast the
heroine of Fife with the ferocious Lady Macbeth,
as well as to have saved the miserable contrivance
of sending three murderers to destroy the wife
and children of a powerful thane in a fortified and
garrisoned castle.
The conversation between Malcolm and Mac-
duff, (Shaksp. Act IV. Scene I.,) and the incident
of Birnam wood, are told nearly in the same way
by Holinshed and Wyntown : only the death of
Macbeth is attributed not to Macduff, but to a
certain knight, who had been brought into the
world by means of the Caesarean operation.
Thejlyttand ^ wood they called aye
That, long time after-hand that day.
Of this when he had seen that sight.
He was right wo, and took the flight :
' Moving.
C 257 3
And o'er the Mount * they chas'd him than
Til the wood of Lunfanan.
This Macduff was there most fell.
And on that chace then most cruel, *
But a knight, that in that chace
Til this Macbeth then nearest was,
Macbeth turned him agaiiiy
And said, " Lurdane,^ thou pricks in vain :
** For thou may nought be he, I trow,
** That to dead shall slay me now.
" That man is not bom of wife
** Of power to reave me of my life.**
The knight said, *• I was never born,
** But of my mother's womb was shorn.
" Now shall thy treason here take end,
" For to thyjather I shall thee send."
[P. 239.]
The last line seems to contain an allusion to Mac-
beth's supposed birth, and to be a return for the
injurious appellation of lurdane.
Wjoitown, in his account of king Arthur, men>
tions, among the historians of his gests, an author
who is totally unknown to our poetical antiquaries.
' The hill, t. e. the mountains now commonly called the
Grampiana.
* Keen, steady.
. * Clumsy fellow; lourdtdn. Old Ft.
VOL. J. B
C 258 3
He calls him " Huchown of the Awle Ryale,"
and tells us that
He made the great gest of Arthure,
And the aventure of Gawane ;
The *pistle als of sweet Susane.
[Vol. I. p. 122.]
Mr Macpherson seems to think that Huchown
(Hugh) may be the Christian name of the Clerk
of Tranent,
^ " That made the aventures of Sir Gawane."*
[Dunbar's Lament, Bannatyne Poems, p. 76.]
But perhaps he was the author of the Norman ori-
ginal, and Wyntown's anxiety to establish the au-
thenticity of his narrative may be explained by
his general fondness for exploits of chivalry, a sub-
ject on which he always dwells with pleasure.
The love of tournaments, indeed, seems to have
been carried almost to madness in Scotland, as well
as in England, before the general adoption of fire-
arms ; as will appear from Wyntown's account of
these exhibitions at Berwick about the year 1338.
But we must first exhibit the state of the country
at the time of this festivity.
* JMr Pinkerton, in the " Preliminaries" to his " Scotish
" Poems," (p. XXXV. note) suggests, " that this poet is Sir
" Hew of Eglinton, mentioned by Dunbar as preccdiag
" Winton in time."
[ 259 3
About Perth then was the country
So waste, that wonder was to see ;
For intil well great space thereby
Was neither house left, 72a herbry.^
Of deer there was then stvilkjbi/soton *
That they would near come to the town.
So great default was near that stead.
That many were in hunger dead.
A carl, they said, was near thereby,
That would set setti/s ^ commonly
Children and women for to sh, *
And swains that he might over-ta, s
And eat them all that he get might ;
Christian Klek ti/l name he hight. *
That sorry life continued he
While waste, but ' folk, was the countrj^.
[Vol. II. p. 236.]
Such were the consequences of war in the rich
neighbourhood of Perth ; and the " Forest,'* the
scene of Douglas's exploits, and the environs of
Berwick, were not Ukely to be much better culti-
vated, when Sir Henry of Lancaster, earl of Derby,
impatient of the inactivity attendant on a truce,
* Harbour, lodging ; Ilerbenger. Fr.
* Plenty, Fr. ' Traps. * Slay.
3 Overtake. * Was called. ' WithoHt.
[ 260 ]
repaired to the frontiers to request of Douglas
** three courses of war." This justing, though it
ended without bloodshed, was so satisfactory to all
parties, that it produced a second, in which twenty
combatants appeared on a side.
Upon the morn, when that they ' were
Makand them boon, * himself^ came there.
And found all open the entry ;
And, nought-forthy^ * there knocked he,
Without the door all privily ;
While Ramsay til him came in hy
And gert him enter. Soon then he
Said, " God mot at your liking be !'*
Syne said he, " Lords, on what mannere
** Will ye run at this justing here ?"
" With plate shieldis," said Ramsay,
" As it affairs ' to this play."
" Ah su-is, by our Lord," said he,
" So should no man here prized be,
*• For none til other might do ill :
" But, and^ it likand were you til
" As men hostayis ' for to ry w, ^
" So might men price of worship win."
• The Scotch knights. * Ready.
3 The earl of Derby. * Nevertheless.
5 Belongs ; afferis, Original. ^ If.
^ Enemies ? s Run.
[ 261 ]
Quod Alexander the Ramsay,
" It shall like til us all, parfay,
" That ilk man r^n his fellow til
" In kirtle * alone, if that ye will.**
The earl said then debonairly,
" Nay, that is all too hard truly.'*
Quod William of the Towers than,
*• Sir, gi/ve ye na will let ilk man
** Ri/n all bare visage, and ye
'* Who eschews first right soon shall see.'*
The earl said meekly, " Siris, nay,
" Yet that is all too hard, parfay :
** But, as i said you, will ye do ?
** There should some price follow us to.**
Thereto they all gave their <:onsent.
And he forth til his fellows went.
[Vol. II. p. 221.]
This tournament, the description of which occu-
pies about a hundred lines, must have been very
magnificent, for two English knights were killed,
one of the Scotish knights died of his wounds, and
another. Sir William the Ramsay, had his head
pierced with a spear, so that a priest was sent for
to receive his confession, which he gave without
taking off his helmet ; a circumstance which " the
' Under-gannent ; tunic. An^Io-Sax.
[262 ]
good earl of Derby'* considered as so very agree*
able^ that he exclaimed —
I would God of his grace would send
To me on stieilk manere to end !
(P. 223.)
But the preceding extract was transcribed chiefly
because it gives such a minute description of the
ceremonies which constituted the politeness or
" courtesy'* of our ancestors. The Scotish knights,
we see, kept their door constantly open, but Lord
Derby was too great a proficient in civility to enter
without an express invitation. The open door, it
seems, was indispensable on such occasions, as
being a symbol of knightly hospitality; and for
this reason it is carefully noted by our author on
another occasion. In 1408 the Earl of Mar passed
over into France —
With a noble company
Well array 'd and daintily.
Knights and squires, great gentlemen, &c.
9t tF ^ "TF ^ ^
In Paris he held g, royal state.
At the sign known the Tin-plate ;
All the time that he was there
Bidandf ^ twelve weeks full and mare.
* Abiding, dwelling.
C 268 3
Door and gate both gert he
Aye stand open, that men might $e *
Enter all time at their pleasance.
Til eat or drink, or sing or dance.
Of all nations generally
Commended he was greatumlt/
Of wit, virtue, and largess.
(Vol. II. p. 424.)
Many more particulars respecting tournaments
may be found in the account of Sir David Lind-
say's duel with « the Lord of the Wellis," (Vol. II.
p. 353,) and in other parts of the work.
Upon the whole, Wyntown's Chronicle is cer-
tainly a valuable acquisition to our stock of early
Kterature. It is a curious specimen of language
and poetry, and contains much information for the
historical antiquary. The more indolent reader
will perhaps be amused to observe the instances
of our holy prior's credulity : as, for instance, the
miracles related to St Serf (Vol. I. p. 130) ; a still
more singular miracle (I. 152) ; the story of Pope
Joan (I. 165); the talcs in the thirteentli chapter
of book vi. (1. 194) ; and the story of Matilda, wife
of our Henry I., which is usually applied to the Lady
Godlva (II. 50.) Tliis credulity, however, was the
IS:
[ 264 1
characteristic of the age rather than of the writer :
and a knowledge of the opinions and prejudices of
mankind is always a necessary comment on their
actions. From a want of this knowledge, which
no ingenuity can bestow, and which, from the
scantiness of original materials, no diligence can
acquire, our modern surveys of history are always
tb'a certain degree insipid. The distance from
which we view the scene of action is too great ; the
principal groups may remain, but the features and
countenances vanish. Those, therefore, who are so
inquisitive as to wish for the portraits of the actors
must consult the gossipping histories of contem-
porary writers ; must associate with Froissart and
Wjnitown, submit to the punctilio and formality of
the times, and listen to long stories with compla>
cency and patience.
Of Wyntown*s English contemporaries there is
only one whose name has descended to posterity.
This is Thomas Occleve, or Hoccleve, " a fee-
*• ble writer," says Mr Warton, " considered as a
" poet : and his chief merit seems to be, that his
** writings contributed to propagate and establish
** those improvements in our language, which were
*' now beginning to take place. He was educated
** in the municipal law, as were both Chaucer and
" Gower ; and it reflects no small degree of ho-
[ 265 ]
" nour on that very liberal profession, that its stu-
** dents were some of the first who attempted to
** polish and adorn the English tongue."
Since the publication of Mr Warton's history, a
selection from Hoccleve's poems has been printed
by Mr Mason, and has proved the justice of the
foregoing criticism. The most favourable specimen
of Hoccleve's poetry is his Story qfJonathas^ which
the reader will find in the " Shepherd's Pipe," by
William Browne, author of Britannia's Pastorals.
As it is not easy to select a tolerable extract
from this writer, I shall here insert two specimens
of contemporary though anonymous poetry, both
of which possess considerable merit. The first is
taken firom Mr Ritson's very curious collection of
Ancient Songs, p. 44.
" Again my •voiU I take my leave.**
Now Bairnes buirdes* bold and blithe.
To blessen you here now am I bound ;
I thank you all a thousand sithe*
And pray God save you whole and sound.
' Baimt are gentlemen, barons ; buird, bird, or bride, i$ a
common name for young women : but perhaps the word in
(his place may be an abbreviation of brydest. Sax. most
noble. * Tuaet.
1
C 266 3
Where'er ye go, on grass ot ground.
He you govern withouten greve ! ^
For friendship that I here have found>
Again my will I take my leave.
For friendship, and for giftes good.
For meat and drink so great plenty,
That Lord that raught * was on the rood,^
He keep this comely company :
On sea or land, where that ye be.
He govern you withouten greve ;
So good disport ye han * made me>
Again my will I take my leave.
Again my will although I wend,
I may not alway dwellen here :
For every thing shall have an end.
And friendes are not aye y-fere,^
Be we never so lief and dear.
Out of this world all shall we mexie ; *
And when we busk ' unto our bier
Again our will we take our leave.
* Grlet * Stretched,
3 Cross. * Have.
5 Together. • Move, remove,
»Go.
t 267 ]
And wend we shall : I wot ne*er when,
Ne whither-ward that we shall fare :
But endless bliss, or aye to bren,^
To every man is yarked yare^
For this, I rede,^ each man beware ;
And let our work our wordes preve,*
So that no sin our soul^o^re *
When that our life hath taken his leave*
When that our life his leave hath lauht,^
Our body lieth bounden by the loofiae,''
Our riches all from us be raft,
In clottes could our corse is throw.
Where are thy friends ? who will thee know ?
Let see who will thy soul relieve ?
I rede thee, man, ere thou lie low.
Be ready aye to take thy leave.
Be ready aye, whate'er befall.
All suddenly lest thou be kiht : '
Thou "wost ' ne'er when thy Lord will call ;
Look that thy lamp be brenning bright.
• Bum. * Prepared, ready.
' Advise. * Prove.
' Forfeit, lose, destroy. ^ Left, i. e. talcen.
' WofB, is care, misery, &c.; but the coDstruction is by
■0 means clear. * Caugbt. * Kooweit.
C 268 ]
For 'leve * me well, but thou have light.
Right foul thy Lord will thee repreve,
AnA Jleme ' thee far out of his sight.
For all too late thou took thy leave.
Now God that was in Bethlem bore,^
He give us grace to serve him so.
That we may come his face to-fore,^
Out of this world when we shall go ;
And for to amend that we mis-do.
In clay or that we cling and cleave ;
And make us even with friend and foe.
And in good time to take our leave.
Now haveth good day, good men all,
Haveth good day, both great and small,.
Haveth good day, both great and small.
And graunt-merci ^ a thousand fold !
Gif^ ever I might, full fain I wold
Don ' ought that were unto you leve.^
Christ keep you out of cares cold !
For now is time to take my leave.
' Believe. * Banish. Sax.
3 Bom. * Before.
' Grand'merei, Fr. grammercy, thanks.
* If. 7 Doen, do.
' Lie/, agreeable.
6
[ 269 ]
The second poem is of a very different cast : it
is a transcript from the Cotton MS. Galb. E. ix.
" perhaps," says Mr Warton, (III. p. 93>) " coeval
" with Chaucer, which describes the power of mo-
" ney with great humour, and in no common vein
*' of satire."
Iiicipit Narratio de Domino Denario.
In earth it is a little thing.
And reigns ah a riche king.
Where he is lent in land :
Sir Penny is his name call'd:
He makes both young and aid
Bow untill his hand.
Popes, kings, and emperours.
Bishops, abbots, and prioijrs»
Parson, priest, and knight,
Dukes, earls, and ilk baroQn,
To serve him they are full boun *
Both by day and night.
Sir Penny changes manes mood,
And gars * them oft do down their hood,
And to rise him again ;'
* BooD, ready. * CaUes.
^ Against, before bim.
[ 270 ]
Men honours him with great reverence,
Makes full mickle obedience
Unto that little swain.
In kinges court is it no boot
Against Sir Penny for to moot ; '
So mickle is he of might :
He is so witty and so strong,
That be it never so mickle wrong.
He will make it right.
"With Penny may men women tillf *
Be they never so strange of will ;
So oft may it be seen :
Long with him will they not chide,
For he may ger them trail side '
In good scarlet and green.
He may buy both heaven and hell.
And ilka thing that is to sell.
In earth has he stoilk grace ;
He may lese, and he may bind.
The poor are aye put behind
Where he comes in place.
" Plead. * Approach, gain.
2 Wear trailiog gowM ?
[ 271 ]
When he begins him to wie//,
He makes meek that ere was fell.
And weak that bold has been :
All the needs full soon are sped.
Both withouten borgh and toed *
Where Penny goes between.
The domes'tnen * he makes so blind.
That hi may not the right find,
Ne the sooth to see ;
For to give doom them is full lath, '
Therewith to make Sir Penny wrath ;
Full dear with them is he.
There strife was Penny makes peace,
Of all angers he may release.
In land where he will lend ;
Of foes may he make friendes sad.
Of counsel there them never be rad*
That may have him to friend.
That sire is set on high dess,
And served with many rich mess
At the high board :
' Borrowing and pledging. * Judgei.
5 Loth. ♦ Void.
12
[ 272 ]
llie more he is to men plenty.
The more yemid * alway is he,
And holden dear in hoard.
He makes many be forsworn.
And some life and soul forlorn.
Him to get and win :
Other good will they none have
But that little round knave
Their bales ' for to blin. '
On him wholly their heart is set.
Him for to love will they not let
Neither for good ne ill ;
All that he will in earth have done,
Ilka man grants it full soon
Right at his own will : '
He may both lend and give.
He may ger both slay and live.
Both hy frith andfeU. "
Penny is a good fellaw,
Men welcomes him in deed and fatv,^
Come he never so oft ;
* Desired. * Misfortunes.
3 End, terminate. * By water and land*
5 Words.
C 273 3
He is not welcom*d as a guest,
But evermore serv'd with the best.
And made at sit full soft.
Whoso is sted in any need.
With Sir Penny may they speed.
Howsoever they betide :
He that Sir Penny is withal,
Shall have his will in steed and stall.
When other are set beside.
Sir Penny gers in rich weed
Full many go, and ride on steed.
In this world wide ;
In ilka gamin and ilka play
The mastery is given aye
To Penny for his pride.
Sir Penny over all gets the gre, '
Both in burgh and in cit^,
In castle and in tower :
Withouten either spear or shield.
Is he tlie best in frith or field.
And stalworthest * in stouu^
' Degree, step' * Boldest, strongeaL
3 Fight, battle.
VOL. I. S
£ 274 3
In ilka place the sooth is seen,
Sir Penny is over albidene *
Master most in mood ;
And all is as h6 will command,
Against his steven ' dare no man stand.
Neither by land ne flood.
Sir Penny may full mickle avail.
To them that has need of counsail.
As seen is in aisise : '
He lenkeths * life, and saves from dead* '—
But love it not overwell, 1 redCf
For sin of covetise !
If thou have hap tresSur to win.
Delight thee not too mickle therein,
Ne nything ^ tliereof be :
But spend it as well as thou can,
So that thou love both God and man
In perfect charity.
God grant us grace, with heart and will.
The goods that he has given us til
Well and wisely to spend ;
' Altogether. ^ Voice.
^ In courts of judicature^ * Lengthens,
^ Death. ^ Careless.
t 275 1
And so our lives here for to lead,
That we may have his bhss to meed.
Ever, without end. Amen*
The praise of Sir Penny appears to have been a
favourite subject with the northern minstrels ; for
a poem with the same title is to be found in Lord
Hailes's Collection, p. 153 ; and another in Mr
Ritson's Ancient Songs, p. 76.
C 276 ]
CHAPTER XI.
Reign of Henri/ V. — Life of Lydgate — Cha-
racter of /lis Writings — Specimens of his
Troy Book,
Among the immediate successors of Chaucer, iii
England, the celebrated John Lydgate is con-
fessedly the most tolerable. The time of his birth
is not exactly known ; but the documents extract-
ed by Mr Warton from a register of the church of
Bury in the Cotton library will asceitain it with
sufficient precision. It appears that he was ordain-
ed a sub-deacon in 1389; a deacon in 1393 ; and
a priest in 1397 : so that if we suppose him to have
received the first ordination at fourteen years of
age, he cannot have been born latter than 1375 :
that is to say, twenty-five years before the death of
Chaucer. This date naturally assigns him to the
reign of Henry V., at whose command he under-
took his metrical history of the siege of Troy, the
best and most popular of his almost innumerable
productions.
Few writers have been more admired by their
contemporaries ; yet none have been treated with
C 277 3
more severity by modem critics. The learned
editor of the Reliques of Ancient Poetry men-
tions him with compassionate contempt : Mr
Ritson ridicules his " cart-loads" of poetical rub-
bish : * and Mr Pinkerton considers him as posi-
tively stupid. Mr Warton alone has thought it
worth while to study him with much attention,
or to attempt a general discussion of his literary
character; and his opinion is well worth tran-
scribing.
" He was a monk of the Benedictine abbey of
" Bury in Suffolk. — After a short education at
** Oxford, he travelled into France and Italy ; and
" returned a complete master of the language and
* Habits of closer intimacy do not appear to bave alter-
ed Mr Ritson's opinion or softened his language with re-
spect to the unfortunate L)an John of Bury.
Having in a late publication taken the pains to search
out and enumerate Lydgaie's works, genuine or supposititi-
ous, to the almost incredible number of 251, our critic styles
him " a most prolix and voluminous poetaster," a " prosaick,
" and drivelling monk," and proscribes, " his stupid and
" fatiguing productions, which by no means deserve the
" name of poetry," " his elaborate drawlings, in which there
" are scarcely three lines together of pure and acuratc
" metre," *' and their stil more stupid and disgusting author,
" who disgraces the name and patronage of his master
'* Chaucer," as " neither worth collecting, — nor even wor-
" ihy of preservation." Bibliog. Poet. p. 00, fee.
[ 278 ]
** the literature of both countries. He chiefly
" studied the Italian and French poets, particular-
" ly Dante, Boccacio, and Alain Chartier ; and
" became so distinguished a proficient in polite
" learning, thatheopened a school in his monastery,
" for teaching the sons of the nobility the arts of
" versification and the elegancies of composition,
** Yet, although philology was the object, he was
** not unfamiliar with the fashionable philosophy :
" he was not only a poet and a rhetorician, but a
" geometrician, an astronomer, a theologist, and a
** disputant. On the whole, I am of opinion, that
** Lydgate made considerable additions to those
** amplifications of our language, in which Chau-
" cer, Gower, and Occleve, led the way : and
" that he is the first of our writers whose style is
** clothed with that perspicuity, in which the
" English phraseology appears at this day to an
" English reader.
" To enumerate Lydgate's pieces would be to
** write the catalogue of a little library. No poet
" seems to have possessed a greater versatility of
" talents. He moves with equal ease in every
** mode of composition. His hymns and his bal-
** lads have the same degree of merit : and whether
*' his subject be the life of a hermit or a hero, of
" Saint Austin or Guy Earl of Warwick, ludicrous
C 2^9 ]
" or legendary, religious or romantic, a history
** or an allegory, he writes with facility. His
*' transitions were rapid from works of the most
*• serious and laborious kind to sallies of levity
*' and pieces of popular entertainment. His muse
** was of universal access ; and he was not only
** the poet of his monaster)', but of the world in
" general. If a disguising wa^ intended by the
*' company of goldsmiths, a mask before his majes-
" ty at Eltham, a may-game for the sheriffs and
<' aldermen of London, a mumming before the
" lord-mayor, a procession of pageants from the
" creation for the festiral of Corpus Christi, or a
" carol for the coronation, Lydgate was consulted,
" and gave the poetry..^
" His manner is naturally verbose and diffuse.
** This circumstance contributed in no small de-
** gree to give a clearness and a fluency to his
" phraseology. For the same reason he is oflen
** tedious and languid. His chief excellenpe is in
" description, especially where the subject admits
" a flowery diction. He is seldom pathetic, or
" animated."
Lydgate's most esteemed works are, his Story
ofThebeSt his Fall of Priiicesy and his History^
SiegCf and Destruction of Troy.
The Story of Thebes^ which Speght has printed
in his edition of Chaucer, and which was intended
[ 280 ]
as a continuation of the Canterbury Tales; con-
tains some poetical passages, which Mr Warton
lias extracted. But Ly dgate*s style, though natural,
and sometimes rich, does not possess that strength
and conciseness which is observable in the works
of his master. It is dangerous for a mere versifier
to attempt the completion of a plan which has
been begun by a poet. Lydgate's poem is not
long ; but it is possible to be tedious in a very
small compass.
The Fall of Princes, or " BokeqfJohn Bochas,'*
{first printed in 1494 by Pinson, and several times
since,) is a translation from Boccacio, or rather
from a French paraphrase of his work " De Casi-
bus Virorum et Feminarum illustrium," written
by Laurent de Premierfait, which was originally
printed at Bruges in 1476, and at Lyons in 1483.
Lydgate's poem was probably useful, when first
written, as a book of reference, to those who could
not consult the original ; but the day of its popu-
larity is past.
The Troy Book, however, containing (as Marshe's
title-page assures us) "the onely trewe and syncere
** Chronicle of the warres betwixt the Grecians and
" the Troyans," deserves more consideration. Being
a translation from Colonna's prose history, which
contained the substance of Dares Phrygius and
Dictys Cretensis, it comprises aU the materials of
[ 281 3
one class of romantic history, and is valuable as
a specimen of the learning, as well as of the cre-
dulity, of our ancestors. The story is so much
connected with our early studies ; that story is so
comically adapted to the usages and manners of
chivalry ; its author is so minute and circumstan-
tial in describing events which never happened ; is
so precise in his dates and numbers; so full of
event and bustle ; and so prodigal of ornament ;
that if this poem be no longer resorted to by
common readers as a source of amusement, it is,
perhaps, only because two close columns of black
letter, presenting ninety lines in a page, are too
formidable to be encountered by any eyes but
those of a veteran in antiquarian researches.
The most esteemed edition of this work is that
of 1555, printed by Thomas Marshe, under the
care of one Robert Braham, who corrected it from
many errors of the original edition given by Pin-
8on in 1513. It has been already observed, that
Lydgate undertook this poem at the request of
Henry V. when Prinde of Wales : it was begun in
14'12, and finished in li20. The first of these
dates is rather oddly expressed in the following
lines :
And of the time to maken mention
When I began on this translation.
[ 282 1
It wa^ the yeare, soothly for to sayn,
Fourteen complete tho qfhisjather's rdgnl
The time of yeare, shortly to conclude.
When twenty 'grees was Phebus' altitude.
The hour, when he hath made his steedes draw
His rosen chariot low under the wawe
To bathe his beames, &c.
(Prologue.)
Here " the jezx fourteen complete" must mean
Xhefourteenthy u e. 1412 ; for Henry IV., who be-
gan his reign in September 1399, and died in
March HIS, did not reign fourteen complete
years. The remainder of the description, though
now rather obscure, was certainly intended to ex-
press very exactly the moment at which Lydgate
began his poem ; and was probably intelligible to
contemporary readers. Judicial astrology was then
in vogue ; and he was anxious to prove that he
had commenced his operation at a lucky moment.
His work, perhaps, may not give us reason to
believe in the poetical influence of the stars ; but
we must at least approve his modesty, in trusting
the perfection of his verses to good fortune rather
than to genius.
Every one knows that Laomedon, King of Troy,
had the rashness to offend Jason and Hercules,
who stopped in his country on their way to Golcnis ;
C 283 ]
and that Hercules revenged this " uncourtesy** by
destroying the city of Troy. Such an epistwle in
the adventures of the Argonauts naturally connects
the second Trojan war with their expedition, which
is therefore related by Lydgate as minutely as if he
had been their ship-mate, and had kept a journal
of the voyage. The following lines describe part
of the ceremonial used by King Oetes, after Ja-
son's first audience :
The time approacheth, and gan to nigh fast.
That officers full busily thcjn ca^t
To 1 ke ready, with all their busy cure,
And in the halle borde< * for to cure. *
For by the dial the liour they gan to mark
That Phoebus southward whirled up his ark.
So high alofte that it drew to none ;
That it was time for the king to gone
Unto his meat, and enter into hall.
And then Oetes, with his lordes all,
And with his knights about him every one.
With Hercules, and also with Jasdn,
Is set to meate in his royal see ;
And every lorde like to his degree.
But first of all, this worthy man Jasdn
Assigned was by the kinge anon
! * To arraoge and dreu the tnbles.
C 284. ]
For to sitte at his owne board :
Aiid Hercules, that was so great a lord,
Was sette also faste by his side.
And the marshall no longer list abide.
To assign estates where they shoulde be ;
Like as they were of high or low degree.
And afler that, on scaffold high alofl.
The noise gan loude, and nothinge soft.
Of trumpeters, and eke of clarioners :
And therewithal, the noble officers
Full thriftely served have the hall.
tI» yF tF W 7^ Tf!
I want cunning by order to descrive
Of every course the diversities.
The strange sewes, * and the suhtletiesy *
That were that day served in that place, &c.
(Cap. V. ed. Marsh, sign. C. 4.)
The following picture of Medea's growing pas-
sion is net inelegant :
^ Mr Tyrwhitt explains setees, dishes ; but his quotation
from Gower rather proves it to mean broths, or soups, in
ivhich sense the word often occurs in ancient cookery-
receipts. Sax. Seawcy succus, liquor. (Lye's Diet.) seve. Fr.
The Scots still use the word soKens for a sort of oatmeal
broth, or flummery.
* These were ornaments placed on the table, and some-
times illustrated with mottos.
C 285 3
For as he sat at meat tho in that tide.
Her father next, and Jason by her side.
All suddenly her fresh and rosen hue
Full ofte-tirae gan changen and renew,
An hundred sithes^ in a little space.
For now, the bloode from her goodly face
Unto her heart unwarely gan (voah : *
And therewithal she waxeth dead and pale.
And eft^ anon (who thereto gan take heed)
Her hue retumeth into goodly red :
But still among, t' embellish her colour.
The rose was niei/nt * aye with the lily flower ;
And though the rose some dele gan to pace,
Yet still the lily bideth in his place.
Till nature made them e/l again to meet.
********
For now she brent, and now she gan to cold.
And aye the more that she gan behold
This Jason young, the more she gan desire
To look on him ; so was she set a-6re
With his beaute, and his scmelyness.
And every tiling she inly gan impress.
What that she sawe, both in mind and thought
She all imprinteth, and forgetteth nought.
* Times. • Descend, fr,
3 Again. Sax. ♦ Mixed.
3
t 2B6 •}
For she considereth every circumstance.
Both of his port and [of] his governance ;
His sunnish hair, crisped like gold wire.
His knightly look, and his manly cheer.
(Chap. V. sign. D. i.)
The first book concludes with the destruction of
Troy by Hercules : the second relates the building
of the new city by Priam, the mission of AntenoV
into Greece, the predatory expedition of Paris,
&c. and ends with the landing of the Greeks before
Troy ; the third book contains the whole history of
the siege till the death of Hector : the fourth relates
the election of Palamedes as commander of the
Greeks, and the deposition of Agamemnon, as also
the remainder of the siege, the story of the " horse
of brass," and the destruction of the city : the
fifth and last book describes the miseries endured
by tlie Greeks on their passage home, and gives
the genealogy of " Pirrhus, how his father hight
" Peleus," &c. In this book the poet implores the
favour of his readers, assuring them that —
— though so be that they not ne read
In all this book no rethorikes newe.
Yet this I hope, that they shall find all
TRUE. (Cap. xxxviii. sign. Ee. ii.)
i 28Y ]
One of the most amusing passages in this poem
is contained in the 17th chapter, and relates to a
well-known event in the life of Venus. Lydgate
thus expresses his indignation against Vulcan :
The smotry * smith, this swarte Vulcanus,
That whilom in hearte was so Jealous
Toward Venus, that was his wedded wife,
Whereof there rose a deadly mortal strife,
When he with Mars gan her first espy
Of high malice, and cruel false env^.
Through the shining of Phoebus' beames bright.
Lying a-bed with Mars her owne knight.
For which in heart he brent as any glede^
Making the dander all abroad to sprede.
And gan thereon falsely for to muse>
And God forbid that any man accuse
For so LITTLE any woman ever !
Where love is set, hard is to dissever !
For though they do such thing of gentleness,
Pass over lightly, and bear none heaviness,
Lest that thou be to women odious !
And yet this smith, this false Vulcanus,
Albc that he had then thus espied,
' Smoky, or imuttj.
' A burning coaL Sax.
C 288 J
Among Faynims yet was he deified !
And, for that he so falsely them awoke,
I have him set last of all my boke,
Among the goddes of false mawmentry.^ &c.
(Sign.L.i.)
Upon this occasion, the morals of our poetical
monk are so very pliant, that it is difficult to sup-
pose him quite free from personal motives which
might have influenced his doctrine. Perhaps he
had been incommoded by some intrusive husband
at a moment when he felt tired of celibacy, and
wished to indulge in a temporary relaxation from
the severity of monastic discipline. *
The picture of Venus is thus curiously de-
scribed :
And she stant naked in a wavy sea,
Environ her with goddesses three,
' Mahometry, i. e, idolatry. It may be proper to ob-
serve, that no part of this passage is to be found in Co-
lonna's original. In general, indeed, Lydgatc's is by no
means a translation, but a very loose paraphrase.
^ Suspecting that Lydgate nad borrowed tjiis singular
passage from some French paraphrase of Colonn i'» tvork,
I examined the anonymous translation in the Museum (Bibl.
Reg. 16. F. ix.), but could not find any traces of such a de-
viation from the original.
C 289 ]
That be assigned with busy attendance ., ,
To wait on her and do her observance.
And floures freshe, blue, red, and white.
Be her about, the more for to delight.
And on her heade she hath a chaplet
Of roses red full pleasantly y-8et»
And from the heade down unto her foot
With sundry gums and ointementes soote
She is enointe, sweeter for to smell.
And all alofte, as these poets tell.
Be doves white, fleeing, and eke sparrows,
And her beside Cupyde with his arrows-
(Cap. xvii. Ibid.)
The following particulars in the description of
iFortune, at the beginning of the second book, are
rather singular :
And thus this lady, wilful and reckless.
As she that is froward and perverse.
Hath in her cellar drinkes full diverse.
For she to some, of fraud and oijallasy
Ministreth piment, bavomet and i/pocras ;
And suddenly, when the soote is past.
She of custome can give him a cast.
For to conclude falsely in the fine.
Of bitter eyseU * and of eager wine ;
' Aiiilf old Fr. Tinegar CVide Treiorde Borel.)
VOL. I. T
[ 290 ]
And corrosives that fret and pierce deep ;
And narcotics that cause men to sleep.
(Cap. 10. sign. F. ii.J
These, it is true, are not veiy poetical passages,
nor are we to expect from Lydgate much liveli-
ness of fancy or brilliancy of expression. His me-
rit, such as it is, cannot easily be exemplified in
short extracts; and is rather likely to find fa«
vour in the eyes of the antiquarian than of the
poet. By readers of the former description, the
following passages, from the description of Troy,
may perhaps be perused with patience :
And, as I read, the walles were on height
Two hundred cubits ; all of marble grey,
Magecolled ' without, for sautes, * and assay :
And it to make more pleasant of delight,
Among the marble was albaster white^
Meynt in the wall&
And at the comer of every wall was set
* The machecoulis were the openings under the parapets
of a gate, or the salient galleries of a tower, to defend the
foot of the wall by pouring down hot water, or pitch, er
sometimes dropping stones on the heads of the besiegers*
* Assaults.
C 291 ]
A crown of gold with riche stones y-fret,
That shone full bright again the sunne shene ;
And every tower bretexed * was so clean
Of chose stone that were not far asunder,
That to beholde it was very wonder.
Thereto his city, compass'd Environ, ,
Had gates six to enter into town—
******
With square toures set on every side ;
At whose corners, of very pomp and pride,
The workmen have, with fell and stern visages,
Of rich etftayle * up-raised great images.
Wrought out of stone, and never like to fail.
Full curiously enarmed for batayle.
And through the wall, their foemen for to let.
At every toure were great gunnes set.
For assautes and sudden aventures.
And on each turrets were raised up Bgdres
Of savage beasts, as bears, and of lions.
Of tygers, boars, of serpents, and dragons.
And hartes eke with their broade horns ;
Of elephantes, and large unicorns,
Bugles, bulles, and many great griifdn.
* Probably embattled, from the French word hrttter, to
indent. Cotgrave. — Bret«icAer,/or<iA"er. Diet. Kom.in.
- Sculpture. Fr.
C 292 ]
Forged of brass, of copper, and latoriy *
That cruelly by signes of their faces
Upon their foen made fell menaces.
Barbicans, and also bulwarks huge.
Afore the towne made for high refuge.
When neede should be, early and eke and late ;
And porteholes * strong at every gate,
That of assautes they need take no charge.
And the lockes thicke, broade, and large.
Of all the gates well wrought of shining brass.
And eke within the mighty shutting was
Of iron barres, stronge, square, and round.
And great barres pitched in the ground.
With huge chaines forged for defence.
That ne would breake for no violence.
That harde it was through them for to win.
And every house that builded was within*
Every palace, and every mansion.
Of marble were throughout all the tovm.
* . * # * * *
And if I should rehearsen by and by
The corve ^ knots, by craft of masonry.
* Latlen denotes iron plates tinned over, Owen's Diet, of
Arts and Sciences.
* PortcuUices. ' Carved.
[ 293 ]
The fresh enbotving* with verges* right as lineSy
And the housing^ full of backevoinesy^
The rich coiningy^ the fusty tablcments,
Vinettes running in casements.
Though the termes in English woulden rhyme.
To shew them all I have as now no time.
******
And through the town, with crafty purveyance.
By great avise ^ and discreet ordinance.
By compass cast, and squared out by squyers,''
Of polish'd marble, upon strong pillers.
Devised were, longe, large, and wide.
Of every streete in the fronter side,
Fresk alures, with lusty high pinacles,
And mounstring ^ outward costly tabernacles :
Vaulted above like to reclinatories.
That called were deambulatories,
[For] men to walk together, twain and twain.
To keep them dry when it happed to rain.
' Arching ?
2 1 « s I do not qoite understand any of tbeie terms.
* Aviiy F. i counsel.
7 Esquierre, now spelt equcrre, the carpenter's tquare,
• Exhibiting; momtrant. Old Fr.Colonna's original only
say* : " In ipsarum vero lateribus platearum innumerabiles
" columnae roarnioreis arcubus circumvolutit erects, et su-
" per iiKorum sedificiis elcvatae."
C 294. ']
And every house covered was with lead,
And many gargoyle^ * and many hideous head,
With spouts thorough, and pipes, as they ought.
From the stone-worke to the kennel raught, *
Voiding filthes low into the ground
Thorough grates made of iron pierced round.
The streets paved, both in length and brede, ^
In chequer wise, with stones white and reade. *
(Cap. XI. sign. F. v. &c.)
After a great deal jnore of minute description,
Lydgate tells us, that Priam built a sort of circus —
s To give his men in knighthood exercise,
Everyche to put other at assay
Injustes, listeSf and also in tourney
(Sign. F. vi.)
As also that —
— ^there was found by clerkes full prudent
* Of the CHESS the play most glorious,
' Gargouille, Fr. is tbe end of a spout; the> are usually
terminated with heads of animals.
* Heached.
3 Breadth.
♦ Red. — This pavement is not described in the original.
' Mot in the original.
6 Ibi primo adinventa fucrunt scaccorum solatia curio$a ;
[ 295 j
Which is so subtle and so marvellous, *
And that at the same time-
Also in Troy by great avis^ment
The play was founde first of rfz'ce, and tables ^
And castinge the chances deceivables.
(Ibid.)
He then, after defining tragedy and comedy, de-
scribes the theatre, in which a poet delivers from
a pulpit his tragedies :
And while that he in the pulpit stood.
With deadly face all devoid of blood,
******
Amid the theatre shrouded in a tent.
There came out men, ghastful of their cheers,
Diffigured their faces xviih visereSy
* Playing by signes in the people's sight —
And proceeds to tell us —
ibi ludi bubito irascibiles alearum ; hie repentina damna et
lucra momentaDca tniillorum,
* Lydgate informs us that this game was " first found iu
" this city during the siege like as saith Guydo," though he
thinks it necessary to add, " Jacobus de Vitriaco it contra-
« ry in his opinion," affirming it to be of Chaldean originah
' N«t in the original.
lill
[ 296 3
How Priamus was passing diligent
Right desirous and inwardly fervent,
If so he might among his workes all
Do build a palace, and a riche hall,
Which should be his chose chief dungeon^ *
His royal see, and sovereign mansion.
And when he gan to his worke approach,
He made it builde high upon a roche.
It for to assure in its foundation.
And called it the noble Ilion.
^ ^ t¥> 5^ TflF ^
And high aniids this noble Ilion,
So rich and passing of foundation.
Which clerkes yet in their bookes praise.
King Priam made a hall for to raise :
* * * * * #
And, of this hall farther to define.
With stones square by level and by line
It paved was, with full great diligence
Of masonry, and passing excellence ;
And all above raised was hsee
Full curiously of stones and perrty *
That called was, as chief and principal.
Of the reigne 3 the seat most royal.
Tofore which was set by great delight
* Pro siiae habitationis hospitio.
' Pjerreries, jewels. Fr. ^ Kingdoni.
[ 297 ]
A hoard * of ebon and of ivory white.
So egally y-joined and so clean
That in the work there was ryji * y-seen.
And sessyons ^ were made on every side
Only the estates by order to divide.
£ke, in the hall, as it was convenable.
On eache partye was a dormant * table
Of ivory eke, and of this ebon tree.
(Sign. F. vi. &c.)
The bounds of the present sketch will not
permit a farther accumulation of extracts from
this obsolete poem ; in which, liowcver, the inqui-
sitive reader will find much curious information,
though he will not discover such poetical beauties
as can justify its original popularity. That popu-
larity was, indeed, excessive and unbounded ; and
it continued without much diminution during, at
least, two centuries. To this the praises of suc-
' Table. * Fissure. ' Seats.
* Fixed ready. Tyrwhitt. In Chaucer's prologue, the
Frankelein's table
. -•' dormant in hii hall alwiiy,
" Stood ready covered all the longe day."
Perhaps the common tables resembled those still in use in
France, which consist of a few boards nailed together, and
placed (when wanted fur use) on folding trestles | so that
the different partj may be separately reroorcd.
i: 298 3
tieeding writers bear ample testimony ; but it is
confirmed by a direct and most singular evidence.
An anonymous writer has taken the pains to
modernize the entire poem, consisting of about
28000 verses, to change the ancient context and
almost every rhyme, and to throw the whole into
six-line stanzas ; and yet, so little was he solicitous
to raise his own reputation at the expense of the
original author, that, though he has altered the title
and preface of the work, he has still ascribed it to
Lydgate. This strange instance of perverted talents
and industry was published under the title of " The
" Life and Death of Hector,** by Thomas Purfoot,
1614, and is well known to the booksellers.
The date of Lydgate's death is doubtful ; at least
it is stated differently by different authors. In his
Philomela he mentions the decease of an Earl of
Warwick, who died in 1446, so that he must have
survived that year. Some authorities place hi&
death in 1461, and this date is not improbable.
C 299 3
CHAPTER XII.
Reign of Henry V. continued. — James I. King
of Scotland. — Extract from the King*s
Quair.
We are probably indebted to an accident which
happened in the reign of Henry IV. for the most
elegant poem that was produced during the early
part of the fifteenth century : it is called the
King's Quair J* and was written by James I.
King of Scotland.
This prince was the second son of Robert III.,
and was born in ISUS. His elder brother, David,
having disgraced himself by the general profligacy
of his conduct, was confined, by his father's order,
in the palace of Falkland, where he died of a dysen-
tery, in 1401 ; or, as was more generally believed,
was starved to death, by order of his uncle the
Duke of Albany, to whom Robert had entrusted
the administration of the kingdom- After the
death of this prince, the king deterniined to send
his surviving son, James, to be educated at the
«ourt of his ally, Charles VI. King of France ; and
• CahicTf Fr. ; whence quire.
[ 300 ]
James embarked for that country, with his gover-
nor the Earl of Orkney, and a numerous train of
attendants : but the ship was stopped, on the 12th
of April, 14-05, off Flamborough-Head, by an
English squadron, and the passengers were, by
order of Henry IV., sent as prisoners to London.
This happened about a week before the termi-
nation of a truce ; and though such infractions of
treaties were very common during the barbarous
warfare which was at that time carried on between
England and Scotland, the capture and subsequent
detention of James were attributed to the intrigues
of the Duke of Albany, who, in consequence of
the death of King Robert, in the following year
was nominated regent of Scotland ; and who, by
means of the king's long detention in England, not
only preserved that dignity to the end of his life,
but quietly transmitted it to his son Murdoch,
earl of Fife.
That Henry had no right to consider as a pri-
soner the sovereign of an independent nation, whom
an act of insolent violence had placed within his
power, is perfectly evident ; but the accident was
perhaps ultimately advantageous to the prince him-
self, as well as to the nation which he was born to
govern. He was at this time only ten years of
age ; and Henry, though he treated him with ri-
12
[ 301 ]
gour, and even kept him confined for two years
in the Tower, took the greatest care of his edu-
cation, and appointed as his governor Sir John
Pelham, a man of worth and learning, under whose
tuition he made so rapid a progress, that he soon
became a prodigy of talents and accomplishments.
His character, as drawn by the historians of that
age, is such as we seldom see realized. We are
assured that he became a proficient in ever)' branch
of polite literature ; in grammar, oratory, Latin,
and English poetry, music, jurisprudence, and the
philosophy of the times ; and that his dexterity in
tilts and tournaments, in wrestling, in archery, and
in the sports of the field, was perfectly unrivalled.
It might be objected, that those who possess
only a part of these accomplishments are apt to
gain credit for all the rest ; that the owner of a
crown is seldom judged with severity ; that unme-
rited misfortune is sure to excite sympathy and
commiseration ; and that, as James united all these
claims to popular favour, some parts of the pre-
ceding description are likely to have been some-
what exaggerated. But the excellent laws which
he enacted after his return to Scotland, and the
happiness which his people enjoyed in consequence
of his policy, his firmness, and his justice, bear the
raost unequivocal testimony to the truth of one
[ 302 ]
part of the picture ; and his poetical remains are
sufficient to evince that his literary talents were
not over-rated by his contemporaries.
During fifteen years of his captivity, he seemed
forgotten, or at least neglected, by his subjects.
The admiration of strangers and the consciousness
of his own talents only rendered his situation more
irksome ; and he had begun to abandon himself to
despair, when he was fortunately consoled for his
seclusion at Windsor Castle by a passion of which
sovereigns, in quiet possession of a throne, have
seldom the good fortune to feel the influence. The
object of his adoration was the lady Jane Beaufort
(daughter of John Beaufort, duke of Somerset, and
grand-daughter of John of Guant), whom he after-
wards married, and in whose commendation he
composed his principal poetical work, called the
King's Quair.
This poem, consisting of 197 stanzas, divided
by its editor into six cantos, has much allegorical
machinery, which was apparently suggested by the
study of Boethius, the favourite author of the
time ; but it also contains various particulars of
his life ; it is full pf simplicity and feeling, and is
not inferior in poetical merit to any similar pro-
duction of Chaucer. The following extract is taken
from the second canto, in which no allegorical
[ 303 ]
painting is introduced, and which contains little
more than an account of his own adventures.
X.
The longe dayes and the nightis eke
I would bewail my fortune in this wise ;
For which again distress comfort to seek,
My custom was on mornis for to rise
Early as day : O happy excercise !
By thee come I to joy out of torment :—
But now t» purpose of my first intent..
xr.
Bewailing in my chamber thus alone,^
Despaired of all joy and remedy,
For-tired of my thought, and woe-begone.
And to the window gan I walk in hye^
To see the world and folk that went forby ;
As, for the time (though I of mirthis food
Might have no more), to look it did me good.
XII.
Now was there made, fast by the Touris wall,
A garden fair ; ' and in the corners set
' The garc'ens of this period seem to have been very
smali. In Chaucer's Troiliu and Cresseide we find the
lame place indifferently called agarcfen and a nard; and tbk
[ 304, ]
An herbere ' green ; with wandis long and small
Railed about, and so with treeis set
Was all the place, and hawthorn hedges knet
That life * was none [a] walking there forby,
That might within scarce any wight espy.
XIV.
And on the smalle grene twistis sat
The little sweete nightingale, and sung
So loud and dear the hymnis consecrate
Of lovis use, now soft, now loud among.
That all the gardens and the wallis rung
Right of their song ; and on the couple next ^
Of their sweet harmony : and lo the text !
at Windsor, fast by the Touris wall, was probably either in
the yard or on the terrace.
" Adown the stair anon right tho she went
*' Into |ier ^arrfe»," &c.—
" This yard was large, and railed all the aleyes^
" And shadowed well with blossomy boughs green;
" And benched new, and sanded all the ways,
" In which she walketh," &c.
[Troil. and Cr. B. II. st. 110. fol. 152, ed. 1602.]
* Probably an arbour, though the word is also very fre-
quently used for an herbary, or garden of simples.
* Living person.
3 Mr Tytler imagines that this relates to the pairing of
the birds ; but the word couple seems here to be used as a
musical term.
C 305 ]
XV,
" Worshippe ye that lovers bene this May,
** For of your bliss the calends are begun ;
" And sing with us, * Away ! winter away !
<* Come summer, come! the swectseason and sun!
** Awake, for shame! thathave your heavens won!'
" And amorously lift up your headis all ;
" Thank Love, that list you to his mercy call !* "
XVI.
When they this song had sung a litth throxu *
They stent * awhile, and, therewith imafraid
As I beheld, and cast mine eyen a-lowe.
From bough to bough they kipped* and they play*d,
And freshly, in their birdis kind, array'd
Their feathers new, axiA Jret ^ them in the sun.
And thanked Love that had their makis ^ won.
These and a few more stanzas are preparatory
to the appearance of his mistress, his first sight of
whom is thus described :
XXI.
And therewith cast I down mine eye again.
Whereas I saw, walking under the Tower
' Mr Tytler explains this as follows: " Yr that have
" attained your highest bliss, hy winning your mates. — See
" the last line of the next stanza." * A little time.
3 Stopped. * Hopped. * ' Pecked. ^ Mates.
VOL. I. U
C 306 ]
Full secretly, new comyn her to pleyne^
The fairest, or the freshest younge flower
That ever I saw, methought, before that hour
For which sudden abate anon astert *
The blood of all my body to my heart.
XXII.
And though I stood abased tho a lyte^ '
No wonder was ; for why ? my wittis all
Were so o'ercome with pleasance and delight,
Only through letting of mine eyen fall.
That suddenly my heart become her thrall
For ever ; of free will ; for of menace
There was no token in her sweete face.
XXIIl.
And in my head I drew right hastily ;
And eft-soones I lent it forth again :
And saw her walk that very womanly.
With no wight mo but only women twain.
Then gan I study in myself, and sayn,
" Ah sweet, are ye a worldly creature,
" Or heavenly thing in likeness of nature ?
' This seems to mean complain; but should it not rather
be ■playen, to play or sport ?
• * Started back. ' Then a little.
[ 307 ]
XXIV.
** Or are ye god Cupidis own princess,
*' And C(Hnen are to loose me out of band ?
" Or are ye very Nature the goddess,
*^ That have depainted with your heavenly hand
" This garden full of flouris as they stand ?
" What shall I think, alas ! what reverence
" Shall I mester * [un] to your excellence ?
XXV.
" Gj/Tye a goddess be, and that ye like
** To do me pain, I may it not cutert :
" Giff'ye be worldly wight, that doth me sike^*
Why lest ^ God make you so, my dearest heart,
** To do a silly prisoner thus smart,
" That loves you all, and wote of nought but wo ?
*• And, therefore, mercy sweet ! sen it is so."
The dress and figure of his mistress are minute-
ly painted as follows :
XXVI r.
Of her array the form gifl shall write.
Toward her golden hair and rich attire,
' Adminiiter ? (Tytler.)
* Mr Tytler supposes this word to stand for lite, or syte, sig-
aifying torrow, altered for the sake of the metre: — butqn. ?
• " If thou art a goddess, I cnonot resist thy power; but
** if only a mortal creature, (iod surely cannot lest or in-
" cline you to grieve, or give pain to a poor creature that
* loves you." (Tytler.)
C 308 ]
In fret-wise couched with pearlis white,
And greate balas* lemyng* as the fire,y;K "jO -
With many an eraerant and fair sapphii>e,' '
And on her head a chaplet fresh of hue
Of plumys, parted red, and white, and blue.
XXVIII.
Full of quaking spangis ^ bright as gold,
Forged of shape like to the amorettis ; *
So new, so fresh, so pleasant to behold ;
The plumis eke like to thejloure-jonettisy 5
And other of shape like to the Jloure-jonettis ; ^
And above all this there was, well I wote,
Beauty enough to make a world to dote !
XXIX.
About her neck, white as thej^re amailley''
A goodly chain of small orfeverye ; ^
Whereby there hang a ruby without fail.
Like to an heart [y-] shapen verily.
That as a spark oflotve,^ so wantonly
' A sort of precious stones (sajs Urry) brought from
Balassia, in India. Tyrwbitt says, tfaat balais, Fr. is a sort
ef bastard ruby, * Shining. ^ Spangles.
* " Made in the form of a love-knot or garland." (Tytler.)
' Probably thejleur de genit, (genista) broom.
^ The repetition of this word is apparently a mistake of
the original transcriber.
"^ Qu. Is this an error for fair email, i. e. enamel ?
* Fr. GbldsmithVwork. » Fire. (Ruddiman's Glossary.)
C 309 3
Seemed burning upon her white throat ;
mow gif there was good party, God it wote.
XXX.
And for to walk, that freshe Maye*s morrow,
An hook she had upon her tissue white,
That goodlier had not been seen to-forraw^ *
As I suppose ; and girt she was a lyte ; *
Thus halfling * loose for haste, to such delight
It was to see her youth in goodlihead,
That, for rudeness, to speak thereof I dread.
XXXI.
In her was youth, beauty, with humble aport.
Bounty, richess, and womanly featiire ;
God better wote than ray pen can report :
Wisdom, largess, estate, and cunning sure.
In every point so guided her measiire,
In word, in deed, in shape, in countenance.
That Nature might no more her child avance.
It would, perhaps, be difficult to select even
from Chaucer's most finished works a long spe-
cimen of descriptive poetry so uniformly elegant
as this : indeed some of the verses are so highly
» Before. - A liltlc.
3 Half.
[ 310 ]
finished, that they would not disfigure the compO'
sitions of Dryden, Pope, or Gray. Nor was King
James's talent confined to serious and pathetic
compositions. Two poems of a ludicrous cast, and
which have been the constant favourites of the
Scotish people to the present day, are now uni-
versally attributed to this monarch. These are
Christ's Ki.rlr nn the firepv, and Pehli.s to the Play ;
the first composed in the northern, and the second
in the southern dialect of Scotland. A third, called
Falkland on the Greeriy which Mr Pinkerton sup-
poses to have described the popular sports of the
central district of the kingdom, and to have been
written in the Fifeshire dialect, has hitherto eluded
the researches of antiquaries. In Mr Pinkerton's
Ancient Scotish Poems (London, 1786, p. 214)
is found a Song on Absence^ which the editor sus-
pects to be the same described by Major, as be»-
ginning with the words Yas sen, &c.
Of the King's Quair only one MS. is known to
exist : it is a small folio, in the Bodleian library
(Seld. Archiv. B. xxiv.) Mr Tytler, having pro-
cured a transcript of this MS. published it at
Edinburgh, 1783, together with Christ's Kirk on
the Greetiy under the title of " Poetical Remains
of James I.** The work is illustrated with copious
notes, and with two dissertations ; the first on the
C 311 ]
life and writings of the author, and the second on
Scotish music.
A strange fatality seems to have attended the
literature of this period. It has been just observed,
that King James's work was lately recovered by the
casual preservation of a single manuscript. His con>
temporary, Charles Duke of Orleans, father
of Louis XII., is still very imperfectly known to the
public by means of some short specimens of his
poetry given in the Annales Poetigues {Paris, 1778),
and of a few more published in M. de Paulmy*8
Melanges d*une grande Dibliotheque,
It is singular enough, that the two best poets of
the age, — both of royal blood, both prisoners at
the same court, both distinguished by their mili-
tary as well as literary talents, both admired
during their lives, and regretted afler death, as the
brightest ornaments of their respective nations, —
should have been forgotten by the world during
more than three centuries, and at length restored
to their reputation at the same period. The Duke
of Orleans, who was taken prisoner at the battle of
Agincourt, acquired such a proficiency in our lan-
guage, during a stay of twenty years in this country,
as to write several small pieces of English poetry,
which are said to be still preserved in MS. in the
Royal Library at Paris. Tliese may possiljly not
C 312 ]
be worth transcribing;* but, whatever be their
poetical merit, they may fairly be adduced as a
• Mr Ritson has printed (page 47 of his Dissertation on
Ancient Songs and Music, prefixed to his Ancient Songs,
London, 1792) a specimen of this Prince's English Poetry,
coped from No. 688 of the Harleian MSS. It is a dialogue
between a lover and his mistress ; bat, being founded on a
strange sort of pun, or play on words, it is very obscure,
and apparently not worth unriddling.
Another MS. in the Museum (BibK Reg. 16. F. ii.) solely
consisting of Poems by the Duke of Orleans, affords three
specimens of his attempts at English poetry ; and, as they
are very short, and never were printed, I shall here subjoin
them all, in their original orthography.
CHANSOir.
Go forth, my hert, with my lady f
Loke that ye spar no hysynes,^
To serve her with such lolynei'''
{That"^ ye gette her oftyme* pryvely)
That she kepe truly her promts.
Go forth, &c.
iHiutt as a helis body ^
Abyde alone in hevynes ;
And ye shall dwell with yoar mastr^s
In plaisauns, glad and mery.
Go forth, &c.
^ Care, attention. ^ Lowliness.
3 If that? ♦ At any time?
^ I cannot understand the word iniust; perhaps it means
exactly, HelU is perhaps heU-less, i, e, unhealthy, diseased.
C SIS 3
proof that our language had at this time acquired
some estimation in the eyes of foreigners.
CHANSON.
My bertly lore t« io your goveroauos,
And ever sbal, whill that I lyve may ;
I pray to God I may see that day
That fte be koyt with tronthfull alyauos.
Ye shal not fynd feynyng or variauns.
As in ' my part : that wyl I trewly say.
My hertly, &c.
CHANSON.
Ne toere^ my trewe innocent hert,
How ye hold with her aliaans.
That soratym with word of plesauns
Desceyved you under covert.
Thynlce bow the stroke of love com smert.
Without warning or dtffiaum. *
Ne were my, &c.
And* ye shall pryvely or appert,
See her by me in love's dauns,
With her fair feincnyn contenauuj
Ye shaiS never fro her astert !
Ne were my, &c.
The MS. from which the foregoing extracts were uiadv
contains some illuminations of exquisite beauty. One nf
these represents a person of rank, probably the duke, in the
white tower, Mriling, and attended by guards: at a dis-
tance is London bridge, with the houses and chapel built
upon it ; and the latter building i« so minutely drawn, a<
to afford a very good idea of what it really was. The MS.
was writtea for the use of Henry VII.
' On. ^ Query, if a rai4take of the iraw-
criber, for beware f or, perhaps, for nay f 'warr.
* Mistrust. Fr. * An, if.
C 314 ]
It has been observed, that King James is repre-
sented to have been a complete master of music.
This art, indeed, was considered, perhaps from some
indistinct notion of its effects in humanizing the sa-
vage inhabitants of the earth, as a part of educa-
tion not only essential to the accomplished knight,
but to the sovereign, legislator, and divine : and
as closely connected with every branch of learning,
whether abstract or practical. In Pierce Plough-
man, Study says of Scripturcy
** Logic I learned her, and many other laws,
" And all the unisons in music I made her to know/*
(Pass. X.)
Fordun, in his Scotichronicon, has employed a
whole chapter in describing James's uncommon
excellence in the art ; and Mr Tytler, combining
this testimony with a very curious pass^e in the
works of Alessandro Tassoni^ has inferred that
James I. was the " reformer, if not the inventor
" of the Scotish songs or vocal music.'* By this
he means, not that the peculiar melody of Scotish
airs took its rise in the fifteenth century, but
that James I. adapted it to modern harmoni/f and
introduced it into regular composition, by which
means it became known to the musical professors
of Italy and the rest of Europe. Mr Pinkerton,
on the contrary, is of opinion that the " Giacomo,
C 315 ]
" Re di Scozia" mentioned by Tassoni, is the
sixthy and Mr Ritson is of the same opinion. The
reader must decide for himself.
Afler the death of the duke of Albany, the inca*
pacity of his successor induced the Scotish nobility
to enter into serious negotiation for the liberty of
their c^tive sovereign ; who, after agreeing to pay
a heavy ransom for his freedom, was married, ia
1424, to his beloved mistress, and at the same
time restored to his kingdom. In 1437 he was
assassinated at Perth, afler a reign of twelve years,
equally honourable to himself and beneficial to his
people.
[ 316 ]
CHAPTER XIII.
Reign of Henry VI. — Digression on the Pri-
vate Life of the English.
Jl HAT we may not be encumbered by the accu-
mulation of our materials, it is obviously necessary
to take some opportunity of reviewing those which
we have collected ; of comparing them with such
descriptions of national manners as are furnished
by our professed historians ; and of connecting
them with such farther particulars as are to be
gleaned from sources of incidental information.
For this necessary digression, there is no period
more convenient than that on which we are now
entering; because the interval between the reigns
of Henry V. and Henry VHI., which comprehends
near a century, although uncommonly rich in
Scotish poets of distinguished excellence, does not
Jurnish us with a single name among the natives of
England deserving of much notice. Our survey
must, of course, be very rapid and rather desul-
tory, but it will at least break the monotony of
the narrative, and preclude for the future the ne-
cessity of introducing many detached observations,
[ 317 ]
which, when our extracts become more amusing,
would prove a disagreciable interruption to the
reader.
To begin with the lower classes of society :
It- is generally agreed, that before the Norman
conquest, and for a long time after, nearly all the
lands of the kingdom were cultivated by serfs, whose
situation was, in many respects, scarcely distin-
guishable from absolute slavery. It may, how-
ever, be inferred from the very curious extract al-
ready quoted from Pierce Ploughman, that about
the middle of the fourteenth century, and probably
much earlier, the labouring poor, though still serft
with respect to their feudal lords were perfectly
free with respect to their immediate employers.
The poet says, —
" Labourers that have no land to live on, but her
hands, &c. —
" But if he be highly hired else will he chide.'*
(Pass, vi.)
During a great part of the year, indeed, they were
glad to work for a mere subsistence, but when pro-
visions were plentiful, they could only be induced
to work at all by the temptation of CKcessive wages.
Against this indolence the author inveighs with
great vehemence ; but his remonstrances were pro-
C 318 ]
bably inefFectual, because a stupid insensibility and
a heedless profusion are the natural characteristics
of an oppressed and degraded people.
Besides, their conduct seems to have arisen in
some measure from the imperfect state of agricul-
ture. Animal food formed a considerable part of
the support of the people ; but as the whole of the
manure was used on the arable lands, and it was
impossible that large numbers of cattle could sub-
sist during the cold season on the natural pastures,
they were slaughtered and salted in autumn for a
winter provision. This is a reason adduced by Sir
John Fortescue for rejecting the gabelle or salt-tax,
as a source of revenue for England. " In France,"
says he, " the people salten but little meat, except
** their bacon, and therefore they would buy little
" salt ; but yet they be artyd {compelled) to buy
" more salt than they would. — This rule and order
" would be sore abhorred in England, as well by the
** merchants, that be wonted to have their freedom
** in buying and selling of salt, as by the people, that
** usen much to salt their meats more than do the
" Frenchmen." (Fortescue on Monarchy, Cap. X.)
But it appears that, partly from the improvi-
dence usual to a barbarous state of society, and
partly from the want of those internal means of
communication which tend to diffuse general abun-
C 319 3
dance, these stores of animal food, as well as the
grain, were often consumed before the reproduc-
tion of a fresh stock. Hence, in the above-men-
tioned extracts from Pierce Ploughman, the poor
are represented as reduced to " loaves of beans
** and bran," and to *• feed hunger with beans and
" baken apples, chyboles and chervil," until the
return of harvest again enabled them to waste
their time in idleness and profusion.
Even the farmers themselves, the order to which
Pierce the Ploughman apparently belonged, do not
seem to have fared very sumptuously during some
part of the year ; for he declares that his whole
provision consists in txvo green cheeses, some curds
and cream, and an oat cake : but he adds, that a/ier
Lammas he may dight his dinner as he likes. The
particulars of his wealth are a cotu and calf, and a
cart-mare, which he keeps for the purpose of carry-
ing manure upon his land. These articles, perhaps,
were designed to give an exact statement of his
condition in society ; for they seem to agree with
what Sir John Fortcscue considers as sufficient for
the maintenance of a yeoman.
It is very honourable to the good sense of the
English nation, that our best two early poets,
Chaucer, and the author of Pierce Ploughman,
have highly extolled this useful body of men, while
C 320 3
the French minstrels of the twelfth, thirteenth) and
fourteenth centuries universally seem to approve
the supercilious contempt with which the nobles
affected to treat tJiera. The absurd prejudices of
chivalry on this subject are not ill expressed by
Lydgate, where he makes Achilles express his ap-
prehensions that —
** In this rage furious and luoodj
** Full likely is that all the gentle blood
** Throughout this worlde shall destroyed be ;
" And rural folk (and that were great pity)
** Shall have lordship, and wholly governance :
** And churles eke, with sorrow and mischance,
*• In every land shall lordes be alone,
** When gentlemen be slayen each one."
(Cap. XXX. Sign. U ii. ed. Marsh.)
There is a curious chapter in Sir John Fortescue's
Treatise de Laiidihus Legum Anglux, which seems
to prove that the smaller landholders in England
usually enjoyed more comforts than, from the ge-
neral language of historians, we should be led to
imagine ; for he asserts, that " there is scarce a
** small village in which you may not find a knight^
*' an esquire, or some substantial householder, com-
" monly called a/raw We^ne; a// men of considerable
** estates: there are others who are called /reg-
I 321 ]
" holder St and many yeomen of estates sufficient
" to make a substantial jury." (Chap. XXIX).
This wealth he attributes principally to the enclo-
sure of our pasture-lands.
The same writer thus describes the comparative
poverty of the French common people : " The same
" commons be so impoverished and destroyed, that
" they may unneth {^scarcely) live. They drink
" water ; they eat apples, with bread right brown,
" made of rye. They eat no flesh, but if it be
** seldom a little lard, or of the entrails or heads of
** beasts slain for the nobles and merchants of the
** land. They wearen no woollen, but if it be a
" poor coat under their outermost garment, made
" of great canvass, and call it a frock. Their hosen
" be of like canvass, and passen not their knee>
*' wherefore they be gartered and their thighs bare.
" Their wives and children gone barefoot ; they
" may in none otherwise live. For some of them
** that was wont to pay to his lord for his tenement,
*• which he hireth by the year, a scute (a croum),
" payeth now to the king over that scute, five
•* scutes. Wherethrough they be artyd {compelled)
" by necessity so to watch, labour, and grub in the
" ground for their sustenance, that their nature is
*• much wasted, and the kind of them brought to
" nought. They gone crooked, and are feeble, not
VOL. I. X
C 322 3
" able to fight," &c. (Fortescue on Monarchy,
Chap. III.)
. But though the lower orders of people in England
were so advantageously distinguished from those of
other nations by a superiority in food and cloth-
ing, their domestic buildings seem to have been
{Quch inferior to those on the continent ; and this
inferiority continued even down to the reign of
Queen Elizabeth, as appears from the confession
of Harrison.
" In old time," says he, " the housesof the Britons
" were slightly set up with a few posts, and many
" radels (hurdles)^ with stable and all offices under
" one roof; the like whereof almost is to be seen in
*' the fenny countries and northern parts unto this
" day, where, for lack of wood, they are enforced
" to continue this ancient manner of building." —
** So in the open and champaign countries, they are
*' enforced, for want of stufF> to use no studs* at all,
" but only frank-posts,'*^ — " and such principals ;
" with here and there a girding, whereunto they
" fasten their splints or radels, and then cast it all
" over with thick clay, to keep out the wind, which
" otherwise would annoy them. Certes, this rude
** kind of building made the Spaniards in Queen
*'^ Mary*s days to wonder, but chiefly when they
* The upright beams. Sax»
C 323 ]
** saw what large diet was used in many of these
" so homeiy cottages ; insomuch that one of no
" small reputation amongst them said after this
" manner : * These English,' quoth he, ' have their
" houses made of sticks and dirt, but they fare
" commonly so well as the king.'" (Harrison's
Description of England, prefixed to Holinshed,
p. 187.)
We have already seen thiat glazed windows* are
always mentioned by our early poets with an aii?
of affectation which evinces their rarity ; so that
we are not surprised at being told that the yeomen
and farmers were perfectly contented with windows
of lattice- Rooms provided with chimnies are also
noticed as a luxury by the author of Pierce Plough-
itian : but it is difficult to read with gravity the
sagacious observations of Harrison on the ill con-
sequences attending the enjoyment of warmth with-
out the risk of suffocation. *' Now," says he, *' have
" we many chimnies, and yet our tenderlings com-
" plain of rheums, catarrhs, and poses {colds in
" the head). Then had we none but reredosses,-[
• Anderson (HisJory of Commerce, vol. I. p. 90, edit.
1764) says, that they were fiiit introduced into IJugland
in 1180.
f This word is sometimes used to express some part of
■ obinney, and sometimes a substitute for one. It seem*
C 324 3
" and our heads did never ache. For as the smoke
" in^ those days was supposed to be a sufficient
** hardening for the timber of the house, so it was
" reputed a far better medicine to keep the good
" man and his family from the quacke {ague?) or
*' pose i wherewith, as then, very few were oft ac-
** quainted.** (Description of England, p. 212.)
After witnessing the indignation which the au-
thor has vented against the " tenderlings** of his
time, the reader may possibly learn with some sur-
prise, that, from the latter end of the thirteenth to
near the sixteenth rentury, persons of all ranks,
and of both sexes, were universally in the habit of
sleeping quite naked. This custom is often alluded
to by Chaucer, Gower, Lydgate, and all our an-
cient writers. In the Squire qfL&tu Degree there
is a curious instance :
" she rose, that lady dear,
" To take her leave of that squyere
" All so naked as she was born,
** She stood her chamber-door before."
[Vers. 671 .j
In the *• Aresta Amorum," (Ar. Ill), a lady,
who had stipulated to throw a nosegay to her lover
to mean a plate of iron, or perhaps a coating of bricks to
enable the wall to resist the flame.
[ 325 ]
on a particular night in each week, complains of
the difficulty she found in escaping to the window,
** ou par fois etoit totite nue par 1' espace de deux
" grosses heures." This strange practice prevailed
at a time when the day-dress of both sexes was
much wanner than at present ; being generally
bordered, and often lined, with furs ; insomuch,
that numberless warrens were established in the
neighbourhood of London for the purpose of sup-
plying its inhabitants with rabbets' skins.
Perhaps it was this warmth of clothing that ena>
bled our ancestors, in defiance of a northern cli-
mate, to serenade their mistresses with as much
perseverance as if they had lived under the torrid
zone. Chaucer thought he had given us the date
of his Dream with sufficient exactness, when he
described it as happening
" About such hour as lovers weep
" And cry after their ladies' grace."
[Vers. 55.]
In France, as appears from the work already
quoted, the lovers were sometimes bound to con-
duct " les tabourins et les bas menestriers" to the
doors of their mistresses between midnight and
day-break, on every festival throughout the year ;
though the principal season for such gallantry was
the beginning of May, when the windows were
[ 326 ]
ornamented with pots of marjoram, and may-poles
hung with garlands carried through the streets, and
raisied before every door in succession. This was
called, reveiller les pots de mariolainef and planter
le mat. The same season appears to have been
chosen by English lovers for the purpose of crying
after their ladies grace.
In houses, of which the walls were made of clay,
and the floors of the same materials, and where the
stabling was under the same roof with the dwell-
■ing rooms, the furniture was not likely to be cost'
ly. Of this the author just quoted received from
some ancient neighbours the following description :
" Our fathers (yea and we ourselves also) have
" lien full oft upon straw pallets, on rough mats,
" covered only with a sheet, under coverlets maid
** of dagsuiaiiiy or hopharlots* (I use their own
" terms), and a good round log under their heads,
" instead of a bolster or pillow- If it were so
** that our fathers, or the good man of the house,
*' had, within seven years after his marriage, pur-
*' chased a mattress or flock bed, and thereto a
" sack of chaft' to rest his head upon, he thought
" himself to be as well lodged as the lord of the
• t>aj. Sax. (from whence daggle or draggle) any thing
pendent, a shred. The term therefore seems to mean any
patched materials, like those worn by the poorest country
people. 2
[ 327 3
" town ; that, peradventure, lay seldom in a bed of
" down or whole feathers." — " As for servants, if
*' they had any sheet above them, it was well ; for
** seldom had they any under their bodies, to keep
" themfrom the prickings traws that ran oft through
" the canvas of the pallet, and rased their hardened
« hides." (P. 188.)
The progress of improvement in building was
from clay to lath and plaster, which was formed in-
to pannels between the principal timbers ; to floors
or pargets (as Harrison calls them, i. e. parquets)
coated with plaster of Paris ; and to ceilings over-
laid with mortar and washed with lime or plaster
" of delectable whiteness." Country houses were
generally covered with shingles ; but in towns the
danger of fires obliged the inhabitants to adopt
the use of tile or slate. These latter buildings
were very solid, and consisted of many stories pro-
jecting over each other, so that the windows on
opposite sides of the street nearly met. " The
" walls of our houses on the inner sides (says Harr
" rison), — be either hanged with tapestry, arras-
" work, or painted cloths, wherein either divers
*< histories, or herbs, beasts, knots, and such like,
** are stained, or else they are seeled with oak of
*• our own, or wainscot brought hither out of the
" east countries." (P. 187.) This relates, of course.
I S28 ]
to the houses of the wealthy, which he also repre-
sents as abounding in plate and pewter. In earlier
timesy wooden platters, bowls, and drinking vessels
were universally used, excepting in the houses of the
nobles. In France, if we may believe M. de Paul-
my (Viepriveedes Fran9ois), slices of bread, call-
ed " pains tranchoirs'* were used as a substitute
for plates till the reign of Louis XII.*
Though our readers are not likely to be much
enamoured with Lydgate*s poetry, they will per-
haps pardon the following extract from his " Lon-
" don Lyckpenny,"t (Harl. MSS. 367) in fa-
* Mr RitsQn observes (" Ancient Engleish Metrical Ro-
nancces," III. 432) that " M. Le Gr<and d'Ausfy — (and not,
*A as mister Ellis says, M. de Paumy),— was the authour of
f* La vie privee des Franjois," which has even his name in
'* the title-page." If Mr Ritson had been as well read in
Mr Le Grand's work as he is in the title-page, he would
have known that this was not the book I meant to quote :
and if he will turn to the " Melanges d'unc grande Biblio-
tbeque," generally attributed to M. de Paulmy, he will find,
in p- 114 of vol. III. containing " La Vie privee des Fran-
^ois," the passage I did quote.
+ " Some call London a lick-penny (as Paris is called, by
" some, a pickpurse) because of feastings, with other occa-
" Mons of expence and allurements, which cause so many
" unthrifts among country gentlemen, and others, who flock
*•* into her, in such excessive multitudes." Howell's Londi«-
nopolis, p. 406.
1
C 329 ]
vour of some curious particulars which it contains
respecting the city of London. The entire poem
is to be found in Mr Strutt's View of Manners,
&c. vol. III. p. 59, &c. in which, however, there
are some trifling errors. Lydgate supposes him-
self to have come to town in search of legal re-
dress for some wrong, and to have visited succes-
sively the King's Bench, the court of Conunon
Pleas, the court of Chancery, and Westminster hall.
Within the hall, neither rich, nor yet poor
Would do for me ought, although I should die :
Which seeing, I gat me out of the door.
Where Flemings began on me for to cry,
" Master, what will you copen * or buy ?
" Fine felt hats ? or spectacles to read ?
" Lay down your silver, and here you may speed.'*
Then to Westminster gate I presently went.
When the sun was at high prime :
Cooks to me they took good ijitent, *
And proffered me bread, with ale, and wine.
Ribs of beef, both fat and full fine;
A fair cloth ihcy gan for to spread.
But, wanting money, I might not be sped^
' Koopen, Firm, is to buy.
* Took notice, paid aUrntioo.
' [ 330 ]
Tlien unto London I did me hie,
Of all the land it beareth the price ;
*' Hot peascods I" one began to cry,
*' Strawberry ripe, and cherries in the ryse.'** *
One bade me come near and buy some spice ;
Pepper, and safPron they gan me bede ; *
But, for lack of money, I might not speed.
Then to the Cheap I gan me drawn.
Where much people I saw for to stand ;
One offered me velvet, silk, and lawn,
Another he taketh me by the hand,
" Here is Paris thread, the finest in the land !'*
I never was used to such things, indeed ;
.And, wanting money, I might not speed.
Then went I forth by London stone^ 5
Throughout all Caniayke street :
Drapers much cloth me offered anon ;
Then comes me one cried ** hot sheep's feet ;"
One cried mackerel, rys&es green * another gan
greet y 5
* On the twig. * Bid.
^ A fragment of London stone is still preserved in Can-
non-street, formerly called Canwick, or Caudlewick-
street. Stowe, in his account of Candlewick Ward, refers
to this ballad.
* Green rushes. 5 cry.
[ 331 ]
Qhe bade me buy a hood to cover my head ;
But, for want of money, I might not be sped.
Then I hied me unto East-Cheap,
One cries ribs of beef, and many a pie ;
Pewter pots they clattered on a heap ;
There was harp, pipe, and minstrelsy ;
Yea by cock ! nay by cock ! some began cry ;
Some sung of Jenken and Julyan for their meed ;
But, for lack of money, I might not speed.
Then into Cornhill anon I yode^
Where was much stolen gear : among
I saw where hung mine owne hood.
That I had lost among the throng ;
To buy my own hood I thought it wrong :
I knew it, well as I did my creed ;
But, for lack of money, I could not speed.
The tavemer took me by the sleeve,
** Sir," saith he, " will you our wine assay ?'*
I answered, " that can not much me grieve,
** A penny can do no more than it may ;**
I drank a pint, and for it did pay ;
Yet, sore a-hungered from thence I yede.
And, wanting money, I could not speed, &c.
Lydgatc has here ridiculed, with more pleasantry
C 332 3
than usually belongs to him, the importunate civi-
lity of the lower tradesmen. The attraction of
customers seems to have been by the mote opu-
lent shopkeepers assigned to their apprentices;
for Perlin,a. French physician, who visited England
in the reign of Edward VI., says, " Vous verrez a
** Londres des apprentifs avec des robes contre
** Icurs boutiques, nuds tetes, et contre les murailles
** de leurs maisons ; tellement, qu'en passant parmi
" les rues, vous en trouverez cinquante ou soixante
** contre les murailles, comme idoles, ayant leurs
" bonnets a la mam." * He seems to have been
much surprised at our shops, which he says are
always operiy like those of the barbers in France^ and
have glass ivindotoSf generally adorned mth pots of
Jlotxiers ; but he particularly notices the wealth of
the tavern-keepers, and the neatness of their rooms ;
for he says, *' aux tavernes (vous verrez) force
*' foindessus les planchersde bois,f et force oreillers
* " Description des Royaulroes d' Angleterre et d'Escosc.
" Par. 1558." Reprinted with notes, Lond. 1775. 4to.
+ Iirasinus, in a letter to Franciscus, Wolsey's physician,
ascribes the plague (then ver> common in England) and the
sweating sickness to the sluttishness which this «ustom
tended to perpetuate. The floors, he says, are commonly
of clay, strewed with rushes ; under which lies unmo-
lested a putrid mixture of beer, stinking fragments of food,
and all sorts of nastiness. Ue also censures the filth of
•ur streets, and even the construction of oor houses, the
[ 333 ]
*' et tapisseries sur lesquels les voyageurs se assis-
** ent {asseyent.*') This practice of spreading hay
or rushes on the floors seems to have been at least
coeval with the arrival of the Normans. Carpets,*
though introduced as early as the Crusades, were
hitherto only used as coverings for chairs, or for
tables, particularly for side-boards, or (as our an-
cestors called them) cup-bordes,f on which their
plate or pewter was exhibited.
rooms or which ooght to have, as he thinks, some windows in
every direction. He farther complains, that these windows,
though they excluded the wind, admitted unwholesome cur-
rents ofair. To explain this part of his letter, which is rather
obscure, it may be proper to observe, that the illuminatioiK
in many MSS. represent the windows as composed of three
compartments, of which the lowest consisted of a close lat-
tice-work, the upper of glass, while the central compartment
was quite open. Two-thirds only of these windows were
usually clo->ed with shutters, the upper part being left for
the admission of light. Such a partial shelter could not so
totally exclude the air as to satisfy such an invalid as Kras>
mus. (See Jorlin's Life of Erasmus, vol. 11. p. 341.)
* Gilt and painted leather, being often applied to the
same pur|iOjC8 a^ a carpet, was frequently called by the
same name. Among the goods belonging to Henry V. and
sold to pay his debts, were some " carpetz de coir," va-
lued at 3». id. tlic piece. (Rolls of Pari. A. I). 1423.)
f In the inventory of furniture belonging to the bed-
chamber of Henry V'lIJ. at Haiuptou Court, were two
C 384 3
The stately castles of our nobility do not require
ahy description here ; because, having been in-
tended for the purpose of resisting the attacks of
an enemy, they were constructed with such soli-
dity as to survive the depredations of time ; and are,
iti some instances, preserved to the present day
with little alteration in their external appearance.
Their interior furniture, indeed, was of a liiore
perishable nature : but a few oaken benches and
tables, raised on strong trestles, sometimes morticed
into the floor, and sometimes with folding legs, a
bed, a pair of andirons, or dogs, with their accom-
paniment of tongs, or a chafer (chafing-dish,) ge-
nerally formed the whole inventory of the best
furnished apartment.
When we consider our great feudal barons, in-
habiting their solitary " dungeoriSy" without the
use of letters, or the comforts of that mixed so-
ciety which civilization has gradually introduced,
we shall at first be tempted to suspect that the
" sadness of demeanour," which was the charac-
teristic of good breeding, arose from the dulness
and uniformity of their lives. Yet the list of their
amusements, though differing in some particulars
from those of their successors, was extremely nu-
joined cupbords. — [tem, one joi/ned-stool, &c. (Strutt's Man.
ners, &c. vol. 111. p. 69.)
[ 335 ]
merous. Much time must have been dedicated t«
the practice of fighting, both in jest and in earnest;
because romance is principally employed in descri-
bing the one, and history contains little more than
their exploits in the other. The mystery of the
"woods, or science of hunting, required no less study
of mind and labour of body than the conduct of a
military expedition ; and, at a time of the year
when venison was the only fresh meat that could
be procured, it was, perhaps, a necessary occupa-
tion; Hawking, or the mystery of rivers, by which
they principally supplied their tables with wild
fowl, and which required little preparation, was an
almost daily source of amusement ; and when the
weather was such as to preclude the possibility of
these exercises, there still remained the sedentary
recreations of chess, back-gammon, and various
other games on the tables, music, dancing, ques-
tions of love, and stories of past, or the anticipa-
tion of future tournaments.
But a very principal business of life was eating
and drinking. It is true that, for some time after
the conquest, tlie Norman nobles were satisfied
with two moderate meals in a day ; but it was at
length discovered that no less than five miglit,
without much inconvenience, be introduced into
the same period ; and that three hours were by ng
C 336 3
means too long for the principal meal, allowing for
the ceremonies of washingy* of marshalling the
guests and the dishes, and listening to the tales or
music of the minstrels. Public suppers were gene-
rally followed by dancing ;f and that by the rear-
* It seems tbat the whole compan)' washed in succession,
and that it was usual for the mistress of the house to lead
out for this purpose the guest whom she particularly wish-
ed to distinguish. In the fabliau of Le chevalier quifaisoit
parler, &c. the author says —
£t la comtesse pour laver
Prit par les mains le chevalier,
• • « * •
£t ptiis le comte, et les pucellcs,
Les dames, et les demoiselles
Lavent apr^s, et 1' autre gent,
f In the same fabliau it is said —
Avint qn'il fut terns de soupcr.
Si s'cn rallerent, pair-Ik-pair,
Si comme au matin s'asseoir.
Moult furent bien servis le soir
De viandes k grant plente
r,t de vins a leur tolonte.
Apres manger chacun commence
De faire caroles et danses,
Tant qu'il fut heure de concher.
Paris emmenent le chevalier
lEn sa chambre, ou fait fut son lit ;
£t 1^, bureot par grant delit,
Puis prirent conse, &c.
C S37 3
supper, or collation, consisting of spiced cakes and
medicated wines.
In all the above-mentioned amusements (war
and tilting only excepted) the ladies appear to have
participated : indeed, their will was the motive of
every action. And hence, while the stouter knights
were exchanging wounds and bruises for their di«
version, the less valorous courtiers were employed
in devising those astonishing varieties of dress and
changes of ^shion which distinguished the four-
teenth century, to the great scandal of our simple
historians, who deplored the waste of time and
money, and the distortion of the human shape,
produced by modes so *' destitute and desert from
*' all old honest and good usage.'' The pointed
shoes, the trailing sleeves, the party-coloured dou-
blets and mantles, and indecorous hose of the men,
and the horned-caps, and strait-laced bodices, or
stays, of the women, are mentioned by many his-
torians with pious horror.* The monk of Glaston-
* The most peruicioos fashion in me ainon|r«t the women
«f the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries was that of paint-
ing. But it may be hoped that it was confineii (as it is in
Russia) to the lower ranks of the community. In a stroenttf,
written in ridicule of old ladies, by Au)(ier, a troubadour
of the twelfth century, he says, *• Je ne peux souffhr le
" tcint blanc et rouge que les vieillei s« font avec Tonf ueat
VOL. I. Y
C 338 3
bury tells us they wore such strait clothes, that
they had long fox tails sewed under their garments,
to hold them forth ; and, in his indignation against
such an insidious species of lining, exclaims — " the
" which disguisings, and pride, peradventure, af-
" terward brought forth and caused many mishaps
" and mischief in the realm of England." (Cax-
ton's Chronicle).
One of our old minstrels, author of a romance
called " The Squyr of Loxv Degree" having con-
trived to enumerate, within a tolerably moderate
compass, all the amusements known to the fair sex
during the middle ages, it may not be amiss to
transcribe the whole passage (as Mr Warton has
already done), because the book, though printed,
is extremely scarce.* The heroine of the piece,
a daughter of the king of Hungary, being plunged
" d'un oenf battu, qu'elles s'appliquent sur le visage, et dti
" blanc pardessus." Hist. Litt. des Troubadours, Tom. I.
p. 345. It appears, from another piece cited in the same
work (Tom. 1 1 1, p. 167), that the ladies used a mixture of
quicksilver and various drugs for painting, as well as the
common red and white.
• No MS. of it has been seen, and the only printed copy
known to exist is among Mr Garrick's old plays in the Bri-
tish Museum, from which, however, it is now published en-
tire in Mr Ritson's collection, and the subsequent extract
has been corrected after his copy.
[ 339 ]
(in consequence of her love for the squire) in a
deep melancholy, the king, her father, endeavours
to enliven her imagination by presenting to her
the following picture of the amusements that he
intends to procure for her :
" To-morrow ye shall on hunting fare,
" And ride, my daughter, in a chare ; *
" It shall be cover'd with velvet red,
*' And clothes of fine gold all about your head,
" With damask white, and azure blue,
" Well diapered * with lilies new.
" Yonr pomelles^ shall be ended with gold,
" Your chains enamell'd, many a fold ;
*• Your mantle of rich degree,
" Purple pall, * and ermineyree. ^
*• Jennets of Spain that ben so white,
" Trapp'd to the ground with velvet bright.
• Car, or charioU * Variegated.
3 Pomel is interpreted by La Combe, " borte d'ornemcot
" aux habits d'eglise." Mr Ritson defines pomelt " ball*,
*' apples."
* ** Fine cloth, usc'd for the robes of kings, princecs, aud
" persons ofrank or consequence: ^eneraWy purpe I or purpur.
" —In Langhams Letter, IfiTS, we meet with " a pall of
" white silk." " It is now confined to velvet, blackness,
" and funeral processions," (KiUon*) ' Noblr.
[ 340 ]
^ Ye shall have harp, psaltry, and song,
" And other miithes you among.
" Ye shall have Rumney,^ and Malmesyney*^
" Both YpocrassCf and Vemage ^ wine,
" Mount rose^ * and wine Greek ^
" Both Algrade, * and Respice ' eke,
" Antioche and BastardCy ^
" Pyment ' also, and Garnard, *"
" Wine of Greek, and MttscadeU, "
* Wine of Roraanee, in Burgundy,
* Malmsey, malvoisie. Ft.
3 Wine of Vemou, in Touraine,
^ Perhaps wine of Montrachet, near Beaume ; still in esti-
mation. ^ " Le vin Grec is mentioned by
M, Le Grand d'Aiafy." (Ritson^.
^ Does this mean Spanih wine, from Algarva ?
' " A wine now unknown." (Ritson). Query, tTespice,
vin d'espices ?
^ Junius calls vinom passum (>. e, raisin wine,) via bastard.
Harrison mentions it as a strong wine, and good for diges-
tion. Mr Ritson says Bastarde is " a wine of Corsica, so
" call'd, as is conjecture'd, from being mix'd witli koney.
** It was a common beverage in London, so late as Shak«
" speare's time."
^"Artificial wine, resembleing clary or hippocras; a
" mixture, that is, of wine, honey, and spicees." (Ritson).
*° Does this mean choice wine ? wine kept in the gamer,
or warehouse ? Mr Ritson explains it " a wine of GranaiM,*'
" «' A French wine." (Ritson.)
C 341 ]
« Both Clare, * Pt/mentf and Rochell : »
** The red, your stomach to defy, '
" And pots of osey* set you by.
" You shall have venison y-bake ;
" The best wild-fowl that may be take ;
" A leash of grey-hounds with you to strike^
" And hart and hind, and other like.
" Ye shall be set at such a tri/st, *
" That hart and hind shall come to your fist ;
" Your disease to drive you fro,
" To hear the bugles there y-blow.
" Homeward thus shall ye ride
" On hawking by the rivers side,
** With gos-hawk, and with gentil falcon,
** With eglehom,^ and merlyon. '
" When you come home your men among,
*' Ye shall have revel, dances, and song ;
* •* Clary^ a mixture of wine and honey : clairet. F."
(RitsoD.)
* Wine of Rucbelle.
3 Defend ? Deffaix, in old Fr. is defence (V. La Combe.)
* Qu. oseille ? (sorrel).
' A post, or station, in hunting. Tyrvrhitt'i Gloss.
6 " An egkyl appears to be a species of hawk : see Strutt's
" Mannen, &c. III. IS4." (Ritson).
7 «♦ Merlin^ a species of hawk : antriUon, F." (Ritwn.)
C 342 ]
** Little children great and smale
** Shall sing as doth the nightingale.
" Then shall ye go to your even song,
" With tenours and trebles among,
" Three score of copes of damask bright
" Full of pearls they shall be pyght. *
»****♦
** Your censers shall be of gold,
" Indent with azure, many a fold.
*' Your choir nor organ-song shall want
** With rounter-note and descant,
*' The other half on organs playing,
*' With young children full fair singing.
" Then shall ye go to your suppere,
" And sit in tents in green arbere,
" With cloths of Arras pyght to the ground,
" With sapphires set, and diamond.
* # « * * * ,
" An hundred knightes, truly told,
" Shall play with bowls in alleys cold,
" Your disease to drive away.
" To see the fishes in pools play,
# « * * # •
' Sewed or quilted ; piqu(, "ET'
. C 343 1
" To a draw-bridge then shall ye,
" The one half of stone, the other of tree.
" A barge shall meet you full right,
" With twenty-four oars full bright,
" With trumpets and with clarion,
" The fresh water to row up and down-
******
" Then shall ye, daughter, ask the wine,
** With spices that be good and fine,
" Gentil pots with ginger green,
" With dates and dainties you between.
** Forty torches, bren^ng bright,
" At your bridges to bring you light,
** Into your chamber they shall you bring
•* With much mirth and more liking.
• «*«•*
" Your blankets shall be o^fustayne, '
" Your sheets shall be of cloth oi raync,*
** Your head-sheet shall be of per y ^ pyght,
** With diamond set, and rubies bright.
' Fxutaine, or fulaine, Fr. is a thick cotton cloth, of
which coverlets are still commnnly made.
^ Of Heniics in Britany. " Ibis cloth is noticed by Cbau-
" cer for its particular softness." (Kitsoo).
3 JBmbroidered with precioua stones.
C 344. 3
" When you are laid ia bed so soft,
'* A cage of gold shall hang aloft>
" With long-pepper fair burning,
" And cloves that be sweet smelling,
" Frankincense and olibanum,
" That when ye sleep the taste may come.
" And, if ye no rest may take,*
" All night minstrels for you shall wake."
A modern princess might possibly object to
breathing the smoke of pepper, cloves, and frank-
incense during her sleep ; but the fondness of our
ancestors for these, and indeed for perfumes of all
kinds, was excessive. We have seen that Lydgate
thought it necessary that Venus, when rising from
the sea, should be enointe tuith gums and ointments
svoeeterjbr to smell; and Martial d'Auvergne, a
celebrated French poet of the fifteenth century,
in his prologue to the Aresta Amorum (Decrees
of the Court of Love), observes of the lady-judges
of that court, that^
Leurs habits sentoient le cypres
Et le muse si abondamment.
Que I'on n'eut su etre au plus pres
Sans eternuer largement.
[ 345 ]
Outre plus, en lieu d'herbe verd,
Qu'on a accoustumi d'espandre.
Tout le parquet etoit couvert
De romarin et de lavandre.
In the foregoing description of diversions the
good king of Hungary has forgotten one, which
seems to have been as great a favourite with the
English and French as it ever was with the Turkish
ladies. This is the bath. It was considered, and
with great reason, as the best of all cosmetics ; and
Mr Strutthas extracted from an old MS. of prog-
nostications, written in the time of Richard II., a
medical caution to the women, against ** going to
" the bathybr beauty" during the months of March
and November. But it seems also to have been
usual for women to bathe together for the purpose
of conversation : for in the fabliau of Constant du
Hamel (in Barbazan's collection) an invitation for
this purpose occurs to the wife as the most natural
device for effecting her purpose, and her three fe-
male friends are successfully the dupes of the ar-
tifice. The generality* of the fabliaux, however,
• See Le Grand, Tom. III. p 456} Tom. IV. p. 175,232.
Promiicuout bathing is alto exhibited in some of the early
ipecimens of engraving, in which women are often repre-
tented as attending men to the bath, as tbey still do at Berne.
[ 346 ]
while they prove that baths, or at least bathing-
tubs, were to be found even in the houses of the
poorest tradesmen, evince also that they were not
always very innocently employed ; and those of
public resort became so infamous, that their very
names are expressive of debauchery.
The reader may possibly be of opinion that the
spectacle of an hundred knights playing at bowls
** in alleys cold," would not be so amusing as even
the simplest kind of theatrical representations ; and
as mysteries, or miracle-plays, are mentioned by
Chaucer's Wife of Bath as a common and fashion-
able diversion, it may be thought that one of these
might have been advantageously' substituted for
the regiment of bowling knights. But the mys-
teries were for a long time exhibited only on sta-
ted festivals ; they were performed solely by eccle-
siastics ; they required considerable preparation ;
and there did not exist in England (the only coua-
try which seems to have been known to the author
Wenceslaus, emperor and king of Bohemia, who died in
1418, was much attached to the bathing girl who attended
him during his captivity, and for whose sake he is said to
have bestowed many privileges and immunities on the owners
of the baths at Baden. Her picture occurs very frequently
in a finely illuminated bible, written at his instance, and still
preserved in the Imperial library at Vienna. This anecdote
is meDtioned by Lambecius in his account of that library.
[ 347 3
of the romance) any company of actors, at the
disposal of the court, till after the middle of the
sixteenth century.
Mr Warton, in his History of Poetry, has taken
great pains to discover the origin, and trace the
progress of theatrical entertainments in Europe ;
and, though the subject is much too extensive for
the present work, it may be worth while to pre-
sent to the reader what seems to be the general
outline of his opinion.
He observes that, as early as the fourth century,
Gregory Nazianzen, an archbishop and poet, with
a view of banishing pagan plays from the theatre
of Constantinople, had composed many sacred
dramas, intended to be substituted for the Greek
tragedies, with hymns in lieu of the chorus. What-
ever may have been the result of this first struggle
between piety and taste, a second project of a
similar nature is stated to have been successful.
Theophylact, another patriarch, invented or adopt-
ed, about the year 990, a sort of religious panto-
mimes and farces, since known by the names of
Fete des Fous^ Fete de V AnCy Fete des Innocents^
&c. in the hopes of weaning the people from
the Bacchanalian and calendary rites, and other
pagan ceremonies, by the substitution of Christian
spectacles. These farces, passing first into Italy,
C 348 ]
suggested the composition o^ mysteries, which from
thence found their way into France, and the rest
of Europe ; and were every where eagerly adopted
by the clergy, who were glad to have in their own
Iiands the direction of a popular amusement, ca-
pable of rivalling the scandalous pantomimes and
buffooneries hitherto exhibited at fairs by the jug-
glers and itinerant minstrels, whom the merchants
carried with them for the purpose of attracting
customers.
A sort of miracle play, or mystery, is said to
have been acted in England by the monks of the
abbey of Dunstable in the eleventh century. This
Was the famous play of the Death of St Chtharine.
At this time, the only persons who could read
were ecclesiastics ; but, as learning increased, the
pfactice of acting these plays migrated from the
monasteries to the universities, which were formed
on a monastic plan, and in many respects resem-
bled the ecclesiastical bodies. In the statutes of
Trinity-hall, Cambridge, an Imperatorf or prefectus
iudorum (master of the revels) is ordered to be
appointed, for the purpose of superintending the
amusements and plays at Christmas ; and a Chrisi-
mas'prince, or lord of misrule^ corresponding to
the Imperator at Cambridge, was a common tem-
porary magistrate at Oxford.
[ S49 ]
The same practice was afterwards introduced
into our schools, and from hence into the com-
panies of singing-boys in the choirs, and the law
societies. All Lylie's plays, and many of Jons6n*a
and Shakspeare's, were acted by the children of
the Chapel-royal, assisted by those of St Paul's,
** Ferrex and Porrex" was acted in 1561, by the
gentlemen of the Inner Temple, and Gascoigne's
" Supposes" in 1566, by those of Gray's-inn.
It may be proper to observe, that this sketch,
though possibly correct in general, is by no means
so in respect to France ; for it appears, that a
regular company of players was established at
Paris by a reglement of Charles VI. in December
1402, under the title of Les Confreres de la Passion.
It is said to have been founded by a set of pilgrims
returning from the Holy Land, who used to assem-
ble in the public squares to chant, in several parts,
the miracles of the Virgin. This company was
succeeded, during the same reign, by a new one,
composed of lawyers' clerks belonging to the Par-
lement and the Cliatelet, under the direction of a
nianager, who called himself le Prince des Sots,
and began to exhibit a new and burlesque species
of entertainments, which, under tlie successive
names of SottieSy Pois-pilh, and lastly Farces,
continued in fashion till the time of MoUere.
[ 350 3
CHAPTER XIV.
Reign of Henry VI. — Hugh de Campeden. —
Thomas Chestre. — Scotish Poets. — Clerk of
Tranent. — Holland. — Henry the Minstrel.
— Reigns of Edward IF, and V. — Hard-
ing, — Scogan. — Norton. — Ripley. — Lady
Juliana Berners. — William of Nas^yngton,
— Lord Rivers. — Scotish Poets — Robert
Henrysoun. — Patrick Johnstoun — and Mer-
sar.
i. HE only poets who can be assigned, with any
certainty, to the reign of Henry VI., are Hugh
DE Campeben and Thomas Chestue, both of
whom are only known to us as translators ; the
former having turned into English verse the ro-
mance of Sidrac, and the latter the Lay of Lanvaly
composed, or rather paraphrased, from the Breton
original, by Mademoiselle Maries a French poetess
of the twelfth century.
The romance of Sidrac* is represented by Mr
Warton as a compendium of Arabian philosophy,
* " The history of kyog Boccus and Sydracke," &c.
London, printed by Godfray, 1510, 4to. Mr Ritson (Bibl.
Poet.) says that MS« copies are not uncommun. There is
one in the Bodleian, and another in the British Museum.
[ 351 ]
rather than a fable of chivalry ; and Campeden's
translation as exhibiting " no sort of elegance in
*• the diction, nor harmony in the versification.'*
Chestre's work, on the contrary, besides being
very fanciful and entertaining, appears to be writ-
ten by an experienced versifier ; because the six-
lined stanza, in which it is composed, has not in
any degree fettered his expression, which is very
generally natural and easy as well as picturesque.
It is unnecessary, however, to give any extract
from this poem, as it has been very lately submitted
to the public in the Appendix to Mr Way's trans-
lation of the Fabliaux (Faulder, 1800).* Mr War-
ton suspects, that the Earl of Thcndouse, a metrical
romance, of which he has given the analysis (Hist.
Eng. P. vol. II. p. 103,) may also have been trans-
lated by Chestre : but Mr Ritson, who has printed
it in his collection, is of a different opinion.
The dearth of names in our poetical catalogue
towards the middle of the fifteenth century is not
a proof that the art of poetry was at this time
very little cultivated. The contrary, indeed, is
most probably true; because many of the old
ballads preserved in Percy's Reliques of Ancient
English Poetry, several of the metrical romances,
of which a large collection still remains in manu-
* It may now be read to the utmoit advantage in Mr
Ritson's collection of Ancient English Roioancct, where it
18 printed (no doubt) with icnipulous fidelity
[ 352 3
script in our public libraries, and the greater part
of the fabulous stories of Robin Hood, as well as the
tales of Gamelyn and of Beryn, so long attributed
to Chaucer, appear to belong to this period. But
though Henry VI. was likely to be the patron of
a talent to which he had himself some pretensions,*
Uie general despondence and discontent which
' Id the Nugte Antiquae the following wretched lines are
ascribed to this wretched prince :
Kingdoms are but cares ;
State is devoid of stay ;
Riches are ready snares,
And hasten to decay.
Pleasure is a privy prick
Which vice doth still provoke ;
Pomp unprompt ; and fame a flame ;
Power a smouldering smoke.
Who meaneth to remove the rock
Out of the slimy mud,
Shall mire himself, and hardly scape
The swelling of the flood.
This '* prettie verse," as Sir John Harington calls it,
must have been known to Baldwin, the first compiler of the
Mirror for Magistrates, who, in his' Tragedxf of King Htnry
VI., puts the following reflection (being the royal language,
it appears, almost verbatim) into the mouth of that unfor-
tunate monarch :
" Our kingdoms are bat cares, our state devoid of stay^
" Our riches ready snares, to hasten our decay :
" Our pleasures privy pricks, our vices to provoke,
'* Our pomp a pump, our fame a flame, oui' power a
smouldiing smoke."
For the ingenious comparison of pomp to a pump Bald-
win, and not poor King Henry, must be answerable.
C m 1
prevailed during a great part of his reign could not
but discourage men of rank and learning from em-
ploying their leisure in works of imagination.
In Scotland, on the contrary, the progress of
poetry seems to have been uninterrupted ; for
Dunbar has enumerated no less than eighteen dis-
tinguished ** makers,'* many of whom must have
flourished as early as the middle of the fifteenth
century. One of these, Clerk of Tranent, is
celebrated as the author of the Adventures of Sir
GatuatTiy a romance, of which two cantos appear to
be preserved. They are written in stanzas of thir-
teen lines, with alternate rhymes, and much alli-
teration ; and in a language so very obsolete as to be
often quite unintelligible. There is, however, a sort
of wildness in the narrative which is very striking.
(Vide Pinkerton*8 Scotish Poems, 3 vols. 1792.)
Another Scotish Poet, of the name of Hol-
land, has left an allegorical satire, called The
Hotdat (the Owl,) composed in the same metre
with the preceding, and in language equally ob-
scure, but far less beautiful. Mr Warton seems to
have proved that it was written before 1455. (See
the same collection.)
But the most interesting composition of this pe-
riod is the celebrated metrical Hut or y of Sir IVil-
liam Wallace, written by a poet whose surname is
not known, but who is distinguished by the fami-
TOL. I. 7.
C 35* 3
liar appellations of Henry the Minstrel and
Blind Harry. ** The date of his book," accord-
ing to the account prefixed to the edition printed
at Perth, 1790, " and consequently the age in
** which he lived may be exactly ascertained. In
** the time of my infancy** says Major, ** Henry,
** txiko ims Uindjrom his birth, composed a hook
** consisting entirely of the Atchievements of WiU
** Ham Wallace" Major was born at North Ber-
** wick, in East Lothian, in 144-6. It was, there-
** fore, about the year 1446, that Henry wrote, or
•* naade public, his entire history of Wallace.*'
From the same account it appears that he was a
kind of itinerant minstrel, and that " by reciting
*• his histories before princes or great men, he
** gained his food and raiment, of which," says
Major very justly, " he was worthy."
That a man born blind should excel in any sci-
ence is sufficiently extraordinary, though by no
means without example ; but that he should be-
come an excellent poet is almost miraculous ; be-
cause the soul of poetry is description. Perhaps,
therefore, it may be easily assumed, that Henry
was not inferior in point of genius either to Bar-
bour or Chaucer, nor indeed to any poet of any
age or country : but it is our present business to
estimate the merit of the work rather than the
genius of the author.
t 355 ]
The similarity of the subject will naturally induce
€very reader to compare the life of Wallace with
Barbour's life of Bruce : and on such a compa-
rison, it will probably be found that Henry excels
his competitor in correctness of versification, and,
perhaps, in perspicuity of language (for both of
which he was indebted to the gradual improvements
which had taken place during near a century) ;
but that in every other particular he is greatly in-
ferior to his predecessor. Though Henry did not
invent what he relates, but probably employed
such materials a^ he believed to be authentic ; and
though this may serve as a general excuse for many
exaggerations and false facts, and, among the rest,
for his carrying Wallace, at the head of a victorious
army, to dictate a peace at St Albans ; yet, to re-
present the fierce and politic Edward I. trembling
for his safety in the Tower of London, weeping
over the body of his nephew, and sending his queen
to supplicate for a disgraceful peace, — it to con-
found all our ideas of historical characters, and to
disgust the reader with useless improbability.
The Bruce is evidently tlie work of a politician
as well as poet. The characters of a king, of His
brother, of Douglas, and of the Earl of Moray,
are discriminated, and their separate talents always
employed with judgment ; so that every event is
prepared and rendered probable by the means to
C «56 ]
which it is attributed : whereas the life of Wallace
is a mere romance, in which the hero hews down
whole squadrons with his single arm, and is in-
debted for every victory to his own muscular
strength. Both poems are filled with descriptions
of battles ; but in those of Barbour our attention is
successively directed to the cool intrepidity of
King Robert, to the brilliant rashness of Edward
Bruce, or to the enterprising stratagems of Doug-
las : while in Henry we find little more than a
disgusting picture of revenge, hatred, and blood.
Still, however, it must be confessed that the life
©f Wallace is a work of very great poetical merit.
The following extracts are chosen as specimens of
our author's style in different kinds of description :
the first representing a visionary spectre seen by
Wallace soon after he had put to death one of his
own partisans, (of the name of Fawdoun,) whom
he suspected of treachery. The scene is a soli-
tary castle, called Gask Hall, at which Wallace
arrived with a few partisans, after a very distress-
ing retreat.
In the Gask Hall their lodging have they taen ;
Fire gat they soon, but meat than had they 7tane^
TxKU sheep they took beside them off" a fold ;
Ordain'd to sup into that seemly hold.
C 357 3
Graithit ' in haste some food for them to dight :
So heard they blaiu rude hornis upon height.
Twa sent he forth to look what it might be ;
They 'bade right lang, — and no tidings heard he.
But botistous ' noise so brymly * blew ♦ and fast.
So other tvoa into the wood forth past.
Nane come again ; but bomtously can blato :
Into great ire he sent them forth on raw. *
When he ^ alane Wallace was leavy t there.
The awful blast aboundyt mickle mair :
Than trevoit ' he •ooeiU theif ' had his lodging seen,
His sword he drew of noble metal keen.
Syne forth he went where that he heard the horn.
Without the door Fawdoun was him beforn,
(As till his sight) his avm head in his hand.
A cross he made, when he saw him so stand.
At Wallace in the head he swaket yare, '
And he in haste soon hynt '° [it] by the hair,
Syne out at him again he couth it cast,
JntiU his heart he was greatly aghast.
' Made ready.
* Huge, boisterous ? It seems to come from the Goth,
hua, " cum impetu ferri." Vid. Ihrc Gloss.
3 Fiercely. Kuddiman's Gloss. ^ SoMS.— Ed. 1790, frfow.
3 In a row, altogether. The edit. 1685 has in row.
f> So MS Ed. 179(), that. ^ Believed.
• t. e, the enemy. ' Threw suddenly. '° Seized.
[ 358 ]
Right Weill he trowit that was na spreit of man ;
It was some devil that sic malice began ;
He wist na voeill there longer for to bide :
Up through the hall thus wycht * Wallace can glide
To a close stair — the boardis rai^* in twin :
Fifteen foot large he lap out of that inn.
Up the water suddenly he couth fare ;
Again he blent ^ what 'perance he saw there ;
He thought he saw Fawdoun, that ugly sire,
That haill'^ hall he had set in a fire ; ^
A great rafter he had intill his hand ;
Wallace as than no longer would he stand.
Of his good men full great mervail had he,
How they were tynt ^ through his feyle ' fantasy.
Trust right well that all this was sooth indeed ;
Suppose that it no point be of the creed.
*******
By sic mischief gt^ his men might be lost,
Drownyt, or slain among the Inglis 8 host,
Or what it was in likeness of Fawdoun,
* Bold. * Split, were men.
3 Looked. In the edit. 1685, it is bknked.
* Whole.
5 «* Upon the house, and all the rest on fire " Edit, 1685.
6 Lost.
7 Probably the same as fey, fatal. (Rudd. CI.)
* English.
[ 359 ]
Which brought his men to sudden confiisioun, —
*♦♦*♦# ♦
I cannot speak of ^ divinity, &c.
(Book V. ver. 175, &c.)
The following incident is of a less terrific nature.
Wallace had a mistress at Perth, whom he visited
in the disguise of a priest; but he was accidentally
discovered, and his mistress seized, and prevailed
on by threats and promises to betray her gallant
admirer. When every preparation has been made
to surprise him —
he entryt * in the town
Wittand no thing of all this false treasodn,
TUl her chamber he went but mair abaid. •
She welcom'd him, and full great pleasance made.
What that they wrought I cannot graithly ' say ;
Right unperfyt I am of Venus* play :
But hastily he graithit ♦ him to gang.
Than she him took, and speir'dgiffhe thought lang?
She askyt him that night with her to bide :
Soon he said, " Nay ! for chance that may betide !
** My men are left all at mis*rule for me ;
' Entered. ^ Without more abode, i. e. delay.
' Readily. ♦ Made ready, prepared.
^ Asked if be (bought the time long, i. e, if he wa« tired.
8
i: S60 3
" I may not sleep this night •while I them see !"
Than weepyt she, and said full oft, " Alas !
" That I was made ! iua worth the cursyt caxise !
" Now have I lost the best man livand is :
" O feeble mind, to do sa foul amiss !
" O luaryit ^ wit, wicked, and luariance.
" That me has brought into this myscheftdl chance !
" Alas," she said, '♦ in world that I was wrought I
" ^ylf^^^ t^is* pain on myself might be brought !
" J. have *seroit to he brynt in a gleid." 3
When Wallace saw she ner qftvitt couth weidt*
In his armis he caught her soberly.
And said,"Dear heart, tvAa has mis'done aught? I?"
" Nay, I," quoth she, "has falsely wrought this train,
** I have you sold ! right now ye will be slain !"
She told him of her treason till an end
As I have said ; what needis mair legend ?
At 5 her he speir'd giff' she Jbrthought ^ it sare :
" Wa ! yea," she said, " and shall do evermare !
" My ivaryed tmerd'' in world I mon 8 fulfill :
" To mend this 'miss I would bum on a hill !'*
« Cursed. {Werian. Sax.) * So MS.— Ed. 1790. his.
3 "Deserved to be burnt in a coal fire.
* She could not imagine any contrivance ?
5 0/ her he asked, &c. ^ Repented.
7 Destiny. ' Must.
6
[ 361 ]
He comfort her, and bade her have no dreid ;
** I will," he said, " have some part of thy xveid." *
Her gown he took on him, and courches * als :
*' Will God I shall escape this treason false,
" I thee forgive !'* withoutyn wordis mairt ■
His kissyt her, syne took his leave to fare.
His burli/ ^ brand that help'd him oft in need.
Right privily he hid it under that weid, *
To the south gate the gaynest ^ way he drew.
Where that he found of army t men eneui. ^
To them he told, dissemblyt countenance,
" To the chamber, where he was upon chance,
" Speed fast !" he said ** Wallace is lockyt in !"
Fra him they sought withoutyn noise or din,
To that same house ; about they can them cast.
Out at the gate than Wallace gat full fast.
Right glad in heart when that he was without,
Right fast he yeide, ' a stour pace, and a stout.
Tvoa him beheld, and said, " We will go see !
" A stalwart « quean, forsooth, yon seems to be.'*
Him they followit, &c.
(BooklV. ver. 731, &c.)
The abruptness of this author's manner has very
' Dress. * Kerchief, from couwecAef. Fr. that which
covers the head. ' Shakspeare uses the word for huge ;
but It seems to be derived from the Old French word bouira
(bourrer, frapper,) to strike. La Combe. * Clothing.
5 ReadiesU ^ Enough. ' Went. * Bold.
[ 362 ]
often a dramatic effect, and gives considerable life
and spirit to his narrative, which, on account of
his blindness, he was unable to diversify with those
beautiful pieces of picturesque description in which
the Scotish poets in general have so particularly
excelled. The relation of Wallace's fishing adven-
ture in the first book ; that of his engagement with
the " red reifiar" (rover) ^ in the ninth ; and seve-
ral smaller incidents, dispersed through the work,
are sketched with singular ability, and prove that
Henry was a great master of his art, and that he
deserved the popularity which he acquired among
his countrymen, and which he continues to retain,
after the lapse of more than three centuries.
Of the almost numberless editions of this work,
the most elegant, and apparently the most correct,
is that of Perth, 1790, in three small volumes, which
professes to be exactly copied from the MS. in the
Advocates' library at Edinburgh.
The only poets who occur in the reign of Ed-
ward IV. are, Joi^n Harding, whose chronicle is
beneath criticism in point of composition, and can
only be an object of curiosity to the antiquary :
John Scogan, whose pretended jests were pub-
lished by Andrew Borde, a mad physician in the
court of Henry VHL, and John Norton and
George Ripley, whose didactic poems on the sub-
ject of alchymy are preserved, together with much
C 363 ]
other trash, in the strange farrago edited by Ash-
mole, under the title of " Theatrutn Chemicum."
But the greatest literary curiosity of this reign
is the work of the Lady Juliana, sister to Richard
Lord Berners, and prioress of the nunnery of
Sopewell, which was written in HSl, and publish-
ed soon after at the neighbouring monastery at St
Albans. It contains treatises on hawking, hunting,
and heraldry : in all of which the good lady seems
to have rivalled the most eminent professors of those
arts. A second edition, which was printed at Lon-
don by Wynkyn de Worde, in 1496, contains an
additional treatise on the art of angling ; as also a
sort of lyrical epilogue to the book of hunting,
which is not entirely devoid of merit. In the third
edition (printed partly by Robert Toy, and partly
for him by William Copland), the treatise on he-
raldry is wanting ; but the epilogue is preserved.
It is as follows :
To have a Jaithful friend.*
A faithful friend would I fain find.
To find him there he might be found ;
But now is the world wext so unkind.
That friendship is fall to the ground.
• Tti'n title is from Toy'i ed.— W. de Worde'f, from
which the text is giveo, hqs none.
C 364. 3
Now, a friend I have found,
That I will neither ban ' ne curse?
But, of all friends in field or town.
Ever gramercy mine own purse.
My purse it is my privy wife :
(This song I dare both sing and say :)
It parteth men of muche strife,
When every man for himself shall pay.
As I ride in rich array
For gold and silver men will mejlourish :
By this matter I dare well say
Ever gramercy mine own purse.
As I ride with gold so rede^
And have to do with landys law.
Men for my money will make me speed.
And for my goods they will me knavoe :
More and less to me will draw.
Both the better and the worse :
By this matter I say in savoe ^
Ever gramercy mine own purse.
It fell by me upon a time.
As it hath doo by many one two,
' Execrate.
* Probably^atfer; but the rhyme is indefensible^
' Proverbially.
C 865 3
My horse, my neat, my sheep, my swine.
And all my goods they fell me fro :
I went to my friends and told them so ;
And home again they bade me truss :
I said again, when I was wo.
Ever gramercy mine own purse.
Therefore I rede you, sires all,
To assay your friends or ye have need :
For, and ye come down and have a fall.
Full few of them for you will grede.^
Therefore, assay them every one.
Both the better and the worse. —
Our Lord, that shope both sun and moon,
Send us spending in our purse !
The treatise on hunting, though written in rhyme,
has no resemblance to poetry : the other parts of
the work are professedly written in prose.
Mr Warton notices, as contemporary with dame
Juliana, William of Nassynoton, a proctor in
the ecclesiastical court of York, who translated, in
1480, into English verse, a Latin essay on the Tri-
nity, written by John of Waldenby, an Augustine
friar of Yorkshire. About the same time was pub-
lished an anonymous work, called The Calen-
dar OF Shepherds, translated from tlie " Cakn-
' Cry, lament.
C 366 3
drier des Bergers.'* It is a sort of perpetual alma-
nack, consisting of mingled prose and verse, and
containing, like many of our modern almanacks,
a vast variety of heterogeneous matter.
A ballad written by Anthony Widville or
WooDvyLLE, EARL OF RiVERS, during his con-
finement in Pontefract Castle (vide Percy's Re-
liques, vol. II. p. 44, last edit, or Ritson's An-
cient Songs, p. 87), completes the catalogue of
English poetry for this period.
Among the minor poets of Scotland, at this time,
the most conspicuous, perhaps, is Robert Henry-
souN, of whose life, however, no anecdotes are
preserved, except that, according to Sir Francis
Kinaston, his Latin translator, he was a school- ,
master at Dunfermling. His Testament and Com-
plaint of Cresseide are to be found in Urry*s edi-
tion of Chaucer, and several of his poems are in-
serted in Lord Hailes's extracts from the Banna-
tyne MS. Among the best of these is the popular
ballad of Robene and Makyne ; but the most sin- '
gular is the following, which is called
The Garment of good Ladies.
Would my good lady love me best,
And work after my will,
I should a garment goodliest
Gar make her body t ill.
■ Cause to be made to her shape.
C 367 3
Of high honour should be her hood.
Upon her head to wear,
Gamish'd with governance, so good
Na deeming should her deir. »
Her sark * should be her body next.
Of chastity so white ;
With shame and dread together mixt, ■
The same should be ■perfyu '
Her kirtle should be of clean Constance,
Lacit with lesum * love ;
The mailyeis ^ of continuance,
For never to remove.
Her gown should be of goodliness.
Well ribbon'd with renown ;
PurfiWd ^ with pleasure in ilk place,
Furrit with fine fashioQn.
Her belt should be of benignity,
About her middle meet ;
' No opinions should dismay her; 1. 1, ihe should have
no cause to fear censure.
» Shift. ^ Perfect. ♦ Loyal.
' Net-work, Fr. ; here it means the eyelet-holes for la-
cing her kirtle.
^ ParfiUf Fr. ; fringed, or bordered. ^ Each.
I 368 ]
Her mantle of humility,
To thoU* both wind and iioeit.*
Her hat should be of fair having,
And her tippet of truth ;
Her patelet of good pansing, *
Her haU-ribbon of ruth.'^
Her sleeves should be of esperance>
To keep herj^a despair :
Her glovis of* good governance.
To hide her fingers fair.
Her shoen should be of sichernesse^ ^
In sign that she not slide ;
Her hose of honesty, I guess,
I should for her provide.
Would she put on this garment gay,
I durst swear by my seill, '
That she wore never green nor gray
That set s her half so <voeill. »
Lord Hailes, in his notes on this poem, which
he supposes to be " a sort of paraphrase of 1 Tim.
* Suffer. * Wet. 3 Thinking. I (Jo not understand
the word patelet (patellette. Fr.) unless it mean lappet.
♦ Her neck-ribbon of pity. ^ So the MS. — Lord Hailes
inserts the inaccurately. ^ Security, steadiness.
' Felicity. » Became. » Well.
[ 369 ]
** ii 9 — 11," observes very justly, that the com-
parison between female ornaments and female vir-
tues is carried so far as to become " somewhat
ridiculous." But this strange conversion of the
virtues into the stock in trade of an allegorical
raantua-maker was first conceived by Olivier de la
Marche, who, in a poem intitled " Le parement et
*' trioniphe des dames d' honneur," recommends
to the ladies slippers qfhumiliii/f shoes of diligence,
stockings of perseverance y garters of** ferme pro-
pos," {i. e. determination,) a petticoat of chastity ^
a pin-cushion of patience, &c.
Such was the taste of the age : but the following
fine moral poem, the next in the same collection,
will shew that Henrysoun's talents were fitted for
a better employment than that of imitating Olivier
de la Marche.
The Abbey WalL *
I.
Alone as 1 went up and down
In an abbey was fair to see,
* Lord Hailes gave this title to the succeeding poem from
•ne mentioned in " the C'omplaynt of Scotland." He adds,
'♦ If the study ofScoiub history should ever revive, a new
" edition of Inglis'i Complaint would be an acceptable pre-
" sent to the public." For this acceptable present we are In-
debted to the ingenious Mr I^eydeo ot Ldinbur^b, who has
lately reprinted the very curious work in queiition with the
most scrupulous fidelity, and added a preliminary disserta-
tion and glossary, abounding with antiquarian learning.
VOL. I. 2 A
C 370 ]
Thinkand what consolation
Was best into adversity ;
On case ^ I cast on side mine ee, *
And saw this written upon ' a wall :
" Of what estate, man, that thou be,
" Obey, and thank thy God of* all!"
II.
Thy kingdom, and thy great empire.
Thy royalty, nor rich array,
Shall nought endure at thy desire.
But, as the wind, will wend away.
Thy gold, and all thy goodis gay.
When fortune list, wiliyra thee fall :
Sen thou sic ^ samples sees ilk day.
Obey, and thank thy God of all !
IV.
Though thou be blind, or have an halt.
Or in thy face deformit ill,
Sa it come not through thy default,
Na man should thee repreif^ by skill.
Blame not thy Lord, sa is his will !
Spurn not thy foot against the wall ;
But with meek heart, and prayer still.
Obey, and thank thy God of all.
' By chaDce. ' Eye. ^ So MS. not on.
* For. 5 Such. « Reprove,
[ S71 ]
God, of his justice, mon ■ correct ;
And, of his mercy, pity have ;
He is ane judge, to none suspect.
To punish sinful man and save.
Though thou be lord attour the laify *
And afterward made bound and thrall,
Ane poor beggar, with scrip and staiff"^
Obey, and thank thy God of all.
This changing, and great variance
Of earthly statis, up and down,
ts not but * casualty and chance,
(As some men sayis without ressovm) *
But by the great provisioun
Of God above, that rule thee shall !
Therefore, ever thou make thee boun *
To obey, and thank thy God of all.
VII.
In wealth be meek, heich ' not tliyself ;
Be glad in wilful poverty ;
Thy power, and thy worldis pelf.
Is nought but very vanity.
Must. * Above the rest : literalli/, betide the rest. Fr.
Stair. ♦ Only. ' Reateo.
Ready. ' Kialt.
C 372 3
Remember, him * that died on ire •
For thy sake tastit the bitter gall :
Wha heis ' low hearts, and laxaeis he, *
Obey ; and thank thy God of all !
(P. 105.)
Patrick Johnstoun is only known to us by a
single specimen of 64 lines, printed in Lord Hailes's
collection. The following are the most striking
stanzas.
The three dead Potuis. '
I.
O sinful man ! into this mortal se, ^
Which is the vale of mourning and of care,
With gaistly ' sight behold our headis three.
Our holkit eyn, our peilit powis bare ! *
As ye are now, into ' this world we were ;
Ah fresh, als fair, ah lusty to behold.
When thou lookis on this sooth exemplair.
Of thyself, man, thou may be right un-bold.
III.
O wanton youth ! ah fresh as lusty May,
Fairest of*° flowers renewit white and reidy
Behold our heads, O lusty gallants gay !
Full earthly ** thus shall lie thy lusty heidy
'He. * On the cross. ^ Exalts. ♦ Lowers high.
^ Polls, skulls. *5 Seat, residence. ^ Ghastly, or
mental sight ? » Bald, bare skulls. » !„. lo wjth.
" So the MS. — Lord liailes prints, inaccurately, loathly.
[ 373 ]
Holkitf and Aow, and toallffwit as the voeed. *
Thy crumplind * hair and eke thy chrystal ejm
Full carefully conclude shall duleful deid ; *
Thy example here by us it may be seen.
IV.
O ladies, white in claithis * coruscant ^
Polish'd with pearl and many precious stangy
With palpis white, and hah {es) ^ elegant,
Circlit with gold and sapphires many ane ;
Your fingeris small, white as whalis haiiCj '
Array*d with rings and many rubies reid ;
As we lie thus, so shall ye lie ilk ane
With peelit potoisy and holkit thus your heid !
VI.
This question who can absolve, let see,
What phisnamour ^ or ferfyt palniister,
' Holkit and how are nearly synonymous, both meaning
hollow, emaciated : waltowit is faded.
* Curled, like tendrils. Lord Hailes prints crampland,
inaccurately.
3 Mournful death shall put an end to, &c.
* Clothes. 5 Dazzling. ° Necks.
7 This does not mean what we call whalebone, nor indeed
any bone, but the tooth or horn of thcnartcti;, or unicorn-fish
which was employed for many of the purposes of ivory.
* Physio|;oomist.
t 374 3
fVha was fairest or foulest of us three ?
Or which of us of kin was gentiller ?
Or maist excellent in science or in tare.
In art music, or in astronomy ?
Here shoulde be your study and repair,
And think as thus all your headis mon be !
(Page 139.)
Another Scotish poet of this period is Mersar,
whose Christian name is not known ; and of whose
talents the following small poem, extracted from
Lord Hailes's collection, affords the only specimen :
Peril in Paramours.
I.
Alas ! so sober * is the might
Of women for to make debate
In contrair mennis subtle slight.
Which are fulfiUit with dissait ; *
With treason so intoxicate
Are mennis mouthis at all hours.
Whom in to trust no woman txait, ^
Sic peril lies in paiamours !
' Small, weak. * Deceit. * Knows.
C 375 ]
II.
Some swearis that he loves so tveill
That he will die without remeidy
But gife that he her friendship feel
That garris * him sic languor lead :
And though he have no doubt of speed.
Yet will he sigh and show great showers,
As he would sterf'e into that steid ! *
Sic peril lies in paramours !
in.
Athis ' to swear, and gifts to hcchtf *
(More than he has tliirty fold ! )
And for her honour for to fechtj
While that his blood becomis cold !
But,yra she to his xkUUs yoldy
Adieu, farewell thir summer flowers !
All groivs in glass that sccviil gold : ^
Sic peril lies in paramours !
IV.
Than tumis he his sail anon,
And passes to another port ;
* Causes. * Die in that place. ' Oaths. ♦ Promise.
' The su?)stitulion of ^lass for silver or golden drinking
vessels suggested this proverbial phrase, which is not un-
conmon amongst our early poets.
C 376 ]
Though she be never so wo-begone,
Her caris cold are his comfort.
Herefore I pray in termys short,
Christ keep these birdis bright in botuers *
Fra false lovers, and their resort !
Sic peril lies in paramours !
(P. 156.)
'It has been already observed that the expression birdi
(i. e. brides) bright in bowers was a poetical cirruinlocutioa
for women.
C 377 ]
CHAPTER XV.
Reign of Henry FII. — WiUiam Dunbar.-^
Gawin Douglas. — Minor Poets of the Reign
— Stephen Hawes.
W iLLiAM Dunbar, the greatest poet that Scot-
land has produced, was born about the year 1465,
at Salton, in East Lothian, and became a travel-
ling novice of the Franciscan order, in which cha-
racter he visited several parts of England and
France ; but, disliking this mode of life, he return-
ed to Scotland, where he died in old age about
1530. *• In his younger years," says Mr Pinker-
ton, " he seems to have had great expectations
** that his merit would have recommended him to
" an ecclesiastical benefice, and frequently in his
" small poems addresses the king to that purpose,
*' but apparently without success. I have in vain
" looked over many calendars of charters, &c. of
" his period, to find Dunbar's name ; but suspect
" that it was never written by a lawyer."
Mr Warton, » ho has bestowed great commen-
dations on Dunbar, observes that his genius is pe-
culiarly " of a moral and didactic cast ;" and it is
certainly in such pieces that he is most confessedly
[ 378 ]
superior to all who preceded, and to nearly all
who have followed him ; but his satires, his allego-
rical and descriptive poetry, and his tales, are all
admirable, and full of fancy and originality.
The following specimen, which was apparently
written in his youth, since it is stated to have been
composed at Oxford, during his travels in England,
is strongly marked by that turn of mind which is
attributed to him by Mr Warton.
Lair is vain laithovi Governance. *
To speak of science, craft, or sapience.
Of virtue, moral cunning, * or doctrine ;
Of truth, of wisdom, or intelligence;
Of every study, lair, or discipline ;
All is but tynt, ^ or ready for to tyne, *
Not using it as it should usit be.
The craft exercing, ^ achieving " not the fine :
A perilous sickness is vain prosperity !
The curious probation logical ;
The eloquence of ornate rhetoric ;
The natural science philosophical ;
The dark appearance of astronomy ;
' Learning is vain without good conduct. ^ Knowledge.
^ Lost. 4 Lose. 5 Exercising.
^ So I venture to print it. Mr P. gives eschewing.
[ 379 ]
The theologue*s sermon ; the fable of poetry ;
Without good life all in the salf does de, "
As Mayis flowers does in September dry :
A perilous life is vain prosperity !
Wherefore, ye clerkis, greatest of Constance,
Fullest of science and of knowledging,
To us be mirrors in your governance !
And in our darkness be lamps of seeing!
Or than in vain is all your long lerlng! *
Gyjio your saws your deedis contrair be,
Your inaist ^ accuser is your own cunning :
A perilous sickness is vain prosperity.
[Pinkerton's Anc. Scot. Poems, p. 106.]
The following is still more beautiful :
Meditation tvrttten in Winter.
I.
Into thir * dark and druhlie ^ days,
When sable all the heaven arrays,
When misty vapours clouds the skies,
' I do not understand the word ialf ; perhaps it is «//.
Riiddiman observes, that (J. Douglas, and other authors op
that time, constantly wrote fhr self for itself.
* Learning. "• Most, grealcst.
♦ In these. * Troubled. (Pinkerton's Glossary.)
6
[ 380 ]
Nature all courage me denies
Of song, balladis, and of plays*
II.
When that the night does lengthen hours,
With wind, with hail, and heavy showers,
My dule spreit * does lurk^r schoir ; *
My heart for languor does ^ forloir^ *
For lack of Summer with his flowers.
III.
I wake, I turn ; sleep may I nought ;
I vexed am with heavy thought ;
This world all o'er I cast about :
And aye the mair I am in doubt.
The mair that I remeid have sought.
IV.
I am assay'd on every side.
Despair says aye, ** In time provide,
" And get something whereon to leif; 3
" Or, with great trouble and mischief,
" Thou shall into this court abide."
. ' Mournful spirit.
'Terror? (Pink. Gloss.) perhaps it may mean/or sjtre,
i. e. certainly.
3 Ought it not to be is ? ♦ Forlorn. s Live.
C. 381 ]
V.
Than Patience says, " Be na aghast ;
" Hold hope and truth within thee fast ;
'* And let Fortune work forth her rage ;
" When that no reason may assuage,
" While that her glass be run and past.'*
VI.
And Prudence in my ear says aye,
" Why would you hold what will away ?
" Or crave what you may have no space
•* [To brook, as] to another place
" A journey going every day ?
vir.
And then says Age, " My friend come near,
" And be not strange I thee requeir ;
" Come brother, by the hand me take I
" Remember, thou has 'compt to make
" Of all the time thou spendit here !"
VIII.
SynCy Deid ' casts up his gatis wide.
Saying, *' Thir * open shall thee 'bide :
» Then Death.
* These thall wait for you nlwaji open.
[ 382 3
*' Albeit that thou were ne'er so stout,
" Under this lintel ' shall thou lout : *
** There is none other way beside."
IX.
For fear of this, all day I droop.
No gold in Jcist, ^ nor wine in coop, *
No lady's beauty, nor love's bliss.
May lilt s me to remember this.
How glad that ever ^ I dine or sup.
Yet, when the night begins to short.
It does my spreit some part ' comfort,
, Of thought oppressit with the showers.
Come, lusty Summer, with thy flowers.
That I may live in some disport !
[Pinkerton, p. 125.]
It is pleasant to observe in this fine poem the
elastic spirit of Dunbar struggling against the pres-
sure of melancholy : indeed it appears that his mo-
rality was of the most cheerful kind. We have
* The beam over a door.
* Bend, stoop, bow. ^ Chest.
* In cup ? or barrel ? ^ Prevent. ^ Soever.
' In some respects, in some degree.
[ 383 ]
seen the description of his own feelings, and the
following stanzas contain his advice to others.
No Treasure voithout Gladness.
I.
Be merry man ! and take not far in mind
The wavering of this wretchit world of sorow !
To God be humble, and to thy friend be kind.
And with thy neighbours gladly lend and borrow:
His chance to-night, it may be thine to-morrow.
Be blithe in heart for any aventure ;
For oft with voysure ' it has been said q/orroxv^ *
Without gladness availis no treasure.
II.
Make thee good cheer of it tliat God thee sends.
For worldis tvrak ^ but welfare, nought avails :
Na good is thine, save only but thou spends;
Remenant all thou brookis but ■vcith bales. *
Seek to solace when sadness thee assails :
In dolour Inn^r thy life may not endure ;
Wherefore of comfort set up all thy sails :
Without gladness availis no treasure.
' Wisdom.
* A-fore, before.
^ Merchandise, treasure.
* Thou caiut cDJoy all the rcmaioder only witii hale, er
torrow.
[ 381- 3
iir.
Follow on pity ; ' flee trouble and debate ;
With famous folkis hold thy company ;
Be charitable, and humble in thine estate,
For worldly honour lastis hut a cry ; *
For trouble in earth take no melancholy ;
Be rich in patience, gif\ho\i in goods be poor;
Who livis merry, he livis mightily :
Without gladness availis no treasure.
IV.
Thou sees tJiir wretches set with sorrow and care.
To gather goods in all their livis space ;
And, when their bags are full, their selves are bare.
And of their riches but the keeping has ;
While others come to spend it, that has grace.
Which of thy winning no labour had nor cure.
Take thou example, and spend with merriness :
Without gladness availis no treasure.
V.
Though all the tnerk ^ that ever had livand wight
Were only thine, no more thy part does fall
But meat, drink, clais^ * and of the laif^ a sight !
Yet, to the judge thou shall give 'compt of all.
* Originally pit^ and pieti) are the same. (Rudd. GlubS.)
* No longer than a sound. ^ Possessions.
* Clothes. 5 Remainder.
C 385 ]
Ane reckoning right comes of ane ragment * smati.
Be just, and joyous, and do to none injure.
And truth shall make thee strong as any wall :
Without gladness availis no treasure.
(Lord Hailes's Ane. Scot. Poems, p. 54.)
In these specimens we see much good sense and
sound morality, expressed with force and concise-
ness. This indeed is Dunbar's peculiar excellence.
His style, whether grave or humorous, whether
simple or ornamented, is always energetic; and
though all his compositions cannot be expected to
possess equal merit, we seldom find in them a weak
or redundant stanza.
But his most admired and most truly poetical
works are the Thistle and the Rose^ and the Golden
Targe.
The first of these was composed for tlie marriage
of James IV. of Scotland, with Margaret, eldest
daughter of our Henry VII., an event wliicli is
likely to have produced many invocations to the
Muses, but which probably was hailed by very few
paneg3rric8 so delicate and ingenious as this of
Dunbar. In the age of allegory and romance, when
a knowledge of heraldry was a necessary accom-
plishment, it was natural enough to compliment
' Accompt,
vo^ I. 2 b
[ 386 ]
the royal bridegroom, under the character of a
lio7i, (part of the arms of Scotland,) or under that
of the thistle ; and to describe the bride as tlie
rosCy proceeding from the joint stems of York and
Lancaster : but it required considerable ingenuity
to call into action these heraldic personages. The
poet has recourse to a dream, in which he supposes
himself accosted by May, who desires him to ce-
lebrate in a poem the return of spring. She then
introduces him into a delicious garden, to which
all organized beings are summoned to appear before
the goddess Nature^ who crowns the lion, the eagle,
and the thistle, as kings of beasts, birds, and plants,
recommending at the same time to each many im-
portant moral and political maxims. To the pro-
tection of the thistle she particularTy consigns the
rose, whom she represents as " above the lily"
(the house of Valois,) and whom she also invests
with a crown, so brilliant as to illumine all the
land with its light : at which joyful event, an
universal song of gratulation from the birds inter-
rupts the progress of the poet's vision.
. In this singular but ingenious allegory Dunbar
has interwoven a number of rich and glowing de-
scriptions, much excellent advice, and many deli-
cate compliments, without any fulsome adulation.
** The Goldin 'I'erge" is, perhaps, still superior to
[ 387 ]
the Thistle and Rose ; at least snch seems to have
been the opinion of ^ir David Lindsay, who, in
estimating the poetical genius of Dunbar, says,
that he —
" language had at large,
" As may be seen intill his Golden Targe.**
[Compl. of the Papingo, Prol.]
This poem is a moral allegory, the object of
which is to shew the gradual and imperceptible
influence of love, which even the golden target
of reason cannot always repel. The poet walks
out in a vernal morning, which he describes much
at large, and in the most glowing language : the
second stanza may be taken as a good specimen of
his style.
Full angel-like thir birdis sang their hoicrs »
Within their curtains green, within their bowers,
Apparell'd with white and red, with bloomys sweet.
Enamell'd was the field with all colours :
The pearlit drops shook as ifi silver showers.
While all in balm did branch and leavis^^*.*
Departyra Phcebus did Aurora greit : '
Her chrystal tears I saw king on the flowers,
Which he, for love, all drank up with his heat.
[Ld. Hailes's Anc. Sc. P. p. 8.]
' JJatim, heures. Ft. * Float. » Weep.
C 388 ]
After some time —
What through the merry fowlis harmony,
And through the river's sound that ran me by,
On Flora's mantle I sleepit where I lay ;
Wliere soon, unto my dreamis fantasy,
I saw approach, again the orient sky,
Ane sail as blossom [white] upon the spray,
With mast of gold, bright as the sterne* of day.
Which tended to the land full lustily
dWith swiftest motion through a chrystal bay.]
And, hard on board, into the blemit * meads,
Amangis the green rispis ^ and the reeds,
Arrivit she ; where-fro anon there lands
An hundred ladies, lusti/ intili weeds, '
Als fresh as flowers that in the May up^spreidsy
In kirtles green, withoutin kell ^ or bands,
Their bright hair hang glitterand on the strand,
Ip tresses clear -wypit ^ with golden threids,
Vfithpaivpis"^ white, and middles small as wands.
[P. 9]
These are allegorical ladies, viz. Nature, Venus,
Aurora, &c.
' Star.
=• Bloomed. 3 Bulrnshes. * Pleasing in their attire.
^ Cawls, or caps, to confine their bair.
6 Whipped or tied, or inwoven. ' Breast^.
C 389 ]
Full lustily thir ladies, all injeiry^
Enterit within this park of maist pleseiTy
Where that I lay heilit * with leavis rank :
The merry fowlis, blissfullest of cheer,
Salust ^ Natilre, methought, in their maneir ;
And every bloom on branch and eke on bank
Opnit * and spread their balmy leavis dank,
Full low inclinand to their queen full clear,
Whom for their noble nourishing they thank.
The ladies are followed by a male group, con-
sisting of Cupid and various other gods, who invite
them to dance. The poet, quitting his ambush to
view this spectacle, is discovered by Venus, who
bids her keen archers arrest the intruder. Her
attendants, dropping their green mantles, discover
their bows, and advance against him. These assail-
ants are Youth, Beauiy, &c. whose darts are long
ineffectual against the golden targe of Reason, till
at length Presence (i. e. the habit of seeing the
beloved object) throws a magical powder into the
eyes of Reason, and the poet is overpowered by
his allegorical adversaries, tempted by DissimU'
lance, terrified by Danger, and delivered over to
Heaviness ; after which Eolus blotcs a bufrle ; o
storm arises, and the ladies take to their ship, which
• Together. * Covered, ' Sainted. ♦ Opened.
C S90 ]
disappears, after a discharge of artillery so loud
that the rednbow seemed to break, while the smoke
rose to the firmament. This strangely terrible in-
cident seems to have been introduced for the pur-
pose of contrasting with the beautiful appearance
of real nature, to which the poet is awaked.
Sweet was the vapours, and soft the morrowing.
Wholesome the vale depaynit with flowers ^wg-, &c.
The poem conclifdes with some laboured compli-
ments to Chaucer, Gower, and Lydgate.
Of Dunbar's comic pieces, all of which possess
Considerable merit, the most excellent are his two
tales of the tvoo married Women and the Widow,
and the Friars of Berwick. The latter, in parti-
cular, is admirable ; but its merit would evidently
be lost in an abridgment.
I believe that no edition of this elegant and ori-
ginal writer has y€t been published.
Gawin Douglas, bishop of Dunkeld, was bom
ia the end of 1474, or in the beginning of 1475.
He was third son of Archibald, the great Earl of
Angus ; was educated at St Andrews, is supposed
to liave spent some time in travelling, and on his
return to Scotland became provost of St Giles**
church in Edinburgh. In 1514, the queen-mother
(who afterwards married his nephew the earl of
C 391 ]
Angus) presented him to the abbey of Aberbro-
thic, and soon after to the archbishopric of St
Andrews ; but, the pope having refused to confirm
his nomination, he never assumed the title. In
the next year ( 1515) he became Bishop of Dun-
keld ; and, after some struggle, obtained peaceable
possession of that see : but neither his ecclesias-
tical character, nor his learning, nor his many
virtues, were able to preserve him, in those times
of violence, from the proscription which involved
the whole family of Douglas ; so that, towards the
dose of the year 1521, he was compelled, by the
persecution of the Duke of Albany, to seek for pro-
tection in England, where he died about the month
of April, 1522.
The only remaining works of this poet are, 1.
King Hart ; 2. The Palace of Honour ; and 3. A
Translation of Virgins JEneid. Mr Pinkerton has
printed the first of these, from a MS. In the Mait-
laiid collection, in his Ancient Scutish Poems
(2 vols. 1786), and the second, from the edition
of 1533, in the first volume of his Scotiih Poems,
(3 vols. 1792). Of the third there have been two
editions, of whicti the best is tliat of Edinburgh,
1710, published by Mr Ruddiman, with an excel*
lent life of the author (by Bishop Sage), and a
very curious and valuable glowarv.
[ 392 ]
King Hart is an allegorical representation of
human life. The heart, being the noblest part of
man, is represented as his sovereign ; and the court
of this imaginary monarch is composed of the se-.
veral attributes of youth. King Hart is assaulted
by Queen Pleasance, whom, after a long resistance,
he marries. At length. Age arrives at their castle,
and insists on being admitted : Age is immediate-
ly followed by Conscience ; queen Pleasance takes
her departure ; Decrepitude attacks and wounds
the king, who dies, ader making his testament.
The Palace of Honour is also an allegory ; the
general object of which is to represent the vanity
and instability of worldly glory, and to shew that
virtue is the truest guide to happiness. The plan of
this work Vas, perhaps, suggested by the Sejour
d'Honneur of Octavien de St Gelais : but as the
merit of such works is now thought to consist only
in the accidental beauties which they may be found
to possess, their contrivance and fabric is scarcely
worth analyzing. St Gelais, who was a great
translator, made a French version of the ^Eneid,
which, though miserably executed, may possibly
have recommended him to his author's notice.
Gawin Douglas began his translation of the
^neid in January, 1512, and finished it, together
with the supplement written by Mapheus Vegias,
C 393 ]
in July, 1513' Tlie completion of such a poem in
eighteen months, at a time when no metrical ver-
sion of a classic (excepting Boethius) had yet ap-
peared in English, is really astonishing : for the
work is executed with equal fidelity and spirit, and
is farther recommended by many beautiful speci-
mens of original poetry, which, under the name of
prologues, are prefixed to each of the thirteen
books, and from which the following specimens of
the author's style are selected.
The prologue to the seventh book is a descrip-
tion of winter, consisting of 165 lines, but the
reader will probably be satisfied with a very short
sketch of this dismal picture.
The time and season bitter, cold, and pale.
They short dayis that clerkis ' clepc * bnimale t
When brym blastis of the northern art J
O'erwhelmyt had Neptunus in his cart.
And all to-shake the leavys off tlie trees,
The ragca lid storms o*er-welterand* tvalli/ ' seas;
Rivers ran red on spate,^ with water brown.
And bumis'' harlis^ all their bankis down ;
' Learned men. * Call. ' Arcturus.
♦ Rolling over. ' Wavy. <* loam.
f Rivulets. ' Drags.
C 394. ]
And land-hirst * rumbland rudely, with sic beret*-
Sa loud ne'er rmnmyst ' wild lyoun nor bear.
Floods monsters, sic as mere stuinis,* and whales.
For the tempest, low in the deep devales. ^
The soil y sowpit, into the luater wak, ^
The firmament o*ercast with cloudis black ;
The ground fadit, and Jauch ' ijoox all the fields,
Mountain-tops sleekit with snow over-hields, ^
On raggit rockis, of hard harsh luhyn-stane.
With frozen fronts, cold clynty^ clewis*° shane.
Beauty was lost ; and barren shew the lands.
With frostis ha)-e" o*erfret'* the fieldis stands;
J^Sere hirtir hubbis, ^3 and the shoutis snell,*^
Seem'd on the sward in simiUtude of hell;
Reducing to our mind, in every stead,
Gousty '* shadows of eild and grisly dead :]
Thick drumly^^ skuggis *' darkened so the heaven !
Dim skyis oft forth noarpit ^s fearful levin, ^^ &c.
In this description, and throughout the whole pro-
* Landsprings, accidental torrents. * Noise.
' Roared. * Sea-hogs, i. e. porpoises. ^ Descend. Fr.
® Moist with water. 7 Fauve, Fr. fawn-coloured.
8 Covered. » Hard, flinty. >° Cliffs.
*' Hoar. '^Embroidered. '^ Many huge blasts.
** Piercing. '^ Ghastly. '^ Muddy, opaque.
'? Shadows. *8 Threw. '» Lightning.
[ 395 3 •
logue, tbe proi^ect seems to be designedly crowd
ed and even eacumbered with dreadful inoages :
but it must be confessed that the English reader
£nds himself still further bewildered by a number
of uncouth words, some of which are scarcely ren-
dered intelligible by Ruddiman's excellent glos«
sary.
It has been observed that, during the fourteenth
century, the difference between the Scotish and
English dialects was scarcely perceptible ; and that
those persons who are familiarized with the phra-
seology of Chaucer will find no difficulty in under-
standing that of Barbour and Wyntown : whereas
the diction of Gawin Douglas is far more obscure,
and even in appearance more antiquated and obso-
lete, by near a century, than that of writers who
preceded him. The fact is notorious ; and its
causes may be worth tracing.
The Danish and Anglo-Saxon, the supposed pa-
rents of the Scotish and English languages, were
distinct dialects of the elder Gothic : but, in the
infancy of literature, tlie poets of both countries,
being equally dissatisfied with the poverty of their
respective jargons, and conscious of the superior
elegance which appeared in the French minstrel
compositions, vied with each other in borrowing
from these favourite models as hiaiiy words and
phrases as it was possible to incorporate with
[ 396 1
their native forms of speech. In consequenfce of
this practice, the two languages seem to have
attained, about the middle of the 14th century,
their greatest degree of similarity. But these fo-
reign words, being once naturalized, could not fail
of undergoing considerable alterations ; because
the broader vowel-sounds, the gutturals, and the
strongly aspirated accents of the Scots differed
equally from the French and English pronuncia-
tion ; and this difference was preserved and in-
creased, on both sides, by discordant and capri-
cious systems of orthography. At the same time,
as the number of readers increased, the writers be-
came desirous of accommodating themselves to
the general taste ; and consequently began to trans-
plant from colloquial into literary language a va-
riety of popular expressions, which, being pecu-
liar to the one country, were obscure, or even un-
intelligible, to the natives of the other.
Gawin Douglas, indeed, was so far from seeking
popularity from English readers, that, in his excuses
for his defects of style, he only laments the impos-
sibility of making it purely and exclusively Scotisli.
And yet, forsooth, I set my busy pain
(As that I couth) to make it brade * and plain :
* Broad.
[ 397 ]
Keepand no sodrouk, ' but our own lan-
guage,
And speak as I learn'd when I was ane page.
Na yet so clean all sodroun I refuse,
"But SOME WORD I PRONOUNCE as neighbours does.
Like as in Latin bene Grewe ' termes some,
So me behovit, whilom (or be dumb).
Some bastard Latin, French, or Ynglis ' ois, *
Where scant was Scottis : I had none other choice.
[Preface.]
The most beautiful of all Gawm Douglas's pro-
logues is that of the twelfth book : it is hoped there-
fore, that the reader will pardon the length of the
following extract in favour of the splendid imagery
which it exhibits. It is a description of May.
As fresh Aurora, to mighty Tithone spouse,
Jschit s of her saffron bed, and evyr ^ house.
In cranmesy ' clad, and grainit violet.
With sanguine cape, the selvage purpurate,
Un&hut the windows of her large hall
Spread all with roses, and full of balm royall:
And eke the heavenly portis chrystalline
UrwarpU 3 trade the world till lUumene.
**♦*••
» Southern, English. * Greek. ' EnglUh.
4 Use. ' Issuetb. • Ivory.
7 CramoUi, Ft. criujwn, ? Draws up.
[ 398 3
Eom, the steed, with ruby hammifs * red.
Above the seais lifts forth his head.
Of colour sorct * and some-deal brown as berry.
For to alighten and glad our hemispery.
The flame out brastin at the neiss-thirlis. ^
While shortly, with the Uesand* torch of day,
Abvdyeit^ in his lemand^ fresh array
Forth of his palace royal ischit Phebus,
With golden crown, and visage glorious ;
Crisp hairis, bright as chrysolite, or topase.
For vohais hue might nane behold his face ;
The fiery sparkis brasting from his een.
To purge the air, and gild the tender green.
***** *
The aureate fanis of his throne soverane
With glitterand glance o'erspread the octiane ; '
The large floodis lemand all (^ light.
But with ane blenk * of his supernal sight.
For to behold it was ane glore ' to see
The stablyt windis, and the calmyt sea,
* Yoke. Vide Rudd. Gloss.— Or qu. amies?
* Yellowish-brown. Fr. 3 Nostrils.
♦ Blazing.
5 HahilU, dressed. The final i was in Old Fr. written eit.
^ Gleaming, shining. ^ Ocean.
• Look, glance. » Glory. Fr.
C 399 ]
The soft seasoune, the firmament serene,
The loan * illuminate air, saxd^rth amene ; *
The silver-scalit fishes on the grete, '
O'er-thwart clear streams sprinkillnnd* for the heat.
With finnis shinand brown as synopare,^
And chisel tailis stirrand here and there.
And lusty Flora did her bloomes sprede
Under the feet of Phebus* sidyeart ^ steed :
The sxvardit soil enbrode'' with selcouth^ hues,
Wood and forest obumbrate with the bexjos ; *
Whais blissful branches, portray'd on the ground^
With shadows sheen, shew rochis '° rubicund,
Towers, turrets, kirnals " and pinnacles high,
Of kirkis, castles, and ilk fair city ;
Stood paintit every fane, phioll, '* and stage.
Upon the plain ground by their own umbrage.
And blissful blossoms, in thebloomytyarrf,"'
Submits their heads in the young sun's safe-guard.
Ivy leaves rank o'erspread the barmkyn '♦ viall ;
The bloomit hawthorn clad his pykis '* all :
* Clean. • Pleasant water, frith. ^ Gravel.
* Gliding swiftly with a tremulous motion of their tails.
' C innabar. ^ Sultry ^ Lmbroidered. * Uncommon. Sax.
9 Boughs '• Kocks. " Crenelles, Fr. battlements.
'* Cupula ; fiole, Fr. •' Garden. Vide supra p. 303-4, note.
•♦ Alound oT wall ; from barme, Old Fr. the bank of a river.
•5 Thorns.
[ 400 ]
Forth of fresh hurgeouns ' the wine-grapis ^ing
Endlang the trellis did on twistis king. *
The lockit buttons on the gemmyt trees,
Cerspreadand leaves of nature's tapestries.
Soft grassy verdure, after balmy showers.
On curland stalkis smilmid to their flowers,
Beholdand them sa many divers hue,
Somepe?rs,5 somepa^e,* some burnety^stxiA. some blue,
Somegres, some wtf/es, ^ some purpure, some san-
guane,
Blanckitf'' or brown, Jauck-i/ellGtv^ many ane ;
Some, heavenly-colour'd, in celestial gre, '
Some, watery-hued, as the haiv-walli/^° sea;
And some, departe in freckles, red and white.
Some bright as gold, with aureate leavis lyte.^^
The daisy did un-braid her crownel smalcy
And every flower un-lappit in the dale.
The flourdelyce forth spread his heavenly hue,
Flovter cfomas, ** and columbe '^ black and blue.
Sere downis small on dentilion sprang.
The younggreenblooraitstrawbfirry leavescTwaw^;
' Buds, Fr. ^ Hang.
3 Light blue, Fr. * Light yellow, Fr.
s Brumt, Fr. brownish. ^ Red.
' Whitish, Fr. ^ Fawn-coloured yellow.
» Grit, Fr. ; sky-blue. *° Dark waved.
" Little, " The damask rose. '^ Columbine.
C 401 ]
Gimp * gilliflowers their own leaves wi'schet, *
Fresh primrose, and the purpour violet. •
The rose-knoppis, tetand^ forth their head,
Gan chypy ♦ and kytk * their vernal lippis red ;
Crisp scarlet leavessome sheddand ; — baith at anes,*
Cast fragrant smell amidyra golden grains.
Heavenly lilies, with lohkerand'' toppis white,
Open*d, and shew their crestis redemyle. '
The balmy vapour from their silken croppis '
Distilland halcsum *° sugar'd honey-droppis —
So that ilk burgeon,'^^ scion, herb, or flower,
Wox ** all embalmyt of the fresh liquour.
And bathit hait '^ did in dulce humoxirs JletCf **
Whereof the bees wrought their honey sweet.
On salt streams xvolk '^ Dorida and Tlietis ;
By rynnand *^ strandis, Nymphs, and Naiades,
' Pretty. ' Unshul, open. ' Peeping.
* Burst their calix. ^ Shew.
" Both at once, i. c. while Fomc buds were expanding,
other roses were bhedding their leaves.
^ Curling like locks or ringlets of hair.
8 Crowned. ' i leads.
'■^ Wholesome. " Itud, or sprig. Fr.
'* drew. '3iroe. •♦Float.
•' Walked ? ** IJunninj^.
VOL. I. 2 r
C 402 3
Sic as we clepe wenches and dami/sellis.
In gers^ gravis * voanderand by spring-wellis ;
Of bloomed branches, and flouris white and red,
Plettand* their lusty chaplets for their head.
Some sang ring-songist ^ dances, ledis, * and rounds.
With voices shrill uhile all the dale resounds.
Whereso they walk into their caroling
For amorous lays does all the rochis ring.
Ane sang " The ship sails over the salt^ame *
*• Will bring thir ^ merchants and my leman hame."
Some other sings " I will be blithe and light,
*' My heart is lent upon so goodly wight."
And thoughtful lovers rownyis ' to and fro.
To leis 8 their pain, and plene ' their jolly woe ;
After their guise, now singandy now in sorrow.
With heartis pensive, the lang summer's morrow.
Some ballads list endite of his lady ;
Some lives in hope ; and some all utterly
Despairit is ; and sa^ quite out of grace.
His purgatory he finds in every place.
Before we proceed to take notice of the English
poets of this reign, it will be necessary to mention
two more Scotish writers, whom Gawin Douglas has
associated with Dunbar in the Palace of Honour.
'Grassy groves. 'Plaiting.
3 Rondeaux ? But vide Rudd. Gloss.
* Lays ; fejrf, cantilena. Teut. 5 foam. ^ These or those.
7 Whispers. * Lose. ^ Complain, lament.
C 403 ]
" Of this nation I knew alse anon
** Great Kenneoie and Dunbar, yet undead,
** And QuiNTXNE, with an huttock * on his head."
[P. II. St. xvii.]
The first of these^ Wai,ter Kennedy, a native of
Carrick, and the contemporary of Dunbar, is only
known to us by two satires on Dunbar in their
Jlyting (scolding or lampooning), and by a poem
in praise of age, (p. 189 of Lord Hailes's collec-
tion), consisting of five stanzas. One of these will
be sufficient to give some idea of his style, though
it may not quite justify the honourable epithet be-
stowed on him by the bishop of Dunkeld.
This world is set for to deceive us even,
Pride is the net, and covetise is the train :
* This word, which Mr Pinkertoo leaves unexplained,
«eeins to be two French words in disguise — haute toque.
Toque is described by Cotgrave to be " a (fashion of) bon-
" net or cap, somewhat like our old courtier's velvet cap,
" irom ordinarily by $cholart, and some old men."
I have been favoured by two ingenious friends in Scot*
land with different explanations of this obscure term. — One
of them says — " It is the Buchan and east-coast pronuncia-
" tien of huddock,& little hood, which was probably a caw/:"
^the other, — " Huttock and huttockie seems to be a dirai-
*' nutive, formed from hut or hat in a manner very common
" in some provinces of Scotland, particularly the western.
" Thus we have biltock and bitlockie, lassok and Uusokie,
*' &c. &c. { I therefore incline to think Quintyn Schaw's
** head-dress must have been a small hat, instead of a haut^
'^toque."
[ 404. ]
For no reward (except the joy of heaven)
Would I be young into this world again !
The ship of faith tempestuous wind and rain
Drives in the sea of lollardry that blatos : *
My youih is gone, and 1 am glad and fain ;
Honour, with age, to every virtue draws.
Of the second of these poets, Quintyn Schaw,
one specimen only remains, which is printed by
Mr Pinkerton, from the Maitland MS. Its title
is, " Advice to a Courtier^** which may possibly
account for the head-dress assigned to him in the
Palace of Honour. Quintyn's style seems to have
been easy and familiar ; but having begun his poem
with an idea of the resemblance between the life of
a courtier and that of a mariner, he has introduced
so many sea-phrases and maritime allusions, as to
render his language almost unintelligible. The con-
cluding stanza, however, which contains the moral,
is sufficiently clear.
Dread this danger, good friend and brother.
And take example before of other. *
Know, courts and wind has q/isi/s ^ varied :
Keep well your course, and rule your rudder ;
And think with kings ye are not married !
[Anc. Sc. P.p. 134.]
' Blows. * Of others before you .>
' Oft-sithes, i. e. oftttime?.
C 405 3
Amongst the English contemporaries of Dunbar
and Douglas Mr Warton enumerates these f^ho
follow. Henry Bradshaw, noonk of the Bene-
dictine monastery of St Werburg in Chester, a mi-
serable imitator of Lydgate, who wrote in stanzas
the life of his patroness saint, daughter of a king of
the Mercians:* Robert Fabian, the historical
alderman, f who is classed as a poet in consequence
of the metrical prologues prefixed to the books of
his Chronicle : John Watton, a priest, who wrote
some miserable rhymes for the purpose of enliven-
ing his theological tracts called " Speculum Christi-
ani** (Machlinia, about 1483) : and William
Caxton, the celebrated printer, who, besides his
rhyming introductions and epilogues, is supposed by
Mr Warton to be the author of a poem of consider-
able length, entitled " The Werk of Sapience," X a
folio containing 37 leaves, printed by himself. But
the only poets who deserve any attention are,
Alexander Barclay and Stephen Hawes ;
• •' The holy life and history of Saynt Werburge, very
" frutefull for all chricten people to rede." Piiisoi., liJSI,
4to. Vide Kilson's liiblio^raphia ; and Warton, vol. II,
p. 176. Bradshaw died in 1513.
f h'abinn died, arrording to Stow, in ISll.
^ Mr Kitson (liibiioKraphia) observes, that this is more
justly attributed to Lydgate. though from the prologue Cax-
ton appears to be fcha author. Vide alstf Herbert's Anes*
9
C *06 1
fhiB first of whom is mentioned with much praise by
the ingenious author of" The Muses' Library," and
the second by Mr Warton.
Barclay is by some supposed to have been a
native either of Gloucestershire, Somersetshire, or
Devonshire ; while others, even among his contem-
poraries, assign him to Scotland : indeed, as Mr
Ritson observes (Bibl. Poet.), both his name of
baptism and the orthography of his surname seem
to prove that he was of Scotish extraction. In his
youth, perhaps about 14*95, he is said to have
become a student of Oriel College, Oxford, where
he was patronized by the provost, Thomas Cornish,
suffragan bishop of Tyne, to whom he afterwards
dedicated his Skip of Fools. Having travelled, he
became chaplain to the College of St Mary Ottery,
Devon, then Benedictine Monk of Ely, and at
length took the habit of Franciscans at Canterbury.
On the dissolution of his menastery, Wood informs
us, he became vicar «f Much-Badew in Essex, and
in 1546 of St Matthew at Wokey in Somersetshire.
Lasdy, he had from the dean and chapter of
Canterbury the church of All-Saints in Lombard-
street, London, which he held till his death in 1552,
which took place at Croydon in Surrey, where,
from his first eclogue, he appears to have lived in
liisyouth, Woodsays, " in his younger days he was
C 407 ]
" esteemed a good poet and orator, as several spe-
" cimens of his composition in those faculties shew-
" ed, but when years came on, he spent his time
" mostly in pious matters and in reading the his-
" tories of Saints." He was a voluminous wri-
ter, particularly of translations, which were much
admired by his contemporaries, as being distki-
guished by an ease and fluency which are not to
be found in any other author of his age ; but his
poetical merit seeoK to have been a good deal
over-rated.
His smaller pieces are, I. The Castle of Labour,
an allegorical poem from the French, in seven-line
stanzas (W. de Worde, 1.506, 4to.) \l. The Mirror
of good Manners (printed by Pinson), in the bal-
lad-stanza, from the Latin elegiacs of Dominicus
Mancinus de quatuor virtutibus, undertaken to
oblige Sir Giles Alyngton, who had wished him to
abridge or modernize Gower's Confessio Araantis.
III. Five Eclogues, compiled in his youth : the three
first, paraphrased with very large additions from
the Miseriae Curialium of Eneas Sylvius, treat of
" the myseryes of couriers and courtes of all
" prynces in general :" the fourth, (in which is a
long poem in stanzas, called the Tavoer of Virtue
and Honour, being an elegy on the death oi the
Auke of Norfolk, lord high admiral, introduced a^
C 408 ]
a song of one of the shepherds), " conteynlug
" the maner of the riche men anenst poets and
" other clerkes :" and " the fifth, of the cytezen
*• and up londyshman :" all printed by Pinson or
de Worde, and the three first by Humfrey Powell
(4to without date). Besides these, he was the au-
thor of some less important pieces, as well as a tract
" de Pronuntiatione Gallica," and a prose transla-
tion of Sallust's Jugurthine War, at the command
ofTliomas, duke of Norfolk, twice printed in folio
by Pinson. From the eclogues, supposed by Mr
Warton to be the first written in English, he has se-
lected a number ofpassages which, though they have
uo other merit, contain some curious particulars re-
lating to the manners and customs of the time (see
a long note, vol. II. p. 253, Hist. Eng. P.).
But Barclay's principal and most popular work
was his Ship of Fools, a poem in the octave-stanza
paraphrased " out of Laten,Frenche, and Doche,'*
i. e. from the German original written in 1494 by
Sebastian Brandt, a learned civilian and eminent
philologist of Basil, and two translations into French
and Latin, the latter by James Locher, a scholar
of the inventor, printed in 1497. To these, says
Mr Warton, he made " considerable additions
*' gleaned from the follies of his countrymen.**
" The design was to ridicule the reigning vices and
[ 409 ]
" follies of every rank and profession, under the
" allegory of a ship freighted with Fools of all kinds,
" but without any variety of incident, or artificial-
" ity of fable." " Our author's stanza is verbose,
" prosaic, and tedious : and for many pages toge-
" ther, his poetry is little better tlian a trite ho-
'* mily in verse. The title promises much charac-
" ter and pleasantry : but we shall be disappoint-
" ed, if wc expect to find the foibles of the crew
" of our ship touched by the hand of the autlror of
** the Canterbury Tales, or exposed in the rough,
" yet strong satire of Pierce Plowman.** The
book is not common, though twice printed (by
Pinson in 1509, and Cawood 1570, both in folio,
the latter containing his Eclogues and Mirror) ;
but thre reader who shall turn to the extracts from
it, contained in Warton's history, and in " the
Muses' Library,'* will probably not much lament
their omission in this i^lace.
Stephen Hawes was a native of Suffolk, and,
like Barclay, after an academical education at Ox-
ford, travelled (according to Wood) in England,
Scotland, France, and Italy, and " became," says
Mr Warton, '* a complete master of the French
** and Italian poetry,'* On his return to England,
he obtained an establishment (as groom of the
cliaraber) in th6 royal household; a reward, per-
C 410 ]
haps, for accomplishments so congenial to the taste
of Henry VII., who was a great admirer of French,
as well as a patron * of English poetry.
Hawes's principal work is the Pastime of Plea-
sure, the title of which in Tottd's edition is as
follows : " The History of graund Amoure and la
*' bel Pucell called the Pastime of Pleasure, con-
** teyning the knowledge of the seven sciences,
** and the course of man*s lyfe in this worlde. In-
" vented by Stephen Hawes, grome of King Hen-
" ry the seventh, his chamber." And Mr War-*
ton is of opinion, that " this poem contains no
" common touches of romantic and allegoric fic-
" tion ;" that *' the personifications are often hap-
" pily sustained, and indicate the writer's fami-
" liarity with the Provencial school ;'* and that
*• Hawes has added new graces to Lydgate's man-
" ner.*'f It is, however, very doubtful whether
* Henry V II. was seMom extravagant in bis donations ;
and yet we find ia his household accounts the sum of lOO
shillings paid to Master Barnard, a blind poet, in return, as
it seems, for his poetical compositions.
f Wood says, " he was much esteemed by Henry VII.
" for his facetious discourse and prodigious memory ;
" which last did evidently appear in this, that he could
** repeat by heart most of our Lnglisb poets ; especially Jo.
*' Lydgate, a monk of Bury, whom he made eqtucl in some-
" respects with Geff. Chaucer. ""^
[ 411 ]
every reader will concur in this favourable opinJoB
of Stephen Hawes's merit.
Ground Amour (true Gallantry), the hero of the
piece, falls asleep and sees a vision. He receives
from Fame the first account of La Belle Pucelle
( perfect Beauty ) , and is by her referred for farther
particulars to the Tower of Doctrine- Here, cer-
tainly, is a beginning very much in the spirit of the
times ; but the subsequent conduct of the poem is
not very well calculated to gratify the impatience
of any reader who shall have taken a lively inte-
rest in the success of Ground Amour a passion.
An accurate knowledge of the seven sciences, viz.
grammar, logic, rhetoric, arithmetic, music, geo-
metry and astronomy, does not seem to be indis'*
pensably requisite to the success of a love adven-
ture. These sciences, it is true, are all ladies ;
but many of them are dreadfully prolix in their
instructions. The two following stanzas are not
offered as the best specimen of this author's style,
but they are part of the hero's conversation with
dame Grammar ^ who has (as she ought to have)
the merit of being more concise than dame Rheto-
riCf dame MusiCf &c.
" Madam," quod I, " for as much as there be
*• Eight partes of speech, I would know right fain
" Wliat a noun substantive is in his degree,
[ 412 ]
" And wherefore it is so called certain ?"
To whom she answer'd right gentely again.
Saying alway that a noun substantive
Might stand without help of an adjective.
" The Latin worde, which that is referred
*' Unto a thing which is substantial,
** For a noun substantive is well averred,
" And with a gender is declinal ;
'* So all the eight partes in general
" Are Latin words annexed properly
" To every speech, for to speak formally.'*
..... [Cap. v.]
The education of Graund Amour, which, how-
ever, is somewhat enlivened by a meeting with his
mistress, whom he had not hitherto seen, occupies
rather more than one half of this pastime of plea-
sure; after which he begins his military career,
for the purpose of obtaining Belle Pucelle. But
here the attention of the reader is very unexpect-
edly diverted to a strange personage, who calls
himself Godfrey Gobelive, but who turns out to
be False Report disguised as a fool. Godfrey calum-
niates the whole female sex, and relates two tales,
copied from the French fabliaux. The first is the
Lay of Aristotle^ the second nearly resembles that
of Hippocrates \ but the adventure is attributed t»
[ 413 ]
Virgil the enchanter, who, in return for tlie trick of
the basket, inflicts on his fair enemy a punishment
too disgusting to mention. After this gross and
imnecessary episode, our allegorical hero achieves
some marvellous adventures^ and obtains posses-
sion of his mistress. But the story does not stop
here ; for Ground Amour proceeds to relate his
own death and burial ; and how Remembrance set
his epytaphy over his grave ; and how Time came
suddenly into the Temple ; and how dame Eternity
tame into the Temple, in a fair tohite vesture, and
of the speech she made ; after which comes " the
excusacion of the aucthoure."
Throughout the work, Hawes has studiously imi-
tated the style of Lydgate, but he has generally
copied his worst manner. He is diffuse, fond of
expletives, and his epithets add nothing to the
sense. Ot his more laboured diction the reader
will judge from the following stanza: —
Her redolent words, of sweet influence,
Dcgouted vapour most aromatic.
And made conversion of my complacencti
Her dcpur'd and licr lusty rbetoric
My courage rcform'd that was so lunatic.
My sorrow defeated, and my mind did modify.
And my dolorous heart began to pacify.
[Cap. xxxvin.]
[ 414 ]
The reader, when he has witnessed the final So-
lemnities of her " grete manage" with Ground
Amour f will perhaps take his leave of La BeUePu-
eelle without any extraordinary reluctance.
And she took her leave — I kist her lovely;
I went to bed, but I could not sleep ;
For I thought so much upon her inwardly,
Her most sweet looks into ray heart did creep,
Piercing it through with a wound so deep ;
For nature thought every hour a day,
Till to my lady I should my debt well pay.
Then Perseverance ^ in all goodly haste,
Unto the steward, called Liberality,
Gave warning for to make ready fast.
Against this time of great solemnity.
That on the morrow hallowed should be :
She warned the cook called -Temperance,
And after that the sewer Observance,
With Pleasance the panter, and dame Courtesy
The gentle butler, with the ladies all ;
Each in her office was prepared shortly.
Against this feast so much triumphall :
And La Belle Pucelle then in speciall
Was up betime in the morrow gray,
Right so was I when I saw the day.
8
t: 415 3
And right anon La Belle Pucelle me sent.
Against my wedding, of the satin fine
White as the milk, a goodly garment
Branded with pearl that clearly did shine ;
And so the marriage for to determine
Venus me brought to a royal chapel
Which of fine gold was wrought every deal.
And, after that, the gay and glorious -
La Belle Pticelle to the chapel was led
In a white vesture fair and precious.
With a golden chaplet on her yellow head ;
And Lex Ecclesice did me to her wed :
After which wedding there was a great feast ;
Nothing we lacked, but had of the best.
What should I tarry by long continuance
Of the feast ? for of my joy and pleasure
Wisdom can judge withouten variance
That nought I lacked, as ye may well be sure,
Paying the sweet due debt of nature.
Thus with my lady that was so fair and clear.
In joy I lived full right many a year.
[Cap. XXIX.]
The Pastime of Pleasure has been thrice print-
ed ; the first time by Wynkyn de Worde, in 1517 ;
again by John Wayland, in 15'A; and by Richard
C 416 3
Tottell, in 1555. The first and last of these are
** adorned with wooden cuts, to make the reader
** understand the story better," as we are informed
by Wood. Hawes's other works are, the Temple
of Glass (which however is ascribed to Lydgate in
the Pastime of Pleasure, cap. XIV.) ; written, as
it appears, in imitation of Chaucer's Temple of
Fame : ** The Conversion of Siverers" in octave-
stanzas, with Latin lemmatta, by W. de Worde,
1509, 'tto. ** Ajoiffull Medytacyon to all Englonde
*' of the Coronacyon of our moost naturall Sove-
*' rayne lord kynge Henry the eyght ;'* a single
sheet in 4<to, without date, by the same printer :
(this is preserved in the library at Cambridge, and
is ornamented with a curious wooden cut of the
coronation of Henry VIII. and Catharine of Ar-
ragon.) " A compendyous story, and it is called the
" Example of Vertu, in the "whiche ye shall fynde
** many goodly story s, and naturall dysputacyonSf
" bytivenejbure ladyes, named Hardynes, SapyencCy
** Fortune and Nature ;** printed by ditto, 1530:
The Consolation of Lovers : The Delight of the
Soul : Of the Princess Marriage : The Alphabet of
Birds : one or more of which, according to Wood,
were written in Latin, and, perhaps, never printed.
C 417 3
Having heenjavoured by afriend^ since the present
volume tvas finished, with an Extract from the
original MS. of R. de Brunne's Translation of
Wace, containing the account of Arthur's Coro-
nation, •which has been already given in the Latin
of Geoffrey of Monmouth, the French of Wace,
the Saxon of Layamon, and the rude English of
Robert of Gloucester ; — / here stiijoin it for the
satisfaction of the curious reader, by way of com'
pleting the series.
When the masses were done,
And homeward were all ban, *
The king did off his tire * there.
That he to the kirk bare.
And took another of less price :
The queen did the same wise.
The king into his paleis.
And sate at the meat that ilk tueis : ^
The queen till another yede.
And the ladies with her 'gan lead.
' Bonn, ready.
^ Attire ; unlets it be a corruption of tiara, as the origi-
nal mentions his croton. ' At that time ? iltd tice ?
VOL. r. 2d
C 418 ]
Sometime was custom of Troy,
When they made feast of joy,
Men together should go to meat ;
Ladies by themself should eat.
That ilk usage was at the feast,
The women come among the guest,
The women withouten men should h&i
But serviters of meyne. *
The king was up at the deSf*
About him th6 mickle press ;
About him the lordes sate,
Jlka lord after his state.
Sir Kay was steward chosen of all.
To serve before the king in hall.
His clothing was rich and fine.
And the pelore 5 of ermine.
With him served before the king
A thousand in the same clothing.
Out of the kitchen served Sir Kay
And all his fellows that day.
Sir Beduer on that other part)e
He served of the buttery.
With him was clad in ermine
A thousand that brought the wine.
* The household. * the high table.
3 Fur.
C 4.19 ]
The king's cup Sir Beduer bare ;
He yede before that there were.
After him come all the rout
That served the barons all about.
The queen was served richly ;
Her servants was signed* ready
In all office for to serve
And before tho ladies keroe* *
Many vessel was there rich.
Of ser 5 colours not all luJie. *
Of meats many manner service,
And ser drinkes on that wise.
All the nobley couth I not tell,
Ne might stonde thereon to dwell.
The naiAes to say of the richess,
Ne the men of prowess,
Ne the courtesy, ne the honour ;
Of christianty there was the flower.
Was there no knight so high of blood,
Ne had so mickle worldes good,
That therefore should be holden of price,
BtU he in deed were proved thrice ;
Thrice proved at the least ;
Then was he alosed ^ at the fea?t :
' Assigned. * Carve. ' Sere, many, several.
♦ Alike, uniform. ' I suppose this must mean
prahed, commended ; from the French and old Eog. worrf
lei, but I never saw the verb before.
[ 420 3
Then should his armes that men knew
And his clothing all o' hue :
That same queintise ' his armes had.
In that same he should be clad :
His wife was clad in the same colour,
For her lord was of honour.
If ane were doughty and single man.
He should che * him a lemman : '
Else should he not be loved,
But he had been in battle proved.
Tho ladies that were holden chaste,
For no thing would no do waste,
Tho ladies were clad in one.
And by their clothing men knew illcon.
When they had eaten and should rise,
nk man dight him on that wise
That he couth in play :
Unto the field he took his way.
And parted then in stedes sere *
To play ilkon on their manere.
Some justed that couth and might.
For to show their steedes light :
Some skipped, and cast the stone.
And some wrestled full good tcone, *
' Device.
* CAe, for chest, u e. choose.
^ Mistress. * Many places.
^ For a long time.
C 4.21 ]
Darte shotte, lances cast,
And tho that couth skirmed ^ fast :
Ukon played the gamen he couthf
And maste * had used in his youth.
That best did in his playing.
He was brought before the king.
And the king gave him meed.
That he was payed or he i/ede.
The ladies on the walls stegh, '
For to behold all their play.
Whoso had leman thore in place
Toward him turned the face.
On both sides ilk other beheld,
Tho on the walls, tho in the feld.
Jogelours* weren there enow.
That their quaintise^ forthe drouhe ;^
Minstrels many with divers glew,''
Souns of hemes ' that men blew,
Harpes, pipes, and tabours,
Filholsy ' citoUeSy ** sautreourSf "
Belles, chimes, and si/nfan, '*
Other enow neiien ^^ I ne kan ; **
' Skirmithed. * Most. ^ Stood.
♦ Jugglers. ' Contrivanres, instruments.
^ Drew. ^ Glee, game. * Sounds of trumpetf.
' Perhaps, fiddles. — '° Cymbals. — " Dulcimers.
'* Si/mphonier, a sort of drum. '^ Name.
•♦ Ken not? or, can not ? - ,
[ 422 ]
Songsters, that merry sung,
Sound ofglew over all rung ;
Disours enow telled fables ;
And some played with dice at tables ;
And some at the hazard fast,
And lost and won by chance of cast.
Some, that willed not of the tattler^*
Drew forth meyne * of the chequer.
With draughts quaint of knight and roke.
With great slight Uk other snol^ ; *
At ilk mating they said " check i'*
That most les sat in his nek. *
Three days lasted the feste ;
I trow was never none as dMit.
And when it come Wednesday,
That the folk should part away.
The king gave giftes rich.
Tho to his service were briche, ^
And for their service held their fees,
He gave them burghs and cites ;
* This probably signifies, " Some, that did not choose to
" attend to the talker, played at chess,"
* The force, retinue.
3 I do not understand this word.
* Perhaps " He who lost the most staked his neck F' or
" sat naked ?'* Vide the Fr. of Wacc.
^ I do not understand this word.
[ 423 ]
Abbot and bishop avanced his rent.
Or they fro the court went.
That of other londes were,
That for love come there,
He gave steeds and cups of gold,
(None richer aboun mould*)
Some gave he hauberks^ * some greyhounds,
Some rich robes worth many pounds,
Some mantels with vdr and grisy ^
And some mazers * of rich price.
Some helms and hauberks.
Good palfreys he gave to clerks ;
Bows and arrows he gave archers ;
Runces * good unto squiers.
Some he gave habergeons, *
Some plates, and some actons ; '
Some he gave knives o^plyght^
And some swords richly dight.
Unto disours, that tell'd them gestes.
He gave clothes of wild bestes.
* Upon the earth.
* Qiu Ought this to be " hawks ?"
' Veir is a variegated fur ; grls, that of the grey squirrel.
* Cups. O. Fr. 5 Horses. O. Fr.
' Coats of mail.
^ A strong quilted leathern covering for the body, ^uo
qutton. O. Fr.
[ 424. 3
Some gave he pelore of ennine,
Some lavaur ' of silver with basin.
Was there none ought worthy.
That he ne gave him blithely ;
After that his state was lyftCy *
So he rewarded him with gyft.
* Ewer. Fr. ■ Exalted.
EiJD OF VOLUME FIBST.
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