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Modern Language Association 















I. King Ponthus and the Fair Sidone [MS. Digby 185, Bodleian 
Library. Editio princeps, with facsimile]. By F. J. 

II. Spenser's imitations from Ariosto. By R. E. NEIL DODGE, 151 

III. The Christian coloring in the Beowulf. By F. A. BLACK- 
BURN, 205 

IV. The Manuscript, Orthography, and Dialect of the Hilde- 

brandslied. By FREDERICK H. WILKENS, - - -226 

V. Some unpublished poems of Fernan Perez de Guzman. By 


VI. Literature and Personality. By CALVIN THOMAS, - - 299 
VII. Learned and karn'd. By GEORGE HEMPL, - - - - 318 

VIII. A study of the metrical structure of the Middle English 

poem Pearl. By CLARK S. NORTHUP, - 326 

IX. Gaston Paris: Romance philologist and member of the 

French Academy. By H. A. TODD, - - - - 341 

X. Pastoral influence in the English Drama. By HOMER 

SMITH, 355 

XI. On the original form of the Legend of Sigfrid. By JULIUS 

GOEBEL, 461 





Proceedings of the Fourteenth Annual Meeting of the Modern 
Language Association of America, held at the Western Re- 
serve University, Cleveland, Ohio, December 29, 30, 31, 1896. 

Report of the Secretary, .... iii 

Report of the Treasurer, - iv 

Appointment of committees, - v 

Report of committee in communication with the Central Division, v 

1. Learned, karn'd and their kin. By GEORGE HEMPL, - - vii 

2. Goethe's Sonnets. By HENRY WOOD, - vii 

3. Machiavelli and the Elizabethan Drama. By EDWARD 

MEYER, vii 

4. Recent work of the Rumanian Academy. By B. D. WOOD- 

WARD, vii 

5. On the morality Pride of Life. By ALOIS BRANDL, - - xiv 
Address of welcome. By C. F. THWING, xiv 

Address by the President of the Association, CALVIN THOMAS. 

Subject: Literature and Personality, - - - xv 

6. Diseases of English prose: a study in rhetorical pathology. 

By F. N. SCOTT, - - xv 

7. Gaston Paris : Romance philologist and member of the French 

Academy. By H. A. TODD, xv 

8. The Cronica de los rimos antiguos. By C. C. MARDEN, - xv 

9. The primitive-Teutonic Order of Words. By GEORGE H. 

MCKNIGHT, --------- xv 

10. A study of the metrical structure of the Middle English 

poem Pearl. By CLARK S. NORTHUP, xv 

Report of committee on place of meeting, xvi 

11. Etiquette books for women in the Middle Ages. By MARY 

N. COLVIN, --- - xvi 

12. The geographical boundaries of the lea- and che- districts in 

the north of France. By F. BONNOTTE, - - - xvi 

13. Spenser's debt to Ariosto. By R. E. NEIL DODGE, - - xvi 



14. Keport of the work of the Modern Language Association of 

Ohio. By ERNST A. EGGERS, - xvi 

15. The novels of Hermann Sudermann : Der Katzensteg, and the 

light it throws on the general theme of his works. By 

LAWRENCE A. McLouTH, ------ X vii 

16. b after r and I in Gothic. By GEORGE A. HENCH, - - xxi 

17. The so-called eye-rimes in o in Modern English. By 


18. College entrance requirements in French and German. By 

CHARLES H. THURBER, ------ xx i 

Appointment of a Committee of Twelve to consider the place of 

Modern Languages in secondary education, - xxii 

Keport of auditing committee, xxiii 

Election of Officers, - xxiii 

Final vote of thanks, - -._ xxiv 

List of Officers, xxv 

List of Members, xxvi 

List of Subscribing Libraries, xxxviii 

Honorary Members, xl 

Roll of Members Deceased, xli 

The Constitution of the Association, xlii 


Proceedings of the Second Annual Meeting of the Central 
Division of the Modern Language Association of America, 
held at St. Louis, Mo., December 29, 30, 31, 1896. 

Addresses of welcome, xlvii 

Address by the President of the Central Division, W. H. CAR- 
RUTH, ----------- xlvii 

Keport of the Treasurer, - - - xlix 

Appointment of committees, 1 

Report of the Secretary, li 

Report of the Committee on Organization, - ... m 

1. New interpretation of passages in Chaucer's Prologue. By 




2. On the original form of the Sigfrid saga. By JULIUS GOEBEL, liii 

3. Goethe's influence a possible factor in Schopenhauer's pessim- 

ism. By OTTO HELLER, liii 

4. Shakspere in the Seventeenth Century. By E. P. MORTON, Ivi 

5. Experimental Phonetics. By RAYMOND WEEKS, - Ivi 

6. Christian coloring in the Beowulf. By F. A. BLACKBURN, - Iviii 
Report of the committee on place of meeting, - lix 

7. Modern Languages in College entrance requirements. By A. 



8. A view of the views about Hamlet. By A. H. TOLMAN, - Ixii 

9. The Finnsburg Fragment. By G. L. SWIGGETT, ... Ixii 

Election of Officers, Ixiii 

Report of the auditing committee, - - - - - - Ixiii 

Vote of thanks, Ixiii 

10. A proposed reconstruction of the English verb-paradigm on 

a logical basis. By J. M. DIXON, - Ixiii 

11. The Mind and Art of Poe's poetry. By J. P. FRUIT, - - Ixiv 

12. Notes on Slang. By J. W. PEARCE, Ixiv 








Apology will scarcely be necessary for printing an inedited 
English version of the story of King Horn, and, while the 
present chivalresque dilution of Horn et Rimel adds practi- 
cally nothing to the general history of the legend, Ponthus 
has claims of its own to the attention of students of fifteenth 
century English. It was impossible for me to edit the French 
original ; the reasonable limitations of publication in this 
Society's annual volume, forbade the reprinting of my tran- 
script of Wynkyn de Worde's edition of 1511; my edition 
then assumes logically the modest proportions of an accu- 
rate reprint of the earliest and most interesting version of 
the English Ponthus, that of the Oxford MS. Digby 185. 
Where emendation appeared absolutely necessary, I have used 
my transcripts of the French original, MS. Royal 15, e. VI of 
the British Museum, and Wynkyn de Worde's print. I must 
crave indulgence for the inadequate study of this popular 

ii F. J. MATHER, JR. 

romance in its manifold versions offered in the introduction. 
Only the spare time of a summer in England, chiefly devoted 
to the mechanical work of transcription, was available for 
this purpose. The actual writing was of necessity done with 
only the scanty resources of my own books and those of a 
small library. Where practically nothing has been done, my 
notes may at least be of service to some more favored investi- 
gator. I could easily have trebled the amount of annotation 
by treating the portions of Ponthus which are derived directly 
from Horn et Rimel, but this is, I believe, properly the work 
of the future editor of the Old French poem. I have gathered 
the important or difficult proper names into an alphabetical 
index. The few words that the professional student of Eng- 
lish might wish to have explained, or the lexicographer, 
recorded, I have thrown into a glossary at the end of the 

The pleasant duty remains of thanking those who have 
helped me in the preparation of this edition. The officers 
and attendants of the British Museum MS. room, of the Cam- 
bridge University Library, and of the Bodleian Library, 
extended to me all possible courteous assistance. Mr. George 
Parker, of the last-named library, did me a peculiar favor in 
early bringing to my attention the Digby MS., unrecorded 
in the scanty bibliography of Ponthus. Dr. J. W. Bright 
of Johns Hopkins University has helped me materially in 
seeing the text through the press ; Dr. W. H. Schofield con- 
tributed the entire section on the Scandinavian rimur; and 
Dr. J. D. Bruce of Bryn Mawr sent me many suggestions, 
utilized in the introduction and notes, from the proof sheets. 
To all these, my most cordial thanks. May it some time fall 
my chance to show them, in Ponthus' words, that " the? be 
noo curtesie doon to a good hert bot that it is yolden agane." 

F. J. M., JR. 



INTRODUCTION, ---------- iv 


Origin, date, relation to Horn et Rimel, - iv 

Manuscripts of the French Ponthus, - . - - - xviii 
Early printed eds. and subsequent history of the ro- 

mance, ......... xxi 


The Digby MS. and Douce Fragments, - xxiii 

Language of the Digby MS., - xxviii 

Wynkynde Worde's ed. of 1511, ..... xxx 

Relations of the two English versions, ... xxxiii 


THE PONTUS-RIMUR, ....... xliv 



NOTES, ........... li 


GLOSSARY, .......... Ixiv 

THE DIGBY TEXT, ......... 1-150 




Just as the story of Melusine w^s written to glorify the 
family of Lusignan so the romance of Ponthus was written 
in honor of a member of the famous Tour Landry family of 
Anjou. Montaiglon, in the introduction to his edition of Le 
Livre du Chevalier de La Tour Landry 1 (Paris, 1854), has 
collected the little that is known of the Ponthus de La Tour, 
for whom our romance was named. The famous knight 
Geoffroy de La Tour Landry left a son, Geoffroy, who died, 
leaving his widow in possession of the family estates. Her 
second husband, Charles, assumed the name of La Tour and 
thus became head of the family. Their second son was our 

In 1424, this Ponthus gave tithes of his estates at Cor- 
nouaille, to the convent of St. John the Evangelist at Angers. 
The 21 Mar., 1431, he was a sponsor (6tage) at the wedding 
of the Count of Montfort and Yolande, daughter of the queen 
of Sicily. He appears to have been present at the battle of 
Formigrey in 1450. It concerns us immediately only to know 
that his activity covered the second quarter of the fifteenth 
century, and that in this quarter-century, in any case, some 
years before 1445, the probable date of the Royal MS., the 
French Ponthus was written. 

Montaiglon (Intr., p. xxiij f.) continues : II est aussi bien 
a croire que c'est lui qui a fait e*crire par quelque clerc le roman 

1 Wright, in his ed. of The Book of the Knight of La Tour-Landry (E. E. 
T. S., No. 33, Intr., pp. viii ff), summarizes Montaiglon's study, but fails to 
make the genealogy of Ponthus of Tour-Landry sufficiently clear. 


de chevalerie de Ponthus, fils du roi de Galice, et de la belle 
Sidoine, fille du roi de Bretaigne, souvent rSimprime" ; c'e"tait 
un moyen de populariser 1'illustration de la famille et d'en 
faire reculer tres loin Panciennete", Bourdigne", corame on Pa 
vu, s'y est laisse" prendre, que de la mettre au milieu d'une 
action a la fois roraanesque et & demi historique. Les La 
Tour Landry, ont voulu avoir leur roman, comme les Lusig- 
nan avoient Me"lusiue. Nous n'avoir pas a entrer dan le 
detail de ce tres pauvre roman, qui se passe en Galice, en 
Bretagne et Angleterre, ni a suivre les p6ripeties des amours 
de Ponthus et de Sidoine, traverses par les fourberies du 
trattre Guennelet et en fin couronne"es par une mariage. Ce 
qu'il nous importe de signaler c'est la certitude de Porigine de 
ce roman. Le he"ros de Fhistoire porte le jiom fort particu- 
lier 1 d'un des membres de la famille, et, parmi ses compagnons, 
se voit toujours au premier rang Landry de La Tour. Tous 
les noms propres sont de ce c6te" de la France ; ce sont : 
Geoffroy de Lusignan, le sire de Laval, d'Oucelles et de 
Sillie", Guillaume et Bernard de la Roche, le sire de Doe", 
Girard de Chasteau Gaultier, Jean de Malevrier. Les quelques 
noms de Iocalit6s franoises concourent aussi a la mrne preuve : 
c'est & Vannes que se fait le grand tournois, et, quand 1'armee 
se r6unit, c'est & la tour d'Orbondelles, prs de Tallemont ; or 
Talmont est un bourg de Vendee (Poitou) situe a 13 kil. des 
Sables. Un passage donneroit peut-tre la date exacte de la 
composition du Roman, c'est lorsque pour re"unir une arme"e 
contre les Sarrasius, on e"crit a la comtesse d'Anjou : car, dit 
le romancier, le comte 4toit mort, et son fils n'avoit que dix 
ans. 2 Mais c'est trop long-temps m ? arre"ter a ce dire, quil 
e*toit pourtant n^cessaire de signaler. 

Strangely enough, as M. Paul Meyer remarks (Romania, 
XV, p. 275), those who have treated the King Horn story 

1 The name was I fancy not excessively rare, though I recall at present 
only Pontus de Thiard, a somewhat obscure luminary of the Plei'ade. 

8 Probably a mere pseudo-realistic touch of the romancer. The only 
Duke of Anjou who at all fits the case, Louis I, claimant of the throne of 
Naples, died 1384. His eldest son Louis II was ten years old in 1387. But 
our romance could hardly have been written so early. Unfortunately we 
are ignorant of the date of the historic Ponthus' birth. A theory that the 
romance might have been written in 1387, when Ponthus was a child, for 
his training, within a few years too of the writing of the prose Melusine 
and perhaps in rivalry with it, would be alluring rather than plausible. 


have failed to note Montaiglon's very satisfactory theory of 
the origin of the romance of Ponthus. M. Montaiglon in his 
turn was apparently ignorant of the fact, known since the 
third ed. of Warton's Hist, that Ponthus is merely a rifaei- 
mento of the story of King Horn, more definitely of the 
Anglo-Norman Horn et Rimel. 1 That is, the romancer 
spared himself the responsibility and labor of invention by 
accepting as a whole the plot of the forgotten roman d'aven- 
ture, reshaping it on the lines of a book of courtesy, amplify- 
ing and adding details from his own^invention and knowledge 
of the early prose romances, localizing most of the scenes in 
the provinces most familiar to his patron, Ponthus of La 
Tour Landry, and introducing incidentally many names of 
the local nobility. 

I have endeavored to show concisely in the following pages 
the measure in which Ponthus (P) departs from its original 
Horn et Rimel (HR) by omission and by amplification. For 
practical reasons the references to P are made to this edition of 
the English Ponthus, which represents faithfully the story 
of the French version, rather than to my transcript of the 
French MS. of the British Museum (Royal 15, E. vi). 


OF PONTHUS (P, pp. 1-9, HR, 11. 1-114). 

HR starts in medias res with the finding of Horn and his 
fifteen (13 in P) fellows in a garden by the African Malbroin. 
Master Thomas has already told 

Cum li bers Aaluf est uenuz a sa fin. 

It is possible that the early pages of P, the sultan of Baby- 
lon 2 and his three sons, the taking of Coruniia 3 (Colloigne) 

1 Edited by Fr. Michel for the Bannantyne Club, Paris, 1845. I cite the 
convenient reprint of the MSB. by Brede and Stengel, Marburg, 1885 (Aus. 
u. Abhand, No. vui). 

2 A prominent figure in the prose romances, as in the later Charlemagne 
romances, Paris and Vievne Roxb Libr., p. 72, etc. There is a M. E. 
romance with this title (E. E. T. S., No. 38). 

8 For variant spellings see index of proper names. Wynkyn de Worde's 
print shows in the fir>t chapter-heading and in the first chapter Groyne the 
usual English equivalent of Corunna. 


by a strategem, etc., may preserve the outlines of this last 
poem of Thomas. 1 This could hardly be proved in any case, 
while it appears more likely that the romancer merely wished 
to give the three Saracen brothers a motive for their inva- 
sions, which in HR the five African brothers of the sultan of 
Persia, have nowhere expressed for them. The character 
of Sir Denis (p. 3, 1. 25, Dampdenis), the priest, who hides 
the children and of Sir Patrick, the pretended Saracen, who 
saves them, are not in HR. In HR an alchaie sur mer 
advises the king Rodmund (the Brodas of P) to set the 
children adrift in a cranky ship, without sail or rudder : this 
is done in fact, in P merely in appearance. The agreement 
of Sir Patrick and the Earl of Asturias (Destrue, pp. 6-8) to 
save the country by feigning the Saracen religion, thereby 
becoming Brodas' lieutenants, is not in HR. 

Minor differences are that in P Ponthus conceals his identity 
from the king, in HR Horn reveals it boldly, while the pre- 
monitory dream of the king that Ponthus in a lion's form 2 
slew him (p. 6) is peculiar to P. 

(P, pp. 9-18; HR, 11. 115-1301). 

The two versions show only insignificant differences. Her- 
lant, the seneschal of king Hunlaf of Brittany (P. Huguell, 
R. Haguell?), is the single name common to the two. P men- 
tions and describes briefly the princess Sidone when her father 
is first mentioned (p. 9), HR reserves the princess Rigmel till 
the love plot begins to open (1. 405 ff.). The insistence upon 
Ponthus' piety (p. 11) is as usual only in P. Horn chooses to 
have his fellow Haderof educated with him under Herlant 

1 Horn's statement, 1. 278 f. : 

Mis peres ifud pris par sa ruiste fierte 
Ki atendre ne uout ke uenist sa barne, 

points to a beginning like that of the English King Horn. 

2 See Mentz, E, Die Trdume in den Altfr, Karls- und Artus- epen, Marburg, 
1888; Ausg. u. Abhand, LXXIII, p. 53 ff., for a collection of similar lion 

Vlll F. J. MATHER, JR. 

(1. 361 ff.). Poll ides is educated separately by the Lord of 
Laval. In HR (11. 588 ff.) Rigmel gives gift upon gift to 
Herlant, Sidone is content to give him a palfrey, reserving 
her gift of a cup (p. 17) till he has actually brought Ponthus; 
furthermore Rigmel (11. 758 ff.) follows up the tardy Herlant 
with reminders from Herselote, her maid, that he is to bring 
Horn at once. The incident is absent from P. The action of 
Herland in substituting Pollides for Ponthus (p. 13) is left 
without expressed motive in P, in HR he explains (1. 693 f.). 

Qui merrai Haderof, par laparceiuement 
Quel semblant el li fra a cest assemblement. 

Godswip, RigmePs nurse, first recognizes Haderof in HR (1. 
852 f.). Pollides in P declares himself promptly. Herselote, 
who has seen Horn at the feast, describes his beauty elabor- 
ately to Rigmei (11. 950 ff.), Eloix (Ellious), Sidone's maid, 
uses a similar description as she sees from the window Pon- 
thus coming. Sidone gives Ponthus a diamond ring at their 
first meeting (p. 17), Rigmel shows Horn this mark of favor 
only after his notable service in battle (1. 1790 ff.). These 
slight differences are only worth recording to show the freedom 
of the romancer's handling of his original. In a general way 
the descriptions of Ponthus' beauty, accomplishments and 
virtues are expanded in the manner of books of courtesy, 
while our author protests unnecessarily (p. 17) the innocence 
of the love of Ponthus and Sidone. 


11. 1302-1722). 

Carodas, brother of the slayer of Ponthus father (in RH 
two kings, Eglof and Gudolf, brothers of Rodmund), sends a 
messenger 1 (in HR Marmorin) to defy king Huguell. Horn, 
having slain the challenger (1. 1541 ff.), presents the Saracen's 
head to Hunlaf as atrophy, Ponthus (p. 21) sends it back to 

1 The insolent Saracen messenger is a typical figure in the Charlemagne 
romances. Examples are hardly necessary. 


Carodas by the two Saracen squires with a message of defiance. 
Immediately after the single combat Horn is appointed con- 
stable of Brittany (1. 1547 f.), Ponthus only after the general 
engagement (p. 37). Rigmel only hears of the duel after it is 
finished, then she gives Horn a pennon to bear in the battle 
(1. 1579f.), Sidone gives Ponthus "a kerchef to be? on his 
spere " (p. 20) before the duel. Ponthus rescues the king of 
Brittany, who is unhorsed (p. 27 f.), but Horn, only Herland 
the seneschal (1. 1691ff.). 

The considerable elaboration of the course of the battle in 
P, as compared with HR where Horn and Haderof are the 
only prominent figures, was due to the romancer's desire to 
use prominently as many names of his French nobles as possi- 
ble (see especially p. 24 and pp. 28-30). 



NAMENT AT VANNES (pp. 59-61). 

Except the election as constable, which HR uses earlier, 
this entire chapter rests upon the romancer's invention and 
borrowings, in part easily identified, from other romances. 

In HR Horn chastises the rebellious count of Anjou for 
king Hunlaf and makes all the king's subjects and neighbors 
fear him (11. 17371749). Rigmel praises him and gives him 
a ring (1. 1790 ff.). None of this in P. Only Guenelete's 
motive for slandering Ponthus is borrowed from HR that 
Ponthus refuses him the horse, Liard, 1 Sidone's present. In 
HR Wikel asks for Horn's blanc cheval, the gift of Herland, 
which Horn had already given to Haderof (1. 1850 f.). 
This scene in HR occurs just before Wikel slanders Horn to 
the king. The writer of P uses it to introduce this first 
treason of Guenelete, his own invention. 

1 The common name of a grey horse. Used of Herlant's horse (HR, 
1. 1696), in Richard Coer de Lion (Webber), 2320, in Ipomedon A (Kolbing), 


There are certain obvious borrowings in P. The Fontaine 
des Merveilles in the forest of Broceliande (Breselyn, p. 44) is 
the Fontaine Perilleuse of Yvain (Foerster, 1. 380 ff.), but 
our author is more likely to have taken it from the prose 
Tristan (Loseth, Le Raman en Prose de Tristan, Paris, 1891; 
82 e fasc. de la bilb. de P^cole de Hautes Etudes, p. 248). It 
is there Tristan, who, by pouring water of the well on the 
stone, arouses the knight of the tour. In P the incident is 
mere stage-setting. 

The not uninteresting mummery for choosing the contestants 
by shooting at their shields (pp. 41-43) is probably borrowed, 
but I have been unable to trace the source. In the prose 
Tristan (Loseth, p. 321) the knight of the Tour du pin rond 
hangs his shield on a pine and jousts with all who will strike 
it, but this is scarcely parallel. 

Again these detailed single combats and elaborate tourna- 
ments give the romancer the opportunity of bringing into 
prominence his chief minor characters, Landry de La Tour, 
Bernard de La Roche, Geoffrey de Lusignan, 1 etc. 

THE KING (P, pp. 63-69 ; HR, 11. 1818-2135). 

Wikel's pretence of quarreling with Horn about the blanc 
cheval has been already used by P as the motive of Guene- 
lete's first treason (p. 34). Envy is this time the motive. 

Wikel in addition to charging Horn with RigmePs dis- 
honor, the sole accusation in P, makes him plot with her 
against the king (1. 1893 ff.). 

The versions correspond very closely in Horn's words 
with the king and his refusal to swear (1. 1940 ff.), as in the 
entire section, but Horn sees the king once more after leav- 
ing Rigmel and reaffirms his innocence (1. 2071 ff.), and 
Rigmel exchanges rings with Horn (1. 2051 ff.), giving him 
a sapphire ring that will protect him from fire, water and 

1 This is the name of the famous hero of the Great Tooth, the sixth son 
of Me*lusine. See the index of Melusine, E. E. T. S., Ext. S. 68. 


battle. In P Ponthus receives a ring, which has no talis- 
manic properties, only at his first meeting with Sidone (P, 1 7). 

PONTHUS IN ENGLAND (P, pp. 70-96 ; HR, 11. 2136-3681). 

Horn assumes the name of Gudmod (1. 2160) on arriving 
in Ireland (Westir), Ponthus in England that of Le Surdit de 
Droite Voie, 1 that is, the accused one who sought in vain the 
straight path of vindication by combat. 2 

The incident of the boar (P, p. 70) is not in HR. There 
Guffer and Egfer, sons of king Gudreche of Ireland have an 
agreement that the first two foreign knights arriving shall 
enter the service of Guffer, the elder, the third, that of Egfer 
(1. 2206 ff.). Riding together they meet Gudmod (Horn), 
who represents himself as the son of a vavasour ; both desire 
his service, but it is Egfer's turn. 

Gudreche, the king of Ireland, knew Allof, Horn's father, 
and Horn, when a child ; he immediately marks Gudmod's 
likeness to Horn. Lenburc and Sudburc, daughters of the 
king, are immediately attracted to Gudmod. Lenburc, the 
elder, sends him a golden cup from which she has drunk, 
bidding him drink the rest and keep the cup (1. 2399 ff.). 
Horn reproves her and refuses the gift. Lenburc, still insist- 
ent, receives no encouragement. P omits all this except the 
general statement that the king's daughters loved Surdit 
(Ponthus) and goes on to the stone-casting (p. 72 ; HR, 
1. 2567 ff.). 

Eglof, a vassal, outdid both the king's sons in P, only 
Henry in casting the stone. Implored by his master Egfer, 

1 Prince Philip of France, having relinquished his heirship to fight 
against the Great Turk, calls himself Le Despurveu (Three Kings' Sons, 
E E. T. Soc., Extra S., No. 67, p. 9). lolanthe, feeling the name to be 
inappropriate, calls him Le Surname (p. 86). Later the king of Sicily 
rechristens him Le Nounpareil (p. 55). Noms de yuerre are common enough 
in all romances, but they seldom have any especial signification. 

2 As explained in the Royal MS. Quant le roy ouyst quil [Pontus] se nom- 
moit ainsi. Si pensa que cestoit pour ce quil lui auoit mis sur quil amoit sa ft/le 
[Sidoine]. Le seurnom, pour ce quil lui auoit refuse droicte voye t pour ce qui, ne 
voulloit combatre contre dtux ou trois (cf. p. 104, 1. 18 of this text). 

Xll F. J. MATHER, JR. 

Gudmod without exertion equalled Eglof 's boasted cast. Eg- 
lof casts a foot better. Again Gudmod equals his cast. 
Eglof, with a supreme effort, casts half a foot farther. Gud- 
mod, conjured by his love, the allusion is turned to his 
mother only in P, outcasts him by seven feet (1. 2659 ff.). 
In all this P follows HR with the slightest changes. 

The two brothers go with Gudmod to disport themselves 
(1. 2698 ff.) in Lenburc's chamber. A game of chess in which 
Gudmod beats Lenburc omitted in P is elaborately de- 
scribed in HE (11. 2726-2772). 

Lenburc takes her harp and sifigs half the lay all she 
knows which Baderof made to his sister Rigmel in Brittany. 
Gudmod finishes the lay with marvellous sweetness, so that 
Lenburc cries out : 

Coe est Horn, cum ioe crei (1. 2852), 

and is with difficulty dissuaded. Wissman (Anglia iv, p. 394) 
has already pointed out that this incident is probably imitated 
from Tristan. In P, Surdit sings to Genever the lay which 
he himself made to Sidone the princess recognizes it imme- 
diately. They all make Surdit repeat it to the king. 

The whole episode of the war with the king of Iceland, 
so in the Royal MS., in both English versions Ireland, his 
capture by Ponthus, his marriage to the king's younger daugh- 
ter by Ponthus' advice, is apparently original with the writer 
of P (pp. 76-82) P, on the other hand, entirely omits the 
single combat with Rollac, slayer of Horn's father, though 
the long description in HR (11. 3108-3210) may have yielded 
certain details for the fight with Carodas' messenger earlier 
(p. 20 f.), -and goes directly to the battle with Corbatan 
(Corboran) the sultan of Babylon's third son. In HR Hilde- 
brant and Herebrant, brothers of the African invaders of 
England and Brittany, and of the soudein de Perse, dan Gud- 
brant, 1. 3000, are the invading kings. 

The battle in P (pp. 82-86) is little dependent upon HR. 
Hildebrant kills Guffer and is himself killed by Gudmod 


(1. 3298 ff.); Herebrant (by mistake Hildebrant in both MSS. 
Harleian corrects to Herebrant on the margin) wounds mor- 
tally Egfer, Gudmod's master, but falls himself at Gudmod's 
hand (11. 3359-3405). HE (1. 3497 ff.) dwells effectively 
upon the scene between Gudmod and his dying master. 

In HR it is the king of Orkney (1. 3574 ff.) who tries to 
arrange the marriage between Gudmod and Lenburc, in P 
the king of Scots (p. 87). In HR Gudmond feigns to be be- 
trothed to the daughter of a vavasour in Brittany (1. 3663 ff.), 
in P he offers only the general excuse of his low birth. 

SEEKS PONTHUS IN ENGLAND (P, pp. 88-93; HR, 11. 3682- 


There is no change of scene to Brittany in HR. Only the 
barest details of WikeFs plot are told to Horn by Joceran, 
Herland's son, who appears as a palmer in the court and calls 
him by name. Modin (Modun), king of Fenenie, represents 
the Duke of Burgundy of P. 

All the details of Guenelete's treachery, except the deposi- 
tion of Herlant, such as Sidone's gaining time by pleading 
sickness 2 (p. 90), and Oliver's falling among thieves (p. 91), 
are original with P. HR offers only the slight differences 
that Joceran has wandered three years in search of Horn 
(1. 3702), and that Lenburc, hearing of Horn's betrothal, will 
become a nun and leave him heir to the kingdom of Westir 
(11. 3875 ff.). 

pp. 93-106 ; HR, 11. 3918-4594). 

1 The son of the Due of Bourgoyne is Paris' chief rival with Vienne 
(Paris and Vienne, Koxb. Libr., p. 57, 62, etc.); Vienne's father imprisons 
her because she will not marry the Duke (p. 62) ; is a character of Three 
Kings 1 Sons (see index) ; his brother Guy (mentioned P, p. 105, 1. 33) bears 
the name of the hero of a chanson de geste ( Gui de Bourgogne, ed. par Gues- 
sard et Michelant, Paris). 

* Vienne, imprisoned, when her father attempts to force her into a mar- 
riage, with her own lover disguised, simulates a loathesome disease, by 
the unpleasant means specified on p. 85 of Paris and Vienne. 


The chapter follows HE, with few changes. In HR Horn 
first learns of the day and place of the wedding of king Modin 
from the palmer with whom he changes clothes (1. 3954 ff.). 
Horn's parable of the fisher to Modin and Wikel (1. 4046 ff.) 
is of course absent from P. The description of the custom of 
having thirteen poor men entertained at great feasts (p. 98) 
is not in HR. Horn merely pushes into the hall, having 
thrown the opposing porter under the bridge, with the press. 
He demands a drink of Rigmel (1. 4164 ff.) instead of waiting 
his turn. The pun on Horn (1. 4206 ff.) is necessarily absent 
from P. Rigmel knows Horn on fne instant. Explanations 
then are made in the hall at the feast, not in the princess's 
chamber as in P (p. 99). She immediately offers to follow 
him in poverty, so the test questions of P (p. 99) are absent 
from the earlier version. 

Horn tells Rigmel to persuade Modin to hold a tournament 
(1. 4323), in P it follows a wedding feast as a matter of course. 
Horn unhorses Modin in the tournament (1. 4479 ff.), then as 
Modin's people come to the rescue, blows his horn, summon- 
ing his concealed troops to capture Modin and take the town 
of Lions. In P the Duke of Burgundy, worsted by Ponthus, 
is precipitated into a pit by his unruly horse and killed (p. 
102 f.). In HR Horn and Modin are reconciled (1. 4545 ff.), 
and Wikel pardoned for this treachery (1. 4565 ff.). 

11. 4595-4881). 

There is a large loss of text in HR after 1. 4594, so that 
the portion corresponding to the vow at the wedding feast (P, 
p. 108) and the invasion of Galicia, the finding of Sir Patrick 
and the Earl of Asturias at prayer in a chapel (p. Ill), is 
missing. But at 1. 4595, Hardre, formerly seneschal for king 
Allof, appears in the character of the Sir Patrick of P, deceiv- 
ing the heathen king as to Horn's strength, and planning an 
ambush for the battle. Rodmund has dreamed that a wild 
boar gored his horse and wounded him mortally (HR, 1. 4656 
ff.), Brodas has dreamed that he became a wolf, and that a 


greyhound, accompanied by a " brachet," l pulled him down 
(P, p. 113). 

The strategem by which the town is taken (P, 115) is not 
in HR. Horn delivers his friend Haderof from desperate 
straits, in killing Rodmund (1. 4782 f.) otherwise the battle 
in P follows HR in a general way, with greater elaboration 
as usual and provision for a larger number of characters. 

11. 4882-4967). 

The scene of recognition so sympathetically described in 
HR as to lead Michel to the rash appreciation, Si j'etois force 
de choisir entre cet Episode et celui de la reconnaissance d' Ulysse 
par Penelope, je ne sais auquelje donnerois la preference (Intr., 
LXII), is somewhat amplified in P, but presented with equal 
delicacy of feeling. Slight changes in P are, first, the queen 
enters the banquet hall as one of the thirteen poor people to 
be fed in honor of God and his apostles (p. 1 1 9, cf. p. 98) ; 
second, the Earl of Asturias, her brother, recognizes the queen, 
a character missing in HR, where Hardre first recognizes her. 
The scene (1. 4928 ff.) where Horn returning from the chase 
meets his mother disguised at the door, is only in HR. 

140; HR, 11. 4968-5215). 

Horn dreams that Wikel attempts to drown Rigmel (1. 
4968 ff.). Ponthus dreams that a bear devours Sidone 3 (p. 
122). All the details of Guenelete's treason differ from the 
simple account in HR (11. 5040-5146). The king and his 
daughter, warned by Wothere, WikePs brother, that Wikel 
intends to imprison them in his new castle and marry Rigmel, 

1 See Mentz, Die Trdume, u. s. w., p. 61, but there are no close parallels. 

f ln Caxton's Bianchardyn and Eylantyne (E. E. T. S., Ext. S., No. 68, 
p. 172 ff. ; p. 197 ff.) Subyon plays a part very similar to Guenelete's. Left 
in charge of Eglantyne, he corrupts the commons, tries to force her to marry 
him, and besieges her. 

3 For bear dreams see Mentz, Die Trauma, u. s. w., p. 56. Most like the 
present instance are those cited from Berte aus grans pies, 1. 1678, and Aye 
d' Avignon, 1. 2514. 


defend the town, suffer hunger, and are forced to agree to a 
truce for fifteen days, and then to surrender, if Horn does 
not in the meantime return. 

The elaborate description of Guenelete's forged letters, his 
corruption of the commons, Sidone's retreat to a tower, etc., 
is borrowed from Mordred's treachery in the Morte d'Arthure, 
usually appended to the prose Lancelot. The parallel is strik- 
ing with the version represented by Fiieterer's German Lance- 
lot (Bibl. d. Litt. Vereins, No. 175, Tubingen, 1885, p. 348 f.). 
In this version Mordred, left in charge of the kingdom and 
the queen, wins over the people by great gifts, has a messenger 
bring a letter from Arthur, with word that he, lying at the 
point of death and all his people destroyed, makes Mordred 
king, and as a last request bids " Ginofer " marry Mordred. 
The queen doubts the letter, obtains four days' respite, in 
which time she shuts herself up in a tower, provisioned and 
garrisoned, to await rescue from Arthur and Lancelot. She 
upbraids Mordred for his ingratitude from a window as Sidone 
does Guenelete (p. 130 f.). Malory (Somner, p. 839) gives the 
same account with less detail. 

Only in P (p. 133) Sidone dreams of her husband's coming. 

The Earl of Richmond's journey to arrange the marriage 
of Genever and Pollides (P, p. 136 f.), and the details of the 
tournament (p. 138 ff.) are original with P. 


150; HR, 11. 5226-5250). 

In the main P only amplifies tediously the score of lines in 
HR. Ponthus marries Genever to Pollides and reads him a 
homily (p. 145 ff.) on the duties of a prince, especially of one 
who has married above his station. Horn in Ireland has to 
provide for both princesses, Lenburc he marries to his former 
rival, Modin, Sudburc to Haderof, his companion, who, like 
Pollides, becomes heir to the kingdom. HR adds, Horn and 
Rigmel had a son Haderraod, who conquered Africa; Thomas 
could tell his story, but leaves it to his son Gilemot. 



This tedious comparison shows : 

(1) That P has used every essential element of the plot of 
HR, but has filled in the skeleton freely by invention, ampli- 
fication, and occasional borrowings. I cannot find any clear 
instance where the French Ponthus has borrowed verbally 
from HR, but its general freedom of treatment makes a suppo- 
sition that another version of the French Horn than HR was 
used gratuitous. 

(2) P has definitely localized the story in Galicia, instead 
of the Suddene (England) of HR, in Brittany, in this agree- 
ing with HR, and in England, instead of Westir (Ireland). 
The Charlemagne romances may have caused the shifting of 
the early scenes of the romance to Spain, geographical prox- 
imity may have drawn the Irish episode of HR to England. 
All the geography of P is quite accurate, no more recondite 
reference than the index of Baedeker's Northern France is 
necessary to identify nine-tenths of the localities represented 
by the minor characters of the poem. All important proper 
names, those difficult of identification, or unidentified are 
collected in an alphabetical list at the end of the introduction. 
At times the scribe of the Digby MS. has bungled these proper 
names sadly ; the necessary corrections have been made usually 
in the alphabetical list rather than in the notes. 

(3) The only really important additions of the romancer 
to the plot of HR are : (1) Guenelete's first treason and the 
resulting year's jousting in the forest of Broceliande with its 
sequel, the great tournament at Vannes (pp. 40-61); and (2) 
the episode of the king of Iceland (Ireland) (pp. 76-82). 

(4) The amplifications of the motives of HR, are either in 
the way of bringing out more definitely and elaborately the 
courtesy of the hero, or, in battles, etc., those imposed upon 
the romancer by the necessity of providing parts for a great 
number of minor characters. 


XV111 F, J. MATHER, JR. 

(5) There are demonstrable borrowings from the prose Tris- 
tan, and Lancelot. The names show that the romancer knew 
in a general way the legends of Arthur and of Charlemagne. 
Guenelete is clearly only a double diminutive of Guenes, 
the arch-traitor, Gene? (Genever) is as clearly the name of 
Arthur's queen, king Hoel of Brittany may have suggested, 
not given, Huguell (a mere diminutive of the familiar Hugues). 
These parallels Mr. Ward (Cat. of Romances, vol. I, p. 470) 
has already drawn. Beside these Carodas, son of the sultan of 
Babylon, gets his name from Carajjos of the Arthur legend 
(e. g. The Prose Merlin, E. E. T. S., vol. 36, p. 442, p. 594), 
while Fireague (Ferragu), a Saracen, who slays prince John 
of England, is apparently Ferragus, an insolent Saracen mes- 
senger familiar to the Charlemagne romances from the chroni- 
cle of Pseudo-Turpin to the English Roland and Vernagu 
(E. E. T. S., No. 39). It is probable that one more familiar 
than myself with the great mediaeval romances could supply 
many additional parallels, both in name and incident. 


I have examined only the three English MSS., of these the 
Cambridge MSS. only cursorily. 

(1) Ms. Koyal 15, E. vi, of the British Museum, which I 
cite constantly, from my transcript, as R, is a large folio in 
double columns, with many handsome miniatures. It was 
given to Margaret of Anjou, wife of Henry VI, presumably 
on the occasion of her marriage (1445), by the 1st Earl of 
Shrewsbury (died 1452). The description of this interesting 
volume of Romances in Ward's Catalogue, I, p. 130, is so 
accessible that I pass it here. The romance of Ponthus occu- 
pies ff. 207-226 b . Mr. Ward (p. 470) counts 47 chapters with 
rubrics, but no numbers I count 48. There is, as usual, no 

The first rubric begins : 


Cy commence ung noble liure du Koy Pontus filz du Roy thibor de galice 
le quel Pontus fut sauue des mains des Sarrazins. Et de puis fist de beaulx 
faiz darmes romme vous pourres oyr cy a pres. 

The romance begins : 

Compter vous vueil vue noble hystoire Dout len pourroit assez de bien 
et dexemplaire aprendre, etc. 


Le roy Pontus et la royne vesquirent asses longuement et regnerent au 

plaisir de leur pays. Et puis trespasserent Et moult furent moult [sic] 

regretes de tout le peuple Mais ainsi est de la vie mondaine. Car si beau 

sy bon sy riche, ne sy fort, nest que en la fin Ne conuienge laissier ce siecle 

Explicit le liure du Roy Pontus. 

The Royal MS. represents an earlier stage of the romance 
than either of the Cambridge MSS., with its absolute monotony 
of sentence structure, endless si 9 s and et's at the beginning of 
sentences, etc., but it shows also a version slightly condensed. 
All the long lists of names of knights are promptly cut off 
with an et moult dautres. In the closing chapters, correspond- 
ing to pp. 118-150 of the present text, R frequently condenses 
details more fully treated in all other versions, but never in a 
way to alter essentially the course of the story. This would 
render it inadvisable to make R the basis of an edition of the 
French Ponthus, in spite of its assured early date (between 
1445 and 1452). 

(2) MS. Hh, 3, 16 of the Cambridge University Library, 
cited as H, fol. vellum, 82 leaves (originally 84), 1 written proba- 
bly about the middle of the 15th cent. The MS. contained 
originally 88 leaves as follows, a single fol. (2 leaves) contain- 
ing the rubrics of the chapters, ten gathers of four folios (8 
leaves) each, a final gather of six leaves. Two leaves have 
been cut out, probably for miniatures they contained, the 
second leaf of the third gather of eights, and the fifth leaf of 

*At the end in an old hand (17th cent. ?), 

Sum Jacobi Morranti & amicorum. 


the sixth gather of eights. The leaves are not numbered. 
The MS. in its present condition has 45 chapters with rubrics; 
it probably had at least two more. The chapter divisions are 
in the main those of R, but the chapter headings are quite 
different in form, occasional differences from the text of R 
appear to be revisions in the interest of varying the monoto- 
nous style of the original. H has always the full reading 
where R.. condenses. It would undoubtedly, its two lacunae 
filled from R, be the best of the English MSS. to print. 

3) MS. Ff., 3, 31 of the Cambridge University Library, 
cited as F. Fol. paper, 15th cent, (probably late), ff. 33. 
This MS. is only remarkable for its geometrical capitals, and 
for a very dull prologue in octosyllabic couplets which M. 
Paul Meyer has printed with a brief description of the volume 
in Romania, xv, p. 275 ff. It is more minutely divided into 
chapters than the other MSS., 1 in place of the usual chapter 
headings each capital at the head of the chapter contains a 
motto or verse bearing upon the subject of the chapter 
(Meyer, p. 276). The language is considerably revised and 
modernized. 2 

I find two MSS. registered for the Biblioth&que Nationale at 
Paris (see Bibl. Imper. Man. Fran. Ancien Fonds, Paris, 1868, 
Tom. I). 

No. 1486, vellum, 14th Cent. (The date is, of course, im- 
possible, but it should, at least, be an early MS. to get such a 
rating.) No. 1487, paper, dated 1462. I have no description 
of ~these MSS. 

A romance so popular as the French Ponthus was must 
exist in many MS. copies. I have lacked the opportunity of 
searching further the catalogues of the great libraries. 

1 E. g. there are 47 divisions in the portion of text corresponding to the 
first 17 chapters of K. 

*At the end of the MSS. are the following signatures of former owners, 
John Dal ton /1619/ 
William Townley of the parish of S. 
Giles's in the Fields. 



Seven editions of the French romance within as many 
decades indicate the popularity of the book. Of these I have 
seen only the third, the others I cite summarily from Brunet, 
Manuel du Libraire (Paris, 1863), to which I refer the reader 
for exact bibliographical indications. 

(1) Fol. 69 ff. without name, place or date, but published at 
Geneva, circa 1478. 

(2) Fol. Lyon Guillaume Le Roy, circa 1480. 

(3) Fol. Lyon Caspar Ortuin, circa 1500. 

This is No. 177 of the Douce Coll. in the Bodleian Library. 

The first (a), fifth (e), and tenth (i) gathers are fours (8 
leaves), all the others, including the eleventh and last (1), are 
threes. There are then 72 leaves in all (Brunet reports 71 
because the final leaf is blank). Ai (front) contains only the 
brief title, PONTHUS ET LA BELLE SIDOYNE. Ai (back) con- 
tains the first text, 

fl Cy commence une excellent histoire le quelle fait moult a noter/du tres- 
uaillant roy ponthus filz du roy de galice et de la belle sidoyne/fille du roy 
de bretaigne. 

A large woodcut of a mounted knight with a hawk, and a 
maiden offering a carnation fills the rest of the page, and the 
romance proper begins on Aii (front), 

Center vous vueil, etc. 

There are in the text thirty-six rude but occasionally spirited 
woodcuts. The text ends on the back of the unlettered leaf of 
fol. 1. ii (leaf 71, back), 

Puis finerent leur vie a grant regrect de leurs pais. 
Mais ainsi et [sic] il de la vie mondaine qui 
nest si beau ne si riche ne si bon a qui au fort 
ne conuienne laisser cest siecle et auoir fin. 

Cy finist le tresexcellent romant du noble et 
cheualeureux roy Ponthus et de la tresbelle Si- 
doyne fille du roy de bretaigne imprime par 
maistre Caspar ortuin a lyon : 

The final leaf is blank. 

XX11 p. J. MATHER, JR. 

This version agrees very exactly in all H's grosser variants 
from R. In its chapter divisions, and in the form of the 
chapter headings it represents closely the original of Wynkyn 
de Worde's edition. We shall return to this point in the 
discussion of that version. 

4) Quarto, double cols. Paris, Jean Trepperel, after 1500. 

5) Quarto, 58 ff. Paris, Michel Le Noir, circa 1520. 
5 a ) " " " Alain Lotrian, without date, 

reported from the Royal Library at Stuttgart. Possibly the 
same impression as 5. ^ 

6) Quarto. Paris, Nic. Crestien, circa 1550. 

7) Quarto. Paris, Jean Bonfons. 
These are all printed in the so-called Gothic character. 
The remaining history of Ponthus in France may be told 

in a word. It is amusing, at least, to find that Jehau de Bour- 
digne", the Chronicler of Anjou and of Maine, accepted our 
romance as good history. In his Chroniques d' Anjou et du 
Maine, first printed in 1529, I cite the edition printed at 
Angers, 1842, BourdignS gravely describes the descent of 
Karados upon the coast of Brittany (Cap. xvi, p. 74 ff.) and 
all the course of the battle precisely, in outline, as it is de- 
scribed in chapters ix to xi of our text. The names of the 
participants, even the list of slain, are the same. After the 
battle (p. 80) Ponthus jousting in the forest of "Brecilian" is 
rather mentioned than described. After the jousts Ponthus' 
expedition to reconquer Galicia is mentioned, with lists of the 
French champions and of the slain in the final battle quite as 
in the romance. Finally the chronicler states that these annals 
are, extraictes de plusieurs cronicques, hystoires et livres anciens. 
Pity that no bearer of the then extinct name of Tour Landry 
could see his family romance accepted as good history. 

The condition of public taste in France in the 17th century 
did not, as in Germany, tolerate the survival of Ponthus as 
a Volks-buch, and the French history of " Ponthus " closes, 1 or 

1 1 should confess that a reference in Biisching and Von der Hagen's Buch 
der Ldebe, 8., XLV, states that the French Ponthus is treated in T. u, p. 180 


possibly reopens, with the careful abstract presented in Me- 
langes Tiroes d'une grande Bibliotheque, Tom. x, pp. 1-62. 
This abstract is based upon one of the editions in 4to, probably 
that of Jean Trepperel, about 1500. On p. 61 the author 
writes that Ponthus and Sidoine 

eurent deux filz, don't 1'aine* porta avec gloire la premiere de ces deux 
couronnes [Galice] & le second, nomine* Conan Meriadec, est la tige des 
Rois & Dues de Bretaigne. 

I did not happen upon this bit of imaginary genealogy in 
" Bourdigne"," and there is nothing of the sort in any version 
of Ponthus that I have examined. 



The earliest form of the English Ponthus is that of MS. 
Digby 185 of the Bodleian Library. The volume is a folio 
of 203 leaves handsomely written on thin vellum. The con- 
tents of the MS. are : 

1) Fol. 1-79. The prose chronicle usually called The 
Brute of England, with the prologue, ending with the capture 
of Rouen in the year 1418. 

2) Fol. 80-1 44 b . Thomas Hoccleve's poem, De Eegimine 
Prindpum. At the place where the miniature portrait of 
Chaucer should stand there is an elaborate s-shaped flourish 
in the margin with the side note Chaucer's Ymago (I neglected 
to note the exact form of the second word). This shows that 
the poem was copied from a MS. that contained the miniature. 

and 250, of the Biblioth. des Romans. Having searched everything that 
could possibly be cited as a T. n in that distracting collection, I came forth 
from its mazes empty handed. Some one who knows the way may yet find 
it. It probably signifies nothing that the index vol. does not contain the 
name of Ponthus. 


3) Fol. 145-156. Hoccleve's story of the emperor Gere- 
laus and his wife (published, E. E. T. S., Ext. S. 61, p. 140 ff.). 
The prose exposition or moralization of the story follows on 
fol. 156-157. 

4) Fol. 157 b -164. Hoccleve's story of Jonathas and his 
paramour (E. E. T. S., Ext. S. 61, p. 215 ff.). The prologue 
is lacking. The tale proper begins, 

Sum tyme an Emperour* prudent and wise 
Keigned in Rome. 

The prose exposition follows on 164 b and 165. 

5) Fol. 166-203. Ponthus. 

The facsimile (exact size) of Fol. 166 ro will give a sufficient 
specimen of the fine and legible handwriting of the scribe, 
while affording an excellent example of the heraldic illumina- 
tion of initial capitals. 

These heraldic illuminations make it possible to locate the 
MS. and approximately to date it. 

On page 1 of the MS. at the head of the Brute is this coat 
of arms : Quarterly, 1 and 4, Argent, a chevron azure, with 
a label of three points ermine ; l 2 and 3, gules, a griffin seg- 
reant or; 2 crest, a friar's head, proper, hooded argent. 3 The 
crest and arms quartered 1 and 4, indicating the family descent, 
were borne by a Sir George Hopton of Swillington, who was 
knighted by Henry VII at the battle of Stoke beside Newark, 
June 9, 1487 (W. C. Metcalf, A Book of Knights, 1885, p. 14). 
The Hoptons were descended from an illegitimate son of 
Robert de Swillington, one Thomas Hopton who died in 1 430 
(Joseph Foster, Yorkshire Pedigrees, Vol. n), and they inher- 
ited the manor of Swillington near Leeds, Yorkshire (Loidis 
and fflmete, p. 232. T. D. Whitaker, Leeds, 1816). The 

1 These arms are attributed to the Swillington family in the Catalogue of 
Digby MSS. erroneously, Swillington arms in Burke's General Armoury are, 
arg. a chevron az, and gules, a griffin segreant or (the Leicestershire family). 

* Catalogue, [" Rivers or Swinlington ? "] 

3 Catalogue, " The head of a savage." 


arms (gules, a griffin segreant or) quartered with the Hopton 
arms are given by Burke as those of the Swillingtons of 
Leicestershire, presumably related to the Yorkshire Swilling- 
tons. The Digby MS. was then written for a head of the 
Hopton family of Swillington, not improbably for Sir William 
Hopton, 1 Treasurer for Edward IV (circa 1465). 

The initial capital of Hoccleve's De Regimine, Fol. 80, con- 
tains the arms of Hopton described above, impaling quarterly, 

1 and 4, Argent a bendlet sable, thereon three mullets argent; 

2 and 3, gules fretty argent 2 (Beauchamp, Cat. of Digby MSS.). 
They are the arms of a daughter of the Hopton family im- 
paled with those of her husband, probably a Beauchamp. 

In an initial, Fol. 157 b , ten small coats of arms are intro- 
duced. The curious will find them described in the Catalogue 
of Digby MSS. 

The initial letter of PonthuSj Fol. 166, see facsimile, con- 
tains the quartered arms of Hopton and Swillington, impaling 
those already described under Fol. 80. This indicates that 
the husband had assumed the arms of his wife, probably as 
heir to the titles of Hopton and Swillington. Thus the fac- 
simile shows all the arms here described. 

I have gone into this tedious matter of the arms, on the 
chance that some enthusiast in genealogy may be able to 
determine the marriage indicated by the second and third 
shields, and thus date the MS. My own cursory study of the 
matter was quite fruitless. It is of chief importance only for 
us to know that the MS. was written for a Yorkshire family 
residing near Leeds. This will prepare us for the language 

1 He would have been in his prime about the middle of the century, the 
probable time of writing of the MS., and of an age to have the married 
daughter whose arms are contained in the MS. 

But this whole matter of the Hopton genealogy appears to be vague and 
is certainly incomplete. 

8 I could not identify these impaled arms. I fancy that Beauchamp is 
merely offered as a suggestion in the catalogue. Foster's Pediyrees and the 
county histories show no marriage in the Hopton family corresponding to 
this impalement. But all the genealogies are sadly incomplete. 


of the text. It is also an admissible theory, and a pleasant, 
to feel that the book is a sort of a family book. A father, 
who must have played some small part in the history of his 
day, chose the prose chronicle of England ; his daughter chose, 
perhaps for the education of her children, Hoccl eve's De Regi- 
mine Principum; her husband, with a feeling for something 
less ponderous than Hoccleve, and yet sufficiently edifying, 
chose the new and fashionable romance ofPonthus. It wasn't 
a bad sort of book to have about a house. 


On palaeographical grounds we are safe in dating the Digby 
MS. after the first quarter of the fifteenth century. It falls 
then within a period when palaeographical data are peculiarly 
uncertain. The Eev. W. D. Macray, of the Bodleian Library, 
who kindly gave me his opinion in the matter, regarded a 
date about the middle of the century as the latest possible for 
the writing of the MS. The difficulty of determining narrowly 
by the language the date of a text partly changed from its 
original dialect is considerable, but there is I think nothing 
in the language of Ponthus that is incompatible with a date 
of about 1450. A date much earlier I think improbable. 

The MS. is written solidly, without paragraph divisions; 
chapter divisions are marked only by illuminated capitals; 
even punctuation, except for an occasional Tf or || is lacking. 
The short, downright stroke of the rubricator see the fac- 
simile is used somewhat capriciously, usually in giving 
prominence to capitals, or initials, but often enough within 
the word (e. g., 1. 18 of the facsimile tHe cristen; 1. 19, Dooa 
anD moste the capitals represent small letters rubricated). 

Catchwords occur at the end of every gather of 8 leaves, 
enclosed in rough pen-drawings. 

Fol. 173 b , lower margin. On an oakleaf folded back the 
catchwords, haue a beitre. 


Fol. 181 b , lower margin. On the lower part of a knight's 
head and shoulders in armor, the catchword Pon- 

Fol. 189 b , lower margin. Across the side of a large fish, the 
catchwords, And PoUides. 

Fol. 197 b , lower margin. In a scroll the catchwords, you in 
this case. 

The matter of contractions and terminal flourishes is treated 
in the section on the plan of my edition of the Digby MS. 
Finally the Digby MS., though itself perfect, appears to have 
been copied from a MS. of Ponthus that lacked a leaf (p. 
57, note). 


MS. Douce 384, of the Bodleian Library, is a miscellaneous 
collection. Its first two leaves are a folio (the leaves non- 
consecutive) from a Fol. paper MS. of Ponthus. The text of 
these two leaves is printed in full at the foot of the corre- 
sponding pages of text in this edition, pp. 33-35 and 42-45. 
The gap between the two leaves corresponds in bulk to four 
leaves of the same content. The Douce fragment was proba- 
bly then the second Fol. of a gather of four, possibly the first 
of a gather of three. 

The text is that of the Digby MS. with the usual unim- 
portant variants. 1 A chapter division (p. 34), corresponding 
to Cap. xni of D, shows that, like D, it lacked chapter head- 
ings. The catalogue dates it merely 15th cent. It must I 
think be set towards the last quarter. 

1 The fly-leaf of the MS. contains the following note in Bonce's hand- 
writing: "This is a fragment of the Romance of "Ponthus of Galyce," 
printed by Wynkyn de Worde, 1511, 4 to . The language of this fragment 
differs materially from that in the printed copy. No perfect MS. of this 
romance in English seems to be known." Douce also entered on the mar- 
gin of the fragment references to the corresponding signatures of W, and 
occasionally variants from that text. 



Though written at a period rather late for marked dialect 
in Yorkshire, the Digby MS. shows every where the traces of 
its Northern scribe. 

If we apply the time honored test of the inflection of the 
Pres. Indie, of the verb we shall find that beside the regular 
first persons singular, and plurals with no ending or only a 
final e, surely unpronounced, we have a fair number of spe- 
cifically Northern forms. 

First persons singular in -s only occur in verbs separated 
from a pronominal subject by another verb. 

Iloue and trustes, 68, 14. Iswer' . . . and has sworne, 99, 28. 

I haue commaunded and commaundes, 123, 23. And here I 
leve of the kyng of Bretan and retournes, etc., 124, 3. 

Second person singular in -s : havis, 20, 30 ; has, 130, 32 ; 
134, 28 ; makes, 130, 32 ; says, 97, 27 ; thinkes, 22, 18 ; yeldes, 
130, 35. 

Plurals in -s : drives, 68, 22 ; (people) dwellys, 26, 30 ; has, 
87, 26; 94, 23; 95, 12; 117, 9; 134, 16; laboures, 26, 31; 
losys, 97, 15 ; travells, 26, 31 ; was, 129, 31 ; ye loue God and 
dredys hym, 62, 31. 

Imperatives in -es : calles, 38, 13 ; comes, 25, 22 ; meruelles, 
83, 16; sendes, 23, 22; 113, 2. 

Participles in -nd : dredand, 5, 32. 

The verbal noun tythandes, 63, 5. 

Beside these northern forms are the midland plurals : semen, 
4, 17; ben, 5, 14 ; 23, 19 ; sayn, 6, 31 ; sayne, 13, 18 and 21 ; 
drawen, 76, 15. 

Singulars in -st and -th : 2nd person, feylest, 4, 21; 3rd 
person, baketh, gryndyth, 6, 32; lieth, 5, 15; 25, 22; longeth, 
23, 4; semeth, 23, 9; 119, 12; and the imperative in -th : goth, 
21, 32. 

It is perilous to commit oneself to any statement of dia- 
lectal usage in the fifteenth century, while Prof. Wright's 
great dictionary is actually publishing. Certain words, how- 


ever, in our text are clearly Northern : As, bustus, 73, 10 ; 
boustously, 49, 3; gude, 63, 26; vngudely, 128, 16; gudelenes, 
143, 19; gar 9 (cause), 77, 33; luke, etc., 119, 13, 29, 31; 
reiosed, 98, 32; reiose, 132, 7; trast, 107, 18; traysted, 89, 9; 
sail, 87, 15; 134, 29; mid, 66, 29. 

The use of to in the sense of till, 43, 19; 118, 33; 124, 
2, and of unto, 38, 10; 39, 16, is Northern; likewise the great 
preponderance of and over if as the conditional conjunction. 
The invariable awn for the intensive pronoun must be regarded 
as a Northernism in a text of this date. 

Stuffe in the sense of provision, frequent in this text, I 
believe to be a Northernism, though it occurs in W, and 
I have noted it in Malory (Somner, 839, 19). tiugge, 2, 24 ; 
luges, 27, 9, for lodge, is probably dialectal. It is barely 
possible that there, 15, 35 (note), is an isolated instance of the 
Northern demonstrative. 

It may be well to note one or two phonetic matters, possi- 
bly dialectal. 

An intervocalic s, but pretty certainly final in pronunciation, 
is frequently doubled, indicating the voiceless pronunciation, 
pleasse, 16, 27; 31, 33; 35, 5; 56, 5, etc. The single s is 
usual when the word is dissyllabic; e. g., lit pleases me, if it 
pleasse my fadre, 79, 32. Similarly, rysse, 139, 23, and rosse, 
39, 19; 45, 25; 117, 22; 139, 21, etc. 

Similar is the representation of a v sound by f in gyf, 2, 1 ; 
11, 29; 103, 20; gyfes, 63, 1 ; gafe, 8, 8 ; these besides forms 
like yevys and yeave; so relefe, vb., 8, 20. The change of b to 
p in warderop, 14, 1 ; 67, 23, etc., was possibly more general. 
Precisely the reverse of this is the constant representation of 
life by live, lyue, etc. 

Certain spellings appear to indicate that the a vowel was 
beginning to approximate its present front pronunciation : e. g., 
sale, 5, 26; saled, 5, 27 for sail; prase, 94, 7 and prased, IS, 
2, beside praysed, 18, 5. Wate, 21, 15, and the verb, 65, 6. 
Wale (wail), 37, 15. Captanes, 111, 1. Ordaned, 111, 4; 
112, 21; 123, 17, etc. Agane, 111, 7; 123, 16, etc., very 


frequent. This fronting of the a is usually set much later. 
There is evidence in the present text for such a pronunciation 
which should at least be considered. 

The dentals differ somewhat from standard English usage. 
Hunderyth regularly used for hundred is probably Northern. 
Smoth, 21, 11 for smote occurs but once. Garthyn, 3, 23 and 
bothome, 5, 26, 33 perhaps hardly call for mention. 

In general apart from the singular of the verb the whole 
text has the look of London English of its time. The Douce 
fragment shows no Northern peculiarities. It would be diffi- 
cult to disprove the thesis that the text might have been 
composed by a Northerner who knew standard English well 
and only occasionally lapsed into dialect, but it is far simpler 
to suppose that the translation was made in standard English 
of the time and slightly Northernized by the scribe, who pre- 
pared the present copy for the Hopton family of Yorkshire. 


The only known copy of this quarto is in the Bodleian 
Library. 1 Since the signatures misrepresent the make up of 
the book it may be well to give the matter a moment's atten- 
tion. The book originally contained 100 leaves of which the 

1 In the Douce Coll. I transcribe one or two of Douce's notes from the fly 
leaf. Douce notes first, his MS. fragment and French edition (Ortuin's). 
Then continues, 

"This romance is placed among the anonymous writers in Du Verdier's 
Bibliotheque Fran9oise." 

"See it in Bibl. Reg. 15 E., vi, 6." 

An instance of Douce's wide reading in obscure fields is the following : 

" ' From Pontus came Sidon, who by the exceeding sweetness of her voice 
first found out the hymns of odes, & praises and Posidon or Neptune.' See 
Cumberland's Sanchoniatho, p. 33. It is a whimsical coincidence of names 
at least." 

" This romance is an enlarged version of King Horn, see Warton, Hist. 
of Eng. Poetry, i, 4(5, new edition." 

" Concerning King Ponthus see Bourdigne", Chronique d' Anjou, xxxv, 


first two are missing. It is made up of alternate 8s and 4s 
(leaves) with the single exception that the last two signatures 
P and Q are both eights. 

8s regularly numbered i-iiij + 4 unnumbered leaves, are, 

a (i and ij lacking), c, e, g, j, 1, n, p, q. 
4s numbered i-iij + a single unnumbered leaf, are, 

b, h, k, o. 

4s numbered i-iiij, with no unnumbered leaf, are, 

d, f, m. 

Although a, i and ii are missing, the actual loss of text is 
but a single page, exactly Cap. I of the present edition. We 
may safely assume then that the front of a, i contained only a 
brief title, that the back was blank, a large woodcut must 
have filled the front of b, i, leaving space, probably, only for 
the first rather long chapter heading (see the first rubric of 
R). The romance proper must have begun low on a, ij (front) 
or at the top of a, ij (back). Since a large portion of W is 
used to fill a gap in D (pp. 57-60), there printed line for line 
and letter for letter, 1 it will not be necessary to give specimens 
of the text here, beyond the beginning and ending. On a, iij 
(front) the text begins : 

f How Broadas sone to the Soudan toke 
Groyne and slewe the kynge Tyber. 

SO befell it as fortune it wolde one of the thre 
sones came as f wynde brought his navy by 
grete tourment that he passed besyde Groyne in galy 
ce and there he came up. 

The romance ends q [iiij] front. 

1 Through my failure to give the printer sufficiently explicit directions 
the right hand margins are ragged and unsightly. Of course the "justifi- 
cation" was accurate in the original print. Otherwise the reprint repre- 
sents as well as anything short of facsimile can, the typographical form 
of W. 



thus it is of the worldly lyfe for there is none 
so fayre nor so ryche so stronge nor soo goodly but at the laste 
he must nedes leue this worlde. 

Deo gratias. 
q [iiij] back, 

1f Here endeth the noble hystory of the moost excellent 
and myghty prynce & hygh renowmed knyght kynge 
Ponthus of Galyce & of lytell Brytayne. Enprynted 
at London in Fletestrete at the sygne of the sonne by 
Wynkyn de Worde. In the yere of our lorde god. 


Below this is the printer's mark, a slight variation of No. 
5 in E. Gordon Duff's Handlist, and a scroll bearing the name 
of Wynkyn de Worde. 

The book is divided (counting the missing leaves as the 
first chapter) into sixty unnumbered chapters with headings. 
There are fifty-four woodcuts of very crude and feeble exe- 

Mr. Nicholson of the Bodleian Library kindly wrote to me 
of a signature of four leaves (d, i and ij) of an unknown edition 
by Wynkyn de Worde, in his custody, and had the fragment 
copied for me. The transcript corresponds page for page with 
signature d of the edition of 1511. Slight differences in the 
justification of the lines, a variant spelling or two, the differ- 
ence in designating the signatures (the fragment, d, i and ij -j- 
2, unsigned; 1511, d, i-iiij, none unsigned), prove resetting. 
In Lowndes' Manual, an edition of 1548 is noted. Re- 
peated inquiries at the English libraries and at the great 
London booksellers have brought me no information of this 
volume or of its whereabouts. W. C. Hazlitt, Notes and 
Collections, says characteristically, " I have not seen the book, 
but is likely that for 1548 we should read 1648." 

The printed edition shows nothing of unusual interest 
linguistically. A few rare words are cited in my notes. 
The discussion of the relation of W to its French source 
and to R, falls to the next section. 




The problem of the relations of D and R offers unusual 
difficulties, which a statement of the general results of the 
comparison of the two texts will set before the reader. W is 
throughout a close and even slavish translation of its French 
original. Pp. 1-61 of D follow W so loosely that they might 
almost be regarded as an independent translation. D is in 
general shorter, condensing the narrative by cutting out su- 
perfluous descriptive details. Verbal correspondences of any 
length are rare in this portion. D, pp. 62-113, 1. 6, agrees 
more closely with W. The versions are still fairly distinct, 
but frequent verbal agreement of long sentences makes it 
clear that one version is in some fashion a revision of the 
other. D, pp. 113, 1. 7-150, is to all intents identical with 
the corresponding portion of W. The verbal agreement is 
unusually close for two prose documents of this period. 
Roughly speaking, then, the first two-fifths of D is a loose 
paraphrase of its French original, and only remotely con- 
nected with W; the second two-fifths is a close paraphrase, 
and closely connected with W ; the final fifth is a close trans- 
lation and virtually identical with W. 

Before attempting an explanation of these phenomena it 
may be well to show by a representative example from the 
first part the relations of the two English versions to each 
other, and to the French text R. I have chosen Ponthus* 
fight with the Saracen messenger. 

D( P . 21). 

And Ponthus withdrewe hym a 
litle, and putt his sper' in the reste ; 
and come with a goode will & smote 
hym betweyn his sheld and his hel- 

W (C. iy". ff.). 

& he afrayed hym a lytell & toke 
his spere & came to hym a grete pace 
and smote hym bytwene y 6 shelde 
and the helme that he perced the 

R (Fol. 210, Col. i). 

II se eslogne ung pou et coucha sa lance et vient grant aleure centre lui 
et le fieri entre lescu et le heaulme tant qui lui perca sa manche et ses 



mett, that he brake his shuldre. And 

Saresyn smote Ponthus so myghtely 
that he brake his sper*. And when 
the kyng and the people sawe the 
iustyng, thei thonked Gode and said 
that Ponthus had wele iusted. Then 

went forthre and drewe oute his 
swerd, and come to the Saresyn and 
gave hym suche a stroke aboue the 
vyser' of his helme that men myght 
se his vysage all open. Then hade 

Cristen ioye, and hope in Gode. 
The Saresyn drewe oute his swerd, 
whiche was a full grete blade of 
stele, and smoth Ponthus therwith 
so grete a stroke that he made his 
hede to shake and fire to smyte out 
of his eeyn : so he was sore astoned of 
that stroke, and sore was the feght 
betwen theym. Bot at all tymes 
Ponthus hade the bettre and lay in 
wate to smyte hym in the visage that 

mayle and the doublet/A put the 
Iren & the tree bytwene y e necke & 
the shoulders/A the tree brake well 
a two fote from the heed whiche 
greued hym moche/& the paynym 
smote Ponthus in the shelde & brake 
his spere in his breste. And whan 
the kynge & other sawe these lustes/ 
they thanked god & sayd that Pon- 
thus had lusted ryght fayre & prayed 
that god sholde helpe hym. Ponthus 
passed forth & made his cours & 
settejiis hande on his swerde/& came 
towarde the paynym & gaue hym soo 
grete a stroke that he kytte a two 
halfe his ventayle & vnmaylled it so 
that y e vyser bename hym the syght 
& the paynym rent it of 30 boys- 
tously y* his vysage was all dys- 
couered/& than had the crysten men 
grete loy & grete hope/& the pay- 
nym drewe his swerde of stele & 
smote Ponthus so that he made all 
his heed to shake & his eyen to 
sparkle in his heed/so he felte hym 
astonyed of the grete stroke/& smote 
the hors w* his spores & came agayne 
& smote him a grete stroke. So was 
y e batayle bytwene them stronge & 
longe endurynge/& all wayes Pon- 
thus wayted to smyte the paynym in 

estoffes et lui mist le fer et le fust entre le col et les espaules, et fu rompue 
sa lance a deux piedz du fust, qui moult greua le payen. A pres le payen 
ferist pontus en lescu et brisa sa lance en pieces. Quant le roy et les autres 
virent ceste iouste, si mercierent dieu et disoient que bel auoit iouste pontus 
et que dieu lui aideroit. pontus passa oultre et parfait son poindre et met 
sa main a lespee et vient vers le payen et lui donne si grant coup qui lui 
abat et trenche la mo i tie de la bauaille tel lenient que sa visaigiere lui tollu 
la veue, tant que le payen la print et erracha tant quil eust tout la (?) visaige 
a descouuert, dont eurent grant Ioye le Cristiens et grant esperance en pon- 
tus quil gagneroit. A dont le payen trait le branc dacier et ferist pontus si 
grant coup qui lui fist la teste toute fremir tant que les yeulx lui estinces- 
serent en la teste. Si se senti estourdy du grant coup quil eust. Si feri 
oultre et reuint et reffiert le payen si grant coup que merueille fu. Si fu 
forte la bataille dentre eulx et moult dure. Et touteffbis estoit pontus tou- 



was open; and so he mett with hym 
at a travers, that he smote of his nose 
and his chynne, so that it helde hot by 
the skynne: so he blede in suche 
wyse that his shelde and his nek wer* 
full of bloode, that vnneth he myght 
sitt on hors bake. Then Ponthus 

hym by the helme and pulled itt fro 
the hede, and aftre gave hym suche 
a stroke that he fell doune to the 
grounde. And when he had doon 
so, he smote of his hede and putt 
itt on his swerde poynte and broght 
itt to the squyers Saresyns and said 
to theym, "Fair Saresyns, I present 
you with the hede of your maistre." 

the vysage/whiche was dyscouered 
/& soo moche that he wente to caste 
suche a trauers/that he smote the 
nose the mouth & the chyn/so y* all 
helde not bot the skyn so bledde he 
strongely/& soo moche he bledde 
y* all his shelde before was blody. 
The kynge & the people whiche sawe 
that stroke made ryght grete loye & 
thanked god. The paynym lost the 
blode & febled fast & so moche that 
unnethes he myght holde hym on his 
hors/& Ponthus ranne vpon hym 
sharpely tyll he caste hym doune as 
he that hadde loste his blode & 
myght holde hymselfe no more. 
Than Ponthus toke and rente of his 
helme from his heed/and afterwards 
smote hym suche a stroke that he 
made his heed for to flee too grounde. 
And he bowed downe and nyghed it 
with his swerde/and lyfte it vp and 
bare it vnto the two squyers sara- 
synes/and sayd vnto them in this 
wyse. Fayre lordes I present you 
with your maysters heed. 

siours en a guet de le ferir par le visaige qui estoit descouuert. Et tant 
qui va getter trauersse tellement qui lui couppa le nez la bouche et le men- 
ton tant que tout ne tenoit que a la peau. Si seigna si fort que tout son 
escu estoit senglant. Le roy et la peuple qui virent ce coup firent grant 
ioye et mercierent dieu. Le payen perdi le sang et affoybli tant que a 
paine se pouait tenir sur son cheual. Et pontus lui couroit sur asprement 
et tant quil reuersa comme cellui qui auoit perdu le sang et lui erracha le 
heauZme de la teste. Et puis le feri tel coup qui lui fist la teste voler a 
terre. Et puis senclina et la picqua & leu a sus et la porta aux deux 
escuiers payenSc Et leur dist. Beaulx seigneurs ie vous pmente la teste 
de vostre maistre. 

Since in this specimen, as always, W is nearer the French 
original than D, it is clear that it cannot be derived directly 
from D. The obvious working hypothesis would then be the 
converse, that D is essentially a revision of Ws original, a 
close translation of the French. The reviser setting out with 


the intention of rewriting and condensing W would then have 
carried out his plan for two-fifths of the way, flagged in the 
undertaking for the next two-fifths, from there out, sunk to 
the position of mere transcriber. But this theory that W 
represents a complete translation of which D is an early and 
partial revision is far too simple to account for the facts with 
which we have to deal, for there is a third term to be con- 
sidered, namely, that in the revision of one version by the other 
there was reference to a copy of the French Ponthus. This is 
proved by the existence of variants which, while they could 
have come about by no process of scribal corruption in the 
English tradition, are readily accounted for as direct mis- 
translations from the French. Recognizing the possibilities 
of capricious revision in prose of this time I have limited 
myself to clear instances of independent use of a French text 
in'D and W. 

When Ponthus appoints the weekly jousting for a year in 
the Forest of Broceliande, being in disfavor with his lady, he 
appropriately calls himself le chevalier noir aux larmes blanches, 
to indicate his sorrow. W translates this properly " the black 
knight with the white tears " (see p. 58, 1. 2 f.), but D always 
translates " white arms." * Now it will be perfectly clear that 
no miscopying of teres would result in armes, and that con- 
versely armes could never suggest teres to the stupidest of 
scribes. Reference to the French sets the matter straight in 
a moment ; the translator of D simply read in his original for 
the correct aux larmes blanches, aux armes blanches, this mis- 
take, actually found in Ortuin's French print of about 1500, 
is one that any careless copyist of the French text would 
naturally make. 

Another instance. Ponthus forced to leave Brittany and 
Sidone by Guenelete's slander naturally calls himself in W 
the " moost vnhappyest (R le plus maleureux) knyght that 
lyued;" in D (p. 67, 1. 14) he holds himself "the mervellest 
knyght livyng " quite unaccountably, till we see that the writer 

1 Armes whyte 40, 10, 13, 28, 34 ; 42, 3 ; 43, 10, 13 ; 47, 17 ; 60, 32 ; 56, 4. 


of D read merveilleux for malheureux. So (D, p. 49, 1. 19), 
Geoffroy strikes a stone with his " goode swerde " so that he 
falls. W more naturally makes him strike it " w* his fote," 
K "de son pie," out of the latter reading D, or a careless scribe, 
managed to make bon espee. 

Again in W the barons advise king Huguell to make haste 
to offer his daughter to Ponthus because Ponthus is so rich 
that he " setteth bot lytel by any daunger," that is, will bear 
little haggling in the matter, and the king begins his speech of 
consent " Fair lordes ; " we have here a reading that a copyist 
is little likely to have changed into, " he settes not by noo 
daungerous lordes," while a careless translator might well have 
so rendered the original R, [il] en pris mains denger Seigneurs 
dist le roy , construing denger with Seigneurs and supposing 
the king's speech to begin only after dist le roy. 1 I would 
not insist too much upon this, though it is the most probable 

Certain unimportant variant readings, which would appear 
at first sight merely the work of a scribe's caprice, have MS. 
authority. Thus in D (p. 2, 1. 13) Brodas lands " he and xxi 
men with hym," the detail supported, if not mathematically, 
by F's lui trente vngyesme and H's lui vintiesme, is lacking 
in W and equally absent from R. So D (p. 3, 1. 3) sets the 
number of Saracens disguised as merchants at forty, two 
French MSS. at least give the decimal, F, xliiij ; H, Quarante 
deux, R gives no number; so W. Again D (p. 18, 1. 13) 
makes the Saracen host "twenty" thousand in number 
following R's xx, W reads " thyrty " following O's xxx. 

A final clear case of independent mistranslation by D is : 

D, p. 14, 1. 25, "ye shuld vndirstonde wele not to bryng me another in 
stede of hym." 

R, "Auoy," dist elle, " si eussez encor attendu, non pas [mene] ung autre 
pour lui." 

1 The full passages, parallel, will make the point clear. 
R, " it a ires grant tresor quit en pris mains nid denger" "Seigneurs " dist le roy, 
D, that he settes not by no d&ungerous lordes" Sayd the king 

W, he setteth not by ony daunger" "Fair lordes" said y e kyny 


W, " Do way," said she, " than shuld ye haue abyde as yet & not haue 
broughte a nother for hym." 

That is, " you ought to have waited till you could get Pon- 
thus." The mistranslation of D, especially the vndirstonde, is 
I think most easily explained on the supposition that the 
translator mis-read entendu for attendu, though it may be 
sheer mistranslation. 

We come back then to the old problem with one term 
added. W and R cannot be independent translations, one 
must be a revision of the other witj* the use of a French text. 
The question then is, which is the antecedent translation ? 
which the revision ? A general characterization of the two 
versions may throw some light on the question. 

A glance at the notes on the lists of proper names in D 
(pp. 29, 30, 55) will show that the translator probably mis- 
understood these obscure French names and that successive 
scribes must have added to the confusion. W is singularly 
correct in this respect, so accurate that it is difficult to believe 
that it had ever been copied by one ignorant of the French 
original. In. its chapter divisions 1 W practically agrees with 
Ortuin's print of about 1500, and the chapter headings are 
with rare exceptions exact translations of those of O. This 
may of course only mean that Ortuin's MS. was of the same 
class as the original of W. The coincidence is at least strik- 
ing, when the three French MSS. in England differ so essen- 
tially in chapter divisions and headings. It is probably not 
fortuitous that D lacks chapter headings. The fact that it, 
the earliest German edition (1483) and the French MS. F, 
differing to be sure in chapter divisions, all appear without 
chapter headings, is at least an indication that the French 
Ponthus was originally composed without them, and that the 

1 The chapter division of W corresponding to xxv, p. 88 of D, is repre- 
sented in O only by a break and a large capital, but W has apparently 
used what was originally a mere transition "Now here I leue of Sur- 
dyte, etc.," as a chapter heading. Otherwise the chapter divisions are 


varying rubrics are, as would be expected, the work of the 

We are now in a position to test the theory that D is a 
revision of the version represented by W. First we must 
suppose that a scribe setting out before 1450 to condense, 
unsystematically, an English romance took the pains to use 
the French original in this revision, we must suppose further 
that a plan begun thus elaborately was gradually relinquished 
till the reviser became mere copyist, finally we must suppose 
that a scribe careful enough to use a French MS. in revision, 
in at least two instances changed the obviously correct trans- 
lation before him in favor of an error in his French original, 
which the correct translation would have made perfectly 
apparent. It is unnecessary to dwell upon the improbability 
of any or all of these suppositions. 

Forced then to the theory that W is in some fashion a revision 
of D made with a French original, we shall find the motives 
for such a revision in the probable method of preparing W for 
de Worde's press. Suppose that Wynkyn de Worde planned 
to print the famous romance of Ponthus in English. He 
would pretty certainly have turned over one of the early 
printed editions of the French Ponthua to some hack with 
directions to translate it. This translator would naturally 
avail himself of the earlier English version, which Wynkyn de 
Worde, most conscientious of early printers, may have rejected 
as inaccurate, keeping it open before him as he translated 
from the French. The early portion of D, being loose para- 
phrase, would have supplied him only with occasional phrases 
and sentences, the second portion, free translation, would have 
furnished him much material, the third portion, close trans- 
lation, could have been transcribed for press with slight 
changes. The resulting version would then be W's rather 
slavish translation, which contains a large portion of the earlier 
D. The theory has more than prima facie probability to 
commend it. If W represents a translation made especially 
for Wynkyn de Worde's press, the unusual correctness of its 


proper names is immediately accounted for, and the coincidence 
of its chapter divisions and headings with those of Ortuin's 
edition ceases to be surprising. 

There are only a few instances in which errors in W are 
more likely to be misunderstandings of D than of a French 
text. For instance, where Ponthus sings his song in the 

D, p. 39, 1. 28, " he made ther* a song of the whiche the refrete was this 
melodic: "Of byrdes and of wordly ioy is to me no disporte," etc., following. 

R. " Si fist une chancon et auoit ou reffrain, " Chant des oiseaulx, etc. 

W reads, " [Ponthus] made a song where^he was at the refraynynge of 
y e byrdes, "No Joye shuld me reconforte." (Cf. note p. 39, 1. 28.) 

That is, W was misled by the form of D's translation into 
throwing most of the first line of the song into the preceding 
description. D had already carried over the first word of the 
song (chant = melodie). W simply carried the process a point 
further. The mistake is not likely to have arisen directly 
from the French. Again W has just once the mistake " whyte 
armes" for "whyte teres" (the first occurrence of the phrase, 
D, p. 40, 1. 10). This cannot be a genuine mistranslation, for 
the phrase is correctly translated three lines below. Only in 
the mechanical copying of D's reading when the attention had 
wandered a moment from the French text could the mistake 
have arisen. Only such a mistake of the eye would have 
escaped immediate correction. 

Though the satisfactory demonstration of this solution of 
the problem would require the identification of the printed 
book from which W was translated, a study which I have 
lacked opportunity to make, I believe that the evidence is 
sufficient to establish, at least provisionally, this theory of the 
relation of the two English texts. 

To recapitulate: D is a rough translation in its earlier 
parts, a fairly close translation in its central portion as the 
translator gained knowledge of French or warmed up to 
the work, finally, a literal translation. The only extant copy 
was made probably about 1450 by a Yorkshire scribe, from 


a standard English original. A copy of this early version, 
somewhat better than the Digby MS., 1 lay before the man 
who prepared the version of W for the press in 1511. This 
reviser followed a French text, probably printed, closely. So 
he was obliged virtually to retranslate all the first two-fifths 
with only occasional assistance from the older translation, 
in the second two-fifths he revised the older work carefully 
from the French. The final fifth was so accurate that he 
merely transcribed it with minor corrections. 


Ponthus was early translated into German by no less a 
personage than the princess Eleanor, daughter of James I., 
of Scotland. Her motive is set forth in the first edition of 

1483, where it is stated that the Archduchess of Austria [dise 
histori], loblich von frantzosischer zungen in teutch getransferiert 
?m gemacht hat dem durchleuchtigen hochgeporenem fursten vnd 
herren Sigmunden ertzhertzog zu osttrreich, &c. jrem eelichen 
gemahel tzu lieb und zu geuallen. Eleanor married Sigismund 
of Austria in the year 1448. The earliest German MS. is 
dated 1465. 2 Between these dates then the translation was 
made, and from the middle of the fifteenth century to the 
present time the romance of Ponthus has been readily accessi- 
ble in Germany. Only in Germany the romance passed the 
sixteenth century, there even in the eighteenth century it 
was published for popular reading. Probably the earliest 
allusion to Ponthus (the Fr. version ?) in German, is in the 
colophon of the first German edition of M6lusine, printed 

1484, but written in 1456. There the translator, Thiiring von 
Riiggeltingen, mentions it in an interesting list : Und ich hob 

1 For W furnishes not a few emendations to D in the last part, pp. 113- 
150, where the versions are virtually identical. See the footnotes passim. 

2 So in Goedeke's Orundriss, I, p. 356. Biisching and Von der Hagen, 
Buck der Liebe, XLVI, give 1464 in their reprint of the exact form of the 
colophon of the Gotha MS. 

Xlii F. J. MATHER, JR. 

auch gesehen vnd gelesen vil schoner hystori vn bucher Es sey von 
kunig artus hof vn von vil seiner Ritter von der Tafelram Es 
Bey von her Ywan vn her Gawan/her Lantzelot/her Tristran/ 
her Parcefal/der yegliches sein besunder hystori vnd lesen hat 
Dar zti von sant Wilhelm von Pontus von hertzog wilhelm von 
Orliens vn von Matin [? Merlin]. Biisching and von der 
Hagen, Buck der Liebe, XL and XLV, cite passages from the 
Adelspiegel of Spangenberg and the Ehrenbrief of Piiterich 
von Reicherzhausen which mention Ponthus. But the best 
proof of the popularity of the story is the many editions of 
Eleanor's rather dull version. The translation which I have 
read in part in the edition of 1483 is a faithful rendering 
of a very early form of the French text, showing all the 
monotony of the French MS. R of the British Museum. The 
second edition (1498) already shows revision and successive 
printers worked it into the quite readable form of the 16th 
cent. Buck der Liebe. 

It could serve no useful purpose to repeat the matter in 
Goedeke's Grundriss, Bd. i, b. 355 f., where all MSS. and 
printed versions are described. I will simply enumerate the 
editions with brief comment, marking with an asterisk those 
which I have not seen. 

(1) Fol. Hans Schonsberger, Augsburg, 1483. (2) the same, 
1498. These like the early MS. described in Biisching and 
von der Hagen, XLVI f., have no chapter numbers or head- 
ings. * (3) Fol. Martinus Flach, Strassburg, 1509. (4) Fol. 
Sigmund Bun, Strassburg, 1539. This was the edition mod- 
ernized by Biisching and von der Hagen in their "Buch der 
Liebe" Berlin, 1809. It contains a long homiletic introduction 
which tells " wie und warumb si [dise histori] zulesen sei," which 
the interested will find at the end of Biisching and von der 
Hagen's reprint. It is presumably only a publisher's flourish 
to tell the reader that " dise [histori] ausz Frantzosicher zungen 
in das Latein und nachmals in unser Teutch sprach / bracht 
warden sei." The translation is still Eleanor's, but consider- 
ably revised and provided with chapter numbers and headings. 


It enlarges the final paragraph exhorting the reader to recog- 
nize the shortness of life and follow the example of Ponthus. 
No other version has this modified ending. (5) Fol. 62 
numbered leaves, no place or printer, 1548. Aside from its 
fine woodcuts l this edition has a certain interest as the source 
of the modified version of Ponthus found in the famous 
16th cent. Buck der Liebe. The introduction of (4) is again 
used also the chapter divisions and headings of the immedi- 
ately preceding edition, but there is one interesting change. 
Where all the earlier German versions following the French 
make Ponthus prepare for the tournament with a dwarf, this 
edition makes him consult with an " edelmann" and instead of 
the mummery of Ponthus disguised as a hermit, the masked 
old lady, shooting the shields, etc. (cf. p. 40 ff.), substitutes, 
in due form, a herald to direct the jousting. The change is 
evidently to make Ponthus' conduct conform more nearly to 
the actual code of the time. 2 * 6) 8 V0 . Wygand Han, Frank- 
furt a. M., 1557. *(7) 8 V0 . No date or printer. Frankfurt. 
*(8)8 V0 . Frankfurt, 1568. (9) Buck der Liebe. Fol. Feyer- 
abend, Frankfurt, 1578 and 1587. Printed from a version 
showing the changes made in 5. (10 3 ) "Bitter Ponthus" 16. 
Frankfurt [circa 1600], follows the Buck der Liebe. * (11) 8 T0 . 
Niirnberg, 1656. * 12) 8 Y '. Niirnberg, 1657. *(13) 8 V0 . 
Niirnberg, 1670. (14) 8 V0 . Frankfurt, 1769. To these should 
be added Ridder Pontus, a Low German version, "Ham- 
borch," 1601, the reprint in Biisching and von der Hagen's 
Buck der Liebe, 1809, and in Simrock's Die Deutschen Volks- 

1 Several of them bear the mark of Hans Schaufelin the younger, a 
monogram HS. and a small spade. 

8 Biisching and von der Hagen, p. L, had already noticed this difference 
between the version they printed (4), and that of the 16th. cent. Buch der 
Liebe, but they were ignorant of this ed. of 1548, in which the change first 

3 The edition is not cited in Goedeke, unless it is No. 7. It is not probable 
that he should have assigned so early a date to the book. I have seen 10 in 
the British Museum, it is if anything, later than the date assigned. My 
numbers 11-14 are Goedeke's 10-13. 

xliv F. J. MATHER, JR. 

bucher, vol. xi, Frankfurt, 1865, as usual without indication 
of source. Since it has the additional didactic paragraph found 
only in the ed. of 1539 and von der Hagen's reprint it is pretty 
certain that Simrock merely reprinted von der Hagen's edition. 
Since Simrock's series was popular rather than antiquarian in 
intention, it closes a tradition of nearly four hundred years of 
the popular survival of the romance of Ponthus in Germany. 


It was a curious fate that the chivalresque Ponthus, which 
had come through the stages of the heroic Geste of King 
Horn and the French roman d' A venture, should return 
towards its origins by being done into a Northern rfmur. I 
learned first of the existence of this version through examining 
a small paper MS., Bor. 106 l of the Bodleian Library, the 
first page told me that it was the second part of a Pontus-rimur 
and by Petur Einarsson. This is all I should have known 
about it, if my friend, Dr. W. H. Schofield, had not come to 
my aid. I print entire the notes he has kindly sent me 
from Christiania. 

" The Icelandic work usually called Ponlm-rimur has not, so far as I know, 
been published. It is, however, preserved more or less complete in at least 
10 MSS. (outside of that one in the Bodleian to which you refer). Seven 
of them are in the Arnamagnaean collection in Copenhagen, and may be 
found described in the Ka'alog over den Arnamaynceanske Handskiftsamling, 
Copen., 1892-94, Vol. n, Parts 1-2, under the following numbers: 

No. 1562 (AM. 611 g, 4 to paper of 17th century). 

" 1575 (AM. 613 e, 4*<> '< ). 

" 1576 (AM. 613 f, 4*> " " ). 

" 1578 (AM. 613 h, 4*o " ). 

" 1579 (AM. 613 i, 4* paper, ca. 1700). 

" 1583 (AM. 614 d, 4* " " 1656). 

" 2611, 2, (Rask, 40 18th century). 

J Ff. 163. The heading is, Attar Partur Pontus Rimna Orrturg: Petre 
Einarssyne. It is divided into 17 "fits." In Dr. Schofield's notes Einars- 
son is said to be the author of the last 16 songs of the rimur. The difference 
may indicate only a scribe's subdivision of one of the original songs. 


" Jon porkelsson in his Doctor's thesis entitled Om Digtningen paa Island 
i det 15 og 16. AarMndrede, Copen., 1888, p. 377, mentions three others: two 
fragmentary paper MSS. in Stockholm, and another fragment, I Bfel. Nr. 
238, 8 V . 

" From the last-named book, I extract the following information as to the 
Pontus-rimur, and its author : 

" The work was begun by MAGNUS JONSSON surnamed PEU^I, or GAMLI, 
who was born between 1520-25 and died in 1591. It seems to have been 
written in his 33rd year, for he speaks of his first wife as then dead. He, 
however, finished only the first 13 songs. His heirs decided that the poem 
should be continued by the priest OLAFUR HALD6nssoN (who died before 
1639) ; but he got no farther than the 14th and loth songs. Later in the 
17th century, it was continued by Pe"tiir Einarsson of Ballara (still alive in 
1665), who began where Magnus left off, and brought the work to a con- 
clusion, writing songs xiv to ^ncre. Thus we have two versions of songs 
xiv and xv. 

" The corresponding saga is to be found in Thott's MS., No. 513, 8 VO ; but 
this seems to have been made up after the rimur by Magnus Jonsson digri 
(great-grandson of Magnus Jonsson prufti), died 1702. In (Uno von Troil), 
Bref Eorande en Resa til Island, 1772, Upsala, 1777, p. 164, we have a Pon- 
ttisar saya mentioned. 

"Magnus was given the complimentary surname (hinn) prtifti, i. e., 'the 
elegant,' because of the distinction of his bearing, and the general esteem 
in which he was held. His other surname (hinn) yamli, i. e., 'the old,' was 
doubtless not added until the last part of the 17th century, when his great- 
great-grandson was a grown man. His descendants raised a very costly 
monument to his memory, provided with a long Latin inscription. 

" In Historia Literaria Islandice, auctore Halfdano Einari, Ed. nova, 1786, 
p. 85, we have the following insertion : 

" Magnus Johannis. regionis Torskafiordensis Choronomus, illustri genere 
natus, fatis cessit 1596, Historiam Ponti, pulchro verborum delectu, carmi- 
neque numeroso gratiorum fecit. Tribuntur porro illi in quibusdam exem- 
plaribus xn carmina, quae historiam Ingrari, yiii, quse Conradi Richardi 
Imperatoris filii, & nonnulla, quae Amici & JEmilii complectuntur historias. 

" Magnus Jonsson pru'Si was one of the most enlightened and cultivated 
men of his time. He was considered the best speaker then living, and one 
of the most learned of jurists. He was also an historian, and is said to 
have composed annals and other similar works. As a poet he was held in 
unusually high esteem by his contemporaries. 

" Most of his shorter poems are lost, only separate verses being found 
here and there in chronicles and histories. Among other things of his, 
which are preserved, we have a Amikusrimur og Amilius (i. e., rimur on 
Amis and Amiloun), on which see Kolbing in Beit, zur Oesch. der deut. 
Sprache, rv, 1877, pp. 271-314; also Germania, xix, 184-189. This was 

xlvi F. J. MATHER, JR. 

edited by Kolbing in his Alteng. Bibliothek, n, Heilbronn, 1884, pp. 189- 
229. He, however, did not know the name of the author, and was wrong 
in dating it at ca. 1500, for it really should be dated ca. 1560-70, or about 
the same time as the Pontus-rimur (see porkelsson, pp. 377-8). 

" Magnus was very familiar with German. In his youth he spent several 
years in Germany, where he doubtless laid the foundation of his unusual 
and all-round culture. It looks as if it was, therefore, a German version 
of the Pontus story on which he based his rimur. Yet porkelsson notes 
(p. 118) that there are certain verses on Pontus (preserved in other Icel. 
documents) which are not in Magnus's poem, and seem to point to an older 
poem on the subject. Se*ra porsteinn Pe"tursson puts the Ponlus-rimur in 
the 15th century. This is probably a blunder; but he may have known 
other older versions of the story than those ^reserved (p. 176). 

"porkelsson notes further (p. 117) that certain verses of the Pontus-rimur 
are still living in popular tradition in Iceland." 

I need only add that the form of the proper names in the 
Bodleian MS. made it clear that Einarsson worked from a 
German, not a French version ; in this it is probable that he 
only followed Magnus Jonssou. Gendil, f. 24 b , 26, comes 
from the Gendelot of the German versions. Geneve, 40 b , 
Genefe, 41 b , is the German form of Guenever. Even more 
striking is Produs, 51 b , for the French Brodas. Tiburt, 89 b , 
is also the German, not the French form of the name of Pon- 
thus' father. So Henrich, 39 b , 59 b . 


The late prose romances have found little favor with the 
critics, and with a certain justice, for most of them are clearly 
debasements, vulgarizations in the bad sense, of stories that 
had been better told. MM. Montaiglon and Mayer in their 
passing characterization of Ponthus as pauvre livre and faible 
ouvrage, evidently regard the book as at best an average 
example of its dull class. The indulgence of an editor for 
the foster-child of his fancy, if no more serious consideration, 
would make me bespeak for the book at least the mitigated 
condemnation of faint praise. 


In its programme of " mervelles," jousts, battles and adven- 
tures, the book, it seems to me, calls neither for praise nor 
blame. Such descriptions have the inevitable monotony of 
the genre, yet I believe the reader will find Ponthus' first 
battle with the Saracen messenger convincingly sanguinary, 
and Guenelete, at the last, a formidable villain of a melodra- 
matic sort. The long lists of names, a sheer hindrance to the 
enjoyment of the English version, constituted a very real and 
legitimate attraction to the first readers of the romance. The 
Angevin family of Tour Landry and their neighbors certainly 
felt no less a thrill at recognizing their ancestors fighting for 
the faith than did the high-born Athenian in reading familiar 
names among the captains that sailed for Troy to avenge 
Helen's rape. But as sheer romance, Ponihus is certainly far 
inferior to Malory and in no way notable among stories of 

As a serious and consistent attempt to draw the portrait of 
an ideal knight of the 15th century, in character as well as in 
achievement, Ponihus has, I believe, a unique interest. No 
great literary skill in the execution of this task was to be 
expected ; and yet it must be said to the unknown author's 
credit that he thoroughly believed in his own hero, and that 
his ideal of the knightly character was high and manly. So 
that in Ponthus we have a hero who has no vices and all the 
virtues, and yet is distinctly not a prig, no Grandison out of 
due time. Besides the older duties of valor and generosity, 
the author proposes for his hero above all things a certain 
cleanness of life and a tactful kindliness that includes all 
relations of life. In the attempt to express in incident some 
of the finer emotions, I believe the romance rises well above 
its class. Recognizing fully the incompleteness of perform- 
ance in every case, it was no perfunctory hand that described 
Sidone's sorrow at her lover's departure, Ponthus' farewell to 
Brittany, his recognition of his mother, and many another less 
notable scene of the book. The romancer then offers as the 
chief virtues of his hero a certain sweetness and gaiety of 

Xlviii F. J. MATHER, JR. 

mind, purity and justness of life. Only in the instructions 
to Pollides in the presence of his wife does Ponthus appear 
to strike a jarring note. A modern reader would hope that 
Genever's assurance, " Ser, he shall doo as a goode man owe 
to doo," was spoken with a certain resentment. But we must 
remember that the 15th century took its instruction, as well 
as its transgression, sturdily. The whole scene and the long 
homily that Ponthus reads his cousin must have been suffi- 
ciently in character when the book was written. Ponthus as 
definitely represents the later ideal of knighthood, the tone 
of the book is often singularly like^the life of the Chevalier 
Bayard, as Gawain represented the earlier ideal of knightly 
courtesy. The later hero, obscurely represented in a single 
romance, can never in any way rival the knight of Arthur's 
court, celebrated by the great medieval romancers, but I 
believe that the character of Ponthus will hold a certain 
representative value, permanent, if humble. It was no wholly 
frivolous or contemptible motive that gave the book its con- 
temporary popularity. It was the portrait of a knight that 
men recognized and that men approved. 

From the point of view of style, faible ouvrage the French 
Ponthus certainly is. Better things may be said of the Eng- 
lish translation. It will I believe be difficult to find any 
English prose of the first half of the 15th century on the 
whole so fluent and readable. Briskly and easily the story 
chatters along, when most of the prose of the time lumbers 
in hopeless monotony. Style, in the sense in which Malory, 
Pecock, or a modern has style, the story has not. It is more 
like good unaffected talk than anything else, no slight merit 
at the time, and a merit almost wholly the translator's. Just 
as the homespun virtues and equally clear-cut vices of the 
book cannot compete in interest with the subtle union of 
sensuality and religious mysticism that in Malory exercises 
a somewhat morbid fascination, so the clearness and bright- 
ness of its English, excellent for its subject, may appear 


insignificant, almost inaudible, when Malory resounds in full 
volume; yet there is room for both, and none of the early 
English prose romances is likely to suffer less by the contrast. 
With all its defects of proportion, and they are many, it 
remains a pleasantly told story "wherof a man may lerne 
mony goode ensamples " of an ideal of character by no means 
valueless to-day. In the prose of the 15th century it should 
gain and hold a modest place. 


The text printed is that of the Digby MS. with only the 
following changes, the representation of contractions by 
the full form in Italic, the normalization of the use of capi- 
tals, the introduction of paragraphing and punctuation. The 
first change is now universal, the publishing of a fac-simile 
page makes it unnecessary to follow the fashion of the MS. 
unsightly on the printed page, in capitalization, the absence 
of punctuation in the MS. except a rare Tf and ||, always 
reproduced in the text, makes the introduction of punctua- 
tion indispensable to the comfortable use of the text, finally 
when it is once understood that the MS. is written solidly 
with no breaks in the chapters, except the few marked by 
TfTf, the division into paragraphs in the text, an obvious con- 
venience, is in no way misleading. Rare editorial changes 
are clearly explained in the footnotes or, in the case of inser- 
tions inclosed in brackets or parentheses, the former [] indi- 
cate matter supplied by the editor, the latter () emendations 
from Wynkyn de Worde's edition of 1511. To supply the 
lack of any running analysis in the original I have written 
the chapter headings inclosed in brackets. That they should 
be congruous with the text, I have followed the orthography, 
and attempted to imitate the style of the Digby MS. The 
perils of this sort of composition have, I hope, been avoided 


by the use whenever practicable of material supplied in the 
text itself, of the chapter headings of W, or the translation 
and imitation of the chapter headings of the French MS. The 
difficulty confronting every editor of texts of this period, the 
treatment of terminal tags and flourishes, has been the less in 
this case : first, because the fac-simile page gives all needful 
information upon this point ; second, because the Yorkshire 
scribe of the MS. could have pronounced no final e's ; third, 
because most of these tags are clearly only flourishes. It 
seemed advisable then to disregar^ all except the tailed r. 
This is so much more clearly written than other tags and so 
consistently used that it seemed desirable to represent it in 
the text. An ? was then cut to represent the tailed character 
of the MS. Occasionally, usually after -r?, I have printed 
-rre, and -re, as more sightly. 

It was at first my intention to insert all textual notes at 
the foot of the page. All the readings of the MS., when 
changed in the text, are so recorded. The impracticability of 
holding the proof-sheets long, made it necessary to place the 
longer textual notes, and a few that escaped my attention 
among the general notes. The proper names are frequently 
so thoroughly corrupted in the MS. that it seemed best in the 
text to abide by the strictly palaeographical reading, and to 
make the necessary corrections in the case of important names 
in the alphabetical list of proper names, in the case of minor 
names in the longer lists, in the general notes. Any formal 
inconsistency in this matter will I trust be the more readily 
pardoned, that the whole material is readily accessible. Finally 
the reasonable certainty that W is a revision of D made it super- 
fluous to swell this already bulky volume with its innumerable 
variant readings. I have registered at the foot of the page or 
among the general notes all readings of "W which have any 
intrinsic interest, besides the few that appear to represent 
readings of the old translation better than those transmitted 
in D. 




D. MS. Digby 185 of the Bodleian Library. 
W. Wynkyn de Worde's Ed. of 1511. 

E. MS. Royal 15, E. vr, Brit. Mus., of the French Text. 
H. MS. Hh. 3, 16, Cambr., of the French Text. 

F. MS. Ff. 3, 31, Cambr., of the French Text. 

O. Ortuin's Ed., Lyon, circa 1500, of the French Text. 

P. 2, 1. 11, passed Spayne in Galice. The reading is justi- 
fied by H, [il] passa par en coste espaigne et en galice, and F, 
le vent le amena .... passer toutte espaigne en galice, but Ws 
reading besyde Groyne is the better. It follows R, [il] passa 
parjouste Coulloine en Galice. 

P. 9, 1. 17, Armoric. Ws reading Morygne appears to be 
a corruption -of R's Montgrant. 

P. 9, 1. 20, Mast. W, sayle yerde; R, tref. 

P. 10, 1. 5, Susteny. R, susinio; W, suffone (sic). Sucinio 
is the name of a chateau, once the summer residence of the 
Dukes of Brittany near Sarzeau. 

P. 10, 1. 17, Viceat. W, verrac. 

P. 10, 1. 30. W has only, So made he theym to lepe upon 
theyr horses & led theym to Vennes, following R literally. 

The easiest way out of the contradictory reading in D is to 
read with W, theym for hym in both instances in 1. 30 f., and 
to suppose that the detail behinde hym, not in the French, 
was copied in by mistake from the passage in 1. 13. A later 
scribe, wishing to emphasize Ponthus' dignity as a prince, 
would have added the clause and he . . . aloone. 

P. 11, 1. 9, whete. W, marchaundyse ; R,fourmens. 

P. 11, 1. 31. W names the game, yf he played at the playe 
of the tenySj etc.; R. a la pellotte; O, paume. 

P. 12, 1. 5, breke his tayle. The expression is in the 
maunt of the Rose, 1. 6221 : 

Eight thus whyl Fals-Semblaunt sermoneth 
Eftsones Love him aresoneth, 
And brak his tale in the speking. 


P. 12, 1. 8, live dayes. W interpolates with R, the follow- 
ing conventional description : for he was grete and large in y* 
brest & small in the waste/ '& y e shuldres y e armes y e thyghes and 
y* fete were made of ryght deuyse/y* vysage was clere browne/the 
eyen so meke/the mouth rede/& the nose streyte/he semed lyke 
an aungell, etc. In other respects also the versions differ slightly 
at this point. 

P. 13, 1. 11, palfrey. W adds with R, and a meruayllous 
gentyll faucon. 

P. 13, 1. 16, Norye. R, nourriture; W, chylde. 

P. 14, 1. 25, for ... copp, which translates R, is not in W. 

P. 15, 1. 21 f. A mistranslation or arbitrary change. In 
W Sidone replies, "I byleue the" also as she whiche was caught 
w* y e loue of hym ; R, comme celle qui ia estoit toute esprise de 
lamouT de lui. 

P. 18, 1. 29, fi?-hows. W also uses the technical word/yre 
hous; R, chascunfeu. 

P. 19, 1. 27, Susanne. Allusions to the apocryphal chapters 
of Daniel are, I believe, relatively rare, at least in English 
literature. In Horn et Rimel, 1. 2082 ff., Horn tells the king 
that he will maintain his innocence by combat against five or 

six : 

Taunt me fi en eel deu. ki salua Israel. 
Susanne deliuerad. par lenfant daniel. 
E lui meimes pus. des lions el putel. 

In Shy lock's taunting of Portia, "A Daniel come to judgment ! 
yea, a Daniel," Merch. of Venice, iv, 1, 223, is the same allu- 

P. 19, passim, the and thou. As in all texts of this time ye 
is used in polite address, thou apparently only contemptuously. 
In the present instance Ponthus defies the Saracen with the, 
and the Saracen returns the contemptuous pronoun. 

Similarly p. 20, 1. 27, the Saracen in pitying scorn of Pon- 
thus calls him thou, which Ponthus returns. 

P. 22, 1. 18, it is on the contrary used in prayer to Christ. 
W uses ye and your in this instance. 


Ponthus, in giving the Saracen king, Corbatan, his death- 
blow, p. 85, 1. 2, calls him at once false Saresyn and thou. 

Ponthus chides his yeoman, p. 97, 1. 15, Hold thy peace. 

Guenelete, p. 97, 1. 27, calls Ponthus, disguised as a beggar, 
thou, in anger. 

The porter of the hall, rudely brushed aside, curses Ponthus 
with thou. 

Sidone always calls Guenelete thou as she upbraids him for 
his treachery, p. 130, 1. 30 ff. Ponthus similarly when on the 
point of killing Guenelete in the hall, p. 134, 1. 28 f. With 
the single exception of the instance in prayer, it is always 
used in anger or in scorn in this text, never in intimacy. 

P. 20, 1. 2, kerchef. W, pensell. 

P. 24, 1. 4, Morteyne. W adds paynel. 

P. 24, 1. 5, Duches. W, Couutesse. 

P. 24, 1. 6, deid. W adds with R, and her sone was but x 
yere olde. 

P. 24, 1. 6, Gouter. W, payne de chateau Goutyer; R, 
pay en; O, paon. 

P. 24, 1. 29, Vale. W adds with E, the lorde of dynaux 
of ye brytons, brytonauntes. And of Galos, etc. The Galyce of 
D is then a corruption of Galos. 

P. 24, 1. 30, Edmund. W and R, Guy. Dole. W, the 
later form dueil. La Roche. W and R, rouge. 

P. 24, 1. 34, Mayne. W, mans. 

P. 25, 1. 14, Robt. de Sanguyn, Ranald de Sylle. The first 
name is hard to identify, probably a mere corruption. W, 
Regnault de sully /and Aygret depoully; R, Robert de chenegue, 
regnault de sulli & aigret de prully. 

P. 28, 1. 13, ryght. R, senestre; W renders best, apparently 
a printer's error for left. 

P. 28, 1. 14,Vicecounte Daniou. W, Erie of Dongres appar- 
ently the correct reading, but R has le viconte de rohan agree- 
ing in the title with D. 

P. 28, 1. 15, Valoynes. W and R, la Roche. 

P. 28, 1. 28, Creton. W and R, Craon. 

v F. J. MATHER, JR. 

P. 28, 1. 27-30. I give a characteristic variant of W, which 
agrees with R, Kynge Karados helde with grete dystres the erle 
of Mans/and the lorde of Craon/and had ouerthrowen them 
and many of the manceaus and herupoys/as Hamelyn de sylle, 
Geruays de la porte, Thybault de matheselon. Peter de doncelles, 
Sauary de la hay, Gerarde de chateau goutyer, Guyllam de 
roches, Geoffrey de lesygnen/and LeonceL But they defended 
them on fote/& were assembled whiche auayled them moche. 
Androwe de la tour e/ and Bertram de donne sette grete payne 
for to recouer theym/but there was too grete prees of saresynes/ 
and soo grete afolke that vnnethes myght they come to them/tyU 
that Guyllam de roches sawe Ponthus whiche that made the renges 
to shake with the helpe that sewed hym. " Syr it is nede se yonder 
a grete partye of our barons the whiche ben on fote." 

D certainly gains by dropping the list of names, but com- 
presses so much that the incident is hardly clear. 

P. 29, 1. 6, Ralond de Avyon. Probably a corruption of 
R's roL de dynain; W, Guyllam de dygnan. 

P. 29, 1. 24, Vaucay. W, Bausaye mayle. Daniou. W, 

P. 30, 1. 20, Peonny. W, paynellWylron. W, Vitlyers. 

P. 30, 1. 21, Roger. W and O, Hongres. 

P. 30, 1. 22, Gaciane de Mounte Vyel. W, Gassos de 
Mountreul; probably for Montr euil-Bellay. Tenull. W and 
O, chenulle; possibly an error for ChemillS in Maine. 

P. 30, 1. 23, Hundes de Prouere. W, Endes de penaunces, 

P. 30, 1. 24, Chastameny. W, Gautyer de chateau neuf. 
Monte Agnant. W, Androwe de Montagu. 

P. 30, 1. 26, Mangon. W, dauauger ; O, da.uaucheus. 

P. 30, 1. 27, Deyne*. W, dygnan; O, dinant. 

P. 32, 1. 10, lyve. W, woman; R, femme. We should 
probably emend by reading love. 

P. 33, 1. 3, for they had hym in theyr conceyte, had is 
subjunctive for should have. Cf. W, to the ende that they sholde 
haue hym in the more fauour. A semi-colon or period should 
follow grace. . 


P. 33, 1. 8, that . . . taken, follows R, Et puis leur dist apres 
quilz auvient petitement aduise; W mistranslates, after that he 
had auysed hym a little. 

P. 33, 1. 22, thre. W, two; R, deux. 

Douce Fr., p. 34, 1. 4, dyuers gyftis, dyuers is evidently a 
corruption of dyners. W and R concur in D's reading. 

P. 34, 1. 5, draghtes. W, signes ; R, signe. 

P. 36, 1. 7. W, y* isfoly to sette her herre [sic herte] so on 
fledde folke, an interesting translation of R's gens de vollaiges. 

P. 36, L 26, x. W, a two; R, xv. 

P. 37, 1. 13, putt fro. W, benymme. 

P. 39, 1. 29 ff. I give the text of the quatrain from R : 

Chant des oyseaulx ne nulle ioye. 

Ne me l puet 2 reconforter, 
Quant celle que 3 tant amoye 4 

b Me veult delle 6 estranger. 

P. 40, 1. 9, wretyn in this wyse. R, vnes lettres escrites en 
lettre defourme; W, wryten infoure, an absurd mistranslation. 

P. 40, 1. 33, swerd. W, swerde with the gyrdett of golde & 
the crowne of golde. 

P. 41, 1. 23, rede toune. W, vyle ronge by error for R's 
ville rouge. 

P. 41, 1. 34, Bellacion. W, brylaunson; R, bellencon. 

P. 54, 1. 1, Boloys. W, bloys. 

P. 54, 1. 2, Guyllem de Roches. "W and R, damp Martyne. 

P. 54, 1. 4, Rosy ly on. W, Robert de resyllyon; R, tybault 
de roussilon. 

P. 55, 1. 22, Averenses. W and R, Osteryche. 

P. 55, 1. 23, Barry. W and R, bar. 

P. 55, 1. 24, Mount Bernard. W, Mountbelyart. 

P. 55, 1. 26, Savye. W and R, savoye. 

P. 56, 1. 1, Bellacon. W, Belemon; R, bellencon. 

1 H, F, O ; R omits. H, que if. 5 H, Si me. 

2 O, puet. * O, iamoie. 6 O, du tout. 

Ivi F. J. MATHER, JR. 

P. 59, 1. 18 ff. R, Si commencerent menestrelz a sonner de 
toute manieres et heraukc a crier que len eust pas ouy dieu 
tonner, que tout le bois retentissoit. 

I have not happened upon this conceit outside of Chretien. 
Of. Yvain (Foerster, 1. 2348 ff.) : 

Li sain, li cor et les buisines 
Font le chastel si resoner 
Qu' an n'i oi'st Deu toner. 

P. 60, 1. 14, Ponthus. W adds with R, & his hors al whyte 
with a grete rede rose that betokened his lady. 

P. 61, 1. 11 f. As W explains, because Ponthus thought 
that Bernard should have had the prize Monday. 

P. 65, 1. 14, messe-booke. W, holy gospels; R, saincte 

P. 65, 1. 27, thre or fou?. W and R, two or thre ; so p. 66, 

P. 70, 1. 26, Henry. W, always Harry. 

P. 72, 1. 4, Droyte Voy. W reads always, perhaps, by a 
printer's error, driot voyee; so p. 91, 1. 20 and 104, 1. 17. 

P. 74, 1. 27, demawnded hym. W, resoned hym; R, la (sic) 
raisonna, read Faraisonna. 

P. 76, 1. 1, grete rumour. W, rygour, omits grete; R, grant 

P. 80, 1. 20, is not myche worthe misses the point, W, 
is onely but selfewyllfulnes of hertes of grete lordes; R, le debat 
nest pas chose fors de grans seigneurs. This is the necessary 
introduction to Ponthus 7 words on the duty of princes. 

P. 81, 1. 31, stedes. W adds with R, & syxe coursers. 

P. 82, 1. 11, Corbatan. W and R, always Corboran. 

P. 84, 1. 8, Fireague. So O, Feragu; but W, Feragne t and 
R, Ferragny. 

P. 84, 1. 22, voyde place. W, grete way. 

P. 86, 1. 1. R, La neffu a merueiUes grande et painte et 
ystoriee; W, y shyppe was passynge grete and wele poynted. 
Both English versions appear to have misunderstood the 


description of the decorated ship, unless poynted is an error 
for paynted. 

P. 86, 1. 9, Coffyrs and trunkes. W, hutches and these grete 
cofers; R, huches. 

P. 89, 1. 5, Mounte Belyard. R, Montbliart. 

P. 90, 1. 21, fonde of Guenelete. W, afonned on G. I do 
not know the word, are the n's misprints for u's ? R,, affble. 

P. 90, 1. 30. It is perhaps worth while to have this cer- 
tainly comprehensive description in all the versions. W, for 
men saye y l he hath many euyll condycyons/& also he is aged 
and corsyous and lame and dronklew; R, [il] est si gras si 
viel des monnyacle et yurongue. 

P. 97, 1. 30, make his herd. I do not know this expression 
in the sense of give one a beating. It usually means to out- 
wit, as in the Eeves Tale, 1. 176, 

Yet can a miller make a clerkes herd, 
also, Wife of Bath's Prol, 1. 361, 

Yet could I make his herd, so mote I thee. 

P. 98, 1. 22, gallerye. So R; W, tresaunce. Bradley- 
Stratmann has only one instance of the word, Pr., P. 502. 

P. 100, 1. 31, by x and x. W with R, by .xx. by .xxx. 

P. 102, 1. 12, Doule. W, Dueyl; R, dueil. 

P. 103, 1. 26, As Gode live, etc. I should have emended 
Gode to goode, cf. W, Ponthus sayd y* good lyfe gyue hym god 
as to his lorde, following R. 

[PJ, lui dist que bonne vie lui donnast dieu comment a son 
souuerain sires. 

P. 106, 1. 28, conne you thonke. W continues, for that ye 
haue done so well for his soule/for all his frendes shall thanke 
you & gyue you grete pryce. Ponthus sayd thynges that ought 
to be shall fall/ye ought not for to be full gladde ye shall haue 
none dower by cause ye set neuerfote in his bed with him/& thus 
he bourded with her & talked of many dyuers thynges. And 
than he wente to the kynge, etc. All this in R. 

Ivili F. J. MATHER, JR. 

P. 108, 1. 2. W adds that they should assemble at the toure 
of derbendelt fast by the thalamount; R, talemont, and further 
expands the passage, following R. 

P. 110, 1. 23, gyftes. W substitutes for the following sen- 
tence, And then came Guy Ham de roches a good knyghte 
Paraunt de rochefort/the lorde de douay, Pyers de donne, 
Gerarde de chateau goutyer, John melcurier with the herupoys. 
Of the manceaus/beaunmount la vale, Sygles de doncelles and 
other of the countre of mayne. Of Tourayne baussay mayle hay 
and of other tourangeaus. Of poytw/the vycount of toures/the 
erles brother of marche/maulyon chastemur/la garnache & 
dyuers other. The list is not in R. 

P. Ill, 1. 12, any pouere man. W omits pouere; R, SU 
trouast aucuns pour scauoir lestre du pays. D has apparently 
doubly translated pour, or it may have been repeated in D's 
original, once as poure, " poor," and again as the preposition. 

P. 112, 1. 5, and caste othre. W, wepte bothe two; R, 
pleurent tous deux tun sur lautre. 

P. 112, 1. 28-30. This speech is Sir Patrick's in W. The 
Earl first sees Pollides and gives the command with 1. 31 ff. 

P. 115, 1. 14, to-stowpe? 

P. 115, 1. 17, ay to. W, a two, probably the original 

P. 116, 1. 13, Herupoys. W, Herupoys, Hubert de craon y 
Pyers de chenulle/& of knyghtes Thybault de bryse, (H. de M. 
as in D), Eustace de la poyssoner. 

P. 116, 1. 18, Hardenyr. W and O, Ardenne. 

P. 116, 1. 20, William. Wand O, Rycharde. Pamell. W, 
Paynell; O, panel. 

P. 119, 1. 16, vowes to the pope. The detail is neither in 
W nor R. I do not know of any other instance of vowing 
to the pope at a feast. It appears that we should read po 
and regard the ceremony as a peacock vow. 

P. 135, 1. 8, our author need not have known Chretien's 

Les iauz li beise et puis le vis Yvain, 6694. 


P. 136, 1. 20, a twenty. W and R, a twelve. 

P. 140, 1. 7, Chateawbreaunce. W, chateau bryaunt. 

P. 146, 1. 6, so shuld ye wors reioys. W, wherof ye sholde 
reioyse; R, Et lamour done vous deueries iouyr. D mistrans- 
lates the clause. 

P. 146, 1. 9, withdrawe it. f. e., you would not be able to 
recall her fancy (ples&unce) from her lover, when you would 
do so. 

P. 149, 1. 17, Malle. W,Maittes. 


The names of minor characters in the story are omitted ; also such 
common names as Spayne, Fraunce, Plnylond, when the modern, geographi- 
cal equivalent is obvious. An interrogation point indicates that I have not 
been able to identify the name The variants from W, given in the notes, 
should always be consulted for the longer lists of names in the text. 

Amroy, error for Auray near Vannes, 96, 30. 

Andrewe, see Landry. 

Aniou, Duches of, 24, 5. 

Aragon, 1, 6 ; Arragonne, Kyng o/, 121, 32. 

Armoric,/or Armorica, Brittany, 9, 17. 

Auncenys, Geffray d', Ancenis, 116, 12. 

Aurences, Vicecounte d', Avranches in Normandy, 24, 3 ; error 

for Fr. Auteriche, 55, 22 (see note). 
Avyon, Ralond de, error for Dinan, ? 29, 6 (see note). 
Babilon, Sultan of, 1, 10; Babilone, 117, 31. 
Baniers, Ser William de, ? 55, 25. 
Bausy, Hondes de, ? 149, 17 ; Vaucay, Lorde, 29, 24. 
Bellacion, another name for the "Welle of Mervells," 41, 34; 

Bellacon, 56, 1. 

Boloys, Tybould de, Blois, 54, 1. 
Breales, a Saracen, 29, 3 ; Fr. Broalis. 
Breselyn, forest o/, Broceliande, 39, 16; Breselyne, 40, 12. 
Breste, 24, 21. 


Bretayn, Brittany, 10, 5; Litle Bretayn, 9, 17; L. Bretayne, 

9, 25; Bretane, 41, 19; Bretan, 70, 15; Pety Bretan, 

82, 14. 

Brice, Huberd de, perhaps Breze, Anjou, 116, 14. 
Brodas, son of the Sultan of Babylon, eonquerer of Galida, 3, 

10; 4, 12; 112,32. W,Broadas. 
Burgon, king of, 89, 7; Burgone, 89, 4; Duke of B., 103, 

6 (footnote)-, Burgonne, 101, 31. His brother Guy B., 

105, 33. 

Canterbury, Archbishop of, 81, 28 ; Bishop of, 83, 14. 
Castellyon, Chateaugiron, Brittany, ^61, 19 (note). 
Chastaraeny, Gauter de, ? 30, 24 (note). 
Chateawbreaunce, Geffray de, Chateaubriant, Anjou, 140, 7. 
Chasteaue Goute?, Chateau-Gontier, ? 24, 6 (see note). 
Corbadan, a Saracen, 29, 3. 
Corbatan, son of the Sultan, invader of England, 82, 11 ; 84, 

11. W and R, Corboran. 
Cornewale, King of, Cornwall, 77, 6 ; 87, 11. 
Couleigne, Corunna in Galida, 2, 12 ; Couleign, 2, 21; Col- 

leyn, 110, 32; Coleigne, 10, 23; Colloigne, 94, 27; 111, 

2; by false etymology, Columpne, 116, 26 ; 117, 19. 
Creton, Craon, Normandy, 28, 28 (note). 
Crusses,Graue de,? 116, 19. 

Dace, Earl of, error for Douglas,*! 96, 3 (footnote). 
Dancen, Geffray, ? 28, 15. 

Dampdenis, Englished in W as Syr Denys ; O, dadenis, 3, 25. 
Danion,Vicounte, error for Donges, ? 28, 14 (note); Geruast 

D. error, 29, 24 (note). 
Darcy, Earle of, error, ? 96, 2 (footnote). 
Daunges, Vicount of, Donges, Brittany, 60, 16 ; 139, 3. 
Destrue, Erie of, Asturias, Ponthus' uncle, 7, 14 ; 111, 15; Des- 

ture (as in W and R), 137, 7. 
Deyne?, Hubberd de, Dinard, 30, 27. 
Dole, Rauland de, Dol, 24, 30; Lady of Doule, 102, 12; Pier 9 

de, 30, 25. 


Dorbendelle, toure of, Derbendelle near Talmont ( Vendee), 110, 

19 (seep. 5). 

Doune, Piers de, ? 149, 14. 
Douncelles, Lorde, 30, 21 ; Oliver 9 de, 116, 18. 
Ellious, Sidone's maid, 14, 2; 68, 9; Elious, 14, 7; Ellyous, 

15, 7; 127, 23. Fr. Eloix. 

Fireague, a Saracen, 84, 8 (see note and p. 18). 

Galice, Galicia, 2, 11. 

Galyce, error for Galos (Gaulish Britons), 24, 29 (note). 

Gener, elder of the English king, 73, 8 ; Gener y , 74, 11 ; 136, 

22; Geneuer', 137, 18; Geneuer, 143, 16; 144, 8. 
Gloucestre, Earl of, 95, 36; 140, 15; Duke of, 138, 16; 

139, 1. 

Gloucestre, Rolande, 72, 30. 
Guenelete, Treacherous companion of Ponthus, 34, 19; 63, 11; 

88, 31 ; 97, 21; 124, 11 (seep. 18). 
Hampton, English port, 70, 22. 

Henry, yo unger son of the king of England, 70, 26; 84, 12. 
Herland, seneschal of Brittany, Ponthus' guardian, 10, 19 ; 38, 

29; 90, 19; Herlande, 10, 3; 13, 10. 
Hungary, 57, 8. 

Huguell, king of Brittany, Sidone's father, 9, 25. 
Irland, king of, 76, 22 ; 77, 21 ; Irelond, 76, 4, 21 ; Irlond, 


John, elder son of the king of England, 83, 2 ; 84, 9. 
Karodas, son of the sultan of Babylon, invader of England, 27, 

16, 25 ; 28, 27 ; Carodas, 18, 22 ; Karados, 27, 10. W 
and R always Karados. 

Lay Forest, Amaulry de,? 116, 17 ; Hulland de La Foryste, 

30, 25. 

Lay Garnache, John de, ? 116, 16. 

La Hay, Fresell de, ? 30, 23. 

Lay Poys, Eustace de,/or La Possonnie're Maine, 1 16, 15 (note). 

La Roche, Bernard de, Brittany, 29, 32 ; 43, 4, 19 ; Barnard, 

31, 17 ; Guyllyam de, 28, 29 ; G. de Roches, 24, 7 ; 29, 5 ; 
110,23; Roger* de, 24, 30. 

Ixii P. J. MATHEB, JR. 

Lazynyen, Geoffrey de, Lusignan in Poitou, 25, 1; 31, 16; 

43, 5 ; 50, 8 ; 107, 27 ; Lazenyen, 24, 9 ; Lazygne, 139, 

17 ; 140, 8 ; Lasigne, 143, 33 ; 148, 7. 
Leon, Vicounte de, Lion-sur-Mer, 24, 28 ; 105, 10 ; Herdy 

de Lyon, 30, 26. 

Lyon, He of, I. d'Oleron, of La Eochelle, 110, 31 (footnote). 
Mahounde, 5, 6; Mahown, 1, 21. 
Malle, Hubberd de,? Touraine, 149, 17. 
Mangon, John de, ? 30, 26 (note). 
Mauleon, Leonell de la, ? 139, 18 ; Malleon, 149, 16 ; Makon, 

25, 2; LernellC?) d. I. Mauelyon, 24, 10. Mauleon in the 

Basses Pyrenees can hardly be the place. 
Mayne, Earl of, Le Mans, 24, 4 (note) ; Mayns, 28, 28. 
Morteyne, Erie of, Mortain, Normandy, 24, 4 ; 43, 8 ; 

54, 11. 

Mounte Agnant, Andres de, Montaigu, ? La Vendee, 30, 24. 
Mounte Belliart, Erie of, Montbeliard, Burgundy, 60, 31 ; 

Belliard, 105, 34. 
Mountford, Monfort-sur-Meu near Rennes, 50, 20 ; Lorde 

Maunford, 143, 33 ; Erie of Mountford, 55, 24. 
Mounte Vyel, Gaciane of, Montreuil, 30, 22 (note). 
Namptes, Nantes, 110, 18. 
Northampton, Erie of, 77, 2. 
Olive?, Herland's son, 91, 7. 
Panell, La Haye-Pesnel, ? Normandy, 149, 12 ; Guy Pamell, 

Patrices, 6, 14; 8, 27; 111, 15; Ser> Patryke, 115, 24; 117, 

8; Patryk, 117, 7. 

Peonny, John, error for Panell, 30, 20 (note). 
Peyters, Poitiers, 24, 8 ; Petevynnes, Poitevins, 25, 4. 
Poleyne, Poland, 57, 8. 

Pollides, Ponthw? intimate and cousin, 4, 4 ; 12, 31 ; 142, 11. 
Ponthus, in Fr. usually, in Ger. always, Pontus. 
Quyntyn, Monford, Breut de,? 28, 16. 
Quynpartorentyn, for Quimpercorentin, modern Quimper. 

St. Corentin is its patron^ 31, 1. 


Kays, Gautier de, perhaps Rai-Aube, Normandy, 28, 15; 

Aubry de, 30, 27. 

Kee, He of, off La Rochelle, 133, 12. 
Key, Ryoud de, 30, 26 (see Rays), 
Reyns, Rennes, 41, 22. 

Richemound, Earl of, 95, 36 ; 136, 22 ; 141, 33. 
Rochell, La Rochelle, 133, 13. 
Roches, see La Roche. 
Sages, William du,? 116, 19. 
Sainte lames in Galice, 149, 6. 
Sainte Malo de PYsle, 70, 1. Seyncte Malewe, 24, 21, possibly 

an error for the Point de 8. Mathieu near Brest. 
Seynt Gyles, Barnaby de, S. Gilles-sur-Vie, Vendee,*! or S. 

Gildas, ? Brittany, 116, 13. 
Sidone, 15, 14; 16, 10; Sidon, 14, 1 ; Sydon, 12, 12; 15, 5; 

Sydone, 56, 23; 57, 12. In W, Sydoyne, Fr. Sidoine. 
Le Surdite de Droyte Voy, Ponthus' nom de guerre in England, 

72, 3 ; 104, 17 ; Surdyte, 73, 17 ; 78, 8. Surdite, 79, 28. 
Susteny, forest of, probably an error for Sucinio on the Mor- 

bihan, 10, 5 (see note). 
Syen, Henry de, 116, 13. 
Sylle, probably modern SilleVle-Guillaume, 24, 5 ; Ranald de, 

25, 14 (see note) ; 30, 22. 

Tenull, Roland de, error for Chemill^,? 30, 23 (see note). 
Tesson, ? 116, 20; 149, 11, possibly not a geographical name. 
Tibe?, king of Galicia, 1, 4; Tyber, 3, 17. Fr. Thibor; 

Ger. Tiburt. 

Towars, Guy de, Thouars, 149, 16. 
Turnebeufe, probably not a geographical name, 30, 20. 
Valoynes, Bernard de, perhaps Valognes in Normandy, 28, 15 

(but see note). 

Vennys, Vannes in Brittany, 10, 32, etc. 
Vettrey, Gerrard de, 139, 2 ; Pers de Vettry, 139, 2. 
Vitry, Edmund de, Vitre" in Maine, ? 24, 30. 
Wales, Earl of, 83, 1. 

Welle of Aventures, 40, 12 ; of MerveUs, 41, 33 ; 55, 32. 
Wylron, Lorde, error for Villiers, 30, 20. 



Abo wed, p. ptc. bent, bowed, 45, 9. 

Alblasters, Arbalasters, 83, 6. 

Ale, ail y p. ptc. alyd, 36, 25. 

Aloigne, Fr. aloigner, 63, 16. 

Alowed, p. ptc. praised, 30, 33. W,praysed; R, eust grant loz. 

Arased, p. ptc. sprinkled, 68, 10. 

Attempe, tempt, 64, 19. * 

Availed, lowered p. ptc., 10, 12. 

Avenaunt, suitable, 53, 21. 

Balengere, a large row boat, etymologically, a whale-boat, 2, 13 ; 

ballengers, 133, 23, etc. 

Batell, a battalion, 24, 28, etc., in b., in battle array, 27, 13. 
Bente, p. ptc. of bend, bent, pitched (of a tent), 41, 34. 
Be?, a bier, or litter; hors-be?, 50, 21. 
Boude, probably an error, bow, 42, 29. 
Celed, p. ptc. hidden, concealed, 93, 34. 
Chalanged, p. ptc. opposed, refused, 89, 29. 
Chaces, coursing hounds,*! Fr. chasses, 4, 13. 
Cherty, affection, 136, 30. 
Comon, vb. associate, 147, 11. 
Comoners, probably participants in a tournament from the vb. 

comon, but the notes suggest deliberate coinage from the 

vb. come on, 139, 4, 33. 
Cosen, for chosen p. ptc., 53, 24. 
Cowardyue, cowardly, 27, 20. 
Cronocles, coronets, 108, 10. 
Dawyng, n. Dawn, 3, 7. 

Demaundes, questions, 10, 21 ; 16, 11; 16, 22. 
Devise, spy out, 24, 25. R, espier. 
Discesed, died, 150, 9. 
Discolored, blanched, 67, 6. 
Dismated, dismayed p. ptc., 29, 17. 


Draght, allurement, encouragement, 75, 15; draghtes of loue, 

34, 5. 

Drogman, dragoman, interpreter, 18, 24. 
Dunyon, citadel, donjon (fig. protection), 25, 21. 
Dystrakked, distracted, 129, 16. 
Enhauntes, exercises, follows, 1, 20. 
Erst, before, W, 135, 16 (note), miswritten herfte, 67, 2. 
Farrorne, a, at a distance, the weak dat. plu. of the adj./eor, 

48, 31 ; farrom, 141, 15. 
Fi?-hows, building where there is afire, dwelling house, 18, 29; 

also in W. 

Forfeted, p. ptc. done amiss, 65, 4. 
Fouuysch,/oo//s/i, 64, 1. 
Fylloy,/o/Yow, 39, 13. 
Ga?, make, 77, 33. 
Garuysche, provide, garrison, 23, 23. 
Gaynstondyng, n. opposition, 3, 15. 
Gogle, joggle, stagger, 51, 11 ; gogyllyng, 52, 18. 
Go we?, a brooch,*! 61, 12 (note). 
Grifyns, falcons, 4, 14. 
Gyrtelles,/or Kyrtelles, 121, 27. 
H, initial, inorganic: harme, 28, 8; 29, 16; 68, 9; vn-h, 

46, 16; helboys, 6, 5 ; herely, 5, 23; holde, 24, 27. 
Havi?, Fr. avoir, possessions, 144, 34. 
Labre, v. labor, 7, 1, etc. 
Langoure, languish, 68, 6. 
Lase?, leisure, 127, 34. Frequent in Barbour with this 


Lay, for Fr. la in proper names, 46, 8; 116, 15, 16 and 17. 
Lesse, shorter, 137, 22. 
Livelode, patrimony, 108, 30. 
Lovyngj laudation, 50, 7. 
Luges, huts or tents, 27, 9. 
Lugge, v. lodge Inf., 2, 24 ; p. ptc. lugged, 3, 2. 
Manhened, pret. maimed, 114, 29. 
May, for Fr. ma, May dame, 36, 32. 


Mokkyng, mocking, 12, 3. 

More, iu the sense of taller, 48, 1. 

Neghtboures, neighbors, 23, 19; 61, 14. 

Nobylley, nobility, splendor, 53, 13. 

Norye, foster-child or ward, 13, 16. 

Pensy, pensive, 39, 27, etc. 

Pensynes, pensiveness, 37, 4. 

Perchen, to pierce, p. ptc. perched, 44, 13; 84, 15, etc. 

Pey ns, garments ? or plumes, tufts, ? 82, 1 (note). 

Pris, n. praise, 31, 16. ^ 

Proloyne, absent itself, 66, 30. 

Protestacion, protestation, solemn assurance, 63, 23. 

Refrete, refrain, 39, 29. 

Refuse, avoid, R, refuser, 7, 33 ; cf. Barbour (glossary). 

Reiose, in the sense of enjoy, 132, 7. 

Repenyd, p. ptc. repined, 46, 28. 

Rokkette, a small crag, 95, 4 ; W and R, roche. 

Serve, deserve, 17, 3. 

Skale, to scafe (a wall, etc.), inf., 2, 27 ; scaled, p. ptc., 10, 23; 

94, 26. 

Somers, sumpter beasts, 97, 19. 
Strenghtes, strong places, 26, 30. 
Stuflfe, v. provision; pt. stuffyd, 5, 23; 124, 24; 128, 8, etc.; 

frequent in Barbour. 
Subarbes, suburbs, 134, 10. 
Suyd, p. ptc. issued, 43, 11. 
Symphonys, musical instrument, 44, 1. 
Terape, tempt, try, 35, 2; pret., 124, 19. 
The, for they, 2, 26; 69,14; 86,23; 100,17; 119,11; 129, 

9; 130, 15; 135,5. 
Titte?, sooner, 130, 12. 
Topp, top (nautical term), 6, 19. 
Trast, trust, 107, 18 ; pret. traysted, 89, 9. 
Vndretaken, p. ptc. surprised; R, seurpris, 27, 14. 
Unnes, with difficulty, 67, 8 ; 103, 3. 


U re, probably fortune, lot, as frequently in Barbour, 131, 26 
(note). The meaning man, A.S. wer suggested by the 
note is hardly possible. 

Voward, van-guard, 25, 9. 

Vyse?, visour, 21, 8, etc. ; vyssou?, 41, 29, etc., a mask. 

Ware, for vair,fur, 141, 8. 

Wate, lay in, 21, 15, lay in wait. 

Warne, direct, govern, 96, 4. 

Wordlv, for world, 38, 31. 

Wordly, 9, 30; 39, 30; 46, 29; 67, 16. 


yjgk fcjfe 


M^^ff l2-^> *& 14 

S f . _P L. \ nl'fltS<SJFiJt^': 5 

n -w ^^ rjiyS. * 

4ilcft a.x "^ o fe-cL, 



[Cap* I. Of kyng Tiber of Spayne and his sonne Ponthus ; 
and how the Sawdeyn of Babilon sent his thre sonnes to 
werre vpon the Cristen.] 

[Fol. 166.] "^POw I wolle you tell a noble story e, wherof a man may 
-L^l lerne mony goode ensamples, and yonge men may here 
the goode dedes of aunciente people that dide muche goode and 
worschip in their days how itt happenyd to the kyng Tibe? 

5 of Spayne. That kyng had to his wyf the kynges doghtre of 
Aragon, a full holy womman. So thei had betwen theym a 
sonne that was called Ponthus, the moste famose childe & the 
moste gracious that euer was seyn in that tyme. The kyng 
his fadre was a full worthy man and debonere. 

10 In that tyme itt happened in the Est that the sawdeyn of 
Babilon was of gret powe? of havyng men of armes. So 
he had fov? sonnes ; wherthurgh he ordayned that the eldest 
schuld haue his empire, and sayd to the othre thre, " Fai? 
sonnes, take ye noon hede to haue any of myn heritage, for I 

15 wolle ordeyn that eueryche of you shall haue thirty M 1 men 
of armes, for the whiche I schal paye thei? sawde for thre ye?, 
and schall yeve you schippyng and all that you nedes to haue. 
And eueryche of you thre schall goo in his aventure to con- 
que? contrees and realmes vpon the Cristen ; and which of you 

20 thre that best doos and moste conquerys and moste enhauntes 2 
the lawe of Mahown schal be the best cheresyd with me, and 

1 A handsome illuminated initial N, extending through twelve lines ot 
text. See the description of the MS. and the facsimile page. 

* Enhauntes, to exercise or follow, corresponds closely in meaning to 
exaueera of the French original. See Bradley-Stratmann for instances of 
this rare word. 

2 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

I schal gyf to hym the moste of my goodes." So the sowdeyn 
ordayned his thre sonnes and yeave theym that thei nedyd for 
to we? vpon the Cristen. And thei went to the see all thre to 

5 [Cap. II. How Brodas sonne to the Sawdeyn toke Couleigne 
and slewe the kyng Tiber; and how a Cristen knyght 
named Patrices saved Ponthus and the xiij children in a 

S 1 O it happenyd as fortune wolcl^ that oon of the childre of 
the sowdeyn come, as the wynde drove hym and his 
navye by gret tourment, that he passed Spayne in Galice, and 
toke londe nygh to a gret citee that was called Couleigne, 
and went to londe in a balangere, he and xxi men with hym, 
and toke of the people the? aboute the londyng. And when he 

15 asked who was lorde of that londe, the[i] answeryd and seyd 

that itt was the realme of Spayne and that kyng Tibe? was 

kyng of that londe. Then asked the sowdeyn's sonne what lawe 

he held, and thei answeryd and seyd, the lawe of Ihmi Criste. 

Then made he to withdrawe his (navy), 2 as thogh he wold 

20 withdrawe hym fro the contree, and toke two and twenty 
schippys and sent theym to the porte of Couleign and charged 
theyme to make they me as marchaundes of cloth of gold, of 
silke, & of spices; and that thei schuld in the evynnyng goo 
into the town and lugge theyme with fovrty men of armes, 

25 with habyrdions undre thei? govnes ; and in the morow erly 
that the[i] schuld come vpon the walles at the wate? gate, & 
that thei schuld gete the gate, and thei schuld assey to skale 
the wall and to come vp into the tovne. And as they deuysid, 8 
itt was so doon. 

capital S extends through three lines of text; so, unless there is a 
note to the contrary, all initials marking chapter divisions. 

*The scribe has apparently omitted navy, here added from W. The 
French has LOTS fist retraire son nauire. 

3 MS. deuydid, a sheer blunder due to the ambiguous French verb. R, 
Et ainsi comme il deuisa ilfufail. W, and so as he had deuysed it, etc. 


So come the xxij vesells and made theym marchaundes of 
Ciprice and sold thei? marchaundys goode chepe. And aftre 
that, the fourty men that we? lugged in the toune as mar- 
chaundes, nygh to the wate? gate thei made thei? hostys to 
5 ete and drynk with theym, that noon ingyne schuld be thoght. 
And when thei had disported theym, thei went and had take 
thei? avice to be vp on the gate on the dawyng, to goo aboute 
and deuice thei? dooyng. And when itt come to the houre, 
thei went vpon the wall; and att the same houre, the sonne of 

10 the sawdeyn, that was called Brodas, come to the foote of the 
*Fol.l66 b .] wall with a grete * navye 1 of ladders. And sume went on 
theym on hygh & thei that wer above pullyd up theym that 
we? benethe, so that within a while ther was a thosand or moo 
vpon the walles, and wanne the wate? gate, and so enteryd into 

15 the toune withouten ony gaynstondyng. And thei made gret 
martirdome of the people, and for with thei assailed the castell 
in the which the kyng Tyber was, and thei toke hym by 
strenght, not withstondyng the kyng defendid hym and wold 
not be taken, and so he was slayn. 

20 And the quene went oute prively into the wodes. And 
the kynges sonne Ponthus, and xiij cluldre whiche was 
lordes sonnes, and a goode preste that toke theym, 2 went out 
prively and hidde theym in a roche in a garthyn ; and the? 
thei we? twoo days withoute mete or drynke. And the goode 

25 preste which was called Dampdenis had so grete drede, when 
the childeryn wold goon oute of the cave, he wenyd to haue 
died for theyin ; and seyd, " Goo ye not oute bot if ye wolle 
dye." So he kepyd theym twoo days therin. Bot on the third 
day Ponthus sayd to his maistre, " Itt is bettre to dye on the 

30 swerd then forto dye with hungre, for then we schal be cause 
of ou? own dethe ; and if we goo oute, we may by the grace of 

1 Some word representing the nombre of W and K, or ihefoueson of H & 
F would be more natural. I have let navye stand in the text in the sense 
of a ship, because I have no emendation probable on palaeographical 

2 MS. theym and. See note. 

4 P. J. MATHER, JR. 

Gode happely fynde sume remedye." And the goode preste 
sayd he hade leue? dye for hungre then goo into thei? handes, 
and tremelyd grettly for fere. 

Bot fers l Ponthus and his cosyn german Pollides and all the 

5 othre lepe oute of the roche, and anoon thei we? aspyed and all 
taken, and ledde to the toune to the kyng Brodas, that made 
hym selve kyng of the londe. And when the kyng sawe the 
thirten childre, thei semed to hym ryght fai?. So he asked 
whoes childre thei we?. And Ponthus answerd and seyd thei 

10 we? childre whiche the kyng nor^ched for the loue of Gode 
and for theyr service when thei schuld be men. "And of 
what seruice?" said the kyng Brodas. "Ser,"said the childre, 
" some to kepe his grehoundes and his chaces, and sume to kepe 
havkes of the toure, and sume to kepe grifyns, and othre to 

15 doo seruice in hall and in chaumbre." " What ! " seyd the 
kyng Brodas, t( Clothed he his seruomntes so worthely as ye 
bee ? for by you? clothes that ye were, ye semen to be grete 
lordes sonnes." " Ser" seid Ponthus, " we be the childre bot 
of small gentylmen." "By hym that I seme," said the kyng, 

20 " I can not see what ye be, bot of beaute and of fai? speche 
thou feylest non ; bot ye muste lef your lawe that is noght 
worth and take the lawe that we leve on, and I schal doo you 
muche goode ; and if ye wolle not, I schal make you for to 
dye : and so chese you whethre that ye wolle." " Truly/' said 

25 Ponthus, "of the dethe ye may wele ordayn to you? plesir, bot 
for to leve oure lawe and to take youres we wolle not for to 
dye therfore." " No ! " seid the kyng, " Then shall ye dye an 
evyll dethe." 

And then come a knyght Cristen, that had taken thei? lawe 

30 for drede of dethe, the whiche all way had his hertt and thoght 
vnto Ihesu Criste, the whiche the kyng loved myche, and sayd 
vnto the kyiig, " Deliue? theym to me, for if they wolle not 
beleue vpon ou? lawe, I schal ordayn in suche wyse that thei 

l Adverbial for ferdy. K, Et au fort Ponlus sailli. ... H, Mais en la fin. 
W, shows a similar mistranslation : and by strengthe Ponthus sterte out of 
the cane. 


schal neuer doo harme vnto you? lawe." " I pray you," sayd 
the kyng, "and I yeve theym vnto you? gouernawnce/' Then 
trowed Ponthus and his fellawes to be deid. The knyght led 
theym to his hous and manasshed theym sore before the Sara- 
5 zyns ; and when the Sarasyns we? withdrawn, he said to assey 
Fol. 167.] theym, "Ye muste beleve on Mahounde, * or elles ye muste 
dye." And thei answeryd thei wold not, bot rathe? to dye. 
And when he sawe theym so stedfaste, he had gret ioy in his 
hert and he asked theym if thei had oght etyn of late tyme. 

10 And thei sayd, " Not thes thre days haue we nawthe? ete ne 
dronke." Then he made theym to ete and drynke. And as 
thei ete oon of theym sayd to his fellawes, " W herfor ete we, 
when we schal dye anoon ? " " Say ye not so," q[uo]d Ponthus, 
"in the grace of ou? Lorde ben mony remedyes. If itt like 

15 hym, we schal leve; if it like hym, we schal dye; for all lieth 
in hym. So lete vs have good hope in hym, and he wolle save 
vs." And so thei ete and prayd to Gode to have mercy on 

The knyght herd what Ponthus sayd and prased hym muche 

20 in his hertt, and seyd, " Itt we? to gret pitee to lete so fay? 
childre dye." And so he went fro theym and soght a schipp, 
and by nyght stuffyd itt with vitell for a monethe, and herely 
in the morowe he ledd the childre to schipp, and putt therm a 
schipman with theym that was a Oristm man, and putt theym 

25 in the bothome of the schipp ; and when the childre we? in 
the bothome of the schipp, thei pulled vp the sale, and the 
schipp saled into the hygh see. Then the schippman come 
vp fro benethe and toke the goumiaill of the schipp and asked 
theym whedir thei wold goo. Then Ponthus said, "Syth Gode 

30 has sent you vnto vs, fai? frende, lede vs to the coste of 
Fraunce." And he said he wold, and bad theym not be ferd 
ne dredand, for thei had vitell enogh for a monethe; and told 
theym how the knyght had putt theym l in the bothome 

1 W and E have hym and lui, a far better reading. But the repeated, 
therefore consistent, blunder may be the translator's. See 1. 24 f. and p. 6, 1. 1. 

6 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

of the schipp and the vitell with theym by nyght. Then 
sayd Ponthus, " Fai? Seris, knele we all down and thanke we 
Gode of the grete goodnes that he hath sent to vs, and pray 
we all to be to his plesaunce." So did the children nyght 
5 and day vpon thei? knees and helboys, praying to Gode full 
devoutly, and (had) alonely thei? truste and stedfaste beleve 
in almyghty Gode. 

[Cap. III. How the kyng Brodas dremed that Ponthus be- 
come a lion and devouryd hymj how Patrices councelled 
10 hym to lete the Cristen people yeld tribute; and how 
Patrices delyuered from prison the Erie of Destrue.] 

SO lete we lefe of the fovrten child re and retourne to the 
knyght that putt theym into the schipp. The knyght 
was called Patrices, and he went and told the kyng how he 

15 had venged hym vpon the xiiij childre that wold not beleve 
on Mahounde. " How have ye doon ? " sayd the kyng. " Ser," 
said the knyght, " ye schal neuer see theym, for I haue putt 
theym in a fai? schipp full of holies, withouten vitell, and lete 
drawe vp the sale to the topp, that broght theym into the hygh 

20 see. Have no drede, for ye schal neuer see theym." 

" I wolle wele," said the kyng, " for I haue dremed this nyght 
that I sawe the xiiij children in a wodde, and that the fai? 
childe that speke to me become a lion and devouryd me and 
hurte me in suche wyse that I dyed. So I haue be sore affrayd 

25 in my slepe." " Ser," sayd the knyght, " itt is bot a dreme 
and malyncoly. Of theym ye be quytt." " I wolle wele," said 
the kyng. 

Then said the knyght, " By Mahounde Ser, me aght to coun- 
oell you truly to my power 4 , if itt like you, that no man be 

30 putt to dethe, bot if he stonde at defence ; for ye have a fai? 
conquest. For men sayn in scorn, that as mytch is a mylne 
worthe that gryndyth not as an oven that baketh not. Now 
lete euery man beleve on that lawe that he wolle ; and that 
all the strenghtes & centres come to you? obesaunce and to 


;*Fol.l67 b .] yeld you tribute; * and lette theym leve and labre, and ye 
schal be as ryche as ye wold be." Then said the kyng, 
" By Mahounde ye counsell vs truly. Goo ye and so serche 
prisoners ; and thei that wolle beleve vpon our* la we thei schall 
5 be worschipped with vs, and we schall yeve theym of oures ; 
and thei that wolle not, shal be? tribute to vs aftre thei? powe?; 
and we putt all the gouernaunce of ou? law in you." So was 
the knyght charged witA the gouernaunce of the prisoners and 
of the centre. 

10 And the knyght, whiche was a worthye man and that took 
noon hede bot forto save the Cristen people at his power 1 , went 
aboute to take oute prisoners and to putt theym to a lyght 
ravnson. Among all othre prisoners he founde the kynges 
brothre of Spayne, that was Erie of Destrue, that was sore 

15 wounded with two woundes; and when that the knyght knew 
that he was the kynges brothre of Spayne, he toke hym by 
the honde and led hym aloone into a chaumbre and said to 
hym, " Ser, I wote ye be the kynges brothre. Ye haue gret 
desi? to save the countree and the people that ben fallen to 

20 gret myschief into the tyme that Ihesu Criste putt remedye 
therin. I sey to you in goode feith secretly that I schal putt 
the best remedye thurgh you? goode councell that I can putt 
therin." Then the Erie had gret ioye to he? hym speke of 
Ihesu Criste, and said that he knew wele that he wold the 

25 welfai? of the Cristen people and said full sore syghyng, 

[Cap. IIII. How by the councell of the knyght Patrices the 
Erie of Destrue feynyd hym a Saresyn vnto the tyme 
that Ponthus schuld relefe the contree; and how thei 
made all the contree tributorie to the kyng Brodas.] 

30 " L3yght swete Ser, I wote not whethi? ye say thus to 
-L \> assey me, bot wold Gode that you? hertt we? as you? 
movthe says." Then said Patrices and told how he was take 
in the batell, and forto refuse the dethe and for the welefai? 
of the prisoners of the batell and of all Cristen, he become 

8 F. J. MATHEK, JR. 

Saresyn, hot his hertt was all wey to Gode. And told hym 
how he savyd the xiiij children, and how he made that 
the kyng putt noon of theym to dethe, and that euery man 
schuld hold his own lawe and be? to hym tribute and seruage, 
5 and how he hade doon this vnto the tyme that Gode wolde 
putt sume remedye therin, and how he was charged to raun- 
son the prisoners. And then the Erie fell down vpon his 
kneys and gafe thonkyng vnto Gode, wepyng. Then the 
knyght toke hym vp and thei kyssed to gedre and thonked 

10 Gode. 

And when thei had wepyd envgti for pite, thei said that 
Gode had semelyd theym to doo sume goode to the people 
that we? in poynte to be distroed. Then said Patrices, "Fai? 
Ser, yitt I hope to Gode that he wole haue mercy vpon the 

15 contree and his people, & I pray you to feyne you a Saresyn 
as I doo, and the kyng wolle haue of you gret ioye, and so by 
the grace of Gode we schall putt suche ordinaunce that schal 
be profitable for to abyde the grace of Gode. And I say to 
you as myn hertt says to me, that the childre that I haue 

20 savyd schal relefe the contree and in maner the kyng hath 
tolde me in a dreme, how that he dremed of the xiiij children, 
and how that the grettest become a lion and devoured the 
kyng." Then said the Erie, U I reioyse in myn hertt, for he is 
my nevew and my Gode son Gode gyde hym." Then thei 

25 swe? to hold companye to gedre in goode and in evyll to 
endu?. And so thei toke thei? avice to gedre. 

Then Patrices went to the kyng and said, " Ser, ye ought 
to thonke Mahounde, for I haue conuerted the kynges brothi? 
of this contree, that is the Erie of Destrue ; and so by litle 

30 and litle he schal helpe to encrese the lawe of Mahounde and 

he schal make you to haue grete tributes and grete wynnyng 

of the contree ; and he and I schal ride into the contree to 

[*Fol. 168.] cites and townes ; and thei that wolle * obey schal be cheresed, 

and thei that wolle not sail be puny shed." 

35 The kyng hade gret ioye and made the kynges brothre to 
come before hym ; and so thei accorded that thei schuld ride 


with the kyng into the contree. And so the kyng roode from 
toune to toune with thirtee thovsand men of armys ; and so 
thei made all the contree tributorie to the kyng. 

So itt happened aftre mony mervelles and pestilence[s] in 
5 the contree. So forto passe ouer the matie?, the kyng reignyd 
xv 1 ye? as by a vengeaunce of Gode, and aftre the londe was 
relevyd agau. 

Now lete we retorne to the children that we? in the see full 
sorye and full dredfull of thei? live. 

10 [Cap. V. How Ponthus and the xiij children arived in Litle 
Bretayn and Herland the senyschall broght theym to the 
kyng Huguell that lete norysh and teche theym. How 
Herland governed Ponthus. Of the grete speche of the 
goodly hede of Ponthus. And how Sydon the kynges 

15 doghtre desired in hir hert to se hym.] 

BOt fortune that was marvellous led theym to the contre 
of Arrnoric, which be called now Litle Bretayn. So 
was the wynde strong and the tourment of the see that made 
theym to arive vpon a roche ayeinst a forest. And as Gode 

20 wold, the mast fell betwen twoo roches ; and so thei lepe vp and 
savyd theym selve vpon the roches eueryche of theym. And 
when thei we? vpon the roche, thei held vp thei? hondes and 
thonked Gode of his grace and said that Gode forgetteth not 
his seruauntz, bot he sendes theym socou?. 

25 N 2 [o\v] that tyme reigned in Litle Bretayne kyng Huguell, 
a worthie man and a true, bot he was olde and he had bot oon 
doghtre a live of all the children that he hade by hys wyfe, the 
whiche was sustre to the kyng of Normandie. This doghtre 
was the fairest, most curtes, and devoute that myght be founde 

30 in anye contre. Sche was the most wordly 3 ioye that hi? fadre 

1 MS. xv as. As cancelled by the Fabricator. 

* The N in this text is very like a large & in form, but neither W nor R 
has an <fe, while such a reading would be awkward. 

3 A characteristic spelling for worldly which I have retained here and else- 
where, see glossary. 

10 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

hade, and comforth and chere. Was no feste hot hi? beautie 
and hi? wommanhode was spoken of. 

So it happed that Herlande that was senyschall of Bre- 
tayn, a full goode knyght and a trew, 1 was gouernou? of 
6 Bretayn, and he hunted that day in the forest of Susteny. 
And, as (of) aventu?, an hertt went to the water nygh to the 
roche the? the children we?. So Herlande loked vp and 
beheld the children vpon the roche. Then he come toward 
theym and asked theym what thei we?. Thei answerd and 

10 said thei we? aventured in the see. Then the seneschall smot 
his hors with his spurris and come* to theym, for the see was 
availed and withdrawn then the hors went vp to the belly 
in the see and made theym to lepe vp be hynd hym and his 
knyghtes and his esquiers, and broght theym to the londe. 

15 Then he asked theym of what lande thei we?. And thei 
said thei we? of the kyngdome of Spayne. Then said oon 
called Viceat, " Ser, Loo her Ponthus ! that is the kynges son, 
and the? Pollides his cosyn german, and thes othre ben barouns 
sonnes of Spayne.'' And when that Herland herd that Pon- 

20 thus was the kynges son, he made hym goode che? and did hym 
grete honour, and asked of hym demaundes. And the childe 
that was full wyse answeryd hym full wysely and told hym 
how that Brodas the Sowdeyn son hade scaled Coleigne and 
sloy his fadre and toke the contre ; and how thei we? taken 

25 and putt into a schipp, and all the inane? as ye haue herd afore. 
And when the Senyschall herde the sorow of the roalme of 
Spayne, he hade grete pitee of the kyng and of the realme 
of Spayne that any suche (folke) schuld haue dominacion of 
the Cristen. 

30 So then he made hym lepe vp behinde hym and he toke 

Ponthus and his cosyn horsse to ride aloone 2 and led hym to 

[*Fol. 168 b .] Vennys the? as the kyng was. * And when the kyng sawe and 

hade herd of the kynges dethe of Spayne, he was full sory 

1 MS. trew that was, etc. I amend by omitting that, following R. Si aduint 
que herlant .... estoit tout gouuerneur de bretaigne et chassoit celle iournee, etc. 
1 See the note on this apparently contradictory passage. 


and hade grete pitee on the contree and wepyd, for he loved 
myche the kyng of Spayne, and said that he had doon myche 
goode and goten grete worschip vpon the partes of Spayne 
whe? as he had ben in werre ayenst the Saresyns, in the com- 
5 pany of the kyng of Fraunce. "And I say/' q[uo]d the kyng, 
"itt is grete hyrt to all Cristendome of the dethe of the 
kyng, for he was a full goode knyght and a worthie ; and as 
to vs Bretaynes, we haue more harme than any othi? nacion, 
for we sent thedi? to chaunge ou? whete with thei? goode 

10 wynes, and so we haue lost mytch more than othi? men. Bot 
Gode of his grace deliue? the contre of that fals lawe, and I 
thonke Godde that he has sent me the kynges sone and the 
children of the barounes, for I schal lete norysh theym and 
teche theym as I wold myn awn. Then he called to hym the 

15 senyschall and betokePonthus to hym, and to diuerse of his con- 
tre he betoke the remeyncmnt. And so he departed theyme l 
into the ende of iij yers and charged theyme to teche theyme 
wele in havkyng and huntyng in all mane? of disportes. 
So were the xiiij children departed, as ye haue herd, to the 

20 barounes of the contre. And Herland gouerned Ponthus and he 
lered hym all mane? of disportes hawkyng, huntyng, playng 
at the chesse, daunsyng, and synghyng. Myche was the wor- 
schip thurgh oute all Bretayn that sprong of the grete beautie, 
governance, and curtesie of Ponthus; and thei spake of hym 

25 both farre and ne?. And aboue all thing he loued God and the 
chirche, and his first ocupacion in the morowe was to wesch his 
hondes, to say his prayers, and to he? his messe full devoutely, 
and wold neuer ete ne drynke vnto the tyme that he had his 
prayers all said. And of suche as he hade, he wold gyf to the 

30 poe? men prively parte. And he wold neuer swe? grete othe 
bot "Truly" and "As God me helpe." And he wold be as 
glade when he loste and when he wan ; if any man dide hym 
wrong, he wold sey att few wordes in faire mane? that he had 

1 MS. thenne. Clearly a scribal blunder for theym. A form theime, on the 
analogy of thei, would be better palaeographically, but is found nowhere in 
the MS. N, And so departed he theym. K, Et ainsi les departi. 

12 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

wrong, and he wold yeve upp his gamme in faire mane? rather 
or he wold strive ; and no man couth make hym wroth in his 
playng. And he lovyd ueuer mokkyng ne scornyng. And if 
any man speke of any vices or harme by man or womman, he 
5 wold breke his tayle. And he wold neuer play at gamme that 
was hurt or angre to any man, for he was the best taght that 
any man sen in any place, and the best and the fairest schapen 
in his live dayes. He semed like an aungell. The more that 
a man beheld hym the bettre hym schuld like hym. 

10 The? was no speche bot of hym, in so myche that the reporte 
of his goodelyhede and of his semelenes was myche spoken of in 
the kynges courte. Sydon the kynges doghtre herd so myche 
worschip spoken by Ponthus that she had grete desi? in hi? 
hertt to se hym ; and sche was hold the fairest, the comeliest, 

15 the most womanly in all Fraunce or Bretayn, and best couthe 
behaue hi? in presence of all mane? of people, both of high 
degre and of lowe degre. 

[Cap. VI, Of the grete feste at Vennys ; and how Sydon bad 
Herland bryng hir Ponthus, that was his norye, and he 
20 broght hir first Pollides for drede of evyll speche ; and 
when Ponthus was broght, Sydon began for to loue hym, 
withouten any poynt of velanye, and chose hym as for hir 
knyght. How tithynges come that the Saresyns wer 
landed in the He of Breste.] 

26 A ftre itt happed that the terme of iij yeres was comen 
-^- vp, and that the kyng helde a grete feste in the Whis- 
son tyde at Vennys ; and he sent govnes of oon suyte to the 
xiij children ; and sent to theym that thei schuld come to 
the feste ; and eueryche baron schuld bryng his childe. And 

30 Herland broght Ponthus, and the Lorde de La Vale broght 
his cosyn german Pollides that was most fai?, most goodely, 
[*Fol. 169.1 and best in behavyng * of theym all except Ponthus. 

When Ponthus was comen euery man beheld hym. And 
when the kyng sawe hym, he had gret ioye and praid to Gode 


to save hym and to send hym myche worschipp, and said that 
he schuld serve hym of his copp at the feste. 

The kyng made his fest with his barones and his knyghtes 
in oon parte 1 and his doghtre in an othi? parte. Grete was 

5 the feste and the ioye and the grete sportes. Sydon, that herd 
the grete speche of the beautie that was in Ponthus and of his 
demeynyng, sche was day and nyght in grete thoght how sche 
myght fynd an way, with hi? worschipp, to speke with hym 
for drede myche of speche of menn. And when sche had 

10 thoght envgh, sche sent for Herlande the senyschall ; and 
when he was comen, sche gave hym a right fai? palfrey, 
and sche made hym ryght grete che?. Herland mervellyd 
of the grete che?, bethynkyng hym what sche mente, and 
doubted ; and aftre werd sche said all, "Ay, fair Senysshall, 

15 fai? and swete frende, we pray you that we myght see your 
norye Ponthus, that is wele taght and right wyse, as men 
sayne; I pray you bryng vs hym this nyght that we may see 
hym, for men sayne that he can daunce and syng." "Ma 
dame," said the senysshall, " I schal bryng hym to you, sith 

20 that itt like you that I doo soo." " Then goo/ 7 seid sche, 

" and I schall see if he [be] suche oon as men sayne, or not." 

The senysshall toke his leve and wente on his wey. He 

was a full goode knyght, wyse and redie, and wente thynkyng 

that the goode che? that he hade was for the love of Ponthus. 

25 And so he was troubeled in his thoght and said to hym selfe, 
"Ay Sainte Marie, if I schuld bryng Ponthus, he is so fai?, if 
this woman sawe hym, sche myght be so take with love that 
sche wold haue noon othe? bot hym ; and sche myght schew 
to hym suche love as sche myght (be) perceyved ; wherthurgh 

30 she myght haue blame, and the child loste, by envy. I wot 
not what to doo." So he then thoght that he wold bryng his 
cosyn german in stede of hym, for mony causes, and for he 
doubted myche the kyng, and for drede that any harme schuld 
fall therby. He come agayne and broght Pollides with hym. 

1 The word is entered over the line. 

14 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

Sidon went into hi? warderop and sche made [come] a 
damesell named Ellious, the whiche sche loved myche and 
trusted vuto more than to any othi?, and she said to hi? that 
she hade grete desi? to se the fai? childe Ponthus, of whome 
5 all men spake. So sche had a litle wyndowe wheratt sche 
loked oute ofte tymes, if any thyng come that wey; and so 
she called Elious to se that all hi? aray we? wele dressed 
vpon. So att the laste, as thei loked, thei sawe comyng the 
senysshall and Pollides that was ryght fai? and goodely. And 

10 so she comedown into the chaumbr^ and made grete che?and 
ioy, and toke Pollides by the honde and wold haue made hym 
to sytt cloune by hi?. And Pollides said, " Ma dame, I wolle 
not sitt doune by you, for itt is no reason." " Truly," she 
said, "itt is reason. Ye be a kynges son." "Ma dame," said 

15 he, " that be I not, bot I am his cosyn german." "Ay," said 
she, "I went that ye hade ben he." So she made hym as 
fai? che? as she myght. Not withstandyng, she was wrothe 
and said to the senysshall, "lape ye with me?" "How 
Madame?" said he. "Ye schuld haue broght the kynges 

20 sone of Spayne," said she, " and ye haue broght his cosyn 

german. Wherfore dide ye so? Hold ye me such a foell." 

Then the knyght kneled doune and said, "Ma dame, I crie 

[*Fol.l69 b .] you mercy, and be * ye not displeased, for in goode faithe I 

thoght bot wele ; for I myght not at that tyme bryng hym, 

25 for he served the kyng of his copp." " Yitt," said she, "ye 
schuld vndirstonde wele not to bryng me oon othre in stede 
of hym. Ye doute of me. I am not now so yong bot that I 
wold kepe my worshipp." " Itt is no doute Ma dame," said 
the senysshall. " I thynk bot wele ; bot I doute my lorde you? 

30 fadre that loves you so myche for if ye make hym a litle 
more chere than any othre, men wold haue envy of hym 
and leste any evyll myght come therof, for the worlde is full 
evyll ; for where that ye thinke bot goode and worshipp, yitt 
thei thynke othre wyse." "Ay," said she, " Ser, thinke ye no 

35 doute, for I hade leve? be deid than any myght reproche me 
or my worshipp for any thyng be right sure." " Ma dame, 



Gode wold that euery man wold as wele as I, for I wold you? 
worshipp and welefai? as wele as any man on live ; and sith 
ye wolle, I schall bring hym." " I pray you," said sche, "and 
tary not long." 

5 The senysshall went his way to fetche hym. Sydon went 
into hi? warderopp to loke att the wyndowe, if she myght se 
hym come. So she said to Ellyous here best beloved damesell, 
" Yeve me my myrronr and se that I be wele." "Sothely Ma 
dame," she said, " ye be ryght wele." Then said she, " Loke 

10 ye if that he come." And so thei loked ofte, if thei myght se 
hym comyng. So att the laste Ellyous went rynnyng to hi? 
ladie and said, " Ma dame, se ye whe? he cometh, the fairest 
of the worlde." 

And Sidoue lepe vpp and come rynnyng, and sawe hym 

15 come, and the senysshall with hym. So she sawe hym fai?, 
sanguyn, broune, and high of fai? stature, so that she hade 
of hym grete mervell. Then she said to Ellyous, " Damesell, 
me semys he is mervellous fai?." "Ma dame," said Ellious, 
"he is no man he is an aungell. I sawe neuer so fai? an 

20 erthely creatu?. Gode made hym with his aun hondes." "By 
my faith," said Sidon, " ye say verray trauth. I trowe she 
that be take with his love be fortunate." And so she went 
doune into hi? chaumbre to hi? ladies and gentylworuen. And 
anoon aftre, Ponthus and the senysshall come vpp into the 

25 chaumbre; and so Ponthus went forth toward Sidon with full 
lowe curtesie, saluyng hi? and hi? ladies. So Sidone toke hym 
by the honde and welcomed hym goodely and praid hym to 
sytt doune by hi?. And he said, " Ma dame itt is not for me 
to doo so." So thei made grete curtesye. Then said she, 

30 "Wherfore make ye all this curtesie? Be not ye the kynges 
son of Spayne ? " " Yis, Ma dame," said Ponthus, " bot yitt 
I be not like you, for ye be doghtre to a grete kyng and a 
myghty, and I be a kynges son disheret ; and so I haue noght 
bot by the goodeness of my lorde your fadre, that so myche 

35 goode has doon to me." "Ay, Ponthus," said she, "leve these 1 

1 MS. there. 

16 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

wordes, for Gode has not made you suche as nature schewys 
you, bot forto doo for you ; L for ye be made and fouremed to 
haue as myche worschipp and goode, and more, then euer you? 
fadre had the which Gode sende you." " Ma dame, I am 
5 not in that way, bot in the mercy of Gode is all." 

" Now sytt ye," said she, " I you pray and commaunde." 
So he satt a litle benethe hi?. Then said she to the ladys, 
" I pray you of sume dissportes to the senysshall and to the 
knyght, and that we may he? Ponthus syng and se hym 

10 daunce." And Sidone, that mychejdesired to talke with Pon- 
thus, putt hym in demaundes of mony thinges. So she thoght 
hym passyng wyse of his age. Among all othre thinges she 
said, " Ponthus ye haue bene long tyme in Bretayn withoute 
seying of vs." " Ma dame, I be in gouernaunce and so me 

15 oght to obey." " Itt is reason," said she, " bot I demawnde 
[*Fol. 170.] you, haue ye envy to see vs and ou? ladies * that be here?" 
" Ma dame, nay for sothe, for here is a full fei? company to 
see." " I you demaunde," said she, " haue ye any wyll to any 
ladie or gentyl woman, to be hi? knyght ? " " For sothe Ma 
dame, nay; for the seruice of me is bot litle worthe." "Pon- 

20 thus," said she, " save your grace, ye be of the place to be of 
worschipp to serve the grettest ladye and the fairest of all 
Bretayne." So thei hade enugh of diuers demaundes betwen 
theym, in so myche that she said, " I wolle that ye take the 
state of knighthod, and that ye be hold as for my knyght. 

25 And when I here that ye doo you? selve worshipp, I wolle 
haue ioy of you." " Ma dame," said he, " Gode thonke you 
and Gode send me grace to doo that may pleasse you and all 
your ladys, for the dedes of a poue? man be litle worthe." 
" Yitt," said sche, " I wolle wele that ye wytt how that I 

30 holde you as for my knyght, and when that ye doo bettre 
then any of my knyghtes, I shall loue you for the beste, and 
ye schal wante no thing that I haue ; and I wolde that ye 
made surement to serue me aboue all othre, in worschipp; 

1 " To aid you " R, Dieu ne vous a pas fait .... pour vous deffaire. W, for 
to vnmake you. 


and thinke ye not hot that I thinke worschip." "Ay, Ma 
dame, I thonke you of the grete worshipp that ye offre to me 
as myche as I may. Gode yeve me grace to serve itt vnto 
you? worthynes." " I shall say you," said she, " that I wolle 
5 loue you as my knyght, and that ye be of suche mane? that I 
may percey ve that ye thinke noon othre wyse bot forto kepe the 
state and the worshipp of me ; and if ye thinke any velanye, 
I shall neuer loue you." " Ma dame, I hade leue? be dede 
than to thinke any thyng that shuld turne to you? diswor- 

10 shipp or to my lorde your fadi? 1 dishonu?." "Then wolle ye 
promys me, so as ye be a kynges son ? " " Yea Ma 2 dame, by 
my feytb," seid he. Then she yeave hym a ryng with a dia- 
mounde and she said that he schuld bere that for the loue of 
hi?. " Ma dame," said he, " Gode thonke you." So he toke 

15 itt and putt itt vpon his fingre. 

And aftre that, she lede hym to daunce, and aftre sche praid 
hym to syng. And so he dide hi? commaundement, as he that 
felyd hym self take with loue. So he song so goode and so 
swete a song that it was mervellous to he?. Then he was loked 

20 vpon with ladies and gen tyl women and gretely praysed. And 
then eueryche of theym disired in thei? hert the felischipp of 
hym and said omong theym, she was full happy that hym list 
forto loue and cherys. And aftre that thei hade daunsed, the? 
come furth spices and wyn ; and so Sidon yeave to the senys- 

25 shall a copp of golde full of wyn, and the senysshall thonked 
hi? myche. And when thei hade wele disported theym, the 
senysshall said, " Ma dame, we beseche you of leve, for itt is 
tyme that we goo to the kyng." So she yeave theym leve, and 
she prayd the senysshall that he shuld come ofte and se hi?, 

30 and he said that he schuld. So she and Ponthus loked full 
amerously at thei? departyng, bot she keped hi? as coverte as 
she myght. 

1 The flourish of the r is bolder than usual. It possibly represents an es. 
I have preferred to regard fadir as the old Gen. 

2 MS. my dame. 


18 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

And when thei we? goon, she asked of the ladies, " How say 
ye of Ponthus?" The? was noon hot thei prased hym gretly ; 
and the? was sume said that she was right happy that myght 
haue suche oon to hi? lone. She myght wele say she had the 
5 fairest and the flou? of the worlde. So the ladys pmysed 
gretly Ponthus and that was grete ioy and comforth vnto 
Sidone to here, if she durste say hot litle, hot that sche said 
he was fai? enugh, arid prayd to Gode to kepe hym from all 
evyll tunges. 

10 The feste dured thre days with grete ioy and welfai? and 
all maner of dissportes. So itt happened the? come mervel- 
lous tithynges, that said that the Saresyns we? londed in the He 
of Breste and were mo then twenty thovsand. So the courte 
was gretly trovbelyd, so that thei couth make noo che?. 

15 [Cap. VI f. How tithynges come to the kyng of Bretayn that 
the Saresyns were come in to his lond; how Ponthus 
answered the Saresyn that said that his lawe was better 
then the Cristen ; and how the kyng made Ponthus 

20 A boute the myddes of the day the? come furth a knyght 

[*Fol. 170 b .] ~L\- and twoo * sqnyers Saresyns in message fro the kyng 

Carodas that was sonne to the sawdeyn, oon of the iij sonnes 

that ye herde of before. The knyght was huge and grete, 

stronge and horrible to se. A drogman he made to say, and 

25 said on highe, that the son of the sawdeyn was comen into 
the contree to do a wey the Cn'sten lawe and to puplisch the 
lawe of Mahounde ; and badd the kyng of Bretayn to forsake 
the Cristen lawe and take hym vnto the lawe of Mahounde ; 
and to haue tribute of hym and of euery fi?-hows in his realme; 

30 and if he wold not, he wold distroy all Bretayn and putt all to 
the swerde. 

The kyng herde the manashyng and grete pride of theym. 
He wyste not what to sayn and said no worde. 


Then loked vpp Ponthus and saw that noo man spake noo 
worde. He lepe furth and said, " I am a simple child, I wolle 
not soffre hym to dispyse ou? holy lawe afore me/ 7 And so he 
knelyd doune before the kyng and asked leve to answe? the 

5 Saresyn. The kyng graunted hym, when he sawe noon othe? 
wold speke. Then said he to the knyght Saresyn, "I shall 
answe? the, and say, that you? lawe is hot temptacion and darnp- 
nacion, and live of the fire euer lastyng, and ou? lawe is helthe 
and saluacion and ioy that shal endure; and as to yeld tribute 

10 to you, we be free, and suche seruege shall we neuer doo to you, 
by the grace of Alrnyghty Gode." 

Then said the Saresyn knyght, " Be the? any too men that 
wolle fyght ayeinst me, that Mahounde is not grettre then you? 
lorde Ihmi Criste?" Then answeryd Ponthus, "If it pleasse 

15 Gode, we wolle not putt too ayeinst the. I am yonge and feble, 
I caste myn hodde to a wedde for to defende thes wordes befor 
the kyng." And the Saresyn stode vpp and said, "Undir- 
stonde that I wolle fyght with the and oon othe?." "I aske 
bot my self," said Ponthus. The kyng and the Barounes we? 

20 wrothe that Ponthus had waged batell with the Saresyn and 

that he had caste doune his wedde ; bot it wolde not be amended. 

Then said the kyng, "Ay Ponthus, ye haue putt vs in grete 

disease of hert, that ye haue ben so hasty to cast doune you? 

wedde ye that be so yong ayeinst yonde knyght, that be so 

25 stronge and myghty." " Ser," said Ponthus, " knowe not ye 
that at the request of Daniel, that was bot a child, thurgh 
whome 1 Gode savyd Susanne? Mervell ye not of the mer- 
velles of Gode. Whome Gode wolle haue keped, shal be keped. 
I hold me sure and hardy ayeinst hym. Doute ye not of me." 

30 When the kyng herd hym thus speke, he weped, when he 
consideryd the goodnes and the hardenes of hym ; and for the 

1 The omission of thurgh whome would set the sentence straight, but there 
is no reason to suspect scribal corruption in this case. Inconsequent con- 
structions are so common in this text that I shall never indicate them, 
except where a probability of scribal error justifies emendation. 

20 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

pitee that he hade of the childe, he besoght Gode full humblely 
with all his herte to helpe hym att the iorney. 

" Ser," said Ponthus, " make ye me knyght and yeve me 
armore, and I shal goo and doo my devir." The kyng maked 
6 hym knyght, and girde hym with a sworde, and kyssed hym & 
he weped sore, that he myght not speke oon worde ; and then 
he lete arrne hym with the beste armour that he hade, and 
yeave hym the best stede that he hade; and when he was 
armed and on hors bakk, he was so fai? to se, and satt so 

10 streght and so wele vpon his hors, that it was grete ioy to see 
hym. And his xiij fellawes weped for pite and for fere of 
hym ; and Herland the senysshall was full sory; and so was 
all maner of people sory and wrothe, that he that was so 
yonge shuld fyght with 0011 that was so strong; for men 

15 said that he was the myghtehyst and the hardeyst among 
all the Saresyns. 

Grete was the speche of Ponthus that he wolde fyght : in so 

myche that worde come to Sidone. It is not to be demaunded 

*Fol. 171.] whethre that she made any sorow or hevynes for * hi? knyght. 

20 She sent hym a kerchef to be? on his spe? ; and when he sawe 
itt, he reioysed hym in his hertt and thonked hi? ; and she 
went pnvely into hi? warderopp and said hi? prayers for him 

[Cap. VIII. How Ponthus slewe the Saresyn and sent his 
25 bed to the Sawdeyn.] 

And when he was on hors bak, the Saresyn said to hym : 
"Goo fetche an othre to helpe the, for thou be to yonge; 
and I haue grete pitee of the, for thou be so fai? a child. Itt 
we? grete harme that I schuld sloo the, by Mahounde. Ther- 
30 fore it is goode that thou gaynsay all that thou havis said and 
pray Mahounde to foryeve the thy evell wordes that thou hast 
said of hym." "Knyght/' said Ponthus, " leve thes wordes. 
Thov shall see anoon the vertue of Ihesu Criste. Defende the, 
if thou wolle." 


And Ponthus withdrewe hym a litle and putt his spe? in 
the reste ; and come with a goode will & smote hym betweyn 
his sheld and his helmett, that he brake his shuldre. And the 
Saresyn smote Ponthus so myghtely that he brake his spe?. 

5 And when the kyng and the people sawe the iustyng, thei 
thonked Gode and said that Ponthus had wele iusted. Then 
Ponthus went forthre and drewe oute his swerd, and come to 
the Saresyn and gave hym suche a stroke aboue the vyse? of 
his helme that men myght se his vysage all open. Then hade 

10 the Cristen ioye, and hope in Gode. The Saresyn drewe oute 
his swerd, whiche was a full grete blade of stele, and smoth 
Pouthus therwith so grete a stroke that he made his hede to 
shake and fire to smyte out of his eeyn : so he was sore astoned 
of that stroke, and sore was the feght betwen theym. Bot at 

15 all tymes Ponthus hade the bettre and lay in wate to smyte 
hym in the visage that was open ; and so he mett with hym 
at a travers, that he smote of his nose and his chynne, so that 
it helde bot by the skynne : so he blede in suche wyse that his 
sheld and his nek we? full of bloode, that vnneth he myght 

20 sitt on hors bake. Then Ponthus toke hym by the helme and 
pulled itt fro the hede, and aftre gave hym suche a stroke that 
he fell doune to the grounde. And when he had doon so, he 
smote of his hede and putt itt on his swerde poynte and broght 
itt to the squyers Saresyns and said to theym, "Fai? Saresyns, 

25 I present you with the hede of your maistre. Goo and be? it 
to the sawdeyn sonne you? kyng. And (tell hym) 1 it was at 
his requeste this batell for the prevyng of ou? feyth and his, 
and that God shewed by a childe that he is verray Gode, and 
thus by hys poe? 2 he schall shewe that ye hold on a fals lawe; 

30 and say to hym in shorte wordes that itt shall be hastely 
knowen and shewed, whethi? that my God or his be more 
myghty. So goth oon your wey, for ye shall goo save and 
sure for a messynge? shall haue noon harme, bot if he require 
dedes of armes." 

1 K, Ei lui dictes gue. ... 2 R, puissance. 

22 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

The squiers toke the hede and the body and broght 1 itt to 
thei? kyng and all his lordes Saresyns, and told hyra and 
theym all the mane? of the request of the batell, and how the 
Cristen was of the age bot of xviij yeres at the moste. So 
5 the kyng and all his lordes Saresyns was full wroth and soro- 
full of thei? knyght, and thei had mervell of that aventu?, for 
he was holde (the best knyght) and the strongest on thei? 
party. So thei buried hym aftre thei? mane?. So lefe we of 
hym and retourne we vnto Ponthus. 

10 [Cap. IX. How Ponthus gave thonkynges to Gode for the 
victorie, and how he auised the kyng to assemble 
the princes and barounes ayeinst the Saresyns. How the 
Cristen ordeyned their batells.] 

POnthus smote his hors with the spores and rode streght 
to the hygh chirche, yeldyng thonkynges vnto Gode 
full devoutly, and said, "Ay, swete Ihesu Criste, thi dedes be 
mervellous, for by thy grace I haue the victorie of myn enemys, 
[*FoL 171 b .] and I knowe that thou thinkes * on thi pove? seruauntz ; and 
goode Lorde haue mercy of me that am thy povere seruemnt, 
20 and on this contree that is in thyn honde." Then he made his 
offeryng and lepe vnto his hors and so went vnto the kyng. 

It is no demaunde whethi? the kyng & his barounes we? 

glade and made of hym grete ioy and grete chere. The kyng 

toke hym aboute the neke and kyssed hym, sayng thes wordes, 

25 " My fai? swete frende, we truste in you that ye schall delyuer 

vs and ou? countre frome ou? aduersaries that wold ouergoo vs." 

Aftre this itt is no question if Sidon and hi? ladies made 

ioy; and thei said, that beautie, bounte, and manhode we? 

assemelyd in his person "this was marvellously doon of hym. 

30 We pray to Gode to save hym from all evyll." 

Aftre this the (kyng) sent for all his barounes and knyghtes 
to here howe the Saresyns we? comen to his countre, and the 

1 MS. broght a. The a is cancelled by the rubricator. 


kyng asked of eueryche of theym his avice. So thei we? all 
abasshed and astoned for the grete multitude that thei we?, 
that thei couth gyve noon answe?. So the kyng asked of 
Ponthus his avice. " Ser," said Ponthus, " to me itt longeth 
5 not to speke, that ben so young, of litle reson, befor so mony 
knyghtes." The kyng cowmaunded hym to say his opinion. 
" Ser," said he, " for you? worschipp and to fulfyll your com- 
maundement I shal speke as a clerke of armes and as a childe 
among wysmen, bot all wey foryeve my folye. Ser, it serneth 

10 me that this people, how many so euer that thei be, [be] 1 not 
gretely to be dovbted, for we be, and shall be, 2 (in Gode 
Almyghty) that may save or distroy with fewe people mony 
of theym ; for in this case sett oon agayn oon hunderyth in 
kepyng of his feith, for this tovcheth all Cristentie, that be 

15 seruauutz of Gode, 3 and all Cristen people wolle come to helpe 
you at that tyme ; for if thei wynn ou? contree, all othre cen- 
tres wolle not be sure ne sike?. Wherfore I wolle counsell 
you, by the goode avice of your knyghtes that be here present, 
to send to princes and barounes that ben your neghtboures, 

20 that thei be here within xv days ; and by the help of Gode 
and of ou? goode diligence men schal doo theym suche harme 
and angres that thei? gode schal neuer amende itt. Also sendes 
to garnysche your fortresses of men and vitell, & make strong 
you? tovnes and castells and in especiall; theym that be next 

25 the countree that thei be in and withdrawe and distroye vitell 
frome theym." 

1 The obvious emendation of the passage is the insertion of a second be 
following the French. II me semble, combien que cesle gent soient grant nombre, 
ne douient pas estre tant doubtez, car nous seruons et sommes a dieu tout piiissant, 
qui puet sauuer, etc. The passage might stand without emendation if how 
many so euer might be regarded as a clause in opposition to people. This 
seems to me incongruous with the style of the text. 

2 MS. be of goode myght enoghe. The context shows clearly that goode, as is 
the case a few lines beyond, must be a corrupt reading for Gode and necessi- 
tates the emendation of the clause. I have adopted the reading of W for 
we shall be and ben in gode almyghty; which follows the French, vid. supra. 
Both English versions appear to have had an original reading serons instead 
of the seruons of E. 3 MS. goode. 

24 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

This counsell was holden goode aboue all othi? and was 
fulfylled. And messyngers was sent throgh oute the centre 
that was next: as in Normandie to the Vicecounte d'Aurences, 
to the Erie of Morteyne, to the Erie of Mayne, to the Lorde 
6 de La Vale, and of Sylle; and to the Duches of Aniou, for the 
Duke was deid ; also he sent to the Lorde of Chasteaue Goute?, 
and to Guy lien de Roches, to Bortane de Doune, and to Landry 
de La Toure; into Petewe thei sent to the Erie of Peyters, hot 
he was goon to Rome, and thei sent vnto Geffrey de Lazenyen, 

10 to Lernell de La Mauelyon, and to Henri de La Marche : so 
thes knyghtes we? chosen for the fest that was in thos dayes 
in thoos contrees aboute theym. And all thos that we? sent 
vnto, they sent to the contre aboute theym, that thei schuld 
in all the haste come in thei? best aray, that thei myght come 

15 to gedre to helpe the kyng of Bretane ayeinst the Saresyns 
that wold distroye the Cristen people. 

It is noo question bot all mane/ 1 of people we? comyng 
toward the iourney in thei? beste array; and so by the xv 
days' ende thei we? comen to gedre a grete mayne of all 

20 mane/* of people, of the which the kyng made grete ioy. And 

so they toke thei? wey togedre toward Breste and to Seynct 

Malewe, whe? was the oste of the Saresyns, that pylled and 

distroyed the Cristen aboute theym. 

[*Fol. 172.] Bot the Cristen ordeynyd fou? thosand * horsemen to ride 

25 aboute theym and to devise the oste. So the Saresyns doubted 
of batell, thei we? so ne? aproched. Then the kyng and Pon- 
thus ordenyd thei? batells ; and by cause the kyng was holde, 
he hade to helpe to governe his batell the Vicounte de Leon 
and the Lorde de La Vale and othi? barounes; and of Galyce, 

30 Edmund de Vitry and Rauland de Dole, Roge? de La Roche. 
In the secund batell was Ponthus and Herland the senysshall. 
With hym we? Normandes, the Erie of Morteyn, the Vicounte 
of Averences. The third batell was taken to gouerne to the 
Erie of Mayne and barounes and knyghtes of Aniou, 1 Guyllen 

35 de Roches, Andrewe 2 de La Toure. And of the fourte batell 

1 MS. Avyen read with R and W Ani&u. 8 MS. landrewe. 


hade the gouemaunce Geffray de Lazynyen l and Leonell 
de la Maleon, in the which we? Normannes, Manseons, and 
Petievynnes. 2 The Normannes we? by estimacion ix men of 
armes ; Angevyunes and Petevynnys we? fou? thovsand wele 
5 fyghtyng men, as by estimacion. 

[Cap. X. How the four batells of the Cristen rode toward 
the pauellons of the Saresyns aboute the poynt of day.] 

And so the? we? fou? grete batells, in the whiche Ponthus 
and Herland had the voward ; so thei rode toward 

10 thei? enemys, and the kyng and othre that we? with hym in 
the rerewarde, and luged theym vpon the felde; and thei 
ordayned the halfe to wake, whiche watched, whils the othi? 
halfe dide slepe. So the? happed a grete affray aboute myd- 
nyght; for Robt. de Sauguyn, Ranald de Sylle and a grete 

15 company de la Breste 3 come rydyng with iij ML men of armes 
toward the batell and thei we? aspyed and knowne ; and thei 
made grete ioye of thei? commyng; and of thei? desi? thei putt 
theym in among the Angevynnes. 

Then said the kyng to Bertam de Doke 4 and to Landry de 

20 La Tou?, " Fair Sens, thonke we Gode ye be worthie men and 
of grete worship; ye be ou? strenght and oure dunyon; in 
youre hondes lieth myche of oure besynes. Comes not to the 
besynes vnto the tyme that it be nede." 

Ponthus and Herland ordaned the Bretaynes in array. 

25 Then said Ponthus to the kyng and to the lordes, " Sens I 
councell that we sett vpon theym before day, or aboute the 
poynte of day, before that thei be armed or thei? horses 
sadylled and or thei be putt in ordinaunce. Thus thei schal 

1 MS. De la Zynyen. 2 MS. petie vynnea. 

3 1 do not understand this de la Breste. K reads : . . . venoient a la besogne 
a bien trois cens escus, which W translates literally. Our translator's origi- 
nal may have made the reinforcements come from Brest. 

Apparently a mistake for Bertam de Doune mentioned above. So in W 

26 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

be more easly discomfytt." " Truly," said the kyng and the 
lordes, " this counsell is goode. Let vs goo to hors, for itt is 
tyme." Then euery man armed theym and lepe to hors. 

The wedi? was fai? and bryght and the mone shone full 

5 bryght. So thei rode toward the Saresyns, that was ayeinst 

Breste in thei? pavellouns, and toke thei? counsell thus : bot 

if thei shuld be foghten with, thei wold ouerride all Bretan. 

And thei broght with theym engynes and laddirs forto con- 

que? the centre and thei dovbted not, for thei trowed to haue 

10 no batell, and thei made bot litle dowtes by cause of the grete 

multitude that thei we? of. 

[Cap. XI. How the Cristen and the Saresyns ordaned their 
batells. How Ponthus rescoued the kyng of Bretayne 
and slewe the kyng Karodas, and aftre that the Saresyns 
15 were putt to flyght, wanne the grete tresour. And how 
Sydon made grete ioy of the worschip, that he receyved 
in this batell.] 


l ftre itt happed that the batells approched so nygh that 
thei sawe the Saresyns, the whiche had mony pavyl- 

20 louns of dyuers colours. Then said Ponthus, that gyded 
theym that we? in the firste batell, to his people, " Se here the 
Saresyns that wold disheryte vs of oure faithe. We ben in 
the seruice of Almyghty Gode, wherfore noman haue noo 
doute bot that oon of vs is worth mony of theym ; and I pray 

25 you of too thynges : oon is, aboue all thyng to truste in Gode, 
for by hys powe? we shal come aboue oure enemys ; the secunde 
is, that ye take no thyng to pyllage ne to noo covetyse, bot 
oonly to discomfytt oure enemys and to putt theym oute of 
oure contrey, in the worshipp of oure faithe and for pitee of the 

30 pouere people that dwellys oute of strenghtes in the feldys 

that laboures and travells, in whome we lyve. Therfore be 

[*Fol.l72b.] we strong and stable to * defende the chirche and theym." 

1 A extends through two 11. in the MS. ; so also the initial A of Chapter vn. 


And when he had said to theym. thus, he said, " Nowe goo 
we forth my frendes, and euery man thinke to doo wele." 

Then euery man toke hert to theym, and smote thei? 
horses toward the tentys and began to bete doune tentys 
5 and pavyllouns, and to sley sume as thei we? armyng theym 
and sume naked ; and so thei made in that syde mony to 
dye. Grete was the noyse and the crye among theym. So 
cleryd the day. Then thei began to loke vpp, and the Bre- 
tayns laid on and putt fire in they? luges and in so myche 

10 that the kyng Karados was on hors bak in a playne with a 
grete batell, and said to his people on hyghe, " Euery man 
drawe to his captayne and putt theym in ordinaunce, for itt is 
nede." Then ye myght see the Saresyns putt theym in batell, 
notwithstondyng thei we? vndertaken, for there were sleyne 

15 of theyme vij ML and that was the fourte 1 parte of thei? people; 
bot the kyng Karodas was a mervellous goode knyght and of 
grete corage, and when he was on his hors, he toke his bane? 
in his honde to releve his people. And when thei herde his 
voice and his home, itt conforted thei? hertes and recoueryd 

20 the hertes of the cowardyue. 

And aboute the soune rysyng was grete crie and grete noyse, 
for aboute that tyme thre batells of oure people were comyn 
to gedre in the syde of the Saresyns, the? myche was to doo, 
to feght and ou? people to putt fyre in thei? lugyng. Then 

25 the Saresyns drewe theym to gedre aboute the kyng Karodas. 
Grete were thei? strokes on both sydes and grete was the crye 
of theym that we? slayn and hurtt. 

In that othre side faght the kyng of Bretayn, the whiche 
was fallen of his hors in the grete prese. And Ponthus by 

30 aventure loked vp and saw that the kyng was fallen doune to 
the grounde. He was full sory and wrothe, for he was like 
to haue be deid, ne had Ponthus and the Lorde de La Vale 
ben besyd hym to helpe hym. And Ponthus, that toke litle 
hede of hym selfe, that sawe his lorde in distresse, he laid 

1 The e of fourte is written over an unfinished h. 

28 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

aboute hym with his sworde on euery syde, so that he slowe 
both hors and man ; so that euery man mervelled of his 
myght and thei fled fro hym for ferde of his strokes : so that 
by the helpe of Herland the senysshall and his cosyn grnnayn 
6 Pollides for thes thre keped theym euer to gedi?, and they 1 
dide so mony grete dedys of armys that they rescoued the 
kyng and lyght adoune forto helpe hym vp, for he had his 
harme broken, the whiche grevyd hym sore, for he was nyghe 
oon hunderyth yeres olde. A goode knyght he was and of 

10 grete corage. So he was on his hors bak in disspite of his 
enemys, and he was ledd oute of fne batell. 

Grete was the batell egrove 2 on that oon parte and on that 
othre. So Ponthus behelde the batell on his ryght honde, 
that hade myche to doo, and therin was theVicounte Daniou, 

15 Gautier de Rays, Bernard de Valoynes, Geffrey Dancen, Breut 
de Quyntyn-Monford, and mony othre barounes of Breytayn 
that we? bett doune and in grete aventure of they? lives, for 
the? we? x Saresyns ayeinst oon Bretayn. Then said Ponthus 
to his fellawes, " Loo he? oure people that has myche to doo, 

20 and nede of helpe ! Goo we to socou? theym." Then they 
smote thei? horses with thei? spurrys so fersly that thei threw 
doune theym that was before theym. And Ponthus went all 
afore and dide sloo the hardiest that wold abide. Thei dide 
so myche, within a whyle they rescoved theyr men and putt 

25 the Saresyns to flyght and made theym to resorte into the 

grete batell the which was grete and hyddous. 

[*FoL 173.] Bot the kyng Karodas helde full shorte 3 the Erie of * 
Mayns and the Lorde Creton and the othre Maunceouns. 
Guyllyam de La Roche sawe Ponthus and cried to hym and 

30 said, " Loo here of you re people on fote ! " Then come Pon- 

1 The French and the context suggest the reading he (Ponthus) here and 
below, but the departure from the construction is characteristic. 

2 egrove can only be the p. ptc. of growe, the e representing the original 
ge prefix, v with the value of u or w is not infrequent in this text, but I 
have no other instance of its intervocalic use. R, Moult fu la bataille cruelle 
dune part et dautre, which W translates literally. 

3 B. . . . tenoit moult a destroit. 


thus and brake the presse and rescoued the Erie and othre 
that hade nede. And when thei were remofnjted, 1 the batell 
was full cruell. The kyng Karodas and Breales and Corbadan, 
his vncle, dide marvellously dedys of armes and most harme 

5 to the Cristen. They had bett doune Guyllyam de Roches 
and hade slayn Ralond de Avyon and mony othre. Then 
said Ponthus to Herland and to Landry de La Toure, "Take 
hede of the kyng and of too knyghtes. If they endure any 
while, they wolle doo myche harme ; and if we myght putt 

10 theym to dethe, we shuld haue the victorye of all othir." 
" Ser" said Landry de La Toure, "goo we to theym." Then 
said Ponthus, " I wolle goo vnto the kyng." And so he went 
to hym and smote hym so grete a stroke that he fellyd hym to 
the grounde that he brake his nek; and Landry de La Toure 

15 bett doune Corbadan ; and Herland smote doune Breales and 
kytt of hys harme. And when thes thre wer bett doune, the 
Saresyns we? gretly dismated and gretly dyscomforted, and 
stode as shepe withoute an herdman. Then thei begayn to 
flee, and oure men ran aftre with grete crye and toke of 

20 theym ; and they wyst not wethi? to fle*e bot toward theyr 
shyppes. And the Saresyns turned agayn and faght strongly, 
for mony faghte for the kynges dethe, and mony of theym 
knewe not of his dethe. And they hade bett doune the Lorde 
Vaucay, Geruast Daniou, the Lorde de Mounte John, and 

25 Lewpeyne 2 de Rocheford, and distroyed and slew mony of 
oure men. 

So at the last oure men toke herte, with comforte of Ponthus, 
so that thei bett theym doune. Ponthus dide mervellously, 
for he stroke doune hors and men and all that wold abide 

30 hym. So they bere hym companye Geffray de Lazynyen, 
Landry de La Toure, Leonell, Guyllen de Roches, and Ber- 
nard de La Roche, and Herland ; and as they went they made 
way and so that noon durst abyde theym. Ther Ponthus 
cried and said, " On theym ! On theym ! They flee as shepe." 

1 R. remontez. The scribe has omitted the nasal mark. 
8 Probably Le Payne. W, payne de E. 

30 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

And the? they slewe so many of theym within a whyle that 
all the felde ran of bloode and lay full of deyd bodyes, that 
it was mervell to see. 

And they that myght ascape fledd to their shippes, and 
5 Ponthus aftre and toke a bote and slew xxx ty and toke foure 
ecoore and asked theym whe? the ship was that the kynges 
tresowr was in. And they schewed itt'to hym, whiche was a 
fai?, grete shipp. So they led hym and Pollides into itt. And 
they caste ouer the borde all the men that they fonde in itt. 

10 And so they saw an other" fay? shipu that his golde and syluer 
was in. Then said Ponthus to six of hys men, " Kepe ye 
thys, and I wolle goo see if there be any that wolle lyfte upp 
his hede ayeinst vs in that vessell." So he went into itt and 
toke itt. 

15 The? ye myght see Bretanes, Maunceouns, Petevynes, and 
Normanes sume goo to shippes and sume to tentes, and so 
the? was not the powrest, bot that he wanne grete riches. Then 
aftre they serched the felde for the Cristen men, euery man for 
his frende. So the? was fonde deid on the felde the Yicounte 

20 d'Auerenses, John "Peonny, Turnebeufe, the Lorde Wylron ; 
and of Maunceouns, Roger de Biamount, the Lorde Douncelles, 
and the Lorde Sylle ; of the Hyrpos, Gaciane de Mounte Vyel, 
Roland de Tenull, Hundres de Prouere, and Fresell de La 
Hay ; off Petoy, Gauter de Chastameny, Andres de Mounte 

25 Agnaut, Hulland de La Fofrjyste; 1 and of Bretanes, Pie? de 

[*Fol. 173 b .] Doule, Ryoud de Rey,* John de Mangon, Herdy de Lyon, 

Hubberd de Deyne?, Gaudyffryde Rouen, Aubry d[e] Rays, 2 

and mony goode knyghtes. Eueryche caryed home his frende 

and buryed theym that we? deid and healed theym that we? 

30 hurte. 

Ponthus made the grete tresoitr come to Vennys to hys hous 
and departed therof full largely and yeave to hys knyghtes 
and to his men, so that he was gretly alowed of all men. 

1 R abridges the list of slain earlier. W, Hubault de la forest. O, Urbain 
de la forest. 

* MS. aubryd Rays. O, Aubri de Rais. 


The kyng drew hym to Quynpartorentyn and the? he dide 
assemble all the grete lordes, and made to theym all a grete 
feste and yeave to theym grete gyftes to eueryche aftre his 
estate, and said to theym, " Fai? Lordes, ye be comen, Gode 

5 thonke you, to the seruice of Gode and of the chirche and of 
the pouere people, and by the helpe of the Grete Lorde and 
of you? grete worthynes and hardynes, ye haue delyueryd 
this contree of Saresyns that wold haue distroyed ou? lawe 
and ou? landes. Thonke we God of his grace, that has 

10 yeaven vs suche victorye, for agayns oon of vs the? was six 
of theym." 

So itt was gretly spoken of theym that faght the beste and 
gave the grettest strokes and did the moste dedes of armes. 
Bot withoute cornporacion Ponthus hade the name and the 

15 laude afor theym all, and they said that he had all wonne 
and gete. Also they gave grete pris to Geifray de Lazynyen, 
to Landry de La Toure and to Barnard de La Roche, for 
they we? thre of the best aftre Ponthus. The kyng held his 
feste thre days ; and aftre they toke they? leve of the kyng ; 

20 and Ponthus convehed theym furthe; So euery man went home 
into his awn contree ; and the kyng repared to Vennys. 

It is not to aske if Sydon made grete ioy ; and she said to 
Ponthus, " My swete frende, blessed be Gode of the grete wor- 
schipp that ye haue recey ved in this batell ; for as Gode me 

25 helpe, I haue so grete ioy of the worschipp that I he? spoken 
of you that it puttes myn herte in full grete gladnes, and there 
[is] no thyng that dos me so myche goode, as the goode 
name that euery man yevys to you." " Ma dame," said 
Ponthus, " it is not as euery man reportes, bot I thonke you 

30 of the worschip that ye wold doo me ; and Ma dame wytt ye 
wele, that if God sende me grace to doo any goode, itt comys 
of you ; and I wold fayne doo so, that I myght fall in his 
goode grace, and to doo to you suche seruice that myght pleasse 
you." " Ponthus, your seruice I take wele a worthe, 1 whyls 

1 Paraphrasing R, vostre service prens ie bien en gre de tout mon .. Tant 
comme ie vous trouuery loyay (sic) etc., which W translates literally. 

32 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

that ye be trewe and withoute thinkyng of vylanye to me, 
for I wold that you? love be clene and sure; and wytt ye wele, 
that if I perceyve any othre wyse that ye thynke, then to 
youre worsen ipp and myn and to my frendes, as myche as I 

6 love you, I wolle hate you." " Ma dame," said Ponthus, 
"ne trowe ye not ne thynke ye not that I wolle ymagyn ne 
thynke bot to you? worschipp, for I haue fonde you so goode, 
clene, and trew, that I loue and prayse you a thowsand tymes 
the more fore the? is no fayre? thyng in thys wordle then is 

10 a goode, clene lyve." 

So they loued mytch to gedre and of trewe, clene love. Bot 
envye that may not dye comes aftre vpon theym, as ye shal 
here more playnly he? aftre. So lete vs leve to speke of theym, 
and turne to the kyng. 

15 [Cap. XII. How by the voice of all the barounes Ponthus 
was chosen constable for the kyng. How he kepyd the 
ryght of Bretayn, and how he was loued of all men, and 
in especiall of fair ladies and gentylwomen.] 

The kyng come afore all his barounes and said to theym, 
" Fai? Sen's, I shal say you that I am full olde and I 
20 may not travell as I was wont to doo ; and fro now forward 
me must take myn ease. Wherfor by your councell I wolle 
chese a constable that shal haue the besynes of the londe of 
Bretayn, and suche oon as the barounes and the comons of the 
londe wolle beste obey vnto. So like ye, who be the moste 
25 profitable? for I wold fayne that he we? chosen by youre 

" Ser," said the barounes all with oon voice, " we wot not 

[*Fol. 174.] w he? to * haue a bettre, if itt lyke hym, then Ponthus, for he 

is moste worthie to gouerne ane erapyre, as for bountie, beautie, 

30 of wytt & gouernaunce and gentylnes as a kynges sone, and 

with the beste begynnyng of his knyghthode that thys day is 



When the kyng herd this, he hade grete ioy, for ill was all 
that he soght and desired, hot he wold not withoute thei? 
desire and speche, for they had hyra in theyr conceyte and 
grace, and so the? was noo gaynsayng. 

5 So was Ponthus called furth and the? itt was said to hym 
before all, that the kyng and the barounes hade chosen hym 
constable of Bretayne, 1 as for the moste sufficient. So he 
thonked the kyng and all his barounes and said to theym 
that they had a small avice taken, and that he had nawthe? 
wytt ne valure to gouerne itt, and that he was to yonge. Bot 

10 to blame hym selfe it avaled not, for he was charged ther- 
with, all excusacions laid aparte. 

So he was in office welbeloued and dred ; for if the? we? 
any dyscension betweu the barounes and the knyghtes, he 
wold sett theym in peace, and acorde theym. He kepyd the 

15 ryght of Bretayn withoute dooyng wrong to any man. He 
was loued of all men. He iustyd and made festes and revellys. 
He was ryght plesaunt to grete and small, and in especiall 
among ladies and gentilwommen. He was curtes : if any did 
of his hoode to hym, he wold doo of his as sone to hym. He 

20 wold here the pouere and doo theym ryght. He wold not 
that the pouere we? grevyd. And he loued Gode and the 
chirche. He herd euery day thre messes at the leste. He 
loued woddes and ryvers and all honest dissportes. 

[Fol. 1.] 'Douce Fragment A begins here: I normalize partially the capitaliza- 
tion but retain the punctuation of the MS. 

Bretayn. as the most sufficient. So he thankyd y e kyng and the barouns 
and sayd to theym that they had take a small [avice] and that he had not 
5 wytt ne gouernaunce ne valour to gouerne it and that he was to yong But 
to blame hym self yt avayleth not for he was then chargyd wold he nold he. 
So he was in his office well belouyd and dred for yf there were eny dissen- 
cion by twene the barons and the knyghtis he wold set theym in peas and 
concord. He kepte the right of Bretayn without doyng wrong of eny man 
10 he was louyd of all men he iustyd and made festys and reuelles. He was 
plesaunte with gret and small and in esspeciall amonge ladyes and ientil- 
women he was so curtes yf eny man dyd of his hode to hym he wolde do of 
his as sone. He herd the pore and he dyd theym ryght. He wold not that 
pore people were grevyd. And he lovyd God and holy churche he hard 


34 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

If he come into a toune, he wolde send for ladyes and gentyl- 
women and make theym to daunce and syng. All dissportes 
and ioy come the? as he was ; for he wold make to theym 
dynnars and sopers. He was beloued of mony fai? ladies and 
5 gentylwomen, that shewed to hym mony fai? draghtes of loue, 
bot he neuer disired loue of ladies ne of gentylwomen othre 
wys then to thei? worschip, for any che? that they made hym. 
So they wold say among theym oon to oon othir, " She was 
full happy that was belouyd of Ponthus;" and dyuers said 

10 to theym self, " Wold Gode, he wold loue me as myche as I 
wold loue hym." // 

Myche he was beloued of grete and of small. Bot envy 
that neuer lakked was putt in oon of his xiij fellawes of his 
contrey, that was a grete speke? and a flatere? 1 and couth 

15 mony fals engynes. 

[Cap. XIII. How Guenelete had envye of his maistre Pon- 
thus ; and how by his evyll spekyng he put dyscencyon 
bet wen Ponthus and Sydone.] 

SO he hade to his name Guenelete, that sawe of Sidon the 
loue, and of his maiste? Ponthus. He had therat envye, 
and forto assey hym, he asked of Ponthus oon hors that Sydon 

euer two masses and after he louyd to go to the woodys and to the revers 

and to all disporU's Yf he come to a town he wold sent (sic) for ladyes and 

ientyll women and made theym to daunce and syng and all dyssporte come 

there he was and ioye also for he wold geue theym dyuers gyft/s He was 

5 louyd of many a feyre lady and gentyll woman, that shewed to hym meny a 

feyr draught of loue but he never desired loue of lady no ientylwomen. 

none other wyse than to theyr worshippe. for eny chere that they made to 

hym. So they wold sey one to another. She was full happy that was 

[*Fol. l b .] belouyd of Ponthus. Another said wold God that he * louyd me as moche 

10 as I wold do hym Moche he was belouyd of gret and small but envy that 

lackyd not [was] put in one of his xiij felowes that was a gret speker and 

a flaterer and couth meny fals wrench is. * * 

II e was namyd Evenylet (sic) that saw the loue of Sydony and his 

* 1 mayster Ponthus He had gret envye and for to asay [hym J he askyd 

15 Ponthus an hors that Sydonye gaue hym. So he thought well that he mygt 

MS. flatrerer. 


hade yeven hym. So he wyst wele that he myght not haue 
hym, bot for to assey hym and forto tempe hym || he said, 
"Maistre, yeue me Liard that Sydon yeave to you." " Truly," 
said Ponthus, "that wolle I not yeave you, bot goo to my stable 
5 and (take) oon othre suche oon as wolle pleasse you, for the? 
be more faire? then he." " For sothe," said Guenlete, " I wolle 
noon hors haue, bot if I may haue Liard." " Ye may not haue 
hym," said Ponthus. "How so?" said Guenelete, "Thinke ye 
myche of oon hors to me ? I owe to truste full litle in you." 

10 "How so?" said Ponthus, "Is it not sufficiaunt to you to chese 
of all myn horses oon of the best? And if ye be not pleased 
with oon, take you twoo of the beste." 

Guenlete passed ouer and made hym ryght wrothe and said 
in his hert, "I wote wele I shal fayle of hym, bot he shal be 

15 dere boght, if I live long." He thoght full evyll, as he that 
was full of envye and of flaterye, and thoght to goo and hyndre 
him first vnto Sidone. 

So he spake with a damesell that was the pHvyest with 
Fol. 174 b .] Sydone and * glossed hi? with wordes and said that he loued 

20 hi? myche and that he muste tell hi? a grete councell ; and 
made hi? to swe? by Gode and by all his saintes, that she 
schuld not discure hym. Then said he, " I loue so myche the 
kyng and my lady his doghtre, as theym that norysched me, 

not haue hym and to tempte hym. Mayster. he sayd gene me Lyard that 
Sydony gaue you. Trewly said Ponthus that wyll I not geue you. But go 
to my stable & take such another as wyll please you for there be more 
feyrer. For soth sayd Guynelot I wyll none hors haue but Lyard Ye may 
5 not haue hym sayd Ponthus What sayd Guynelet let ye to geue an hors to 
me I aught full litull to tryste to you. How so seyd Ponthus suffichith 
not to you to chewse of all my hors. And yf ye be not pleasyd with one 
takyth two of J> e beste Guynelot passyd ouer and made him right wrothe 
and seyd in his hert I wot I shall fayll of hym & he shall be dere bought 

10 yf that I lyve longe. He thought full evyll as he that was full of envye and 
of flatery. And thought to hyndre hym to Sydonye. And that in haste. 
So he spake to a damysell that was privy e of councell with Sydonye. And 
glosyd her with wordt's and said that he louyd her moche and that he muste 
tell her a gret councell where fore she swerith by God and by all seyntis 

15 that she wold not discouer hym. I loue so moche 

36 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

therfore I wolle hide no thyng that schuld be agayne theym. 
Know ye l not," he said, " that Ponthus my maistre makes 
my lady and youres to beleve that he loves hi? more than any 
othre in the worlde ? Wytt ye wele, he bot iapes with [hi?], 

5 for I haue perceyved that he loves an othre bettre by the 
halfe : so it is folie for hi? to sett hi? hert on any man that 
be so chaungeable, for suche wold stond in grace of mony, 
and they be full disceyveable. Therfore it is goode that my 
ladye take goode hede to hi? self." 

10 Then said the damesell, " In good faithe, I trowed that he 
had ben more trewe then he is, bot at all tymes I wote wele 
for certayn that he desired neuer thyng of my lady bot goode ; 
bot nowe I se wele he is not suche on as hym semyd." 

Then the damesell trowed that he said trewe and come vnto 

15 hi? lady and said to hi?, " Ma dame, ye must promys me that 
ye wolle not discure me of that thyng that I wolle tell vnto 
you." And aftre that, she told hi? of all that she had herd 
howe that Ponthus loued an othe? bettre then hi?. 

When Sydon herd that, she was full sory and full heuy in 

20 hi? hert, what che? so euer she made. So at the laste Ponthus 
come to se hi? as he we? wonte to doo, makyng glade che?. 
And Sidon made mornyng che? and was thoghtfull and she 
mad[e] to hym bot sadd che?. And Ponthus was abasshed 
and come to hi? damesell Ellyous and asked hi? what 

25 Sydon alyd. " Truly," said Ellyous, " I wote not, bot 
it is nowe x dayes and more sithe she made goode chere 2 
as she was wonte." 

Then Ponthus went vnto hi? and said, " Ma dame, what 
che? is with you? Haue ye any greuatoice? Is the? any 

30 thyng that I may doo for you? Commaunde me as you? 
awn." And she said, " Noon may wytt to whome to trust ; 
this worlde is so mervellous to know." "Ay, May 3 dame, 
mercy," said he, " say ye me wherfore ye say thes wordes. Is 

1 ye entered above the line. 

8 chere entered above the line. 

3 may for ma and lay for la are not infrequent. See glossary. 


the? any thyng that I haue doon, or any othre, that has 
displeased you ? " " Nay," said she, " bot so myche I say 
to you." So he departed and went into his chaumbre, full 
of sorowe and of pensynes. Ponthus myght no more come 

5 forto haue goode che? as he was wonte, so he percey ved wele 
that he was hyndered to hi? by sume fals flatere?. And so he 
went agayn, trowyng to wytt the cause, bot it was for noght, 
for he couth wytt nomore at that tyme. 

That nyght he was full sorowful and lay thinkyng with- 

10 oute slepe, sayng, "Alias, sorowfull catyve ! What haue I 
doo? Who has hindred me to my lady? Alas! What is he 
or she that wolle slo me, distroye me, murthre me so vn truly 
with oute any deseruyng ? Who be they that wolle putt fro 
me my most ioy worldly and make me nyght and day langu? 

15 and wale ? " 

So hertly and petuosly complenyd Ponthus; and if he had 
hevynes, Sydone hade myche more. She said, "Alias ! Who 
shall haue truste in any man ? I am deceyved, for I trowed 
that he hade bene true aboue all othre knyghtes. Howe has 

20 natu? thus fay led to make oon the most faire, the most 
gracius, the most best hold of worship, most curtes, most 
large, of all goode maners, withoute any thyng wantyng 
ho we has thou forgete to putt in hym truth e and stable- 
nes ? Alias ! it is grete pitee and reuthe." Thus sorowed 

25 she, the fai? Sydone. 

[Cap. XIV. How Ponthus, that got no chere of Sydone, de- 
parted from the courte secretly.] 

?oL 175.] *A nd by this meane the? was myche trowble betwen theym, 
-jL\- so vntruly was thes too treue louers put in to greuawnce 
30 and sorow by this flatere?. 

Ponthus, that had litle reste and slepe, rose vp in the mornyng 
and went to here messe ; and aftre he sent for Ellyous to speke 
with hi?, the whiche he loued wele, by cause that Sydon loued 

38 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

hi? the best and was the most secrete aboute hi? ; and he said 
to Ellyous, " My swete frende, I mervell mych of that that 
my lady says to me, in so myche that I trowe that I moue 
neuer haue ioy in myn hert." " Ay," said she, u ye may not 
5 doo so, for I supposse my lady doos itt bot to assey you, or 
ellys it is by sume reporte that shal be founde a lesyng, and 
therfor I wote not wherfor ye shuld be so discomforted." 
" Ay," said he, " my loue, I wot not what ye thinke, bot I 
wole a while oute of the contree and I wolle not come agane 

10 vnto my comyng a gane may please hi?." 

He said no mor at that tyme, bot withdrewe hym into his 
chaumbre and called to hym oon auncient squye?, his name 
was Gyrard, and said to hym, "calles iiij yomen and lete 
trusse myn harnes prively, for I wolle goo awhile hens, bot 

!5 not full farre, nygh to the ende of oon ye?; and I wolle 
Herland be for me leutenaitnt, for he is a goode knyght and 
a worthie." 

Then he went to the kyng and said that he wold goo a 
whyle from thens. The kyng said to hym, " My dere frende, 

20 goo ye not farre bot that I may se you ofte tymes, for in you 
is all my ioy and the sustencmnce of my life and the gouern- 
aunce of my reaume." " My Lorde," said he, " I thynke not 
to goo into noo place, bot and I here that ye haue any thyng 
to doo that touches your worshipp, bot that I wolle come to 

25 you in shorte tyme." Nevy? the les he had myche to doo or 
he gate leve to goo. 

So he toke leve of the kyng late in the evynnyng full 
privelly, that noo man perceyved hym ; and so he wente into 
his chaumbre and sent for Herland the senysshall and said to 

30 hym lyggyng on his bedde, " Herland my swete frende, I 
wolle goo a while forto se more of the wordle, and to aquante 
me with goode knyghtes ; so I haue spoken to the kyng that 
I wolle leve you as for lyeutenaunt. Also I pray you as ye 
loue me to be goode frende to my cosyn german Pollides and 

36 to myn othre felowes." "Ay," said Herland, " whethre wollfe] 


ye goo ray fai? frende?" Said he, " I goo bot a litle way hens. 
I wolle not tarry long. I wolle also that nooman knowe therof, 
for a cause." Then Herland wold nomore enque? hym and 
dovbted not that he wold tarry long. 

5 And when Herland was departed from hym, he then sent 
for 1 his clerke and made hym to make twoo lettres. Oon was 
to yeve his powe? to Herland the sensshall and that othre 
was to recowmaunde hym to his fellawes, prayng theyni to 
doo goode seruice to the kyng and to obey Herland, and that 

10 he son wold come agane. And so he sealed theym and betoke 
theym to his clerke and bad that he shuld not delyuere theym 
vnto that othre morowe at nyght. He dide so for doute that 
his fellowes wold fylloy hym. 

When it come to the houre of myd nyght, he rosse and 

15 arrayed hym and went furth as pn'vely as he myght and rode 
all that tyme vnto he come to the forest of Breselyn. 2 And then 
he wente into the pryore that was nyghe besyd and nyghe to 
itt the? was an hermytage that stode all solitarye in the depenes 
of the foreste. The? he was vj days. And euery day he rosse 

20 erly vpp to goo to the hermytage to he? messe, and did myche 
Fol. 175 b .] abstynence, for he fasted thre days in the woke and * euery 
friday he wered the hare. 

So he thoght myche vpon the kyng, that he was olde, and 
that the reaume was intendaunt to hym. So he thoght that 

25 he myght not goo farre, lest any disease or trouble we? in the 
contree ; and so he was all pensy and heuy in his thoghtes. 

He herd the byrdes syng swetly and merrely and [it] was 
in the myrre moneth of Apryle and so he made the? a song 
of the whiche the refrete was this melodic : " Of byrdes and 

30 wordly ioy is to me noo disporte, sythe that she that I loue 
the beste has me enstraunged and of hi? loue dyscomforthed." 3 
And he made therof a wele goode note. 

1 MS. fro. 

2 MS. Bres yn lyn, yn cancelled by the rubricator and e inserted above it. 
3 A quatrain in the French original. See note. 

40 P. J. MATHER, JR. 

[Cap. XV. How Ponthus sent a dwarfe thurgh all the con- 
trey of Fraunce to anounce and shewe of dedes of armes 
that shuld be made in the forest of Breselyn euery tuys- 
day of the yere.] 

5 A nd aftre, he thoght to make entirpryse, whe? as he wold 
-^- doo fetys of armys. And so he made his ordenaunce, 
and made to fetche a dwarfe and arrayd hym wele in a goone 
of sylke and betoke hym a yoman and a hors and a lettre 
wretyn in this wyse : 

10 "The blake knyght wyth armSs whyte gyves knoleche 
to the best knyghtes of euery contre, that they shall fynde 
by the Welle of A ventures in the forest of Breselyne a 
paveloune blake with armes whyte all the tuysdays of the 
ye?, and at the houre of prime; and the? they shall fynde 

15 (a tree) whervpon his shelde shal be honge ; and the? shal 
be an home that a dwarfe schall bloo ; and when the home 
blooys, the? shall come oute ane old damesell and bryng a 
cercle of golde ; and an hermyte with hi?, the which shall say 
to theym what they shall doo and shall bryng theym into a 

20 medow, whe? they shall fynde the blak knyght armyd at all 
pecys, the whiche wolle iuste a course with a spe? and aftre 
that smyte with a swerd trenchand witAoute any poynte 1 to 
the vtterance. And he that he conquerys shall aske of all the 
knyghtys in verray certayne, who be the most fai? beholde in 

25 the roialme of Litle Bretayn among all the ladies and gentyl- 
women, and to hi? he shal yelde hym pn'sone? ; and she to 
doo hi? wyll with hym, in the name of the blake knyght 
soroyng beryng armes white. And it is to wytt that all thos 
that has iusted with [hym] 2 shall graunte to come the Whys- 

30 sontyde nexte afrre into the forest to a fest that shall be holden 
the?. And he that has the best iustyd, shall haue the spe? and 
gofanoun and a cercle of golde full of margarites ; and he that 
has 3 smyten the moste hardy with a swerd, shall haue a swerd 
harnyshed, with gold frenged. And if it happen that any 

35 conque? the blak knyght, he may send hym to pn'son to what 
lady or gentylwoman that hym lykes." 

1 MS. poynte wantyng. E, le quel [cheualier] . . . . se combatra de lespee 
trenchant sans pointe iusques a oultrance. 

* E, qui auront iouste a lui. * MS. has the. 


When Ponthus had taken thes lettres to the dwarf e, he com- 
maunded hym to goo thorowe all the centres of Fraunce whe? 
as festes and iustys we? holden and to yeve theym knolege of 
the dooyng. 

5 [Cap. XVI. How there come of euery londe knyghtes to do 
dedes of armes with the Blak Knyght; and how they 
were chosen by the smytyng of theyr sheldes. How 
Ponthus iustyd with Barnard de La Roche the first 
tuysday of the yere, and sent him prisonner to the faire 

10 Sydone.] 


Ihe dwarfe, that was wele spoken, wente thorow oute all 
the contre and gave to all men knolege of the assem- 
bely. So they mervelled myche of what contre the knyght 
was that wold doo thes entrepryses, and that he did chese the 

15 beste knyghtes of euery contrey. Mony arrayd theym to goo 
thedre and said that grete worship shuld be vnto hym that 
myght haue the swerd and the spe?, and myche more vnto 
hym that myght conque? the knyght. It was not long bot of 
Bretane and of othre centres the? come en[o]we. 

20 Ponthus had his meniie sworne to hym, both the prioure 
and the covent and the hermyte, that they shuld not dyscouer 
hym to noo body. And so he did sende to Reyns, that befor 
*Fol. 176.] was called the rede toune, to feche * that hym neded. He 
sent to seke an olde damesell that shuld be his secrete, 

25 and she suld haue hi? (cote) and mantyll of sylke and a 
circle of golde vpon hire gray hede and a kerchyf befor 
hi? vysage, be cause that noman suld know hi?. And Pon- 
thus was in the array of an hermyte with hede and berde 
white with a vyssou? befor his face, and held in his honde 

30 the ordinaunce. 

It happenyd that the same thuysday in the morow the? 
come mony knyghtes for to doo fetys of armys with the blak 
knyght. So they we? at the Well of Mervells sum called it 
the welle of Bellacion. So they sawe a fai? tente bente and a 

42 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

grete pavellon. It tarryed not long bot a dwarfe come oute 
of the pavellon, a full lothly on to se, and come to a grete 
tree, whe? as hynged an home and the blak sheld with whyte 
armys ; and the dwarf toke the home and blew it on hight ; 
5 and when he had doon so, then come the damesell oute of the 
pavylloune and the hermyte, that held hi? by the gylten reyne, 
and they come streght to the sheld & made the dwarfe to crye 
that euery knyght that wold doo fetys of armes with the blake 
knyght shuld hyng his sheld vpon the grete tre, the whiche 

10 was sett a boute with sperys and smetyn full of crochetys, 
that euery man myght hyng his sneld vppon ; and so euery 
man that was the? did hyng vpp thei? sheld. And when the 
sheldes we? hynged vpp, the dwarfe said to the damesell, " I 
muste say to you that the ordenaunce is, that ye shall doo 

15 chese among all the sheldes iiij sheldys by the advice of the 
hermyte, to the whiche ye shall shote, to eueryche ane arowe 
fethered with golde; and hym that ye smyte the furste shal 
goo arme hym for the furst tuysday; and that sheld that she 
smytes with the secunde arowe shall be redy ayenyst the 

20 secunde tuysday ; and that she smytes with the thirde arowe 
shall be redy the thyrd tuysday; and that she smytys with 
the fovrt arowe shall be redy the fovrt tuysday." And so 
was it doon euery moneth of the ye?, so the? shuld be lij 
knyghtes delyuered in the ye?, of the best and of the worthiest 

25 that she couth chese by his advyce ; and this dured all the 
ye? vnto 1 the tyme that he myght fynde oon that by fetys of 
armys myght ouercome hym. 

And when the dwarfe had thus said, he entred into the 
pavellon on hors bak and broght a fei? Turquys boude 2 and 

30 fou? arowes fethered with gold ; and the damesell and the 

[Fol. 2.] l Douce Fragment B. the tyme that he couth fynde hym that by fete 
of armes ouer come hym. And whan the dwarffe had his sayd he enteryd 
in to the pavelyon on hors bak and he brought forth a feyr Turkes bowe. 
And four aroos feddaryd with gold. And the damysell and > e hermyte 
2 JBowe is the obvious emendation following K & W, but the spelling is 
likely enough to be the scribe's. 


hermyte went aboute the tree to se the sheldys ; and the her- 
mite councelled the damesell and tolde hi? the whiche that 
she shuld smyte. So sche schote the fou? arowes and smote 
fou? sheldes : the furst was Bernardes de La Roche, that was 
5 holde the best knyght in Bretane ; the secunde was Geffray 
de Lazynyen, for the beste of Peytou ; the thyrd was Landry 
de La Toure, for the best of Angevynnes; the fourte was the 
Erie of Morteyn, for the best of Normannes. 

And when she hade shote, the hermite led hi? into the gret 

10 tente that was blake with armys white; and anoon he lyght 
doune and armyd him at all pecys and suyd oute of the tente, 
the shelde on his nek, 1 the spe? in his honde, vpon a gret blak 
hors trapped in blake with armes white, and richely arrayed. 
The knyght was grete and large, and was sore drede and 

15 myche loked on mervellyng myche what he schuld be for 
the comon voice was that Ponthus was goon to the roialme of 
Poleyne and of Hungarye, forto enque? what was to doo the? 
beyonde ; wherfor noman thoght that it was he. 

It was not long to Bernard de La Roche, the whiche hade 

20 the furst arowe in his shelde, come ryght noblely arrayd with 

went about the tre to se the shyldes. And than the hermyte councellyd 
the damysell and told her which sheldys that she shuld smyte. And so she 
shot the four aroos and smote the iiij sheldys. >e first was Bernard de La 
Roche, that was holdyn the beste knyght of Bretayn The second was J>an 
5 Geffrey de Lazinyne for the best of Paytaye. The third was Landry de La 
Tour, for the best of Angeowns The iiij th was the Erie of Mortayn for the 
beste of Normandye And whan she had shott the hermyte led her in to the 
gret tent that was blak with white armes. And he alightyd down and armed 
hym at all peoys And anon he com forth of J> e tent with a sheld on his bak 
10 and a spere in his hond with a gret blak hors trappyd with blak and white 
armes and richely arayed. The knygt was gret and large and was sore drad 
and gretly lokyd on. And the people mervelyng moche what that he shuld 
[be], for the comon voyse was that Ponthus was gone into the realme of 
Polayn and of Hongrye for to enquere what was to do there by yond. where 
15 fore that no man thought that it was he. Hyt was not long that Barnard de 
La Roche which had the first aroo in his sheld come right nobely armed 
[*Fol. 2 b .] with gret foyson of* harnesse and with trumpettys. symphonyes and oter 
1 R, Leacu au col. The reading of the Douce Fragment, bak, is clearly 

44 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

grete foyson of hornys, 1 trumppys, symphonys, and othre myn- 
[*Fol.l76 b .] strelces, 2 whiche made grete noys.* 

The blak knyght toke a copp of gold and putt itt into the 
well and wett the ston that stode beside the well ; and the wate? 
5 spred aboute vpon the ston ; and then it began to thonne? and 
hale 3 and made strong wedre 4 savyng itt lasted bot awhyle. 
So the straungers mervelled myche of the mervells of the well ; 
and euery day the ston was wett befor that they faght. 

Aftre that, he lepe vpon hors, with his helmete, and toke his 

10 spe? in honde and smot his hors with his spurrys and come 

toward Barnard, and Barnard toward hym agayne ward. A nd 

so they gave grete strokes with thei? sperys in suche wyse that 

they perched 5 both theyr scheldes, and come agane and smote 

to gedre in suche wyse that Barnard and his hors fell. Bot 

15 Barnard keped 6 hym vpon his foote and lyghtly lepe oute of 

the sadle. And when the blak knyght sawe him vpon his fote, 

he lyght doune and come rynnyng vpon hym with his bryght 

swerd and gave hym grete strokes whe? as he myght areche 

instrumentys which made gret noyse The blak knygt toke a cupp of gold and 
put yt in the well and wet the stone and the watre spred aboute. And than 
yt be gan to thundre and to hayre (sic) and made straunge weder save yt 
lastyd but awhile. So the strauwgers mervelyd of the mervelles of the well. 
5 And euery day the stone was wet be fore they faught. After he lepe vppon 
his hors with his helmet and his spere. And stroke his hors with his 
spurres toward Bernard [and Bernard] to hym. So they gave gret strokys 
with her sperys vnder suche a wyse that they partyd theyr sheldys in sondre 
that Barnard and hys hors fell down. But Bernard lepyd vpon his fete. And 
10 when that Ponthus saw hym on fote he alight on fote. and come rennyng 
vppon hym with his sword and gaue hym gret strokys afore that they brake 

1 E, a grant foison de cors. Harnesse in the Douce Fragment is obviously 
a corruption. 

8 Not in K. or W. 

* B, gresler. I do not understand the hayre of the Douce Fragment. 

4 R,/or temps. 

5 E, pereerent les escus. The partyd . ... in sondre of Douce is apparently 
due to mistaking a c for a t. The word in the scribe's original was probably 
contracted as in our text. 

6 R, sailli mr piez would make the lepyd of the Douce Fragment appear 
the original reading. The clause and lyghtly lepe oute of the sadle is neither 
in W, K, nor Douce ; therefore a scribal amplification. 


hym. And Barnard defended hym with all his myght ; and 
Ponthus smote so grete strokes and sore that he brake all that 
he raght, and gave hym suche a stroke that he smote doune 
the vyssoure of his helmete and all the cyrcle, and hurtt hym 

5 a litle in the vysage. And Barnard left vp his swerd and smote 
Ponthus, hot Ponthus putt itt sumwhat by, and the stroke lyght 
vpon the sheld so sore that he hade gret payne to pluk itt oute. 
And Ponthus drew to hym his swerd with so grete myght that 
the swerd abowed in sundre; 1 and as son as Barnard sawe 

10 that he was with oute swerd, he made grete sorowe. And then 
Ponthus said to hym, " Knyght itt is tyme that ye be goo 
to oon of the fayrest of this roialme damecell and madyn." 
And Barnard spake noo worde to hym, as he that was angre 
and wrothe. And Ponthus said to hym, " Gode defende that 

15 I shuld stryke you when ye 2 haue not wherwith to defende 
you." Then Barnard come and wenyd to haue taken hym 
with his hondes. And Ponthus that was grete and strong 
avaunced hym and smote hym on the helme and drewe hym 
to hym so myghtely that he made hym fall to the grounde, 

20 whethi? he wold or not ; and putt hym vndre hym and said, 
" Knyght I wolle lete you goo to hi? prison, that be ryght 
fay? ; and grete hi? wele in the blak knyght name." And so 
he withdrewe hym. 

And Barnard sawe the benygnyte of the knyght, and prased 

25 hym myche, and rosse vp and come to the knyghtes that beheld 

all that they raught and gaue hym suche a stroke that he brake down his 
visare of his helmet and the sercle and hurt hym a litull in the vesage. And 
Bernard lyfte vp his sword and smote Ponthus and Ponthus put up his 
sheld afore hym that the sword stake in the sheld with so gret myght that 
5 the sword abode. And whan Bernard saw that he was with out a sword he 
made gret sorow And than Ponthus sayd to hym Knyght yt is tyme that 
ye go to the mercy of J> e feyrest damysell and mayden of the realme and 
Barnard spake no word to hym ageyne as ... 

1 R, Pontus . . . tire a soy lescu de grant force, tant que le branc sen vint avec 
lescu. Douce has apparently omitted and Ponthus drewe to hym his swerd 
after sheld. But the reading abowed in sundre, " broke," is a corruption of 
the abode of Douce. 

2 y written over an h. 

46 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

the batell and said, " Fay? Lordes, I haue fonde my maystre. 

Sith I was borne, fonde I ueuer so myghty knyght ne so cur- 

tesse. Now the? is no more bot I wold witt of you, in goode 

feith, whiche be called the fayrest madyn of this reaume." 

5 So they sayd itt was the kynges doghtre Sydone, and she had 

the voce of theym all. So he departed and went vnto Vennys. 

So leve we a litle of Barnard de Lay Roche and retourne to 


[Cap. XVII. How aftre the batell Ponthus rode his way 
10 prively into the forest.] 


lOnthus lepe on hors bak and entred into the forest, ryd- 
yng by ways certan that he knewe wele, in suche wyse 
that noo man wyst whe? he become. And so he come at 
resonable houre to the same place whe? he was before and 
15 entred in and shytte the doe? vpon hym and lyght doune and 
did vnharrae hym ; and the damesell, the dwarfe, and othre 
[*Fol. 177.] with vyssers abode in the tentys * vnto the nyght ; and then 
went they? way, when all men was withdrawn. 

So leve we to speke of theym and retourne to Bernard de 
20 La Roche and to Sydone &c. 

[Cap. XVIII. How Barnard de La Roche yelded hym 
prisonner to the fair Sydone, and of the grete chere that 
she made hym.] 

Sydon was day and nyght in sorowe and mysease, when 
_ that Ellyous hi? damesell had told hi? that Ponthus 

wold goo awhyle oute of (that) contre. She thoght that it was 
for the evyll chere that she made hym ; so she mervellously 
repenyd hi? and cryed oftyn tymes, " Alias wreche ! Now 
haue I lost by my gret folye all my wordly ioy. Blame haue 
30 they that first broght me that worde, for I knowe wele and 
se wele, that and it we? not for the grete fere that he has by 
cause I was wrothe with hym, he had not lefte the contre ; 


and sothely that was grete foly of me, for I doute not bot that 
he is of a l trewe hertt as any ly vyng. " Then she wept and 
sorowed in he? hertt, for she dred to haue loste hym. And 
so she sorowed day and nyght. 

5 Grete languege was the? of Ponthus in the contrey. The 
kyng myght not be in peace in no wyse, which gretly wey- 
mented ; and so did his cosyn germau and his fellawes ; 
and all maner of people, grete and small, of the courte 
we? sory. 

10 And son Barnard come to the courte and asked aftre fay? 
Sydon and said that he was hi? prisonne?. The kyng sent 
for hi? ; and she come with a grete felysshipp of ladyes and 
gentylwommen ; and the? assemelyd all maner of people to 
here Barnard de La Roche. And when he was comyn into 

15 the hall, he kneled doune and said vnto Sydon on hyghe, that 
euery persone myght here, " Ma dame," said he, " vnto you 
sendes me the blak knyght with armes white, whiche has me 
conqueryd by his worthenes in dedys of armes, and said to me 
that I shuld yelde me pHsonne? to the fairest madyn of this 

20 reaume so I haue enquered of all knyghtes and squyers that 
the? we?, whiche was the fairest madyn ; and they said all 
with oon voice that it was ye ; and thus I yelde me vnto you? 
prisoune as your knyght, and doo with me as ye wolle. And 
yitt he badde me that I shuld recommaund hym vnto you in 

25 hys name." 

Sydon waxed rede and was sumwhat asshamed by cause 
that they helde hi? for the fairest. " For sothe," said she, 
" God thonke theym, for they bot simpley avysed theym to 
chese me ; bot I thonke the knyght that sent you hidre, and 

30 I beseche you to tell me what he is." " For soth," said he, 
"I knowe hym not." "How so?" said Sydon. "Madame," 
said he, " he wolle not be knowen what he is, bot sothely he 
is the fairest knyght that euer I se and the best cann stryke 
with a spe? and with a sworde, and me semys he is a little 

1( The emendation a[s] is tempting, but as any lyvyng probably means "as 
much as, etc." 

48 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

more 1 than Ponthus, and myche lyke hym ; hot it is not he, 
for it is a coraon sawe that he is goone into the reaume of 
Polleyne and of Hungary to a werre that ther is." 

Enughe was itt spoken of the blak knyght, and how that 
5 the next tuysday he shuld feght with Geffray de Lazynyen, 
and the next aftre folloying with Landry de La Toure, and 
the next tuysday aftre with (the) Erie of Morteyne. 

The kyng and the ladys made grete che? to Barnard, and 

they ete all with the kyng in the hall. Sydone iapyd with 

10 Barnard de La Roche and said, "Sev, I haue grete ioy to 

haue suche a pHsonney, and so ye snuld haue grete drede what 

[*Fol. 177 b .] pnsoun ye shall endure." And Barnard began to laghe * and 

said, " Ma dame, and ye doo me noo sorer pn'sonment than 

this, I shall endure itt more easly; and knowe ye wele that 

15 or the ye? be passed, ye shall haue more largely of pn'sonners, 

for I shall not be alloone." 

Aftre dynne? begane the dauncers 2 and the carralles. Bot 
Sydone daunsed bot a litle, and yitt she 3 wold haue daunsed 
lesse bot for drede that any shuld perceyve hi? sorowe. 
20 So leve we of theym and of the courte and retourne agayne 
to the secund tuysday. 

[Cap. XIX. How on the secund tuysday Ponthus C9nquered 
Geffray de Lazynyen.] 

The day was fai? and clere, and the knyght de Lazynyen, 
the which was a mervellous goode knyght, was armed 
at all peces and come before the well. And the blak knygth 
come oute of the pavyllone, the shelde on the nek and the 
spe? in the honde. And sone they lete they? horses renne, 
and smote to gedre, and gave grete strokes, so that they? 
30 horses fell vpon theym, and in so myche that almuste they 
ouerthrewe theym self. The? they withdrewe theym a farrome 
and toke awthre of theym a grete, sharpe spe? and come to 

1 R, ung pou plus grant. W, he is somewhat more than was Ponthus. 
* R, dauncers, though strange, is apparently right. Commencerent le dames a 
dancer mais Sid.oine ne danca gueres. W, began the daunces and the karolks/ bot, etc. 
3 MS. ye. 


gedre as hastely as they myght, hors and man, and gave so 
mony grete strokes vpon thei? sheldes, that both the knyghtes 
fell and they? horses so boustously that Geffray hors fell 
vpon his body, the hors hede vndre, so that the hors ne the 

5 man myght remeve ; for he hade his thye and his legge vndre 
the hors and was gretly bressed. Bot Ponthus helped vp the 
hors and the knyght both, and hade had grete shame to haue 
ben so drawn doune; and so he beheld the knyght, that myght 
not drawe hym oute frome vndre his hors, for his foote was 

10 oute of ioynte, that he myght not stonde bot on oon foote bot 
allway he putt his honde toward his sword, as he that was of 
grete corage and hardenes. Bot when that he sawe that he 
myght not stonde bot on oon foet, so Ponthus thoght then 
that he wold not smyte hym; and said to hym, " Knyght, I 

15 see you in the feblea? partie, whcrfore it we? shame to assayle 
you." And Geffray said vnto hym, " I holde me not yit dis- 
comefeted, in so myche that I may holde my sworde." And 
so he payned hym to smyte Ponthus, and Ponthus leped by, 
and so he smote a stone with his goode swerd so fersly that he 

20 fell doune to the grounde. 

Bot Ponthus helped to releve hym and said to hym, "Ser, 
and ye we? hole, I wold rynne vpon you, for I se wele by 
you? worthenes ye wold not yelde you to me; bot ye shall 
yelde you to the fairest lady of Bretan, that wolle take you to 

25 hi? mercy, and shall grete hi? wele for the blak knyght. So, I 
pray yow, lete vs doo noo more, for we haue donne enughe ; 
for I wote wele, and ye we? hole, ye wold not soffre me to be 
so hole as I am ; for I knowe you? worthynes long agoo." 
And when Geffray knewe the goodnes of hym, he praysed 

30 hym in his hertt, and said to hym, " Ser, I wolle go thedre as 
ye commaunde me, and if I wyst that I shuld not dysplease 
you, I wold wytt you? name." And Ponthus answeryd, "Ye 
ne noon othre shall knowe itt yitt." 

Then Geffray wold aske ne enque? noo more of hym, and so 

35 toke leve of hym. Then the blak knyght went into the forest 
by his pathe ways, as he was wonte to doo. 

60 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

And so the knyghtes and the people marvelled myche vpon 

the knyght when they sawe the batell, and said, ryght curtese 

was the blak knyght and gentle ; and said iche of theym to 

othre, " Sawe ye not the grete benignite howe that he wold 

5 not tovche the knyght, by cause he sawe hym hurte, and how 

he had two tymes releved hym?" Wherfore they made grete 

[*Fol. 178.] talkyng therof and * gave hym a grete lovyng. 1 

And Geffray de Lazynyen, that myght not wele meve hym 
ne styrre hym, said to Landry de La Tou?, " Fair frende, I 
10 wolle abyde vnto the nexte tuysday. for to bere you companye 
to se the fai? Sydon, bot if ye putt bettre remedy than I 
haue doon." Said Landry de La Tou?, "Of a venture of armys 
the? may nooman iuge, they be so mervellous ; and ye be noo 
thyng wars for this aventure, for this was by the fall of your 
15 hors, for the whiche may nooman kepe hym ; and (I) thinke 
to haue noo shame, if I be suche a knyght as ye be founde 
in dedes of armys." Arid also they spake of Barnard de La 
Roche and of mony thinges. 

And then they toke Geffray de Lazynyen in the softest wyse 

20 that they myght and led hym to Mountford ; and the? he was 

arrayd in suche wyse that he myght ryde vpon an hors-be? 

the tuysday next folio wyng, whiche was a fai? day and a clere. 

[Cap. XX. How the third Tuysday Ponthus conquered 
Landry de La Toure and sent hym prisonner to the 
25 faire Sydone, and afire, the Erie of Morteyn ; and so 
euery Tuysday of the yere he sent a knyght of the best 
that was in the reaume. And of the grete feste that he 
made the Whissontyde at the yeres ende at the Welle 
of Mervelles. 

30 A nd itt happed the same tuysday the? come of all contrees 
-^- to se the batell. Then the blak knyght with armes 
white yssued oute of the pavyllone he and his olde damesell 

1 R, grant compte et grant loz. W, greete loos. See Bradley-Stratmann for 
lovyng, "laudation." 


and his dwarfe, and on that othe? side come Landry de La 
Tou?. So they laid theyr sperys vndre thei? sides, with they? 
gonfaunons hyngyng, and with grete myght they stroke to 
gedre, withoute any faile ; and passed over, and come agayne 
5 so myght[e]ly that they perched 1 thei? sheldes, and brake 
thei? speres, and ranne to gedre with thei? swerdes, and gave 
grete strokes, whe? they myght, ofte and thyke. So they we? 
long tyme on hors bak. And then Ponthus dressed hym wele 
in his styrropes and smote Landry de La Toure with all his 

10 strenght, that he was astoned ; and when Ponthus hade yeven 
hym that stroke, then he sawe hym gogle, and toke hym by 
the helmete and drewe with all his myght, and all astouned 
drewe hym doune to the grounde. Not withstondyng, he rosse 
vp as sone as he myght. 

15 And when Ponthus sawe hym at the grounde, then said he 
to hym selfe that he wold not assayle hym on hors bak, lesse 
it myght turne hym to shame and repreve ; bot then he lyght 
doune on foote and putt his shelde afore hym and toke his 
swerd in his honde and assay led hym. And Landry made 

20 hym redy to defende hym in the best wyse that he myght, 
for he knewe wele that he hade not to doo with noo childe. 
Then Ponthus come and smote hym a grete stroke so that the 
stroke fell upon the scheld and stroke doune and quarter"; 2 and 
Landry smote hym with grete strokes, whe? he myght areche 

25 hym, and mervelled myche howe Ponthus myght endure agane 
hym so longe, for he was a mervellous goode knyght. Bot 
Ponthus gave hym ofte so grete strokes that with grete payne 
he myght vnneth drawe his brethe, ne Ponthus navthe?. And 
they rested theym a litle while on they? swerdes. 

30 Then spake Landry and said, " Gentle Knyght, I wote not 
what ye be, bot so myche may I say, that I wenyd not in the 

1 R, percerent. 

8 R, Pontus fieri moult grant coup et le branc descend en lescu si que il en abat 
ung quartier. W translates literally. Our translator appears to understand 
a quartering blow, possibly from another reading, or perhaps we should 
read a for and. 

52 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

mornyng to haue founde so myche strenght and valu? in you 
as I haue prevyd bot or ye ouercome me, ye muste doo moo 
dedes of armes then ye haue doon." " Yea," said Ponthus, 
" avthe? shal ye yelde you to the fairest made of Bretane, or 
5 elles ye must ouercome me with dedes of arrays." 

And then he lyfte vp his sworde and smote Landry, as he 
that had grete shame that he endured hym so longe, and he 
stroke hym in suche wyse that the bloode ramie doune to his 
fete. And when Landry felyd that he was so smyten, he 

10 gave Ponthus so grete a stroke vppn the temple of the hede 

[*FoL 178 b .] that the helmete * was gretly enpared. Then turned Ponthus 

the sheld and toke the swerd in bothe his hondes and smote 

so grete a stroke that Landry was all astoned. Bot that was 

no mervell, for to long hade that batell endured betwen theym. 

15 And so he smote sore, stroke vpon stroke, that he was almost 
dysmated with the grete plente of strokes that he hade taken 
and gy yen ; and he hasted more and more when he sawe a 
litle gogyllyng, 1 and then he come and smote hym with all 
his myght in suche wyse that he bett hym to the grounde 

20 and fell bothe two. Bot Ponthus fell aboue, and Landry 
myght not ryse ne helpe hym selfe. 

And Ponthus said to hym, " Knyght, yelde you." And' 
Landry spake noo worde and endured with grete payne, and 
as he that was lothe forto yelde hym. And he that was full 

25 of curtesey said, " Knyght, yelde you to the fair 1 damesell, I 
pray you, and that the? be no more debate betwen vs, for 
we haue assayd authre othre enughe." Then knewe Landry 
the curtesy of the knyght that he faght with and said to hym, 
" To hi? wolle I yelde me, sithe itt lykes you." " Itt is suffi- 

30 ciaunt to me," said Ponthus. 

Then he rose full sore and full wery of the strokes and 
travell that he hade gy ven and taken of the grete batell that 
so long hade endured. So come Ponthus to his hors with grete 
payne, and lepe vp, and rode faste into the forest, so that he 

35 was fro the syght of theym all anoon. 

1 R, et quant U vit ung pou chanceler si le boute. W, sawe hym staker. 


And Geffray de Lazynyen and mony othre knyghtes come 
to Landry de Lay Tou? and asked hym howe he dyde ; and 
he said, well aftre the evyll that he hade founden his maistre. 
Then said Geffray to Landry, " I shall here you companye, 
5 for ye and (I), 1 we wolle goo to gedre to the fai? Sydone." 
" I wolle wele," said Landry, " for itt is no reason that ye goo 
thedre withoute me." Thus they bourded oon to an other". 
And then he was vnarmed and had mony woundes, bot he 
had noon bot that he myght ryde. 

10 And so they went and yelded theyrn to Sydon. And the 
kyng made theyrn gret che? and did theym grete worschipp, 
as for the best knyghtes that myght be founde in any contrey, 
of nobylley of knyghthode. And sone aftre they went to 
Sydone and putt theym in hi? mercy. And she, that was full 

15 of curtesey and of wysdome, receyved theym with grete ioy 
and fested theym and worschipped theym and gave theym 
grete gyftes. So they thonked hi?, and said that they were 
wele pn'soned, for itt was noo grete payne for to endure itt. 
" Serys," said she, " I wot not what the knyght is that has 

20 sent you hidre for ye and he doos me grete honour withoute 
cause; for ther be more fayrer and more avenawit in this 
reaume than I be, who so wolle seke theyme." " Wele Ma 
dame," said they, " we owe to beleve the comon voice, for all 
has cosen you for the fayrest." And thus they bourded of 

25 mony thynges. The? they we? twoo days with the kyng, and 
all the othre days wyth Sydon. 

And aftre she gave theym leve to goo, and then they went 
furth to se the batell of the Erie Morteyn, that was a full 
goode knyght. 

30 Son aftre issued oute the damesell and the dwarfe, and had 
his Turquis bowe in his honde and the arowes. And the 
heremyte with the vysou?, that lede the damesell aboute by 
the gylten reyne, made signe whiche schelde sche schuld smyte, 
*Fol.l79.] as * for the next moneth folowyng. The damesell shote fyrste 

1 R, nous yrons vous et moy ensemble. W, we shall go you & I togyder. 

54 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

the sheld of Ser Tybould de Boloys that was named a wele 
goode knyght; and that othre was the shelde of Guyllen 
de Roches; the third was the shelde of Henry de Mounte 
Morency ; and the fourthe shelde was the sheld of Rosylyon. 1 
5 Thes was iiij knyghtes of grete name of knyghthod, whoes 
scheldes we? hongen vp for the next iourney. And when 
she hade shote hi? fou? arowes, she withdrewe hi? into the 
pa vy lion. 

And son aftre the blak knyght issued oute of the pavyllone 

10 armed att all peces, the shelde in the nek, the spe? in his 
honde. In that othi? side come tlie Erie of Morteyne full 
rychely arrayd, with a grete multitude of mynstrells. And 
as son as they sawe aythre othre, they ranne to gedre with 
they? sperys, and gave authre othre grete strokes. Bot Pon- 

15 thus reuersed the Erie, that he lakked hot a litle that he was 
doune. Then they putt thei? hondes to they? swerdes and 
ranne to gedre full fersly. Bot Ponthus smote so grete a 
stroke that his sworde cutted that he smote; and the Erie 
defended hyra at his powe?. So the batell dured longe. Bot 

20 Ponthus that was mervellous 2 toke hym by the helme, and 
drewe to hym so myghtely that he pulled hym doune to the 
grounde, and yeave hym a grete stroke with his sworde, and 
said to hym that he suld yelde hym for he smote hym bot 
with the flatt of the sworde. And the Erie endured myche, 

25 bot at the last he must nedes yeld hym, whedre he wold 
or noo. 

And thus he commaunded hym to yelde hym vnto the 
fairest ladye and madyn in Bretan ; and so he departed and 
went into the forest as he was accostomed to doo. 

30 And the Erie went and yelded hym vnto Sydone as the 
othre knyghtes had doone. And the? she dide hym grete 
worschip ; and so did the kyng hi? fadre. 

1 MS. Rosy lyon. 

9 B, qui grant et fort estoit a merueilles. W, which was grete and strong toke. 
It is a temptation to throw in the grete and strong of W, after mervellou$ t but 
mervellous is often used independently in our text. 


The nexte tuysday they faght agane ; and so they did the 
next folowyng, to the monethe come to an ende. Bot itt we? 
to long to tell the batells and the iourneys that he dide and 
that othe? parties also; for the? were mony grete batells 
5 and mony sharpe stowres of armes whiche we? to longe to 
tell, who wold all devyse. Bot all we? ouercomen by his 
dedes of armes and we? sent to pn'soune to the fai? lady 

So was the? founde in the yee? .lij. knyghtes przsonners, of 

10 the best that they knewe or myght fynde in any londe, to 
wynn or conque? worschipp ; for euery of the beste knyghtes 
that herd therof went to assay hym ; and then he chase of 
the beste knyghtes to doo dedys of armes with hym, and 
eueryche hade desi? to be of the nombre to assay theym with 

15 hym, in so myche that the high renowne ranne thorowe oute 
Fraunce and by mony othre reaumes and contreys. And 
Ponthus chase euer by reportyng the best, and faght neuer 
bot with oon of a contrey, whiche was holden for the beste ; 
forto make hym to be known, that if the? we? any man that 

20 wold requi? hym to doo any thyng for his lady sake, that he 
wold be redy alwey to delyuer hym. And the? was of the .lij. 
knyghtes propre names that is to say : the Duke of Ave- 
renses, the Duke of Loreyne; the Duke of Barry; the Erie 
of Mount Bernard, 1 the Erie of Mountford* and mony othre 

25 erles and dukes ; and Ser William de Baniers, Ser Arnold de 
Hennolte, the Erie of Savye, and mony othre knyghtes ; and 
of they? names I passe oner at this tyme and goo to my mate? 
*Fol.l79 b .] When * itt befell that Wyttsonday was comen at the yeres 

30 ende that 2 all pn'sonners come to yelde theym, the? as itt 
was ordayned, Ponthus lete make a grete hall couered with 
grene boghes, by the Welle of Mervelles, othe? wyse called 

1 MS. Mountbernard. 

3 The same ellipsis is in W and R. R, tant quil aduint que la penthecoste 
vint .... que tons les pri&onniers vindrent. 

56 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

Bellacon, and sent for all maner of vitelles and dyuers wynes, 
and wrote to the kyng a le^re, sayng thus : 

"To the goode kyng of Bretane the Blak Knyght with 
armys white recommaundes hym with all his seruice and 
5 honour. And prays hym mekely, that itt may pleasse hym 
to be at this feste of Wytsontyde in the forest of Breselyne at 
the Welle of Mervelles, with the companye of the fairest ladys 
and dameselles of Bretane, to knowe to whome the pris shall 
be yeven and to enqui? who has best lusted and who that has 

10 the beste and the myghtest foghten of thes .lij. knyghtes of 
euery tuysday in the ye?." 

And when the kyng had red the le^re, he had grete ioy 
therat; and said that grete worshipp did hym the blak knyght 
and that he wold be the?. 

15 And then he sent for his doghtre and tolde hi? thes tyth- 
ynges and charged hi? to enqui? of the fairest ladies and 
gentylwowmen of his reaume to come with hi? at the feste 
of Wytsontyd ; " and fai? doghtre," said the kyng, " ye aghte 
forto doo itt, for he has doon you myche worship ; for by his 

20 swerd he has sent to you? przsoune so mony goode knyghtes 
and lordes, wherof grete worschip is comen to you and to 
youres and to all ou? reaume; wherfore I am myche beholden 
to the blak knyght." Fai? Sydone kneled doune and said, 
sith it liked hym, so sche wold doo his commaundement. 

25 And then she lete write to the grete ladyes of Bretayne, 
that they schuld be redy on the Wytsontyd even, and that 
they shuld bryng with theym the fay rest ladys and gentyl- 
women that they myght fynde in they? contrey. The ladys 
at hi? commaundement hade grete ioy and arrayd theym and 

30 come at the day. The? was ryght grete assembley that come 

at the Wytsontyd to the Welle of Mervelles. So they broght 

with theym tentes and pavyllones, and dide hyng theym and 

pyght theym aboute, in suche wyse that it semed a grete oste. 

Ponthus furth before the kyng come ryght sone and had 

35 sent xiij govnes of a suyte to his xiij fellawes, and oon to 
Herland the senysshall, and had sent to fetche theym the 
day before. It is noo demaunde to aske if that his cosyn 


germane and his fella wes had grete ioy of the worschipp that 
God had yeven to hym. They went aganes the kyng. And 
when the kyng sawe and knewe that it was Ponthus that so 
mony fetys of armes hade done, it is noo questyon bot he made 
5 grete ioy. And at the feste and worshipp that he dyde hym, 
he myght not forbe? bot that he called hym, & kyssed hym, 
and said, " Whe? haue ye ben so longe hyd frome vs. It was 
said that ye we? in Poleyne and Hungary in the werre ; bot 
in travthe myn hertt said euer that itt was ye that so mony 

10 mervelles did." Ponthus waxed rede and said noo worde, for 
he was sory that the kyng prased hym so myche. 

Therfore he went his way aganes Sydone grete was the 
company "with hi? of ladys and of gentyllwommen l 


15 salewed her mekely | & she yelded him agayne his salu 
tacyon | as she that had all loye y herte myght thyn- 
ke | & than she sayd vnto hy smylynge O Ponthus 
ye haue hyd you loge tyme fro vs in this forest I dou- 
te me y ye be become an ermyte & wylde. A madame 

20 Pon. G. iiij. 

[*] sayd he sane your grace I am easy to tame. And than 
he departed frome her as he that was all taken in the 
loue of his lady that of loge tyme he had not sene her 
And than he wente too se the ladyes the whiche were 

25 all dysguysed with grene bowes & garlondes | and he 
sayd vnto them. My ladyes I praye god that eche of 
you haue that y your hertes desyre for in good fayth 
it is a good syght to se soo fayre a company. The lady 

1 The Digby MS. has an omission corresponding to about a page and a 
third (MS.) of text at this point, though the MS. shows no break of any 
sort between gentyllwommen and And furth (p. 60, 1. 14). It is highly im- 
probable that we have to do with deliberate condensation far more likely 
that the scribe copied from a smaller MS. that had lost a leaf. F has two 
chapter divisions in this space which might have been marked by miniatures 
in a MS. of its class, thus suggesting a motive for the mutilation of the MS. 
before the scribe of Digby. I have filled the gap with the corresponding 
portion of W, printed diplomatically. The French MSS. E, H, and F con- 
tain all this matter. 

58 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

es y elded hym his salutacyon | the whiche were full of 
loye for to se hym for they loued hym meruayllously 
well aboue all knyghtes. And the one sayd to another 
It is Ponthus the good and fayre knyghte thanked 
5 be god of the grete worshyp that he hathe sente hym 
and I praye god that he wyll kepe hym vs as the best 
knight of the worlde | and this was there speche ferre 
and nere. So they arryued at the fountayne bothe y 
kynge and the ladyes | with grete loye. And on that 

10 other syde came the knyghtes straungers. The kyn- 
ge and the ladyes made them grete Ibye. And there 
was grete sowne and noyse of dyuers maners of my- 
stralsy so that all the wode ronge of it. And the kynge 
and ponthus dyd grete worshyp to the dukes and lor- 

15 des | as to the duke of Ostrytche of Lorayne & of ba- 
ar | & to the erle of dampmartyn of Sauoye of mout- 
belyart & to other dyuers grete lordes. So they wente 
and herde masse that the bysshop of Rennz sange | af- 
ter that they came to the halle. And the kynge | the du- 

20 kes and Sydoyne were sette at the hygh dese and af 
ter euery man after as he was. Greate was the feest 
and grete was the hall | and on the syde were hanged 
the .lii. sheldes of the knyghtes conquered. Ryght stra 
unge and fayre thynges were made bytwene the cour- 

25 [*] ses as armed chyldren that fought togyder | & dyuers 
other thynges | and syxe olde knyghtes | and syxe olde 
squyers | some bare the spere & the gouffanon blacke 
with the whyte teeres of grete margaretes & oryente 
perles | & a ryche cercle of golde meruayllously wrou- 

30 ght of ryche perles and of good stones. The other ba- 
re the ryche swerde with the pomel of golde | And the 
gyrdell of sylke wrought with golde & grete margare- 
tes and perles | & with precyous stones that it was a 
fayre syght to se. And this rychesse had ponthus won 

36 in the shyp of the Soudans sone. So he sayd hymself 
that he myght no better beset them than afore so ma- 


ny notable prynces and grete lordes | for he shewed all 
his dedes ryght honourably. The knyghtes and y la- 
dyes wente aboute the halle syngynge as though they 
wyste not to whome they sholde presente them. And 
5 than they came before the lorde de Lesygnen and pre- 
sented hym the spere and the ffouffanon (sic) and the ryche 
' cercle of golde y whiche they set vpon his hede | for y 
beste luster. And after they came to Androwe de la 
toure and presented hym the ryche swerde and the ry- 

10 che crowne set vpon his heed | whyther he wolde or no 
for he excused hymselfe moche & wende to haue refu- 
sed it saynge that they dyde hym worshyp that he had 
not deserued and that there were dyuerse other that 
had better wonne it than he had and he wexed rede & 

15 was ashamed | but Ponthus hadde so ordeyned it for 
he sayd in good fayth that he had yeuen hym moost a 
do as fore one daye. Also Geffrey hadde ryght wel lus 
ted. Than beganne mynstrelles for to playe of all ma 
ner of mynstrelsy and also the herauldes began to cry 

20 that men sholde not haue herde thondrynge | for al ro- 
[*] ge bothe wood and forest of the noyse. There was gy 
uen many dyuerse meases and good wynes and also 
grete yeftes vnto heraudes and mynstrelles. Ponth 7 
came behynde the kynge and sayd to hym in his ere. 

25 Syr & it please you we shall do crye the lustes ayenst 
to morowe | and on tewesdaye at Vennes bycause y 
ye sholde knowe these prynces | and these dukes | for it 
shall be your worshyppe. A sayd y kyge in good fayth 
it is a good and a trewe counseyll and I praye you 

30 that it be done. Than Ponthus called an heraude and 
made hym to crye that the whyte knyght with the re- 
de rode (sic, rose) shall be this mondaye and tewesdaye in y cy- 
te of Vennes with fyue felowes and hymselfe shall 
make the syxte for to withstande all maner of knygh- 

35 tes with speres. And he that shall haue the pryce on y 
mondaye without forth (sic) shall haue the gyrdell and the 

60 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

gypsere of y fay rest of the fcest. And he that dooth best 
on the tewesdaye shall haue the sparohawke mewed 
with the loynes of perles and margarytes | and a cha 
pelet that the fayrest of the feest shall gyve hym. And 
6 he of the ynner partye that shall luste best shall haue 
a rynge of the fayrest. 

If How Ponthus made a lustes to be cryed in the cy- 
te of Vennes and how he smote downe the strongest 
that he recountred. 

10 /~\N y morowe after they departed by tymes | & 
V_y wente and herde masse at saynt peters of Ven- 
nes | and than they wente and dyned | and after dyner 
the kynge & the ladyes wente to the schalfoldes. 

*And furth with come Ponthus and his v fellawes whiche was 

15 named, Barnard de La Roche, the Vicount of Lyon, the 
Vicount of Daunges, Pollides, 2 and Herland. And Ponthus 
was all in whyte bothe [he] and his hors, with a grete rede 
rose whiche signified his lady. The iustys we? grete and the 
dedes of armes, bot aboue all othre Ponthus iusted beste, for 

20 he threwe doune hors and man and did so marvellously that 

euery man doubted to countre hym. Also he putt his hertt 

and his wyll to gedre for his lady sake that was before hym. 

[*FoL 180.] * Grete and litle prased hym myche. And then spake the 

ladys and said, " See ye hym the? that berys all doune before 

25 hym? He is not wyse that comes aganes hym. His spe? 
spares noon, bot itt hurtes and makes theym to fall." Sydone, 
that herde the ladys prays hym, said noo worde, and she loked 
that noo man perceved the gladnes of hi? ne the ioy that she 
hade in hi? hertt. 

30 Right wele iusted the Duke of Averences, and the Duke of 
Loreyne, and the Erie of Savye, the Erie of Mount Bel Hart, 
and mony othre. It we? to long to tell of the goode iusters 

1 MS. Digby resumes. f MS. Potteyne. R, polides. W, Polydes. 


that lusted the moneday and the tuysday. And they we? wele 
fested the tuysday at mete and at sope?. The pris of monday 
was yeven to the Erie of Mounte Belliart. He hade the gyrdle 
and the gypse? of Sydone for she was chosen for the fairest. 
5 The price of the tuysday was yeven to the Duke of Averences. 
And he hade the sparhawke with the ryche loynes and the 
chaplete, of Sydone. Bot not withstondyng, Ponthus lusted 
the best; and wold take noon of the prices, in so myche 
that he ordaned theym. Bot the ladys sent to hym a 

10 ryng with a rubye, for the most worschipfull knyght that 
was of theym all ; also they sent to Barnard de La Roche 
a riche gowe?. 1 

Then heroudes and mynstrelles made grete ioy and grete 
noyse. And aftre sope? they hade carralles, daunces, and 

15 songys to mydnyght. And a ft re they dranke and ete spyces. 
And aftre the straungers toke they? leve of the kyng and of 
Sydone and of [the] othre ladys, and departed. 

The wedynsday erely aftre messe Ponthus convehed theym 2 
to Castellyon, 3 whe? he hade lete ordayne they? dynne? ; and 

20 aftre dynne? wold haue convehed theym bot the lordes wold 
not soffre hym. So he oifred hym myche to theym, and toke 
leve eueryche of othre. Gretely prased bothe the grete and 
the small the goode che? and fellyschipp of Ponthus and 
that 4 they trowed that he was the beste, the fairest, the most 

25 curtes, and the most gracius knyght of the worlde, to they? 
intente, and that he hade noo fellawe. And also they prased 
gretly Sydone of hi? beautie and of hi? curtesy and that 5 he 
were ryght fortunate that myght haue hi?. 

1 The word is doubtful, but has clearly something to do with M. E. gorgere. 
O. F. gorgiere. R,fermail. W, ouche. 

2 MS. hym. W,them. 

3 R, a chasteau guyon. W, to y* castell of gyron. 

4 An elliptical construction like that in W, prasyed . . Ponthus .... and 
that trewly he was but cf. K, Et disoient vrayement cest le meilleur .... cheualier. 

5 Both W & R show the ellipsis : praysed .... Sydone .... and that he that 
sholde haue her sholde be well eurous, louaient S. . . . et que bien seroit eureux qui. 

62 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

[Cap. XXI. How Sydone made grete ioy that she sawe agane 
Ponthus. And how Guenelete, that had grete envy at 
his maistre, accused Ponthus to the kyng, that he loved 
Sydone to hi? dishonur.] 

5 [ >Ontbus turned agane to the kyng and to the ladys. And 

the knyghtes of Bretane toke leve of the kyng and of 

his doghtre. So the kyng and his doghtre come huntyng 1 

and playng by the way. So on a tyme spake Sydon and 

Ponthus to gedre. Then said Sydon, " Long tyme haue ye 

10 keped you frome vs full secrete, and* we gretly mervelled that 
we herde no thyng frome you." " Ma dame," said he, " I 
sent you euery woke a knyght in stede of a messynger." " Ye 
say sothe, my swete loue. Ye sent the moste noble messyn- 
gers that myght be founden. Notwithstondyng, it wold haue 

!5 doone me more goode to haue knowen who hade sent theym 
to me, for euery body said that ye we? goon into Hungarye ; 
so I was gretly amervelled that ye gave noon othre knowleche 
of you? gooyng. Wherfore myn hertt was full hevy." "Ay, 
Madame," said he, "I was full nyghe you and so was myn 

20 hertt and thoght. And all that I did, I thoght to doo itt for 
you? honou? and to encresse you? goode renoune, for I wyst 
wele that ye shuld be chosen for the fairest in Bretane. So I 
haue doone so myche, that the best knyghtes that myght be 
founden or knawen come forto see you and to putt theym in 

25 you? mercy. Bot in goode faithe Madame, it was not I, that 

dide the aventures of armes, bot it was ye ; wherof I thonke 

you? goode ladyshipp for the myght and the hardenes that 

I haue, I haue itt of you, for of my selfe I couthe not vndre- 

[*Fol. 180*.] teke iu -" " Ponthus," said she, " I knowe wele that this 

30 goodnes and worshipp comes to you * frome Gode and frome 
noon othe?. The cause is that ye loue God and dredys hym, 

1 Huntyng is strange, but I have no reasonable emendation. E, Et le roy 
sen vint esbatant, lui et safitte vers susinio. W, came syngynge & sportynge theym 
towarde syclynere. Digby omits the name of their place of destination. 


and therfor he gyfes you that grace and hardenes ; and so 1 ye 
shuld [thynke] how l to thonke Gode." " Ma dame," said 
he, " so I doo ; hot I trowe that the entrepris comes of you." 
" Now Ponthus," said she, " leve we thes wordes, for in goode 
5 faithe the gladdest tythandes that myn hert myght haue, was 
to he? goode tydynges of you as longe as I fynde you trewe 
to kepe my worshipp and my^lordes my faders." " Ma dame," 
said he, " therof truste ye verrely ; for I hade levyr be deid 
then to have thoght othre wyse, by my faithe." 

10 And vpon thes wordes come oon of his xiij fellawes, called 
Guenelete, whiche was named full envious and a fai? speke? 
and a grete flatere?, and hade grete envye at his maistre Pon- 
thws. And at that tyme the? was noo grettre maistre in the 
contre then he. So he see the kyng olde, and thoght by fai? 

15 speche and flattery that he wold be maistre : and so he thoght 
to aloigne his maystre Ponthus, whiche was full secrete with 
the kyng ; and he thoght, if that he myght a litle enstraunge 
hym fro that courte, that he shuld then be maistre and most 
privey with the kyng. 

20 Thus he couthe not refreyne hym selfe fro dooyng of treson. 
And so he sawe the kyng allone in a wode, wher as hunted he; 2 
and so he said vnto hym, " Ser, I wolle telle you a grete coun- 
sell, so that ye wold ensure me and make protestacon trewly, 
by a kynges worde, that ye shall not dyscouere me." Said the 

25 kyng, "I swe? and promys you faithfully that I shall not dis- 
couere you." Then Guenelete said, " My ryght gude Lorde, 
ye haue noryshed me, and all the goode that I haue, comes of 
youre goode grace ; so I haue cause to loue you more then my 
fadre, or modre, or all the worlde. Wherfore myn hert may 

30 not soffre you? harme ne dyshonowr ; and not withstondyng 
I loue Ponthus more than any thyng bot you, for sothe itt is 
this, that Ponthus loues my lady you? doghtre. Wherof I 
make you wyse, for he is a full fai? knyght ; so I doute lest 

1 MS. so she shuld and how. I emend by changing she to ye, inserting thynke 
to complete shuld, and dropping and. W, so ye ought for to thanke hym hyghly. 
B, si len deuez moult merrier. 2 MS. he was. Om. was. 

64 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

any fouuysch love be betwen theym, wherof ye myght haue 
shame or dyshonour." "Ay," said the kyng, whiche thoght 
noo thyng bot goode, " Guenelete I see wele that ye loue me 
and that ye wold not my dyshonow. I am beholden to you 
5 at all tymes and thonkes you gretly herof." And thus the 
kyng thonked hym, as he that wenyd that he had said him 
trauthe. And Guenelete said, " My Lorde, ye shuld not thonke 
me, for I be so myche beholden vnto you that the? is noo thyng 
that a mortall man (myght do) for you? Lordeship bot that I 

10 wold doo itt, if I shuld dye therfore, forto lenght you? live, if 

nede we?; and Ser, I wold tell you fiowe ye myght best preve 

hym, and he say that he loues hi? not, bid hym make an othe 

thervpon, and peraventure ye shall see that he wolle not swe?." 

And so Guenelete herde Ponthus say that in the parties of 

15 Spayne noo kynges sone shuld make noon othe to credaunce, 
whylst that he myght fyght and if he dide, he we? dys- 
honored ; and therfore he said the same to the kyng, for he 
wyst wele that he wold not swe? ; and therfore by that maner 
he wold attempe hym, and by thoos meanes to enstraunge hym. 1 

20 [Cap. XXII. How the kyng required an othe of Ponthus; 
and he, that myght not swere, offred hym to fyght with 
thre or with four. And how Ponthus wold not abyde 
in the courte in mystruste and in susspeccion, bot toke 
leve of Sydone for vij yeres.] 

25 fT^he kyng was thoghtfull of the tythyng, as he that mer- 

J- vellously lovyd his doghtre and he that had grete drede 

of his dyshonow ; and when he was comen fro the wodd and 

lyghted doune fro his palfrey, so furth with come Ponthus, 

[*Fol 181 1 wenvn g t naue taken his swerd and his gloves as he was 

30 accustomed. Then the kyng turned hym an othre * way and 

1 E and W have an additional sentence. Et par ceil .... lestrangeroit de 
la court, car nul enuieulx ne pent riens sou/rir. for to estraunge hym from the 
eountree for to haue the more ruLe gadered in to his owne hande \ for an envyous 
man may no thyng suffre. 


nawthre made to hym countencmnce ne spake. And when 
Ponthus perceyved that he was wrothe to hym, he said, " Ser, 
be ye wrothe with me ? Say to me, if it like you, for Goddes 
loue, what I haue forfeted." And the kyng, which was right 
5 wrothe of suche fals informacion, said, " Ponthus I haue 
made a simple nurture in you, when ye wate to dyshonowr 
me." "Howe Ser?" said Ponthus, "By what way?" Then 
said the kyng, " For ye loue my doghtre to dyshonowr me. 
And I haue noomoo children hot hi?, whiche is all my ioy 

10 and the lenghthyng of my life.'' "Ser," said he, "Who said 
you this ? And the? be any man that dare say itt, or mayn- 
tene itt, I am redy to shew my body that he lyes falsly save 
you? worshipp." " Nay," said the kyng, " bot and ye wolle 
swe? vpon a messe-booke that ye loue hi? not as I haue said, 

15 peraventure I wolle leve you." " Ser, for to say that I loue 
hi? not as the doghtre of my ryght goode lorde aftre my 
dutye, I owe not to say; bot if the? be any man that wolle 
say that I loue hi? to dyshonoitr you or hi?, in wylle, dede, 
or in thoght, I shall answe? as a true knyght shuld doo. And 

20 Ser ye knowe wele, othre thing ye shuld not disi? of me, you? 
worshipp saved, for ye wote wele that noo kynges sonne shuld 
make noon othe of fals vndirstondyng, whils that he may 
defende hym with his hondes. And suche is the custome of 
the contre whiche I am of." " I wote not howe itt is," 

25 said the kyng, that was ryght wrothe of the wordes that he 
held. 1 " Ser," said Ponthus, which was right sory, " I offre 
me to feght with thre or fou?; for I fele myn hert so sure 
and so true that I am certan that God wolle helpe, as he is 
true luge of this dede and of all othre." "Ay," said the 

30 kyng, " ye hold you so strong and so knyghtly, that ye wote 
wele that the? (dare) 2 no man feght with you." "Ay Ser," 
said Ponthus, " offre me to doo that thyng that I may doo to 

1 The emendation herd is probable, but held makes good sense, regarding 
Ponthus as the subject of the clause le roy, qui moult fel estoit des paroles^ 
qutt auoit ouyes. W, had herde keeping the construction of R. 

* B, nul noseroit combatre. 


66 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

saue my worschipp." The kyng passed oner and said the? 
shuld no batell be doon for that dede. 

And when Ponthus herd this, he was ryght sory and wrothe. 
By cause that he was a kynges sonne, he had shame to make 
5 the othe that turnyd hym to shame ; and that othi? side, he 
was sory be cause that the kyng wold doo hym noo ryght. 
And then he come to the kyng and toke his leve and said 
that he wold byde no lenger in his courte in mystruste ne in 

10 So he departed and come to Sydone and told hi? how the 
kyng had said to l hym, and howe* the kyng wold not doo 
hym ryght, and howe that he had offred hym to feght with 
thre or fou?, and how that he wold putt hym to his othe, to 
his grete shame and dishonu?. And when Sydone herd this 

15 and vndirstode itt, it nedes not to aske if that she had any 
sorowe in hi? hertt; for she was so sorofull that she was 
almuste loste. And when she myght speke, she said,, "Ay 
Lorde Godde, who be [thes] 2 traitours and flatterers that so 
myche fals lyhyng has founde ? for in goode faithe, I wolle 

20 swere on the sacrament, that the? is noo vyllanye thoght in 
ou? loue. Bot sothely it is, 3 that envy may not dye." 

"Ma dame," said Ponthus, "ye say sothe. Bot I wolle take 
leve of you with suche regrete and sorowe as euer knyght did, 
and toke, of his lady." "Ay," sayd she, " my swete loue, me 

25 semes it we? bettre for to swe?, for ye may doo itt surely, and 
excuse vs." "Ay Ma dame," sayd he, "I dare not be seen in 
my contrey, if I dide soo ; and God graunte I be not the first 
kynges sonne that makes the furste othe, for at all tymes itt 
suld be reproche to me and to myn heyers. Bot Ma dame, not 

30 withstondyng thoghe the body proloyne for a while, the hertt 4 
[*Fol. 181 b .] shall day and nyght * dwell with you. And if it pleasse God, 

1 MS. after to, hir> cancelled by the rubricator. 
1 W, these. B, MS. 

3 R, Mais ainsi est. W, But thus it is. 

4 The scribe has run down a flourish from this word into the lower margin 
of the Fol. inclosing in it a heart. 


at the ende of vij ye? I shall see you agane, and I live, hot if 
I come herfte ; 1 and if itt like you to kepe you vnmaried vnto 
that tyme if ye may I wold pray you." "Ay," said she, 
" the terme is long and farre. And how many sorofull days 

5 and nyghtes shall be betwen you and me in the meane tyme ! " 
And with thes wordes she fell in swone and was all discolored. 
Thus was the hertes of theym bothe so sore knytt 2 to gedre 
that with grete payne they myght vnnes any thyng say, bot 
[th]at 3 they cleped aythre othre and the terys fell doune from 

10 thei? eeyn. 

Then Ponthus putt his hoode afore his eyne, and departed 
and went frome hi? vnto his chaumbre, and shitte the doore 
vpon hym. And then his hertt beganne to swell and said to 
hym selfe that he was the mervellest knyght livyng ; that for 

15 hym that lady myght recey ve blame or shame with oute cause ; 
and on that side, 4 he losys all wordly ioy, when he losys the 
contrey and the syght of hi?, of the whiche he has bot litle 
recoueryng. And thus he complenys hym and wementys hym 
ryght sorofully. And when he hade ben a while in that 

20 sorowe, then he comforted hym selfe to make goode che? and 
refrenyd hym selfe ryght myche. 

And if he hade sorowe in his hertt, Sidone had as myche ; 
for she entred into hi? warderop and called Ellious vnto hi?, 
and when she sawe that the? was noon bot they twoo and that 

25 they we? alloone, then beganne hi? sorowe, so grete and so 
mervellous, that it was pitee to see. "Ay," said she, " my 
swete love goos a way the fai?, the goode, the floure of 
knyghthode and of curtesy, and the beste that levys and the 
best manerd and enteched aboute 5 all maner of estates and 

l l read clearly herfte, which I fail to understand, in the MS. Some 
word meaning earlier is required. R, se plus tost ne reuien. W, yf soner / 
come not. \ Is it possibly herste (illogical h and long s) for erste. 

2 MS. after knytt, W, cancelled by the rubricator. 

3 The conj. at may be a genuine colloquial form, that has slipped into 
the text. W, saue onely that. 

* R, Et dautre part. W, And also he leseth. 5 R, En tons estas. W, among. 

68 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

among all maner of people and that is goode reson that he 
be so, for he loues God, dredes hym, and worshippes hym ; 
and has the olde and the wyse in reuerence. He is humble to 
the moste and to the leste ; he is myrroure of all noblenes and 
5 largenes; his swete hertt is gentle, humble, and debonere. 
What shall myn hertt doo afire his departyng, bot langoure, 
and wey mente day and nyght, withoute any ioy or reste ? 
for I knowe wele his swete hertt wolle haue no lesse." 

Then she toke Ellious by the harme hastely and furth with 

10 fell to the grounde in swone. And Ellious weped, and arased 1 
hi? lady with a litle water, and conforted hi? in the best wyse 
that she myght ; bot it avayled hi? not, she was so sory . And 
then she said to Ellious, " I may not in noo wyse kepe my 
hertt ne counsell close frome you, so myche I loue and trustes 

H you. Bot love, this sorowe comys on me when I thinke 2 the 
grete vntrauthe that has ben putt vpon vs, and that we neuer 
thoght vyllany, for mor true? loue was neuer betwen two per- 
sounes; and aftre, I thinke the wordes 3 that be said of grete 
wrong, and that for me he loses the contrey whe? he was so 

20 wele beloued of grete and small, and all the evyll that he shal 
soffre and haue shall be for my sake ; and thus I shall be 
cause of his myschief. All thes thinges drives sorowe to myn 
hertt." Gretly she wemented and aftre dryed hi? eyn. And 
itt was long or she come to the chaumbre of astate among hi? 

25 ladys and gentylwommen ; and made no semelance, bot as it 
greved hi? bot a litle. She was right wyse and wele couthe 
kepe hi? contenawnce. The ladys and the gentylwommen 
weped and wemented of the departyng of Ponthus and said 
that cursed was he that suche falsed fonde and contreved. 

30 Bot Sydon reconforted theym full gentylly and womanly. 
And thus I turne agane to Ponthus. 

1 R, et Eloix pleure et arouse sa dame. Arased then means " sprinkled," 
Fr. arroser. W shows a combination of a curious blunder and a correct 
translation : toke rose water and besprynded her lady. 

9 R, ie pense la grant desloyavlte translated slavishly. W, thynke on. 

3 R, ie pense les paroles. W, thynke on. 


[Cap. XXIII. How Ponthus departed from the courte and 
saled to England; and how the kynges sonne of Eng- 
land, that was called Henry, welcomed hym and toke 
hym to the courte wher as he was ryght wele cherysed. 
5 And how the kyng of Irlond made werre vpon theym, 
and Ponthus toke hym prisonner ; and aftre councelled 
theym to make peace betwen the reaumes, and the kyng 
of Irlond to wed the kynges doghtre of Englond.] 

)Onthus called his chaumberlayne, a squye?, and com- 

10 JL maunded hym to trusse and to putt in males all that 
was nede, and toke leve of euery persone of the courte. So 
was the? noon bot they made sorowe for his departyng and 
weped; and euery man and womman had as myche sorowe 
and doyll in thei? hertt as the[i] wold haue hade, iff all they? 

15 frendes had ben deid so myche they loued hym. 

Then he departed from the courte ; and the barounes, the 
knyghtes, and who so euer myght lepe on hors bak conveyd 
hym wepyng, and wenyd varely to have withholden hym with 
fai? language, sayng, that the kyng was olde and not wyse, 

20 and that he shuld not take to hert that that he said. Bot he 
wold not abyde for all they? langage. 

And when they had conveyd hym twoo myles, he aboode 
and prayd theym to turne agane ; and so he made theym to 
turne a gane, whedre they wold or not. In takyng leve was 

25 wepyng enughe. 

So they retourned and made grete sorowe for his departyng, 
sayng, "Ay Bretan, thou oughte to be dysmated and wepyd : l 
when the fai?, the goode, the most worshipfull knyght takes 
his leve, the w'hiche keped theym in peace and ioy; for he 

30 keped theym, as the hen did hi? byrdes vndre hi? weng, from 
all evyll neghboures and aduersaries. The barounes and the 
people also wepyd and regreted, in cursyng theym that the fals 
wordes had founde and contrevyd. 

l Adj. in the sense of sorowful, for biwepyd. R, bretaigne tu dois bien 
plourer. W, thou oughtest wele to wepe. 

70 F. J. MATHER, JB. 

Ponthus rode to Sainte Malo de 1'Ysele, 1 and thedre made 
come a shipp, and on the morowe herd messe, and aftre went 
to take the see. And so Herland the senysshall and his fel- 
lawes wenyd to haue goone with hym ; hot he wold not soffre 

5 theym, and said, that the kyng had norysshed theym and made 
theym, 2 and that he myght doo theym, myche goode ; and ther- 
fore he counselled theym for to abyde styll with the kyng. 
And thus with grete payne they departed frome hym full 
sorofully and toke leve of hym wepyng. And when the shipp 

10 was oute of theyr sight, then began they? doyll and thei? grete 

sorow bot if itt we? Guenelete, wn*ich made semelante as he 

had wepyd, and was no dele sory, bot hade grete ioy in his 

hert inwarde, what che? so euer that he shewyd outewarde. 

And Ponthus went his way, and thus he losys the syght of 

15 Bretan. Then the teres fell doune frome his eyne, and softely 
said, " Blessed be Bretane and the fai?, the goode, the [most] 
trusty, that lyues 3 Sydone, and all othre ladys and gentyl- 
wommen for loue of hi? and goode knyghthode, for I neuer 
sawe ne hard of noon 4 bettre." 4 Grete sorowe then his hertt 

20 had for Sydone. Not withstondyng, he keped his sorowe in 
the most covert wyse that he couthe or myght. 

And within a whyle he arryved at Hampton and come 
rydyng toward London. And the? passed by the way a grete 
bore; and a grehounde toke the bore; and then Ponthus with 

25 his sworde clove hym in the myddys in twoo peces. And Ser 
Henry the kyuges sonne sawe the stroke and had grete mervell 
therofj'and prayd hym to dwell with hym. And Ponthus 
graunted hym. 

I MS. lysele. K, saint malo. W, saynt Solo (sic). 

* W, And y f he was of power to make them & doo them good. R,,leroyles auoit 
nourris etfais et leurferoil des biens assez. 

8 MS. loues. I emend the passage following R, benoist soit brelaigne. Et la 
belle et la plus loyale qui vine et la meilleur. 

* MS. more bittre. Cf. W,/or better nor sweter was there neuer. Both English 
versions depart from R's, Car onques plus doulx pays [Bretaigne] ne feust. 
The emendation may appear somewhat heroic, but clearly there is confu- 
sion in the passage as it stands. 


And the kynges sonne enquired of his estate. And he told 
hym not as yete, bot tolde hym that he was comen to the 
courte of Englonde to see itt, by cause of the grete renoune 
that he herd of the kyng, and of his twoo sonnes ; and that 
5 he come also to see the estate and noblenes of the same contre 
and reaume. "Ser," said Henry, a ye be ryght welcome. And 
I be oon of the kynges sonnes, and I pray you to be with me." 
" Ser, in Godes name, savyng that it pleasse yow." 
*Fol 1821 Thus they wente to gedre toward the courte, spekyng of 

10 mony thynges. 1 * And when they come to the courte, the 
kyng was even 2 sett to mete. Henry commanded his men 
that they shuld delyuere chaumbre and stable to his newe 
knyght. And itt was so doon. The kynges sone entred into 
the hall and his knyghtes with hym. The kyng asked hym 

15 howe he had hunted and the quene bothe. And he tolde 
theym. Then the kyug asked hym pnvely what was the fai? 
knyght. And he tolde hym howe he had hym founde, and of 
the grete stroke that he gave the bore. And Ponthus was 
gretly loked vpon, for on euery syde they come to beholde 

20 hym, and hade grete mervell of hym. 

The courte was anoon full of the tithynges that the? was 
comen with the kynges sonne the fairest knyght that euer any 
man loked vpon. The ladys and gen tyl women beheld hym, 
and in especiall the kynges twoo doghters. Eueryche of theym 

25 said, " Se he?, a mervellous fai? knyght ! " " Yea," said sume, 
" if he be fey?, he is more amyable and plesaunt." They made 
hym sitt among the ladis, and aftre dynne? they went furth of 
the hall ; and then was broght furth the bore, whiche was the 
bore that they had sen before, whiche was cutt in twoo peces. 

30 "Loo!" said Henry to the kyng and to the quene, "what my 
newe knyght has doone with oon stroke of a swerde." And 
Ponthus turned hym an othre way and shamed that they prased 
hym so myche. 

1 The -es is nearly erased. 

8 R, le roy estoit ia assis a disner. W, y e tynge was set at dyner. 

72 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

The kyng and the quene asked hym of whens that he was. 
And he said, of the reaume of Fraunce. "And what call they 
you ? " said the kyng. " Ser, they call me Le Surdite de Droyte 
Voy." And so they asked hym of the tydynges of Fraunce, 
5 and of mony thynges. And the kyng herde hym so wysely 
spoken and answeryng, that he gretly mervelled. Then he 
said to the quene, that he had not herd a bettre avysed ne 
bettre attempred in language then he was "and for sothe 
myn hertt yeves me that he is grettre of byrthe, and more 

10 noble, then he makes hym." And thus they tarryed a grete 
whyle; and the more that they sawe hym, the more they 
loued hym and prased hym. 

Grete doylle made the kynges eldest sonne that he had not 
the furst mett with hym, before his brodre Henry ; for Pon- 

15 thus knewe notablely of all maner games of huntyng, of 
hawkyng, and othre disportes; and euer he made as thoghe 
he knewe no thyng, ne he prased neuer hym self in nothyng 
that he dide. Gretly was prased his connyng and his maners 
among all the people. He loued God and the chirche, and 

20 euery day he herd messe ; and gave his aim us secretly to the 
pouere people. And he wold neuer swe? by God ne by noon 
of his saintes. 

Uppon a day itt befell that the Erie of Gloucestre sonne, 
which was a ryght fai? knyght and a strong, and was right 

25 presumptuous, cast the stoone with the kynges sonne Henry, 
and mony othre noble knyghtes that was the?. And he hade 
passed Ser Henry nygh fou? fyngers, and he avaunted hym 
selfe therof before the ladys. And of his boste Ser Henry was 
evyll plesyd, and called Ponthus to hym and said, " Surdyte 

30 my frende, I pray you to revenge me, for Rolande Gloucestre 
makes his boste afore the ladys that he has passed me to 
myche." l " Ser," said Surdyte, " sith it please you, I wolle, 
bot I am vnlykly." Then he toke the stone of his maistre 
and caste itt easly frome hym, and passed hym negh by twoo 

1 R, vente .... quit ma passe de trop. 


fyngers. Then the thothre 2 toke the stone and reforced hym 
and did so rnyche that he caste as farre. "Ay," said Ser 
Henry, " by the faithe that ye owe to the lady that ye beste 
*Fol 183 ] l ue * n *ke wor ^e, caste itt as farre as ye may." 

5 And when he herd hym thus require * hym, he remembred 
hym of his lady, and toke the stone, and said, " Ser, ye haue 
sore required me, for I owe grete feithe to my lady, my modre." 
"Ay," said Gener the kynges eldist doghtre, " be ye so myche 
waxen, and be to seche with ladys vnto nowe?" 1 " Ma dame," 

10 said he, " I am so fonde and bustus that noon deynes to loue 
me." " God knowes that itt is trewe," said Gener. And then 
she said in hi? hertt, " Now wolde Gode that he wold loue me 
as wele as I loue hym." 

And then Surdyte toke the stonne and cast it vij fote ferthre. 

15 And when the kyng and the ladys sawe the cast, they mervelled 
therof gretly. The Erie sonne of Gloucestre was abasshed and 
said that he was ouercomen. Then said Henry to Surdyte, 
"Why haue ye so longe abyden to cast that grete caste?" 
"Ser," said he, "and ye hade not so sore desired me, I wold 

20 not haue melled therwith, for I haue doone the Erie sonne of 
Gloucestre dysplese? and that dyspleses me, if it we? not to 
fullfyll you? commaundment ; for it longes not to me to dys- 
plese any man." So his maistre sawe wele the curtesy of the 

25 So come Gener to hi? brothre Henry, and said, "Fai? 
brothre come and sporte you in my chaumbre, ye and you? 
knyght, I pray you." " Sustre," said he, " I wolle." And so 
they went to dysporte theym in hi? chaumbre. There they 
had wyne and spices and aftre they begane to daunce and 

30 syng. Bot with grete payne they myght vnnethe make Sur- 

1 Apparently a case of "tother," dentals are irregular in this MS., so I 
have let it stand. 

2 W, Surdyt Surdyt \ it may not be that ye be now \ vnpurchased and be so moche 
& so goodly. R, Sourdit, Sourdit a peine estes si grant creu que vous en sales a 
pourchaser dun autre. Our translator apparently had an original differing 
from R. 

74 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

dyte de Droyte Voy to daunce, for he said he couthe noo 
thyng doo ; bot when he was in daunce, 1 he daunced so that 
noo man daunced like hym. And also vnneth they couthe 
make hym to syng. Bot at the kynges doghtre praye?, he 
5 song a songe whiche was passyng swete. 

And aftre when they had songen, the kynges sonne and his 
sustre beganne to harpe. And when they had harped a whyle, 
they prayd Surdyte to harpe. Bot they had grete payne to 
make hym to doo any thyng as towchyng to harpyng, syng- 

10 yng, or daunsyng; bot at the last jie harped a newe lay that 
was mervellous. "Goode faithe ! "laid Gene?, "I haue grete 
ioy that ye can this, for we haue had grete desi? to knowe 
itt for it is the lay that the goode knyght Ponthus made for his 
love, as it is told vs." " Madame, I wote not who made itt," 

!5 said he. Bot yitt he was a litle aschamed, and waxed rede, 
when he thoght on hi? that he made itt for. Then Gener and 
hi? sustre lerned itt, and had itt wretyn. 

And anon went the kynges sonne and his twoo susters to 
the kyng they? fadre and to the quene, and told theym that 

20 Surdyte couth the lay that Ponthus made in Litle Bretan. 
And the 2 kyng commanded hym to harpe itt be-for hym 
and the quene ; and they thoght itt mervellously goode, and 
said to thei? twoo doghters, " Truly, fai? doghters, we wold 
that ye lernyd itt, for itt is ryght goode, and the knyght doos 

25 itt wondrely wele and of all dyssportes and plays he canne 

And on a tyme Gener demaunded hym and sayd, "Surdyte 
se ye any lady in this londe, whe? ye lyst putt you? hertt and 
plesaunce vnto? I pray you, tell ye me; and in goode faithe, 

30 I am she that wolle you? worshipp." " Ma dame," said he, 
" God thonke you at all tymes, for I haue grete nede of you? 
goode helpe; bot in this case, I loue all as goode ladys." 
"Ay," said she, " Be they all comon to you, or be the? any 
that has avauntege before any othre ? " " Ma dame," said he, 

1 E, fu a la dance. * MS. thei'. 


" all be so good that noon may honour and worshipp theym 
so myche as they be worthie; and as tovching me, the honu? 1 
of so pouere a knyght is litle worthe." "Ay," said she, " he 
is not pouere that has the beautie, the bountie, the * goode 

5 manures, and the fey? countenance, that ye haue ; for in 
goode feith, I knowe not so grete a lady in this lande bot that 
she myght hold hi? worshipp, if that she were love vnto suche 
a knyght as I trowe that ye be." " Ma dame," said he, " I be 
farre frome suche worthynes as ye say that I be of." "Ay," 

10 said she, " I say noo thyng bot that me thynkis 2 sothe." " Yea 
Ma dame," said he, " Itt likes you forto dysporte with me, that 
be so pouere a knyght." And thus he held hym all vpon iapes, 
and made noo semeland to be in any throwes of love 3 wherof 
itt dyspleased hi? gretly ; for and she had founde any cause or 

15 draght of love in hym, she wold haue dyscouered her more 
largely. And that perceyved Surdyte ryght wele ofte tymes, 
by hi? and by mony othre ladys and gentylwommen, which 
cast to hym mony coverte wordes and contencmnce whiche 
with goode wyll wold haue loued hym, and he hade wold. 

20 Bot he shewed to eueryche elyke goode chere withoute any 
contencmnce of love; wherfor the[re] 4 were many sorofull, 
and in especial! the kynges twoo doghters. 

Ryght wysely he aqwcmted hym with, and did plesawnce to, 
Query body. Mony nyghtes he thoght on his lady and made 

25 dyuers lays, wherof the wordes of oon lay ended in contenyng 
of sorowe 5 that he wold loue hi? withoute any eschaunge; 6 
and in thes thinges at sume tyme he toke myche of his com- 
forthe, and lyghtnes of his straunge thoghtes. 7 

1 R, lamour. W, loue. The translator probably read lamour as lonour in 
his French original. * MS. thynk is. 

3 R, effray darner. W, wyll for to loue. 4 R, dont il y en eust. 

b R, Et faisoit lays et virelays et tous les noms cheoient en regart de doulceur 
(sic). W, the whiche fell in complaynyng of sorowe. 

*R, sans changer. 

7 R, prenoit moult de confort a la guet de ses estroites penses. W, blunders 
in this passage : & in these thoughtes he toke ofte tymes grete dyscomforte (sic) & 
sometyme allegyaunce of his heuy thoghtes. 


Then itt befell that there was grete rumour of werre betwen 
the kyng of Englond and the kyng of Irlond; for there 
was taken truse, which was broken vpon a Myghelmes, the 1 
[whiche] was twoo days passed. And the kyng of Irelond 
5 had at that tyme ryden with a grete armye. And anoon the? 
come tydynges to the courte therof. And the kyng sent oute 
pHvey scales, and lettres of commaitndement, thorow oute his 
reaume ; and ordaned to send furth his twoo sonnes. 

Surdyte asked his maistre, "Ser, what title has the kyng 

10 to werre ? " And Ser Henry toke hym that he had goode 
title, and toke itt vpon perell of Sis saule. Then said Sur- 
dyte, " Ser, I wolle goo with you ; for in no evyll title of 
Cristen werres I wold not goo, for noo thyng. For we oughte 
mo 2 to loue ou? saules then ou? bodyes that be mortall, and 

15 from day to day drawen to an ende and the saule may not 
dye, and it behoves to haue it 8 rewarde of Almyghty Gode, 
authi? goode or evyll." His maistre herkeued hym wele, and 
prased hym myche in his hertt, notwithstondyng he wenyd 
that his fadre hade goode ryght. 

20 The armye made, 4 they beganne to goo aganes the kyng of 
Irelond, which had taken a castell and held itt the which 
he had wonne with a sawte. And when the kyng of Irland 
herd by his spyes that the kynges twoo sonnes come to the 
batell, anon he come against theym ; for he was an hardy 

25 man and a worthie. And he had six batells and had mony 
comons with hym. 

1 R, La qudl^ estoit passee de trois tours. W, and was passed a thre days. 
1 MS. me. R, mieidx. W, better. 

3 Reading his for itj or dropping it from the text would amend the passage. 
It, in any form, as a genitive is of course impossible at this date. R, son 
guerredon. W, her rewarde. 

4 R, Mais toute/ois cuidoit U que son pere eust droit en larmee. Ce fait Us 
partirent et allerent contre le roy dislande. Apparently the translator has 
rendered cefait, the armye made (i. e., put in order) deceived by the prox- 
imity of larmee in his original. The blunder is a surprising one, but it 
appears better to tally with the texts than the obvious but unsatisfactory 
emendation beginne for beganne. W, The armes were assembled & wente. 


And the kyng of Englondes twoo sonnes had bot fou? 
batells with theym : wherof the Erie of Northampton, that 
was marshall, hade the furste batell ; the secund batell had 
the Lorde Henry; and the third had the kyng 1 eldyst sonne, 
5 in the which we? mony Barounes ; the fourte batell had the 
kyng of Cornewale, which was a full good knyght and nevewe 
vnto the kyng, and with hym we? theWalshmen. 

The kyng of Irland had the moste parte of his men on fote. 

Bot the Englyschmen we? the most parte on hors bak. At 

10 the sembly we? grete showtes and cries, and mony knyghtes 

beten doune so that they had no powe? to relief theym self. 

So had the Erie soffred twoo batelles to come vpon hym. And 

Fol.184.] when Surdyte, that was in the * secunde batell, sawe thei? 

men withdrawe theym, he said to his rnaistre, "Ser, itt is 

15 tyme that we meve vs. Youre men losys grounde." "Ye 

say sothe," said the Lorde Henry. 

Then they went furthe and entred into the batell and felled 
doune mony knyghtes in theyr entryng. And aftre they toke 
theym to they? swordes ; and then began the feghtyng strong 
20 and fersly. And anoon the Ireschmen drewe bak, so that the 
othi? batell come in, in the whiche was the kyng of Irland 
and the best knyghtes that he had. The? was grete noys of 
trumpys. Itt was not long afte? bot all the batells assemelyd 
with mony grete iustys, bot itt we? to long to tell all, how 
25 they we? doon. 

Surdyte, that had grete desi? to doo fetes of armes, bett 
doune mony with the tronchon of his spe?; and aftre toke 
hym vnto his sworde and began fersly, and smote on aythre 
syde hym //and made rowme before hym, so that he was knawn 
30 of theym that neuer saw hym befor. He did so manfully that 
mony left thei? feghtyng to behold hym. 

Then said the kyng of Irlond, that if yonde knyght shuld 
live long, he wold ga? his men lose grounde. And so he 
smote the hors with his spurrys ; and with a gret short spe? 

1 The g has a large tag much like the usual flourish, unlike the -es con- 

78 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

he smote Surdyte at a travers, that he had nyghe ouerthrawen 
hyra. Notwithstondyng, he fell not. And when he was re- 
dressed vp agayn, he said in his hertt that he was hot litle 
worthe, hot if he we? revenged. He knewe wele that it was 
5 the kyng of Irland for othre mervelles of armes that he sawe 
hym doo, and he sawe (hym) rychely arrayd in pereles and 
precious stones. 

Then Surdyte avaunced hym and smote hym vpon his 
helme so grete a stroke that he was astoned and bowed bak 

10 vpon the arson of his sadle; and then he wold smyte hym 
noo more, for fere lesse he shuld sley hym ; and thoght in his 
hertt that itt was not Godes wyll, that he shuld sley so goode 
a knyght. Then he toke hym by the sh aiders and drewe 
hym to hym, furth of his sadle, and cast hym before hym 

15 and bare hym as the wolfe beres his pray. The Iresche men 
trowed to have rescoued hym ; but Surdyte smote so sore 
aboute hym that they durst not tovche hym and he bare oute 
of the batell, and putt, hym in save garde. 

When the Ireschmen sawe that they? kyng was taken, they 

20 loste they? corage and hardenes ; and toke theym to flyght, 
thos that myght surne to the woddes and sume to the hylles. 
And rnony we? beten doune deid. And at nyght euery man 
toke that they myght, and drewe theym to they? banue? and 
to they? stondard, and luged theym in the felde in signe of 

25 victorye. Bot the Lorde Henry had gret ioy of his knyght, 
that had taken the kyng. Myche was the speche of Surdyte, 
that all the felde was wonne by hym. And on the morowe 
they went before the castell that the kyng of Irelond had 
taken ; and within a whyle it was yelden vp, and mony othre 

30 tounes and castells that they had taken. 

Grete was the ioy (of the tydynges) that come to the courte 1 
howe by Surdyte the kyng of Irlond was taken and all his 
men dyscomfetyd ; and at thei? comyng home the kyng and 
the quene went aganes hym with grete ioy, and said, " This 

1 MS. courte and. R, Moult fu grant la loye et lafeste des nouuettes . . ., comme 
le Sourdit auoit este vainquer. 


knyght is welcome, whiche is the floure of knyghthod." Sur- 
dyte was ashamed of the grete worshipp that they did hym ; 
and said to the kyng and to the quene, that they did hym 
shame to putt hym to so grete worshipp, that had not diserued 
5 itt. "Ay/' said the kyng, " I trowed that I had doon wele, 
bot syth it displeasses you, I wolle doo noo more so." 

Menne asked the kyng what he wold doo with the kyng of 

Irlonde, and he answeryd and said, " Like as Surdyte wolle ; 

Fol. 184 b .] and that he * be not sett in pHsoune, bot if he cowmawnde 

10 itt." And Surdyte answerd therto and said, "As the kyng 
wolle, so be itt doon ; and if itt like hym, by myn advice, it were 
wele doon to doo hym worshipp, and that he myght ete and 
drynk in the hall." And the kyng said the counsell was goode, 
and cowmatmded his yonge? sonne to bryng hym into the hall. 

15 And the kyng of Irland was full semely and a full fai? 
knyght, of thirtee yeres of age, and was richely arrayd in a 
coote of purple and a mantyll of sabyllyn doune to the foote. 
He was gretely beheld of all the people. The kyng and the 
quene made hym che? for the loue of Surdyte ; and he was 

20 sett betwen the kynges twoo doghters. Bot he made bot 
symple chere. And Surdyte come to hym, and said, " Ser, be 
ye of goode che?, for ye haue goode and easy pn'soune betwen 
twoo fai? ladyes." " Truly," said the kyng, " sithe Gode hath 
sent me suche prison, me oght not gretly to be dysmated." 

25 Aftre dynner Surdite made hym to talke with the kynges 
yonge? doghtre, and said to hi?, " Madame, howe likes you the 
kyng of Irlond ? If I knewe that it liked you, I wold speke 
of a mariage betwen you and hym, althogh it long 1 not to 
me for pouere men has bot litle voice among grete men 

30 and lordes." "Ay," seid she, " Surdite haue ye said as ye 
thoght?" " Yea Madame," said he, "if I wyst that it we? to 
you? pleasure." " For sothe," said she, " itt pleases me, if it 
pleasse my fadre and my brethre, 2 sith that I may not haue 

*A large g tag may represent an -es, but is probably merely a flourish. 

* The first e looks like an o, in which the pen has slipped downward in 
making the left stroke, but there is no doubt that the reading is brethre, not 

80 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

an othre, that be navthre kyug ne duke bot he is the fairest 
knyght of the world, and the best." "Madame," said he, "it 
is a straunge thyng to knowe the beste, for the? be mony 
goode." And he thoght that she said it by hym. And so 
5 she did. Bot he wold not comforth hi? therin. And afire 
they went furth for to dysporte theym in the gardyns, and 
playd att the chesse and att the tables, and at mony othre 

On the morowe the kyng of Englond held a grete fest 

10 and a counsell, and the? was the kyng of Scottes, that had 
weddyd his sustre, and the kyng df Cornewale, and princes, 
dukes and barounes, to wytt what shuld be doo with the 
kyng of Irlonde. And thus they spake of dyuers ways. 
And at the last the kyng asked Surdyte and badd hym say 

15 his advyce, "for itt is reason that we take ou? advice att 
you that has hym vndre subieccon." He excused hym to 
sey, bot the kyng commaunded hym to sey, "Ser, sith me 
must nedes speke, foryeve me my rude and my simple speche. 
It semes me that the quarell and the debate that I haue herde 

20 is not myche worthe, for itt is not the lawe ne the commaunde- 
ment of Gode to be all wey in aduersite for he sais, ' Loue 
thy neghbou? as thy selfe ; ' and also, when Gode was borne, 
the aungell come to the shepherdes, and shewed to theym the 
message of Gode, and aftre went vp into hevyn synghyng, 

25 Gloria in excelsis Deo et in terra, pax hominibws, &c., that is 
to say, ' Glorye and worshipp be vnto Gode in high places, 
and in erthe, peace to all people. 71 Also God said to his 
apostylls dyvers tymes, l Peace be among you.' So if God 
haue sent you grete realmes, kyngdomes, and lordeshipps, itt 

30 is not for to werre, the stronng ayeinst the feble ; for ye werre 
also ayeinst the pouere people, whiche ye oughte to kepe in 
reste and peace, and they ben sleyn and distroyed. That is 

1 W and R have nothing corresponding to in high places ; they substitute 
for att people. W, men of good voyll. R, hommes de bonne wulente. The verse 
from the Vulgate is completed in W by the addition of bone voluntatis; in 
R it stops at Deo. 


grete pitee for the Cristen to here of. And I shall say you 

what wolle make goode peace betwen you, by myn advice, 

ye shall yeve to hym you? doghtre in mariage, and all this 

Fol. 185.] debate to be cessed." All lordes said, "Blessyd be * he for 

5 his counsell." Soo itt was hold and keped. 

Then seid the kyng of Scottes, " Fai? frende, sith that you? 
fai? speche be so plesaunt to all people, goo ye now to the 
kyng you? pn'sonne? and bryng to vs the reporte of his wyll ; 
for we charge you with that occupation." And Surdyte said 

10 he wold with a goode wyll, sith that itt liked theym. And 
anoon he went and spake with the kyng of Irlond, and told 
hym the subieccon that he was in, and the perell that myght 
fall to his reaume ; and aftre told hym howe that God loues 
hym that loues his neghtboures, and how mony has ben lost 

15 by they? corage and excesse of covetyse. "Nowe what say 
ye, and I laboure so that ye may haue 1 the kynges yongre 
doghtre and that your raunson and debate be foryeven in the 
mariage ; and so euer aftre to be frendes." " Ser," said the 
kyng, " and ye may bryng itt aboute, I am myche beholden 

20 to you, aftre God, most of any man." " Wolle ye," 2 said 
Surdyte, "that I doo itt and bryng itt to a conclusion?" 
" Yea," said the kyng, " with all myn hertt, for I desire it 
most of any thyng." 

Then departed Surdyte from hym, and come to the coun- 

25 sell, and reported to theym that the kyng was ryght glad of 
the aliaunce, and forto haue peace. 

Thus was itt concluded and fulfylled. And the kyng 
and she ensured 3 befor the Archebyschop of Canterbury ; and 
within a moneth aftre they we? wedded with grete fest and 

30 ioy, for the kyng of Irlond had the? a hundreth knyghtes of 
a suyte, and gave to Surdite iiij stedes couresoures, and x 
thowsand besantes of gold, and grete plente of clothes of golde, 

1 The MS. repeats may haue. 2 MS. yen. 

S W, The kyng . . . made y e archebysshop . . .for to handfest theym. R } fist . . . 


82 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

of purpyll, and of sylke, and also grete peyns 1 of armyn and 
of sables. And within a while the kyng sent [the] queue 
into Irlonde, whe? as she was coroned, loued and worshipped. 

[Cap. XXIV. How Corbatan the third sonne of the Saw- 

5 deyn londed in Englond, and how Ponthus slewe hym 

and toke his tresou?. And the kynges two sonnes were 

sleyn in the batell. How the kyng offered to Ponthus 

to wed Genere his doghtre and to be kyng aftre hym.] 

SO itt happened in the vij te yer^ aftre that Surdyte come 
into Englond, that the thirde son of the sawdeyn, which 
was called Corbatan, had pylled mony iles and reaumes, and 
doon grete harme vnto the Cristen people, and made mony 
londes tributary to hym, and londed in Englond as his twoo 
brethre had that oon in Spayne, and that othre in Pety 

15 Bretan. Anon the? was a grete noys that he was londed with 
ix C vesselles, grete [and small], 2 and defyed the kyng and 
bad hym voyde the londe, or to forsake they? beleve and pay 

All the contre for grete fere tremelyd, 3 when they harde of 

20 the grete noumbre that the hethyn we? of. The kyng had 
counsell forto send hastely aboute, and so he sent hastely for 
the kyng of Scottes his brothre, and for the kyng of Irlond 
his son, and for the kyng of Cornewale his nevew, and for 
the Erie of Wales, and for all othre erles and barounes of his 

25 reaume. And when they we? assemylyd, the? was a grete 
armye. Also he sent his twoo sonnes and Surdyte ; and they 
come in ordynawnce bot iiij 4 Englysch myles fro the Saresyns, 
and ordaned they? batelles : wherof the kyng of Scottes and 
the kyng of Irlonde hade the furst; the secunde hade the 

1 E, de bonnes pennts (on an erasure) de gris dermines et de sebelines. W, 
goodefurres of veer and of sables. See pane, a garment, in Stratmann-Bradley. 
3 R, que grans que petis. W, what grete what small. 
3 MS. tremelyd mony. 
*E, a trois lieues. O adds angksaes. W, well afoure myle. 


kyng of Cornewale ; the thirde, the Erie of Wales ; the iiij te 

the Lorde lohn, the kyng eldyst son ; the v te the Lorde Ser 

Henry, the kynges yongre son ; and Surdyte had the vj te . 

The? 1 vj batelles wer, grete, and noumbred to moo than xxx te 

5 thovsand horsraen, beside theym that wer on fote, as archers 

and al blasters. 2 And Corbatan the kyng, which knewe of 

they? commyng made xij batelles and had moo then fourtee 3 

Fol. 185 b .] thovsand, besyde theym * on fote, and they were ryght fers, 

as they that had not ben dyscomfeted in xii yere, sith they 

10 departed from the sawdeyn of Babilone. 

And ou? people rode wele enbatelled and on a rowe ; and 
when they sawe the Saresyns oste, 4 that held so grete a coun- 
tre, 4 they gretly amervelled. They had all herde messe, 5 that 
the Bishop of Canterbury had songen, 5 and we? shreven and 

15 howselyd, and then they held theym myche more sure. Sur- 
dyte come by the batelles, and said, " Fei? Lordes, mervelles 
not of the grete noumbre, for we be vndreneth the banner of 
ou? Lorde Ihesu Criste, which fulfylled v M1 people with v 
barley lovys and twoo fysches ; for so he may (gyue) victorye 

20 to oon aganes C. Therof haue we goode hertt, and smyte 
we sharply aganes theym ; for he that wolle, 6 nedes the 
defendaunt comonly voydes and makes way. So goo we in 
Goddes name vppon theym withoute any delay, for they haue 
no Gode to defende theym, ne helpe them ; and lete vs be 

25 hardy withouten any fere, and they shall be anoon dyscom- 
feted, with the grace of God." 

J A tempting emendation is thes for ther*, but ther* . . . wer translates R, si 

8 W, arbalaslies. R, arbalestriers. 

3 R, quinze. O, /. mille. W, xl. 

4 W, the same, translating R, qui tint si grant pais. " Who occupied so much 

5 The clause is neither in W or R. 

6 1. e., smyte sharply. I render, " Who sharply attacks of necessity the 
defensive party yields," following R, Car qui bien assault et se deffent len lui 
vuide lentree et se fait ou voye. W, condenses, for he that well assaylleth or 
defendeth vpon theym that haue nofayth God helpeth hym. 

84 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

Then they smote thei? horses with thei? spurrys and come 
to gedre oon aganes an othre. There was grete cry and uoya 
of trumpes, and anon we? ryght mony ouerthrawen and dede. 
And the batell endured iiij houres 1 and more. The? myght 
5 men here and see swordes breke and clatre on the helmetea 
of stele. 

Surdyte made way whe? so euer he went, for as mony a& 
he ouerraghte we? deid or distroyd. Fireague, oon of the 
Saresyns, had slayne Ser John, the kynges eldest son, of 

10 whiche was grete harme. The batell was ryght cruell. 

Corbatan the kyng did ryght marvellously dedes of armes 
and sawe Ser Henry rychely arrayd, and how that he did 
mony fai? dedes of armes. He toke in his honde a grete 
shorte sworde 2 and stroke hym at a travers, in suche wyse 

15 that he perched his goode harnes, and stroke hym into the 
body alfe a fote. Surdyte then dressed hym and made the 
Saresyns to flee befor hym with the grete strokes that he gave 
theym, and beheld his maistre fall to the grounde, and hurte 
in the body. It nedes not to aske whethre that he was ryght 

20 sory or not. And then he stroke on the ryght hond and on 
the lefte honde, so far furth that he, with the helpe of the 
kyng of Irlond, made a grete voyde place; and anoon he 
lyght doune and helped his maystre vpp, and asked hym 
howe he dyd. And he said, " Wele " so that he we? revenged 

25 vppon hym that had gy ven hym that. "And what is he ? " 
said Surdyte. " It was Corbatan the kyng of the oste." 
"Ser, doute ye not," said Surdyte. "I wolle dye, bot if I 
son revenge you." Then was the kynges son sett vpon hors 
bak and putt furth of (the) prese. 

30 And then Surdyte associate hym with C men or moo, and 
behelde the gonfanoune of the kyng Corbatan and went that 
way, and stroke on euery side thwarton and end way, and 
brake the prese and sawe the kyng, which did mervellously 
with his hondes and was rychely armyd and had a ryche 

1 R, dura la b. tant qui heure de tierce. W omits. 

8 W, a spere grete & sparte (?). E, une espee grosse et court. 


croune of golde vpon his hede. Surdy te said vnto hym, "Ay, 
false Saresyn, thou shall goo no ferthe?, which has hurtt my 
maistre." Then he come vnto hym and smote hym with all 
his myght, that he astouned hym and made hym to fall vpoii 
5 the arson of his sadle ; and then Surdyte smote hym agane 
vndre the lasys of his helmete so strongly that he smote of 
his helmete and his hede with all. 

And then he toke the hede and ba? itt to his maistre oute 
of the prese. And as sone as he sawe itt, he said, " Blessed 

10 be God, and I dye, I shal dye more ioyfully; and graunte 
*Fol. 186.] marcy," 1 said he, "to Surdyte." "Ser," * sayd he, "thinke 
not to dye, for ye shall see within a while thes Saresyns dys- 
comfeted, seyng that they? kyng is deid." 

And he said sothe ; for as sone as they wyst that theyr 

15 kyng was deyd noon of theyrn stode at defence, bot were sory 
and abasched, and began to dyscomforth theym self. And 
Surdyte entred into the presse and began to doo fay? fetes of 
armes, and to reioyse his felleschipp, and to thrawe doune 
Saresyns ; and faght so mervellously that all men knewe hym 

20 by the grete strokes that he gave. So they fled all afor hym, as 
doos the hayres afor the grehoundes, 2 and toke theym all to 
gedre as they that were oute of array, and fled by the contre 
as bestes. 

And then ye myght see Englisch, Scottysch, and Iresch, men 

25 showte and crye strongly vpon theym, and sloo theym vpon 
euery side, so that the feld lay full of deyd bodys. The 
Saresyns wyst not whethi? to flee, ne whe? to hyde theym. 
Ther we? mony that fled to they? shippes ; bot Surdyte and 
the Englisch pursued theym son, that they myght flee noo 

30 ferther ; and then they wer cast into the see. There was grete 

And Surdyte come to a shipp and entred into itt, and spake 
Latyn, and asked where the shipp was that the kyng was in 
and his tresowr. Then a Saresyn shewed hym the shipp and 

1 R, grant mem'. W, grammercy. 

* R, comme le lieurefait deuant les chiens. W, as shepe before the wolfe. 

86 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

went oute with hym into itt, which was grete, fai?, and large, 
and wele stuffed, that it was mervell to see. And the? we? 
sume in the shipp that wold a 1 defended theym; and Surdyte 
leid hond on his sworde and sloo all theym that was therin, 
5 save thre Saresyns that come in with hym the whiche said 
they wold be cristened, by cause that Mahounde soffred so 
mony to dye. And they wer cristened ; and Surdyte yeave 
theym myche goode. Then said oon of the Saresyns, " Ser, 
see ye on of yonde coffyrs and trunkes, that be full of gold 

10 and syluer the which the kyng Corbatan had wonne of 
mony of the Cristen people in mony realmes, iles, and con- 
trees so myche that itt is mervell to see ? " And the Cristen 
lordes toke vesselles and shippes, for the? we? the noumbre 
of ix C sales. They had mony grete wynnyngges, wherof they 

15 we? all ryche. 

And Surdyte delyuerd his shipp to suche as he trusted best, 
and badd theym bryng itt to London ; for he thoght the? to 
yeve to sawdeoures, to men of armes, and archers, for to goo 
into his contrey of Spayne, that the Saresyns keped in seruage. 

20 Notwithstondyng, he gave so grete gyftes that euery man mer- 
velled for the grete largenes. 

The nyght passed it was on a tuysday and on the wedyns- 
day the[i] serched the feld to fynde the Crysten that were 
slayn. And the? they fonde the kynges twoo sonnes, the Erie 

25 of Wales, 2 the Erie of Gloucestre, twoo barounes, 3 and aboute 
xl 4 knyghtes, and ij M1 comons. Sum we? led into they? con- 
trey and the remena^nt we? buryed in a white 6 abbey. 

The kyng, the quene, and all the contrey had grete ioy of 
the victorye that they had. And they said all that the good 

30 knyght Surdyte was the chief cause of all ; for had not God 
and he ben, they had loste the feld. So he had the lavde and 
the prise. 

1 Undoubtedly a colloquialism for wold haue. 

* W adds, the baron of staunford. R, sta/ort. 

* R, trois autres barons. R, thre other barons. 

* R, bien cinquante. W, .m. 

5 W omits. R, en une abbaye blanche. 


Bot sorowe and wepyng was the? myche for the kynges 
twoo sonnes that we? deyd. The kyng, the quene, the ladys 
and lordes made grete chere and thonkyng to Surdyte, and 
seyd, by hym they had ouercomen thei? enemes. Surdyte 
5 weped when he sawe the kyng wepe for his maistre ; bot the 
kyng toke hym to comforth and said, that in more mery ne 
in bettre seruice myght he not dye, then in the seruice of God 
and in defendyng of his contrey aganes the Saresyns. 

Itt taryed not long bot that he assemelyd his councell. 

10 And the? was the kyng of Scottes, his brothre, the kyng of 
Cornewale, his nevewe, and all his lordes. And the kyng 
*Fol. 186 b .] said, "Fai? * Sens, ye see the mervelles that be comen to this 
londe, and howe I haue lost my two sonnes. I be olde, and 
the quene is not yonge; so we must devyse who may haue 

15 this roialme aftre, and who sail gouerne itt in myn age." 
The kyng of Scottes stode vp, and said, " I haue wedded you? 
sustre and ye haue wedded myn ; so ye owe to holde me as 
you? brothre. I wold councell you to yeve you? dignite to 
Surdyte; for then ye shall be dovbted and dred, and you? 

20 roialme worshipped and wele gouernyd." And then they 
answerd all with oon voice, that the corisell was goode; and 
the kyng accorded therunto. 

And the kyng of Scottes, desyryng to wytt the wyll of 
Surdyte, said vnto hym, " Surdyte, ye ought to thonke God, 

25 for ye be fai? and welebeloued of all people ; for the kyng 
and his lordes has chosen you to haue his doghtre, and to be 
kyng aftre hym and in his live to gouerne his roialme." 
" Ser," said Surdyte, " God thonke the kyng and all theym 
that wolle me goode and suche worshipp. It is bot febly 

30 counselled, for it longes not to a kynges doghtre, and suche 
an heirytoure, to haue suche oon as I am, and of so lowe lyn- 
nage ; and Gode forbede, that as by me shuld be lowed the 
bloode riall." "What is itt that ye say?" said the kyng. 
" We be all comen of oon fadre and modre. And mor ouer, 

35 the? be so myche goode and worshipp in you that ye be 
worthie to haue a grettre." So they spake myche to gedre of 

88 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

this mate?. Bot the kyng of Scottes myght neuer fynde in 
hym any wyll that he wold assent, for he made so fai? excu- 
sacions that it was meruell to he?. 

And when he sawe that he myght not bryng itt aboute, 

5 he retourned to the kyng and to the counsell, and said to 

theym the answe? that he had, and how that he thonked the 

kyng and his counsell, and wysely and worshipfully excused 

hym. " Truly," said the kyng, " he is maried, or has be- 

travthed sume lady, for ye may he? that is hertt is sett on 

10 sume womruan." " Truly," said they all, " we trowe he be 

maryed or travthe-plyght." 

The kynges doghtre was ryght sory that she myght not 

haue [hym]. " Truly," said she, " I see wele that his hertt 

is sett in sume othre place, or elles he is wedded." She com- 

15 plenyd myche in hi? hertt and sorowed, for aboue all men 

lyvyng she loued hym the best. 

Nowe leve we of Surdyte and of the courte, and retourne 
we to Sydone and to the kyng of Bretan. 

[Cap. XXV. How Guenelete, that made hym maistre aboute 
20 the kyng of Bretayn, wold lete marye Sydone vnto the 

kyng of Burgone. And how Sydone toke terme vnto 
the Whissontyde at the seuen yeres ende. How Herland 
sent his sonne Oliver to serche all contrees for Ponthus, 
and he found hym in the courte of Englond. 

25 "TTThen Ponthus had taken his leve of Sydone and taken 

* V hi s shipp to passe ouer the see, itt is noo question bot 

Sydone had grete sorowe day and nyght ; bot she keped itt so 

secrete that noo man wyst therof bot Ellyous, the whiche com- 

forthed hi? gretly. Sydone said in hi? lamentacion : "Alias ! 

30 for my sake is goon the best and the fayrest of the world." 

So itt happened that Guenelete had all his desire and was 
all maistre aboute the kyng. He was so flateryng and so fai? 
spoken that he putt Herland oute of his office, and made (the) 


kyng his heuy lorde ; l and he laboured so that he had the kyng 
and all the courte in goumiaunce. 

Sydon was desyred of mony kynges and dukes. And among 
all othre, the kyng of Burgone hard say, and was reported to 
5 hym by the Erie of Mounte Belyard his cosyn, that Sydon was 
the fairest and the wysest that any man knewe. Then was the 
kyng of Burgon so amerous that he myght not endure, bot if 
he myght haue hi? loue. He desyred to knowe by whome the 
kyng was gouernyd and in whome he traysted moste ; and 

10 men told hym it was a knyght called Guenelete. And anoon 
he sent to hym grete gyftes, that he shuld labre to the kyng 
*Fol. 187.] of Bretane for hym. And Guenelete was * covetous and 
spake to the kyng and said, " Ser, lete marye you? doghtre, 
while ye be in hele and ye shall alie you with sume goode 

15 kyng, and then doo ye wysley. Loo he? the kyng of Bur- 
gone desires to haue hi? ! He is a worthie, and a ryche, kyng. 
Itt we? folye to refuse hym/' 

Guenelete said and did so myche, that the kyng spake to 
his doghtre, and sayd, "Fai? doghtre, I be olde and feble and 

20 I haue noo child bot you, and ye be desyred of mony kynges 
and grete lordes. And I haue herd say ' He that reson refuses, 
reson wolle goo fro hym; and so he myschevys wyllfully;' 
wherof God defende that in this case itt be so doon. Fai? 
doghtre, the kyng of Burgone desires you, whiche is nevyewe 

25 to the kyng of Fimmce, and he is a myghtey, ryche kyng. 
Me semes he oghte not to be refused ; and as for me, if it 
please you, I accorde therto." "My Lorde," said she, "as yitt 
is noo nede forto be maried." " Truly," said the kyng, " ye 
haue so ofte tymes chalanged, 2 and I wot not wherfor ; bot I 

30 shall (neuer) love 3 you, bot if ye agree you to hym." 

1 B, le [Herlant] fist mal du roy. W, heuylorde. What is a heuy lorde? Per- 
haps u a displeased, unresponsive, master." This would tally roughly with B. 

2 R, vous mauez tant calenge. W, ye haue so longe forborne. 

3 MS. leve. B, ameray. W, I shall neuer loue you. The context shows clearly 
that the reading of W is the original. 

90 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

She was gretly abasshed of hi? fadre wordes, that we? so 
harde to here. Then said she, " My Lorde, ye wot wele that 
the? is noo thyng that ye cowmaimde me bot that I wolle 
doo itt. My swete Lorde, I wolle say to you in counsell that 
5 I haue a grevaunce and a dysease in me that I dare not tell 
you, bot itt wolle be Whyssouday or I be hole, and then I 
shall fullfyll your comma undernent." " Wele," said the kyng, 
" itt suffices me and that terme I wolle yeve you." 

And the same Wytsontyd was the ende of the vij yeres 

10 comen oute, that was promysed betwen Sydone and Pouthus. 

The kyng held hym pleased, an<? told Guenelete the terme 

that she had taken. Guenelete said that itt was wele, and sent 

to the kyng of Burgone, and did so myche, that the day of 

the mariage was sett the tuysday aftre Whyssontyde. 

15 Sydone was passyng sory and sent mony tymes to herkyn 
of Ponthus and myght here noo glad tithynges of hym, by 
cause that he had chaunged his name. She was in grete 
sorow day and nyght. And when the tyme approchied, she 
was gretly abasshed, and sent for Herland, and sayd, "My 

20 true frende, I mervell mych of my lorde my fadre, that he is 
so fonde of Guenelete and in suche wyse that he has made 
hym doo marvellous dedes, as to putt you oute of you? office ; 
and also by his fals wyles he caused the best and the manliest 
knyght of Cristeantie to departe oute of the contrey, that is 

25 Ponthus, whiche ye noryshed and taghte thre yeres, whiche 
ye loue so wele; and mony vyolente 1 dedes he has caused 
my fadre to doo, as he that is so grete a flatere?, and as 
decey veable as euer was man ; and in like wyse he caused me 
to be gy ven to the kyng of Burgone ; agane my wyll for itt 

30 is tolde me that he is evyll condiciouned, fatt, olde, scabbyd, 
and frentyke. Bot I may not refuse the commawndement of 
my fadre ; and so I haue taken terme vnto the tuysday aftre 

1 MS. vyolence. R, villains fais. W, shamefull thynges. Vyolence myght be a 
corruption of R's reading, but probably the original was that of O, vaillans 
/aw, which myght well have confused the translator, and have led to the 
rendering in our text. 


Whissontyde. And 1 wote wele, and Ponthus knewe itt, he 
wold putt a remedy therin ; and in trouthe the? be noo man 
in this worlde that I wolde haue dysclosed my counsell to bot 
to you." 

5 " Ma dame," said Herland, "God defend that he cause you 
to haue any husbond ayeinst you? wolle, or any that has so 
evyll taches and maners. I shall tell you Ma dame, Olive?, 
my sonne, be oon of the kynghtes that Ponthus most louys ; 
and he shall goo into Englond, Scottlond, and Monde, and 

10 all aboute, and if he live, he shall make hym to come to 

you." "Ay," said she, " In goode faithe, ye say wele." And 

anoon Herland spake to his son of this mate?, whiche went 

with full goode wyll. 

Tol 187 b 1 ^ nc ^ Sydone and Herland charged Olive? with the message 

15 and gave hym money enughe for his dyspenses. And * he 
passed the see and come to Hampton. And he enquered and 
fonde wele, that vij yere afor that tyrae the? come a knyght 
into Englond the fairest and the best named in worshipp, 
and he chaunged 1 his name and called hym Surdyte de Droyte 

20 Voye. Then Ser Olive? thoght that itt was Ponthus by the 
signes that he harde, and said to hym self that he chaunged 
his name for sume cause. 

And he and his yomen went furthe, and as they come by a 
wodde, they mett with thevys ; and by cause they knewe not 

25 his languege and sawe hym rychely arrayd, they ran vpon 
hym and toke frome hym all that he hade and hurted hym ; 
and he escaped and went fro theym into the wodde to save 
his live. And the? he soffred hungre and pouertie, dysease 
and almost naked. So he wayled and sorowed, for he founde 

30 noo comforth of his dysease ; bot his tarryng and lettyng 
greved hym more then dide all his losse and disease. Bot as 
sone as he myght, he passed the forest and went sekyng hi& 
bred for the loue of Gode fro dore to dore, vnto the tyme 

1 This lapse into the writer's point of view is only in D. R, Et se n<mmoit. 
W, but he named hym. But probably the scribe's eye caught chaunged from the 

92 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

that he come vnto the kynges courte, that same [day], at the 
afire noon, that the kyng of Scottes spake vnto Surdyte for 
the mariage of Gene?. 

And then Surdyte was at the courte whe? as he beheld the 
5 dy sport es of yong gentylmen that dyssported theym in dyuers 
maners. Ser Olive?, the son of Herlaud, come into the courte 
almust naked and dysspoled, and as he loked aboute, he sawe 
Ponthus and knewe hym. Anoon then he come befor hym, 
knelyng doune, and said, " My Lord Ponthus, God yeve you 

10 good grace and long live and encrese you in the worshipp 
that ye be in." Ponthus, a litle abashed and alf asshamed, 
said to hym ; '' My frende to whome speke ye? " " Ser, said 
he, " I speke vnto you, for I knowe wele ye be the kynges 
son of Spayne, that has forgetyn the contree of Bretane. And 

15 if I be pouere and naked, I be the son of Herland Olive?, 

which ye sum tyme loved wele; and I be comen to seke you." 

And when Ponthus hard that he knewe hym wele, he did 

from hym his mantell and cast itt vpon hym and toke hym 

in his armes and kyssed hym, wepyng, and myght speke no 

20 worde to hym. And then he led hym into the chaumbre and 
lenyd bothe vpon a beddes syde. And when he myght speke, 
he said, "Ay, swete trusty frende and brothre, how doo they 
in that contrey, and who dysspoyled you thus?" And he 
said that he had mett with thevys. Grete wepyrig was betwen 

25 theym twoo. And Ponthus did array hym newe with the 
beste arayment that he had ; and when he was fully arrayd, 
he semed a full fai? knyght to see. And then he told hym 
what p[er]elle he was in, among thevys, and howe he escaped 
and begged his brede fro dore to dore; and told also that 

30 Guenelete had all the covrte in revoll, and that pe 1 kyng 
loued hym most of any man, and howe he had putt oute his 
fadre fro his office ; and aftre told hym howe Sydone wold 
not assent to noo mariage, and of the grete dysease that she 
had soffred, and att the farthrest, she myght not lenge? 

35 abide vnmaried, bot to the tuysday aftre Whitsontyd, and 

1 Entered in a different hand above the line. 


that then she shuld be maryed to the kyng of Burgon, the 
which be full evyll condidouned, "bot Guenelete causes 
itt, for he has taken myche gold of hym. Sydone sendes to 
you prayng you to sett a remedye therin, for all the loue that 
5 be betweyn you twoo." And when Ponthus herd the grete 
loue and travthe of his lady, the teres fell doune from his 
eyne; and said, and God wold vouchesaue, that he wold 
Fol. 188.] (sett) a remedy therin. So they spake enughe * to gedre of 
mony thynges. 

10 [Cap. XXVI. How Ponthus retorned to Litle Bretayn ; and 
there he chaunged gounes with a pouere pylgreme, and 
went to the feste of the kyng of Burgone and of Sydone. 
How Sydone gaue drynk to hym, as to a pouere man, 
and she knewe hym by the ryng that he lete fall into 

15 the cupp. How Ponthus come dysgysed to the iustyng 

whe? as of aventure he slewe the kyng of Burgone.] 

The tithynges come thorow oute the courte that the? was 
comen a man fro Litle Bretan that knewe Ponthus, 
which named hym self Surdyte. When the kyng and the 

20 courte herd this, they had mych mervell, and the kyng said 
to the quene and to the kyng of Scottes, st Me thoght euer 
that he was of hyghe? degre then he said he was, for the 
noble dedes that he dyd and for the goodnes of hym." "Ay," 
said the quene, " I mervell not thogh he wolle not take ou? 

25 doghtre in maryege, for I haue herd say that he loues ou? 
cosyn Sydon of Bretan withouten any vyllanye." " Truly," 
said the kyng, "it may wele be, when he wolle not marye 
hym self in this contrey." 

When they went to soppe?, Ponthus come into the hall 

30 and his knyght with hym, which was ryght wele arrayd with 
riche clothes of sylk furryd with sables, and he was ryght 
fair" to see. The kyng of Englond and the kyng of Scottes 
went ayeinst hym. And then he said to Ponthus, " Wherfor 
haue ye so long celed you frorne vs, and said that ye we? a 


pouere knyght sonne, and ye be a kynges son ? Thus we be 
dysceyved and has not doon to you the worshipp that we 
ought to doo to you ; bot ye be worthie to haue the blame, 
for in good faith, we haue not doon itt bot of ignorance." 

5 And when Ponthus sawe the genty lines of the kyng, he said, 
"All thogh it be so, that I be a kynges son, it is bot litle 
worth ; for a man dyshery te ought full litle to prase l hym 
selfe." "Ay," said the kyng, " save you? bettre advice, (he) 
that has the noblenes, w^tt, beautie, and bountie with the 

10 goode maners and the worthenes that is in you, is more worth 
than a reaume ; for ye be aquantea with goode frendes, that, 
by the grace of Godde, ye may conque? you? awn agane, and 
mony othre." Ponthus was asshamed therwith and turned 
the tayle into an othre matie?. 

15 The kyng made hym to sytt betwen the quene and his 
doghtre, whethre he wold or not. Aftre soppe? they went to 
dyssporte theym in a garthyn. Ponthus come to the kyng 
and sent for the kyng of Scottes, for the kyng of Irlond, 
for the kyng of Cornewale, and for mony othre lordes and 

20 barounes; and they sett theym in an herbe?. And then 
Ponthus sayd, " My Lorde, and all my lordes, and frendes, 
I wold make a request of a thyng that I haue doon." 2 And 
said, howe the sowdeyn sonnes has wered vpon the Cristen, 
and by the grace of God two of theym we? distroyed ; and 

25 howe the thirde revoled hym in his contrey of Spayne 
and by engyne entred into the londe and scaled the citee 
of Colloigne ; and tolde theym the myschief that the londe 
stode in ; and howe his fadre was slayne ; and howe that 
a goode prest that taghte hym and xiij childre, and 3 hyd 

30 theym in a cave moo then 3 two days withouten mete or 

1 R, se doit pou priser. 

2 R, une requests de monfait, is mistranslated by D, correctly rendered by 
W, of a nedefull mater of myne. 

3 MS. And moo had then in a cave theym. R, Et les cela deux iours. W, hydde. 
The emendation will appear violent, but it all follows from the substitution 
of hyd for had. I interchange theym and moo then, the illogical and at the 
head of the clause is allowed to stand, for such constructions are not un- 
common in the text. 


drynke ; and as the wolfe goos otite of the wodd for hungre, 
so the xiij went oute of the cave and we? taken as son as 
they went oute; and howe the knyght saued theym. And 
also he told howe the shipp brake ayeinst a rokkete of the 

5 see; and how they arrived in Litle Bretan; and all the maner 
howe they we? saved. And as he told his tale, the teres ran 
doune frome mony of the lordes eyen, to he? the perell and 
the sorowe that they had escaped. 

And when that he had tolde theym all the matie?, he said 

10 that he wold goo into the contrey of Spayne to conque? his 

awn ryght, by the grace of God, a for I thonke hym I haue 

ben in the fellyschipp of theym that has dystroyed twoo of 

the sowdeyn sonnes ; so the? be noon of ly ve bot the thirde, 

F ol lggb -I whiche holdes the roialme that shuld be myn. And I vndre- 

15 stond that the roialme is wele and wysly gouerned, * and that 
they haue slayne bot fewe people; for they be made tribu- 
torye and euery hede pays a besaunt of gold, and for the 
grete goode that they pay, they soffre euerych of theym to 
holde and to kepe the lawe that theyrn best likes." "Ser," 

20 said the kyng, " I offre me with all myn hertt to goo with 
you, althogh I be olde, with my people and my goode." 
" Ser," said Ponthus, " God yeld it you." 

The kyng of Scottes and the othre kynges, erles, and 
barounes, offred theym to goo with hym. And Ponthus 

25 thonked the kynges and the lordes of thei? goode and grete 
worshipp that they offred hym, and said that he wold haue 
noon bot men of armes and souldioures, aboute the noumbre 
of xij ML , " the whiche I wolle wage, for I thonke God I 
haue god enughe." And he said sothe, for at the last batell 

30 he founde enughe in Corbatan shippes so myche that itt was 
grete mervell to see, for he had grete payne to noumbre itt. 
And wold noo thyng take bot the best knyghtes and men oi 
armes, aboute the noumbre aboue said. And ordaned ship- 
pyng and sowded theym, so that they held theym plesyd and 

35 they had ioye to goo with hym. Also he desired to haue 
the Erie of Gloucester, the Erie of Richemound, the Erie 

96 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

of Darby, to be captaynes of the Englyschmen and they 
gmunted with goode wyll the Erie of Darsy, 1 the Erie of 
Dace, 1 for the Scottes, and he had an erle of euery contrey 
forto warne 2 the people of the contrey. 

5 And then they toke leve of the kynges and of the lordes 
and went to shipp and pulled vp thei? sales and departed 
with grete ioy fro the porte of Hampton. And the kyng 
desired that he shuld come agane as sone as he myght. And 
he thonked hym of the grete worschip that he had doon hym. 

10 The kyng of Scottes, the kyng of Irlond, and the kyng of 
Cornewale convened theym to shipp and toke theyr leue, full 
sore wepyng. And the kyng of Irlond said vnto Ponthus, 
"Ay fai? frende, now see I wele that ye loue me not, sith that 
ye haue doon me so myche goode that I ne all my reaume 

15 may not deserve itt, and now wolle not let me goo with you 
to helpe you/' " Ser," said Ponthus, " God thonke you. I 
refuse not you? helpe, aftre that I haue uede in my iourney, 
bot I wolle not haue you with me as nowe, ne noon of myn 
othre lordes, vnto the tyme that I knowe the mane? of the 

20 contrey and for othre certan causes. Then they kyssed to 
gedre and toke leve aythre at othre. 

Thus departed Ponthus and his armye fro the costes of 
Englond and saled day and nyght vnto the tyme that they 
come neghe to Vennys. And then he ordaned his grete navie 

25 to abide in the highe see, and said that he wold that the? 
were asspyed no moo bot xv 3 shippes, and that they shuld 
make theym like marchaundes of salt, to come into the towne. 
So he ordaned full wele his dooyng, and toke certayn vesselles 
with hym, in the which we? iij C wele fightyng men ; and made 

30 theym to londe be nyght in a grete wodd betwyn Amroy 4 
and Vennys; and charged theym that they shuld not be farre 
of, vnto the tyme that they had tithynges fro hym, and that 

1 R, Le conte dars et le sire de Duglas, nothing is said about the Scots. 
W mentions only Of the scottes the Erie of Douglas. 
2 R, gouuerner. W, gouerne. 
3 R, xl. W, a forty. 4 R,roye. W, Auroy. 


they shuld come when they we? sent for. This was the mone- 
day in Whitsontyde, and the tuysday shuld be the weddyng 
of Sydone and of the kyng of Burgone. 

Ponthus leped to hors and toke hot a yoraan with hyra. 

5 The tuysday erly, as he rode, he founde a pylgreme that had 
his govne sved full of patches and a cappe full of broches. 
And anoon he lyght doune and said to the pylgreme, " Frende 
we wolle chaunge ou? govnes and I wolle haue your cappe 
and ye shall haue myn." "Ay Ser," said the pylgreme, " ye 

10 scorne me." " In goode faith, that doo I not," said Ponthus. 
Fol. 189.] And * so they chaunged. And Ponthus did vpon hym the 
pylgreme govne, his hatt, and his hosen ; and toke the Bur- 
done that he ba? in his honde. And his yoman said vnto 
hym, " Ser, ye be oute of you? wy tt. Why chaunge ye you? 

15 riche array with this poiure clothyng?" " Hold thy peace," 
said Ponthus, "and holde thes twoo horses att the tounes 
ende, and remeve not vnto the tyme that I come to the." 

And then he went furth his way whe? as the kyng of Bur- 
gone was ; and anoon aftre he sawe his somers and his horses 

20 come with his officers ; and aftre he sawe the kyng rydyng 
on a palfrey all blak. And the kyng and Guenelete rode 
talkyng to gedre. As they rode furth, Ponthus said to theyrn, 
" Loo he? be twoo wele noryshed ! for bothe twoo has goode 
fatt belles, and wele fed. Ay Sainte Mary !" said he to Guene- 

25 lete, "you? bellye has getten mony fatt soppys of courte." 1 
Guenelete waxed rede for shame and was full wroth and 
turnyd his hors and said, " Begga?, what says thou ? " and 
was aboutward to smyte hym with a tronchon that he ba? in 
his honde. And Ponthus turned his burdone and said that 

30 he shuld make his berd, 2 and he tovched hym. Then the 
kyng of Burgone said to Guenelete, "Leve ye this trowane, 
for ye can haue no worshipp of hym." And so they passed 
furth toward the courte. And Ponthus, that louyd theym not, 
playd the foell befor theym and mokked theym as they rode. 

1 W adds with K, ye are full well shapen to be a veray grete flaterer of the courte. 
* R, dist qui luifera sa barbe. 


98 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

And euer Ponthus foloed theym to they come to the courte. 
And when he sawe men entre in at the gate, he foloed in 
afire theym. And the porte? wold haue putt hym oute, hot 
Ponthus shote hym so fro hym that he made hym fall ; and 
5 said to hym that he was oon of the xiij pouere men that was 
chosen. " Goo ! A myschaunce come to the ! " said he, " Thou 
be a strong begge?." 

At that tyme itt was the custome at the weddyng of grete 
astates, the? shuld be xiij pouere men ordanyd, the which 

10 shuld sitt at mett befor the bride ^t a table by theym selfe 
in the worshipp of God and of his xij apostelles. 1 And afire 
the dynne?, she that was maryed shuld yeve drynke to eueryche 
of the pouere men, in a copp of golde. And thus went Pon- 
thus and satt doune for oon of the xiij. 

15 The fest was grete and of mony dyuers seruices, Ponthws 
ete bot litle and beheld ofte tymes his lady Sydone, which 
was bot of simple chere, and all be-wepte ; for Guenelete told 
hi? that Ponthus was deyd in Irlonde and she trowed itt 
bot a litle. When the tables was taken vp, they led Sydone 

20 to hi? chaumbre to chaunge hi? arayment and hi? attyre, forto 
goo to the scafoldes to see the iustes and the dyssportes. And 
in the comyng to hi? chaumbre the? was a gallerye, in the 
which we? the xiij pouere men. And ther was ordaned twoo 
gentyllwommen that oon had a potte of syluer full of wyne, 

25 that othre hade a cupp of golde and wated vpon Sydone. 
And when she come, she gave drynke to euery pouere man 
and Ponthus was the last. And as he dranke he lete fall the 
ryng with the diamaunte, that Sydone yeave hym at thei? 
furst aqucmtance, into the cupp ; and when he had dronken, 

30 he sayd softly to Sydone, " Madame, I pray you to drynke 
this litle for the loue of Ponthus." And when she harde the 
name of Ponthus, itt reiosed hi? gretly and she toke the cupp 
and dranke ; and in hi? drynkyng she sawe the ryng a[nd] 

1 This custom of having poor men at the feast is dismissed with a word in 
W, nor is the reason for the custom given. The description in the text 
follows R literally. 


knewe itt wele anoon and was ravysshed for ioye, so that she 

wyst not wele what she dyd. And then she called hi? damesell 

Ellious and said to hi? in counsell, that she shuld lede the 

grete pouere man aftre hi? into hi? warderopp ; and so she 

5 led hym with hi?. And thos othre pouere men demyd that 

she wold yeve hym sum maner of gyftes for the loue of God. 

And when she was in hi? warderopp, and noo moo with 

Fol. 189 b .] hi? hot he and Ellyous and he * was dysgysed, that noo 

man myght knaw hym with grete payne Sydone spake furst 

10 and said, " Swete frende, who betoke you thys ryng that I 
fonde in the cupp?" " Wote ye not," said he, "to whome 
ye gave itt?" "Yis," said she, "ryght wele. Bot is he deid 
or on live ? I pray you tell me truly." Said he, " He is on 
live, Madame, trowed ye that he was deid?" "Yea, sothely," 

15 said she, " for Guenelete and mony othe? told me so." "And 
if ye see hym, what wold ye say ? " said he. " I may say," 
said she, " that I had neuer so mych ioy in my hertt, as I 
shuld haue then." When he hard that, he said no more, hot 
rubbed a litle his vyssage that he had peynted; and anoon 

20 she knewe hym, and said, "Ay, ye be Ponthus ! and ther is 
noo thyng in this world that I loue more, aftre God and my 
fadre." Then they had gret ioy and cleped and kyssed to 

And then he said to assey hir pacience, " Ma dame I be 

25 ryght wele pleased that ye be so wele and rychely maryed." 
"Ay," said she, " my swete frende, I pray you nomor therof, 
for he lives not that I wolle haue, bot you, if itt pleasse you 
to haue me, the whiche I swe? to you and has sworne ofte 
tymes, with mouthe and hertt, for the laste promys avayles 

30 not, bot oonly the furste." "Ay Madame," said he, "thinke 
ye neuer to take so pouere man, beggyng his bred, and for to 
leve a ryche kyng. I shall neuer counsell you, to acquyte my 
trouthe, to leve hym." Then said she, "Truly my swete 
frende, I wolle neuer haue othre bot you, for I shall neuer be 

35 wele att ease, bot a thowsant tymes mor at ease to soffre in 
you? companye the mysease and the povertie that ye soffre, 

100 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

then to haue all the ryches of the world with the myghteyst 
kyng that is ; for that pouertie that God has sent you is hot 
to assay you, that may aftre yelde you rytches 1 and wor- 
shipp double folde if ye putt holle yon? trust to hym. 
5 When Ponthus hard the grete trouthe and stedfastnes of 
hi?, the teres fell doune from his eeyn, and aftre he smyled 
a litle, and said, " Madame, by my trouthe the? was neuer 
fonde a bettre, a faire?, ne a more stedfaste lady then ye be ; 
and sith I see you? grete trauthe, I wolle hyde no thing 

10 frome you no lenge?. For I tell you for trouthe, that I haue 
more gold and syluer and precious stones viij 2 tymes told, 
than euer had my fadre ; and also I haue xij M1 men of armes, 
sowded and payd for alf a ye?, forto goo and conque? my 
contrey that was my fadres. And dysmay you not for I shall 

15 tell you what ye shall doo ; ye schall goo to the scafoldes to 
see the iustes and ye shall take with you Pollides my cosyn, 
and my fellawes, so that the[i] be aboute you ; and itt shall 
not be long bot I shall see you. I may no lengre tarrye with 
you." Then they kyssed 3 and departed. 

20 And he went furth haltyng and come to his yoman, that 
abode hym, and toke his hors and rode to the wodd whe? he 
had lefte his people. And when they sawe hym, they knewe 
hym not; and they went to haue taken hym for a spye. Bot 
he began to laghe and said, "I am Ponthus;" and then they 

25 knewe hym. And the Erie of Gloucestre said, " Ser, ye had 
almost doon you a vylleny. How be ye thus dysgised?" 
" Ser," said he, " I haue doon itt for a cause that I wold not 
be knawne." And then he sett theym in ordenawnce, aftre 
the noumbre of xl knyghtes, all of oon suyte, of the worthiest 

30 of his companye. And he told theym his entent. 4 And then 
they come rydyng by x and by x thorow the stretes, so that 
it was grete ioy to see. 4 And then the Bretanes had grete 

*An unfinished h is changed to c. * W, seuen. R, sept. 

3 R, Si lacole et encore ne losa baiser ne Requerre. W, And toke his leue and 
folde her in his armes & halsed her /and yet durste not kysse no desyrefor to kysse her. 

4 This sentence is found neither in W nor in R. 


mervell, and the Burgones bothe, what men they we?, that 
we? so wele armed and so wele besene. 

And by that tyme Sydone was comen to the scafold with 

<V>1. 190.] mony fai? ladys and gentyllwommen. * And Pollides toke 

5 the reyne of hi? bridle and convehed hi? to the scafoldes, 1 

for the whiche Guenelete was inwardly wroth, that Sydon 

had commaunded hym to doo so. And Sydone told Pollides 

that he shuld se his cosyn Ponthus. Then Pollides had full 

grete ioy in his hertt and told all his fellawes, and they had 

10 full grete ioy in they? hertes of the tithynges. 

. Also it nedes not to aske whethre that Sydone was ryght 
ioy full in hi? hert or not. And when sche saw Ponthus so 
large, so wele armed, and so wele syttyng vpon his hors, 
and iusted rowe by rowe, and threwe doune knyghtes and 

15 horses, and brake mony sperys, and did mervellously, 
Sydone waxed rede a litle for ioye and said, " Se ye hym that 
is armyd in purpyll and asure, and has a white ladye in his 
creste holdyng 2 a lyon enchyned and the lyon has leftres of 
golde, whiche says 'God helpe' 3 and has aboute xl fellawes 

20 of his suyte, savyng they haue no le^res of gold ; for he 
with the lettres of gold is Ponthus, and the othre be his 
fellawes." "Ay Ma dame," said Pollides, " I knowe it wele 
by his rydyng and by his dedes of arrnes." Then Pollides 
schewed hym to his fellawes, the which held theym nyght 4 

25 Sydone, like as she had commtmnded theym. 

The kyng of Burgone come into the feld vpon a grete 
stede of Spayne, and he was wysly arrayd and wele armed, 
and he had aboute xxx 5 knyghtes of his suyte. Euerych 
they? speres raysed redye, and began to spu? and to iuste by 

30 rowe with the Bretanes that held the fest. 

Then Ponthus sawe the kyng of Burgonne and dressed 
hym toward hym and his fellyschipp. And then they ouer- 

'An erasure, some six letters long, follows scafoldes in the MS. 
8 MS. holdyyng. 

3 W misrenders, God helpe the fourty felawes. R, dieu aide. 

4 See the glossary for the similar forms neghtboures and hight. 
6 W, forty. E, xx. O, xxx. 

102 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

threw knyghtes and horses, so that euerych of theym were 
abasshed. The kyng of Bretan, which was on the scalfold 
with the ladys and olde knyghtes, asked whoo that thoos 
grete knyghtes we?, and what he was that had his lady in his 
5 sheld, which holdes a lyon enchyned with \ettres of gold, 
and has so mony fellowes of oon suyte. And eueryche said, 
they knew hym not, " hot he doos raervelles, for he ouer- 
reches noon hot that he throwes theym doune." "See ye 
not," sayd oon, "how he ouerthrowes knyghtes and horses, 

10 and what mervelles he doos ? " " He is an aduersarye," said 
the grete ladyes. " Sothely he is a goode knyght," said th.e 
Lady of Doule, the which was both fai? and wyse. " I sawe 
neuer knygth," said she, " doo so wele on hors bak, ne mor 
like to Ponthus, of whoes savle God haue mercy. Amen." 

15 Then said the kyng to Sydone, " Fai? doghtre, I wold not 
the knyght met with you? housbond, lest he threwe hym 
doune, or distroyd hym ; for his strokes be mervellous sore 
and grete." "Ser," said she, "and he be wyse, he wolle kepe 
hym from hym, for he be a full hardy knyght, and ryght 

20 manly." They made grete languege of Ponthus and of his 

knyghthod, bot all we? abasshed of hym, what he myght be. 

He tarryed not long ; bot of aventure he encountered the 

kyng of Burgon and smote his hors with the spurrys and 

smote the kyng myghtely in the sheld, and the spere was 

25 grete and strong, and he handeled itt as he had strenght and 
hardenes enughe, and in esspeciall forto doo dedes of armes 
befor his lady, which of long tyme had not seen hi?; so this 
stroke was so grete that he felled hym doune vppon the 
crowpe? of his l stede and made hym to lose the reynes of his 

30 brydle. 2 And the horse was yong and strong and ba? hym 

1 After his, sadle stands in the MS. cancelled by the rubricator. 

2 From here to the end of the paragraph D follows R literally. W shows 
a curious confusion, which makes both Ponthus and the kyng attempt to leap 
the pit and, apparently, both fall in, and that other was yong and strong 
and bare hym backwarde &fell into a grete pytt full of stones and Ponthus wende 
for to haue lepte ouer/but they fell in so sore the kynge vndernethe all that he was 
deed and his hors deed. W omits also the final clause of the paragraph. 


furth and with grete myght leped into a pytt full of stones, 
wenyng 1 to haue leped ouer, and fell in so marvellously, and 
the kyng vndre hym, that the hors was deid, and vnnes the 
kyng myght haue confession. 

5 Burgonnes we? wrothe and sorofull for they? lorde, for 

euery body cryed " The Duke 2 of Burgone is deid." Pon- 

'Pol. 190 b .] thus hard itt, which roght hot * litle. And nomore dide 

Sydone. Ponthus and his fellawes light doune of they? 

horses, and went vp vnto the scafold and did vp his helme, 

10 so that Query man knewe hym. And then he come to Sydon 
and toke hi? by the honde and said, " Ma dame, ye must be 
my prisonner, bot ye schall haue goode pn'sonement." She 
waxed rede for shame and had more ioye then any man 
couthe thinke, and said, "If I shuld be prisonne?, itt behoves 

15 me to endu?." 

The kyng was comen doune of the scafold, full sory for the 
kynges dethe, bot when he wyst that itt was Ponthus that 
dide all the mervelles and that he had taken his doghtre, he 
had grete ioy, and said, "God has ordaned that he shall haue 

20 my doghtre, and we may not gyf hi? to a bettre knyght. 
Truly in hym be so mych worschipp that he is able to haue 
the kynges doghtre of Fraunce. Bot truly I wenyd that he 
had ben deid, as sume men made me to vndrestond." Then 
he came toward Ponthus, his armys spredyng, and said that he 

26 was right welcome. And Ponthus bowed doune to hym and 
said, "As Gode live, God yeve to you my souerene lorde, as 
ye haue of me, grete ioye." Then the barounes and the ladyes 
both made myche of hym. And his cosyn Pollides and his 
othre fellowes welcomed hym with grete ioye. And Guene- 

30 lete made grete ioye in his countenawnce, bot not in his hertt. 
The people of the contrey thonked God and said, " God has 

^fter wenyng a superfluous to haue is cancelled by the rubricator. 

9 Elsewhere always Kyng, but R and H have consistently le Due. W, ye 
newe wedded kynge is deed. K, le bruit fu que le marie estoit mort. The lapse 
shows pretty clearly that the original of D used Duke throughout, and that 
the change to Kyng in D and W is arbitrary. 

104 P. J. MATHER, JR. 

sent vs a goode knyght that wolle kepe vs frome ou? enemes." 
Grete was the ioye of that aventure. 

Ponthus keped with hym all the lordes of Englond, and so 
did Sydone, and made theym grete chere and specially the 
5 Erie of Gloucestre, that was a full goode knyght. And asked 
hym how his cosyn the kyng fared. The Erie said, " Ryght 
wele, blessed be God ; " and told the kyng of the mervelles 
and of the aventures of the kyng of Englond; and how 
by Ponthus he toke and ouercome the kyng of Irlond ; and 

10 how he toke hym among his men and ba? hym away, whethre 
he wold or noo ; and how he raun^buned hym not bot made 
peace betwen theym ; and howe that by Ponthus was sleyn 
the son of the sawdeyn, called Corbatan, and the? was so myche 
tresowr with hym that itt was mervell to here tell therof, for 

15 he had not cessed xij ye? afore to pyll the iles of Cristendome 
that he myght ouercome. Also he told hym howe Ponthus 
named hym Surdyte de Droyte Voy, and said he was bot a 
pouere knyght son. When the kyng herd that he named hym 
soo, [he thoght it was] 1 by cause itt was putt vpon hym, that 

20 he lovyd in vylanye, and the surenome that he toke was by 
cause that he offred hym to fyght with ij or with iij in the 
quarell, and myght not be soared. Also the Erie told hym 
howe the kyng of Engloud offred to hyin Gene? his eldest 
doghtre, and to be kyng (of) Englond aftre his discesse, and 

25 duryng his live to be honored of all the reaume ; and how 
he disprased hym selfe and wold not thereof; and howe by 
a knyght that was evyll clethed he 2 was known and that 
was Olive? the son of Herland ; and howe the kyng and all 
the courte was asshamed that they had doon hym no mor wor- 

30 shipp, sith that he was a kynges son. 

Itt did the kyng of Bretan myche goode to here hym, and 
yitt more goode to his doghtre, and to the barounes that there 
were; for it was a noble thyng to here of. And aftre the 
Erie had said, the barounes come to the kyng, and said, " Se?, 

1 R, Si pensa que cestoit pour ce quil, etc. 
* R, qui estoit tout nu. W, a naked knyght. 


what thinke ye to doo? Lete hastely speke to Ponthus to 
take you? doghtre, and so shall ye and you? contrey be keped 
in peace; for we doute vs gretly that he wolle not take hi?, 
*Fol 191 1 be cause f th e kynges doghte? of Englond, for itt is myche 
5 bettre mariege then this is ; also he has so grete tresou? that * 
he settes not by noo daungerous lordes." Sayd the kyng, " I 
pray you all to thinke theron for ther be noo thyng that I 
desire so myche for the? fell neuer grettre goode to me, ne 
worshipp." Then the barounes spake to gedre; and the 

10 Vicounte of Leon was charged with the matie? ; and he went 
to Ponthus and said full wysely, howe he had furst ben savyd 
in Bretan, and howe the kyng loued hym wele, and howe by 
lies and envye the kyng had ben wroth with hym, and howe 
that the kyng is olde and beleved a tale lyghtly and that 

15 the? is noo body bot that he has sume tache, and that the 
kyng with all the wyll of his londe offred hym his doghtre, 
and to be kyng aftre hym. Ponthus, the which desyred noon 
othre thyng, said, God yelde itt the kyng and all his londe ; 
and that he is the furst lorde that so myche goode and wor- 

20 shipp did hym ; and that he myght neuer deserve itt vnto 
hym ; thogh he we? of havyng and of pusaunce to haue the 
myghtiest lady of the worlde, he wold (not) take hi? to 
refuse Sydone ; and that he is beholden to the kyng, to the 
barounes, and to the contrey, aboue all othre people. The 

25 barounes had grete ioye of the answe? and told the kyng 
therof, and he was ryght glad. 

Then he sent for the byschop and lete hondfest theym. 
And the monday aftre was the weddyng. And it nedes not 
to aske if Ponthus and Sydone we? glad,. and an htmdreth 

30 tymes more then they made serablaunce. Grete ioye the? was 
thorowe oute all Bretane of this assemble. 

Ponthus, which was wyse, keped not to be blamed of uoo 
man. He excused hym to Guy Burgonne, the kynges brothre 
of Burgonne, and to the Erie of Mounte Belliard, the which 

35 we? comen thedre, and said to theym that he was full sory of 
that aventure that befell, of the kynges dethe ; " for sothly 

106 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

when I iusted with hym I knewe not what he was." And 
they beleved hym wele, and that itt was hot a venture of armes, 
and that he rayght 1 not doo thertoo. 1 And he offred hym 
gretly to theyru ; and on the morowe he lete ordeyn for 
5 hym a full fai? seruice and gave iiij 2 penes sterlinges to euery 
pouere man that come thedre, and they had neuer afore seen 
so fai? an aim us. So he was gretly prased ; and the kynges 
frendes thonked hym myche, and said that they wer myche 
be-holden to hym. The bodye was embawmed and 3 chisted; 

10 and the? was ordaned fai? horses to carye hym to his con- 
tree; and Ponthus convehed the cofps iij 4 myles with grete 
torches and did hym as myche worshipp as he couthe, not- 
withstondyng he was bot litle displeased with his deth. So 
with grete payne the lordes of Burgonne made hym to 

15 retourne, and toke leve eueryche of othre, and they prased 
gretly Ponthus and said, that was a verray knyght aboue all 
othre; of worthenes, larges, curtesie, and louyng God and the 
chirch, noo man myght passe hym as they[m] semed varrely; 
and said that God loved hym, when he ordaned hym, so wele 

20 manured, 5 so wele gouerned, and vertuously disposed. 

[Cap. XXVII. How Ponthus made a maundement of the 
barounes and knyghtes for to goo into Gal ice to conquer 
his contrey, that the Saresyns helde.] 

POnthus retourned to Vennys and come to Sydone and 
iaped with hi? and asked hi? if she we? oght displeased 
with hym, because that he had deliueryd hi? of hir housbond. 
And she waxed rede and said, " Ser, itt is perilous to doo dedes 
of armes with you, but yitt I conne you thonke for that ye 

1 This idiom is also in W. It appears to mean " He couldn't have helped 
it." The rendering departs from R's, et que nul ne sen deuoit en riens merueiller. 
3 W, Hi. d. R, troia esterlina. 

3 W, and layde in a chayre. R, et porte en ung chariot. 

4 R, bien trois lieues. W, well a .vi. myle. 
6 MS. manered hym. Om. hym. 


Ihaue doone." " Ma dame/' said Ponthus, " the thynges that 
be doone may not be vndoone." 

Then he went to the kyng and to the barounes, and said, 

[*Fol.l91 b .] "Sens, ye haue herd say that I haue an * armye to conque?, 

5 with helpe of God, my roialme, whiche the Saresyns holdes 

fro me. So I wolle haue, if itt please you, sume people of you? 

contrey that wolle take wages, and I wolle pay theym with 

full goode wyll to All Halowe l day, before the honde." "Ay, 

swete, fai? son, ye shall not aske, bot take my people/' said 

10 the kyng, " at you? own wyll to conque? you? contrey, and 
take my tresou? with you, all that I haue ; and if itt please 
you, I wolle conne you myche thonke to lete me goo in you? 
companye, for I be olde and itt shall be noo grete losse of me 
ne in bettre seruice myght I not dye, for my saule is then 

15 in Godes seruice." Ponthus thonked hym then//and said, 
"Att this tyme ye shall not goo, bot kepe ye this contrey; and 
I wolle noon of you? goodes, for God has sent me en ugh for 
this iourney ; bot I wolle haue of you? people, for I trast most 
to theym afor all othre." The barounes and the knyghtes 

20 had grete ioye of that iourney, and every man desired to goo 
with hym. 

And he bad that euery man shuld be redy within xx 2 days 
at Vennys ; and he ordaned by all centres for shippes and 
vitell. And that day euery man array d hym wele and gar- 

25 nysshed theym of men in the best wise they couthe. Ponthus 
said to the Barounes of Aniou and to othre neghtboures, as 
to Geifray de Lazynyen and Andrewe de La Tou? aboue all 
othre, for itt was told hym that they we? comen late oute of 
of the contrey whe? they had bene twoo yere in were vpon the 

30 Saresyns, "Ay/' said Ponthus, " they be ryght goode knyghtes 
and noble men of armes, and he is wele at ease that has theym 
in his companye." 

Then the le^res come to theym and to mony othre of dyuers 
contrees aboute. The messyngers departed. And when they 
herd thes tithynges and the cause to goo vpon the Saresyns, 

1 K, a la tons sains. W, for halfe a yere. 2 R, xv iours. W, .xv. 

108 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

that held his roialme, they had grete ioy to goo and euery 
man ordaned hym to goo to that iourney. 

[Cap. XXVIII. Of the grete presente that Ponthus made to 
Sydone on the day before the weddyng ; and of his vowe 
5 that he wold not marye hir vnto he had conquered agane 
his reaume of Galice.] 

And aftre, Ponthus sent for his grete shipp and lete bring 
furth therof parte of the riches the day before his 
weddyng. And then he sent a preseflte to Sydone of crounes, 

10 cronocles, 1 chappeletes, gyrdles of perles and precius stones, 
gybsers of purpyll with perle, furres of sables, armyns, and of 
gray, and of othre i[e]welles that itt was mervell to see the 
riches that the? we?, for they we? prased to more value then 
x 2 thovsand besantes of golde. The kyng said to his doghtre, 

15 " Ye be not maried to a prince disherite ; bot God has sent 
you a goode, a fai?, and a ryght noble lorde. So ye ought 
gretly to thonke hym of his grace."// And aftre, he gave to 
the kyng mony fai? iewelles, precius stones, cuppys of gold ; 
and to eueryche of theym that we? barounes and lordes of 

20 Bretan, a gyfte of golde, aftre they? astate. And he was 
gretly prased for his grete larges. 

The day of his weddyng the lordes of Englond, Scotlond, 
and of Irlond we? noblely arrayd, and of Bretan also, which 
did hym worshipp. The feste was grete, and there was grete 

25 ioye of herodes and of mynstrelles withoute noumbre, and 
Ponthus gave theym grete gyftes. Ther was mony straunge 
metes and drynkes. Ponthus made a vowe which was mych 
spoken of, for he said thus, " Bycause the people of the courte 
shuld not say that the kyng had gyven his doghtre to a man 

30 withouten livelode, 3 1 make myn avowe to God, that I neuer 

1 Coronets. See the Oxford Diet, for cronicle and coronade. W, serdes. 

* K, xx. W, t hyrty. 

3 R, terre. W, londe. B adds, le voue que iamais ne coucheray en son lit 
lusques a ce que ie stye sires du royaume quifu mon pere. W translates literally 
adding, & crowned or dies I shall dye Iherfore. To this omission, D sacrifices 
the significance of the vow. 


kyssed hi? requiryng vylleny, when I went oute of this con- 
trey e, ne I thoght neuer to doo othre wyse to hi?, then I rayght 
to myn awn inodre." And he said that, because of the wordes 
r*Fol 192 ] *hat the kyng said to hym when he departed oute of Bretayne. 
5 When Sydone herd thes// * wordes, she had grete ioye in hi? 
hertt and loued hym myche bettre. So that was myche spoken 
of, for sume sayd that he was a trewe knyght, and sume said 
that he wold not abyde so long vnmaryed, bot that he hoped 
to haue sume solace of hi? and she in like wyse of hym. Then 
10 said the kyng, " In goode faith, I be a verray coward to beleve 
so lyghtely a lesyng that I haue herd. 

[Cap. XXIX. How Ponthus departed from Bretayn to go 
conquer his contrey; and howe he found in a chappell 
the Erie of Destrue, that was his vncle, and Ser Patryk 
15 that afore tyme saved hym ; and how by their counsell 
he wanne the grete batell and slewe the kyng Brodas 
and took the toune of Colloigne; and how the land of 
Galice was clensed of the Saresyns.] 

The feste was grete and the kyng wold not that they had 
noo iustys, for the a venture that the kyng of Burgonne 
was deid, lest any myschief myght happen, bot he made theym 
to daunce and to syng and mad mony newe dissportes// Att 
nyght Ponthus come into the chaumbre of Sydone and said 
to hi?// "Ay my swete frende, my loue and my ioye, my 

25 hertt and all the sustenance of my live, I haue ben hasty to 
the vowe that I haue made, bot in goode (faithe), 1 I did itt for 
ou? worshipp, for the wordes that has ben said afor this tyme. 
If " Bot in trouthe I soifre more disease then any man on live 
doos in like case, for the grete desire that I haue to be bet wen 

30 you? armes. Bot by the grace of God I shall be in shorte tyme, 
for itt be oon of the grettest desires that rnyn hertt (has)." 2 
^f " My swete lorde and loue, wytt ye wele that all you? 
desi? be myn, ne we ought to desi? noo thyng bot that 

1 W,fayth. K, en bonne foy. * W, hath. K, ait. 

110 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

shuld turne to goode fame ; so ye haue doone ryght wele for 
evyll sayers." Thus spake they enughe to gedre and aftre 
they clipped and kyssed to gedre and conforted aythre othre. 
And thus the fest lasted xv days. 

5 TfAnd when all was doon, he mustred his people. And the 
Bretanes we? by estimacton iiij M1 and v C men of armes ; and 
of the Normanes xij C all redy and we? payd for vj raonethes. 
Itt was a fai? sight to see theym all to gedre, with the men of 

10 Ponthus toke leve of the kyng and of Sydon. And by 
grete flaterye Guenelete laboured so that he abode with the 
kyng and with Sydone as gouernou? of theym ; and Ponthus 
betoke hym a grete part of his tresou? to kepe. So ther was 
wepyng enughe at the departyng of Ponthus and of Sydone 

15 and of hi? gentyllwomen. Ponthus kyssed hi? and betoke 
hi? the moste parte of his tresoure to kepe. 

And then he departed and went by londe and passed by 
Namptes and 1 yelde hym to the havyn of the toure of Dor- 
bendelle, 1 whe? as was a grete navye ; for the? arrived Geffray 

20 de Lazynyen and Andrewe de La Toure, whiche had a grete 
fellishipp. And Ponthus receyved theym with grete ioye as 
for twoo of the best knyghtes, that he loued, and gave theym 
grete gyftes. And aftre arrived Guy Hem de Roches and 
othre moo of dyuers contrees. Ponthus gave theym mony 

25 grete gyftes, so that they mervelled of his grete larges and 
said, " He is worthie to gouerne and to conque? all the worlde 
by his curtesie and fai? gouernaunce." And of his largenes 
he made to deliuer shippes to the capteyns, aftre they? people 
//and itt was not long to all we? shipped. And itt was a fai? 

30 syght to see the sales to gedre, for itt semed a forest. 

They had wynd att wyll and passed the He of Lyon. 2 
When they we? iiij 3 myles fro Colleyn, then Ponthus lete 

1 W, & came to sable danlon & to derbendelles. R, Et se rendit es salles de la 
tour dorbendelle. 

9 W, yle of doloron. Not in R. O, lisle daideon. 
3 W, a ,vi. R, trois lieues. 


caste anco? and sayd to the captanes// " Itt behoues vs to 
entre into the contrey toward Colloigne I myle or twoo thens 
and lete withdrawe the navye, for I wold not they knewe 
on? powa? for mony causes." So they ordaned that in the 

5 begynnyug of the day they departed. And so itt was doon. 

And they arrived aganes the farthre side of the toune and 

'*Fo\. 192 b .] londed * all by nyght and then withdrewe the vesselles agane 

fa? into the see, that they we? not perceyved. And they that 

we? londed putt theym in a valley beside a wode and hid 

10 theym in the most prevey wise that they couthe. 

And then Ponthus leped on hors bak and come to the wod 
side to se whe? he couth fynde any pouere man to enque? of 
the gouernaunce of the contrey. And att the last he come to 
a chapell ryght devoute. And a litle befor day the Erie 

15 of Destrue, which was vncle to Ponthus, and Patrices the 
knyght, whiche had saved Ponthus and the xiij children and 
had ben fauorable to the Cristen people and abode afte? the 
grace of God, when he wolde delyuer the contrey, went on 
pylgremege to this chappell, by cause they wold not be aspyed 

20 of the Saresyns. Whils they we? the? in they? prayers, so 
come Ponthus rydyng by the chappell, and lyght doune of 
his hors and entred into the chappell. And when he saw 
twoo men knelyng on thei? knees, he had grete ioy therof 
and trowed that they we? cristened. And when they had 

25 asspyed Ponthus, they we? a ferde and rose vp sodanly. And 
Ponthus asked, " Who be ye ? Name you? selfe hardely and 
tell me what lawe ye hold." Then they answerd and said, 
"With Godes mercy, we wolle not forsake ou? Creator, for 
we be cristened." Said his vncle, "And we pray you tell vs 

30 your name, for we like you? fellishipp passyngly wele in ou? 
hertes." " In. feith," said he, " my name be Ponthus, sonne 
vnto the kyng of Spayne, on whoes saule God haue mercy." 
And when his uncle herd that, he ranne and toke hym in his 
armys and said, "Ay Lorde God, I haue nowe my desire. 

35 Blessed be ou? Lorde Ihesu Crist, that I thurgh his grete 
grace may see you." And when Ponthus knewe that he was 

112 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

his vncle and sawe the goode chere that he made hym, then 
he had grete pitee and said, "By God Ser, ye reioyse me 
gretly in myn hert, and ye say me trouthe." And anoon it 
waxed lyght day, that he knewe hym wele; and then they 
5 caste wepyng eyen echon on othre. 

The Erie said, "Ay swete frende, howe durste ye come thus, 
for if ye we? asspyed, ye be hot deid." " Fair uncle," said 
Ponthus, " I am not allone, hot I haue ryght neghe me xviij l 
thovsand armed men, as all the floure of Englond, of Scotland, 

10 of Irlond, and of Bretan, and of the contree aboute." And 
when he herd that, he kneled doune and thonked God, and 
said that the (countre) is all holle as itt was wonte to be 
before, hot that they be tributories to the kyng Brodas. And 
then he shewed hym the knyght Patrices, that had saued hym 

15 and his felowes in the shipp, and told hym that he had saued 
the contrey. Then Ponthus thonked hym hertely and led 
hym furth to see his people. And when he sawe iheym, he 
had grete ioye. 

"The? be nomore to doo," said the knyght, "bot lete 

20 ordayne you? battelles and putt theym the? as I shall tell you 
in oon partie." So they ordaned the batelles and putt thre 2 
thovsand men aside in a valey ; and the remencmnt abode 
styll, excepte v hunderith which went with Patrices into a 
secrete place, into the tyme that the Saresyns we? issued oute 

25 of the toune; and shuld Patrices and his people come to the 

toune as thogh they we? sent fro the kyng to kepe the toune. 

And when the Erie of Destrue sawe his sonne Poll ides, 

which was a fai? knyght, he blessed hym and said, " This 

assemblye be made by ou? Lorde Ihesa Criste, which has 

30 gyven vs grace to fynde the ryght lorde of this contrey." 

[*Fol. 193.] And then he said, " Lordes, ordayne you in array, * for I 

wolle goo to the kyng Brodas and tell hym that Cristen people 

be entred into the londe to pyll the contre. And then he wolle 

haste hym as faste as he canne, with fewe people and withouten 

'R, the same. W, .xxviii. R, iiij m . WJoure th. 


ordencwnce, wherby he shall be more easly conquered. Ther 
for sendes a litle balange? to feche and make redy all the othre 
shippes, and when they be cotnen, putt fire in sume olde hous ; 
and then he wolle trowe that you? powe? be not so grete as it 

5 is, wherfor he wolle dysordeyn hym, withouten any ordenawnce 

Then the Erie toke his leve and departed and come to the 
toune ryght erly. He come to the kyng as man affray d ; the 
kyng rose vp, and he saluyd hym by Mahounde ; and then he 

10 said vnto the kyng, " Se?, the Cristen be comen to robbe and 
to pyll the contrey, and they be bot a leke frome the toune." 
" Be they mony ?" said the kyng. " Ser, I wote neuer," said 
he, " bot as fa? as I canne vndrestond, they be into a nj l 
shippes." "Fye!" said he. "Be they noo moo? By Ma- 

15 hounde, in evyll tyme be they comen, so I shall tell you ; for 
I dremed this nyght that I become a grete, blak wolfe, and 
that sett vpon me a grete, whyte grehounde and a brachete, 
and the grehounde slewe me." "Ay Ser," said the Erie, " ye 
shuld not beleve in dremes." " Ye say sothe," said the kyng. 

20 " Goo and make to bloo trumpettes and doo crye that euery 
man arme hym. So we (shall) take the fals rebawdes and 
robbers on the see, whiche I shall make all to be slayne and to 
be drawn at 2 hors tales." "Ye say wele," said the Erie, 
whiche thoght that itt shuld not be so. 

25 The Erie went fnrth and armed hym and made to crye that 
euery man shuld arme hym. So euery man armed hym and 
leped on hors bak. The kyng went oute armed ryght rycheley 
and went oute of the toune withouten makeng of any orde- 
naitnce, bot who so myght goo, went. So there went furth 

30 moo then xij thovsand on hors bak beside fotemen, as archers 
and alblasterers. 

Ponthus had ordanecl his batelles and had sett in a valey 
iiij thovsand men of armes for to fall betwene theym and the 
toune. And Ser Patryke come with v hunderyth men into a 

1 Exactly the thre score of W. * MS. and. 


114 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

secrete place to wynne the toune, and he abode tyll he sawe 
his tyme to departe. 

The kyng smote his hors with the spurres on that partie 
whe? as he sawe the smoke and loked to the see and sawe not 
5 past Ix schippes, and said, " Nowe on theym ! They be all 
shent. They? Ihesu Criste shall neuer helpe theym, bot they 
shall dye ane 1 evyll dethe." He abode not, to he was past 
the place where as the iiij thovsand we?. Then he beheld 
befor hym and sawe the grete batelles in ordenaitnce. So he 

10 was arnervelled of this dede and went to haue withdrawn 
hym and to haue sett his men in ordenawnce. And yitt he 
ordaned so that a grete partie was in ordenaunce, for he was 
a wyse knyght and a hardye in armes; and as he made an 
ordenawnce, he herd a grete crye betwen hym and the toune 

15 and sawe his men flee toward hym. Then he said, " There is 
noo fleyng. Rynne we vpon [theym] sharpely." So he smote 
his hors with the spurrys and assemelyd with the batelles. 
So he iusted with Geffray de Lazynyen, the whiche was not 
all redye, and they gave grete strokes. Bot the kyng toke 

20 Geffray at a trave[r]s and ouerthrewe hym. The kyng lad 
hond vppon his sworde and said, " Mahounde helpe ! " And 
the furst that he smote he ouerthrewe hym, and did mervel- 
lous dedes of armes. 

The batell begane ryght hard and sharpe. Ponthus, that 

25 hade grete desire forto doo dedes of armes in esspeciall on 

theym that held his roialme, he smote on the ryght syde and 

[*Fol. 193 b .] * on the lefte syde and bett doune Saresyns and slewe all that 

euer he smote. The Saresyns held theym aboute thei? kyng, 

the which slewe and manhened mony of ou? men. Andrewe 

30 de La Ton? sawe Geffray de Lazynyen on fote, that myght 
not lepe vp agane and was sore bressed and in grete perell ; 
so he smote a Turke and ouerthrewe hym and toke his hors 
and, in despite of theym all, led hym to Geffray and said vnto 
hym, " Fai? fellowe, lepe vp, for he? be perilous abydyng on 

35 fote." Geffray lepe vp and thonked hym ; and when they 

'An imperfect d is changed to an . 


twoo were to gedre, they made grete slaghtre of Saresyns. 
And wele bestirred theym the Bretanes and the Herupoyse. 
The? was grete cry. 

The kyng did bloo a trumpett and gederyd his menye and 
5 gave stronge batell to ou? men. Ponthus loked vp and per- 
ceyved the kyng, that had slayne his fadre, and howe that by 
hym mouy men we? slayne, for he did grete dedes of armes 
with his bodye, and was ryght richely arrayd and ba? a croune 
vpon his helme. Ponthus had ryght grete ioye that he had 

10 founde hym and went toward hym and gave hym a grete 
stroke, and the kyng smote hym agayne. So the? was stronge 
batell betwen theym, for the kyng was ryght strong and of 
grete hertt ; bot Ponthus gave hym so mony strokes that he 
mad hym all astoned and to stowpe ; and then he cutted the 

15 lases of his heluiete, and then the kyng had bot litle strenght 
to endure. And Ponthus smote hym wele with all his strenght 
and smote ay to his neke vndre the helme, so that he fell doune 
deid. And when his men sawe itt, they wrong they? hondes 
and we? all dyscomfeted. 

20 And on that othre side the iiij thovsand men come behynd 
theym and keped theym in, soo that the? escaped noone, bot 
all went to the sworde. They we? all putt to dethe withouten 
any mercy. 

Se? Patryke went oute of his enbushement and come furst 

25 with .1. armed men to gete the gate of the toune, and com- 
maunded that the remenawnt shuld folowe aftre. So he come 
to the gate, and they knewe hym wele and asked hym, howe 
itt went with the kyng and his people. And he said, " Ryght 
evyll." 1 Then he entered and wanne the gate and keped itt 

30 to the remencmnt come to hym. Then he sett goode kepe at 
the gate and bad that noo man shuld entre, vnto Ponthus 
come. Then he went into the toune, sekyng houses 2 for 
Saresyns, & thoo that he founde he putt theym to dethe. So 
Ser Patryke went crying into the toune, "A morte Saresyns!" 

1 evy is written upon an erasure. 
8 MS. horses. E, hostelz. W, houses. 

116 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

and, "Live 1 cristened!" The Cristen men that we? in the 
toune, which we? in seruage and yelded truage, they made a 
crosse with they? armes, and so they founde noo body that 
dide theym harme no of noo thyng that longed to theym, 
5 for Ser Patryke had so ordaned. The toune was wonne, for 
all men of defence were goon to the batell 2 whe? as they we? 
slayne, moo then xxvij s thovsand. 

When this discomfatu? was doon, the Cristen people soghte 
the feldes, euery man to fynde his frende, his cosyn, and his 

10 maistre. So there were not mony sleyn of grete men of name. 
Of Bretane, the? was found deid of barounes and of knyghtes ; 
Geffray d'Auncenys and Bryan de Pounte, Roland de Cor- 
quyan, Henry de Syen, Barnaby de Seynt 4 Gyles ; Herupoys, 
Huberd de Brice, Hamelyn de Mountelyes, and Eustace de 

15 Lay Poys; of Petons, Andrewe de Lay Marche, John de 

Lay Garnache, and Huberd d'Argenten, and of knyghtes, 

Amaulry de Lay Forest and Henry de Basoches; and of 

Mayn, Hardenyr de Sylle and Olive? de Douncelles, and 

[*Fol. 194.] f knyghtes, Graue de Crusses, William du Sages ; of Nor- 

20 mandes, * William Tesson, Guy Pamell and Piers de Villers 
and othre v knyghtes moo. And of Englond and Scotelond 
ther were fewe slayne, for they we? in the rereward ; and they 
of the base marches bare the bronte, for they we? in the 
voward. Ponthus commaunded to take all the deid bodies of 

25 the Cristen and maked theym to be buryed in the chirche 
of Columpne and did ordeyn for theym all the smiice and 
worshipp that myght be doon, in so myche that euery man 
prased hym for his goode dedes. The Cristen people were 
serched and layd to gedre, the deid on that oon syde, the hurtt 

30 on that othre side. 

When this was doon, Ponthus and his batelles did ryde 
vnto the toune. The? was delyuered to euery lorde, aftre that 
he had of men, stretes and howses, and did fynde so myche 

1 MS. love. R, viuent. W, lyue. * b written over a p. 

8 R, par extimadon xxvi m . W, .xxv. 

4 MS. Syen. W, Bemarbe de saynt Gyle. R, bernard de saint gille. 


riches and vytell that the pouerest had enughe. It was cryed 
that noo man shuld take noght fro the Cristen people of the 
toune, ne doo theym noo wrong and noo more they dide. 

Ponthus rode streght to the grete chirche and offred vpp 
5 his hors and his harnes and did (do) syng thre messes and 
thonked Gode, weppyng, of his grace that he had sent hym. 
Aftre that, the Erie his vncle and Ser Patryk come to hym and 
asked counsel 1 what they shuld doo. And Ser Patryke said, 
" I counsell you befor all thynges, that vnto theym that has 

10 any castelles or tounes in kepyng, or fortresses, be le^res wreten 
and sent to theym, as it we? frome they re kyng, that afire the 
syght of the kftres, they come to this toune, bothe day and 
nyght, in all the haste that they myght. And sume shall be 
taken here and sume we take by enbushementes that we shall 

15 lay in certayn places. And so we shall haue the moste parte 
of theym, and so shall we euer haue the lesse to doo." This 
goode counsell was holden in suche maner that frome the 
tounes and castells all they come forward toward the toune 
of Columpne; and sume we? take in the toune and putt to 

20 dethe and the remenawnt distressed by enbushements, for they 
we? ouerthrawn in dyuers places. When the Cristen people 
herd of the dyscomfatu? of the Saresyns, they rosse by tounes 
and by castelles and slewe of theym as mony as they couth 
fynde, and so long was the were led that all the londe was 

25 clensed of theym and deliueryd ; for sume of theym dide yeld 
theym and were conuerted, and Ponthus gave theym goode 
enughe to ly ve vpon ; and the remenaitnte that myght flee, 
fled, wherof sume were slayne by the Spaneyardes and by the 
reaume of Castell, and othre were perysshed in dyuers places 

30 myschevously. 

T Wherfor the Sawdeyn of Babiloue was ryght sorofull thus 
to haue loste his thre sonnes and his men. He was ryght 
angre with Mahounde and said before all men, as a man oute 
of his wytt, that the God Crucifyed had ouercomen hym and 

35 that he was of more vertue than Mahound, when he had not 

118 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

saved his sonnes and his men. And so there was grete com- 
playnte for theym in Babilone and in Damasse. 

So I turne agane to Ponthus and so here folowes aftre the 
polytyke rewle and demeane of Ponthus and of his gouer- 
5 naunce. 

[Cap. XXX. How Ponthus was crouned kyng; and how 

at the feste he knewe his modre among the xiij pouere 

people ; and how he made the Erie of Destrue and Ser 

Patryk to be kepers of his readme and to obey vnto the 

10 quene, his modre.] 


lOnthus made leches to be soght forto heall the people 
that was wonded and hurte in the batell, and hym self 
did visete theym ofte tymes and made to be broght to theym 
all thynges that theym (neded). He fested the lordes and all 

15 his fellisshipp and gave theym gyftes. And also he founde 

in a toure the grete tresoure of the kyng Brodas, the which 

[*Fol. 194 b .] was * a grete thyng to tell. And when he had ouerryden the 

contrey and clensed itt of the mysbelevers, he founde myche 

people and the londe wele belabored, both of vynes and of corne. 

20 From all the contrees the people come rynnyng to see theyr 
ryghtwyse lorde, and as it had been to myracles. And they 
loued hym wele for his grete renoune and worthenes, his 
bountee and curtesie ; for the? was noon so simple ne so 
pouere bot that he wold speke to theym and here theym 

25 mekely. He was right petuouse of the pouere people he 
loued God and holy chirche. 

And when he had doon this dede, he come to Columpne 
and made there a grete feste and was crouned by the hondes 
of oon holy bischop. And thedre come to hym the kyng of 

30 Aragone, his vncle, that was brothre to his modre, the which 
had grete ioye to see hym and of his victorye. And he tolde 
hym ho we the kyng Brodas had wered vpon hym and ho we 
the? was taken a trety betwen theym to a certan day vnto 
the tyme that God wold sett a remedye, " and thurgh his 


grace he has ryght wele purveyd of his pitee by you." Thus 
complened the kyng to his neviewe and yitt he told hym howe 
that he abode the comyng of the kyng of Fraunce and the 
kyng of Spayne, that shuld haue comen this some?, "bot itt 

5 is no nede." 

The feste was grete of the kynges coronacion and the? we? 
made mony straunge thynges. The grete lordes of the contre 
come and did they? homage. And also the fai? ladyes had 
grete ioye that they were comen oute of hell, and of seruage 

10 whe? as they had levyd in sorowe and in hevynes ; and nowe 
the[i] be broghte into ioye and into myrth and into Paradise, 
as theym semeth. They liked wele they? kyng, in so myche 
that they hade grete ioye to luke vpon hym. And all rnaner 
of people thonkhed God deuoutely of they? delyueraunce. 

15 Betwen the courses the ladyes did syng, 1 and the? were mony 
vowes to the pope, 1 the which were longe to tell. And the 
kyng did bryng and presente by xij fai? ladies and xij olde 
knyghtes grete gyftes and iewelles sume of fai? coursyrs and 
sume of fai? cuppys of gold and of sylve?, of fai? clothes of 

20 gold and of sylke, and of mony othre grete iewelles, to the 
knyghtes and to the cheftanes, so that all men we? amer veiled 
of his grete larges. He was a man ryght plesawnt and of 
grete curtesie and of goode condicions. 

So ther fell a grete mervell of the custome that was that 

25 tyme vsed ; for itt was so, that befor the kyng, shuld be 
serued xiij pouere men for the loue of God and his apostelles. 
So it befell that the Erie of Destrue, the kynges vncle, went 
visyttyng the tables, and as God wold he beheld the table of 
the pouere people and sawe a womman lukyng vpon the kyng. 

30 And as she beheld hym, the teres fell doune from hi? eyn. 
The Erie luked wisely vpon hi? and avised hi? so wele, that 
by a token that she had in hi? chyn he knewe wele that it was 
the quene, modre vnto Ponthus. And when he see hi? in so 
pouere astate that hi? gooune was all clovted and to-rent, he 

1 Not in R. In W only, There was songes and many mynstrdsyes. 

120 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

myght not kepe hym fro wepyng. So his hert swemyd l for 
pitee to see hi? in so pouere degree, and when he myght speke, 
he thonked God and went behynde the kyng his neviewe and 
said vnto him, " Ser, he? be a grete mervell." " Wherof ? " 

5 said .the kyng. " The best and the holyest ladye that I knowe, 

my ladie the quene, you? modre, is her-in." " Wher be she?" 

[*Fol. 195.] said he. And he for grete payne myght not * tell hym, for 

pitee ; and when he myght speke, he told hym in councell and 

said, t( Ser, see ye hi? sitt yondre with the xiij pouere? at the 

10 furst ende of the table." And Ponthus beheld hi? and he per- 
cey ved hi? chere ; and anoon she puttfhi? hoode before hi? eyen 
and weped ; and the kyng had grete pitee in his hertt. Then 
said he vnto his vncle, "Make noo semeland, that noon espie itt; 
bot when we be vp fro the table, I shall into my warderopp, 

15 and bryng ye hyr p?'wely to me." And so itt was doone. 

When the tables we? taken vp and grace yolden to God, 

the kyng departed pHuely and went into his warderopp, and 

the Erie his vncle broght thedre his modre prmely. And 

when Ponthus sawe hi?, he kneled doune befor hi? and toke 

20 of his croune and sett itt on hi? hede, and sche toke hym vp 
all wepyng and kyssed hym and halsed hym, and sore they 
weped, she and hi? sonne and the Erie. And when they myght 
speke, Ponthus said vnto hi?, "Ay Madame, so myche pouertee 
and dysease as ye haue soffred and endured ! " "Ay my swete 

25 knyght and sonne," said she, " I am comen oute of the paynes 
of hell, and God has given me grete Paradyse, when itt has 
plessyd hym to yeve me so long live that I may see you with 
myu eyn 2 and that I see vengeaunce for the dethe of my lorde 
you? fadre, which the tyranes putt to dethe, and also that I 

30 see the contree voyded oute of the mysbeleve and the holy 
lawe of Ihesu. Christe to be serued. And I wote wele that 
this sorowe and trouble has endured this xiij 3 yeres, as by a 

1 W, symmed. R, Le cuer lui emfla de pitie. 

* R omits everything from here to the end of the paragraph except the 
single sentence, Car les aduersitez qui sont venues en ce royaume est une ven- 
gence de dieu. H and O agree with I) and W. 3 H, xiiij. 



chastesyng of God (for) the grete delites and lustes that were 
vsed in this reaume. So me semes no we that God has mercy 
of his people, that he has keped you and sent you to deliuere 
the contrey of the mysbeleve." Ryght wele spake the quene 

5 and wisely, as an olde 1 lady as she was. 

"Nowe I pray you," said the kyng, "tell me howe ye 
escaped and howe ye were saved." " My fai? sonne, I shall 
tell you. When the crye was in the mornyng in the toune, 
and you? fadre slayne, I was in my bed ; and he armed hym 

10 with nomore then with an hawberke and his helme and ran 
furth withoute any more abydyng, as the hardest knyght that 
was, as men said. When he was departed and when I herde 
the crye, I was sore aferd and toke oon of my wommens 
gounes and went my way with my lavende? ; and I fonde of 

16 aventure the posterne gate open, that sume people had opened, 
and so I went oute and went into the wod fast by the laundes, 
whe? as dwelled an holy hermyte, the (whiche) 2 had a chappell 
and a well and a lugge at the wod syde; so I abode ther. 
And my chaumberlane, 3 which was wele aged, come euery 

20 day to feche almus att the kynges hous, and therby we lived, 
the hermyte, she, and I. And so ye may see that God has 
saved me." " In goode faith," said the kyng hi? son, " ye led 
an holye live." And so sche did for she wered the hayre and 
went gyrd with a corde, and fasted myche, and was a full 

25 holy lady. 

The kyng had grete ioy and grete pitee of his modre. 
Then he sent for hys tailyou? and did shape for hi? gyrtelles, 
gounes, and mantelles bot 4 blewe and purpyll and made 
theym to be furred with armyn and sables. 5 And when she 

30 was so arrayd, hi? seined a full fai? lady. 5 And when they 
come to sope?, they broght in the quene rychely arrayd. 
And when the kyng of Arragonne, hi? brother, sawe hi?, he 
toke hi? in his armes and kyssed hi?, for he wened she had 

*W, holy. H, samcte. 

8 MS. roche. B, gui. 

3 W, chamberer. B, chamberie. 


* Not in W and B. 

122 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

[*Fol.l95i>.] ben deid. The lordes and the ladys of Galice had grete * 
ioye of the quene and did hi? myche worshipp, for they held 
hi? for a goode and an olde 1 ladye and were all amervelled 
fro whens she come, for they went all that she had been dede. 
5 Hir brothre the kyng of Aragon was sett at sope? at the table 
ende, and aftre the quene, and then hi? sonne Ponthus, for 
the day of his coronacion he must kepe his astate. The quene 
was of goodly porte and semed wele to be a grete ladye. She 
was ryght humble and had ryght grete ioye of the worshipp 

10 and goodnes that she sawe in hi? son. Then she said to hi? 
son, " Fair son, I haue grete desire^to see ou? doghtre you? 
wyf, for the grete goodenes that I haue herd of hir." " Ma 
dame," said he, " ye shall see hi? hastely, if it be pleasyng to 
God." That day passed with grete ioye and dissportes of 

15 ladis and daunsyng and synghyng, and of othre maner 
of plays. 

That nyght Ponthtts dremed that a bere had devoured his 
lady Sydone, and that she cryed and said, "Ay Ponthus my 
swete lorde, for the loue of God, soffre me not thus to dye." 

20 Thus a vision 2 fell to hym twys or thryse ; and so he was 
sore affrayd therwith and had grete mervell in his hertt what 
itt betokened. Att morowe in the sprynhyng of the day he 
called vp his men and sent for his vncle and for Ser Patryk. 
So they come to hym and he told theym his avysions and 

25 said, " Myn hert telles me that my wyfe has sume sekenes, or 
is in grete trowble. She be so, that I wolle no lengre abyde 
here ; bot I wolle go to see as faste as I canne for to see hi?." 
When they sawe his wyll, they ne durst ganesay hym. 

Then said the kyng, " Fai? Lordes, I thonke God and you, 

30 this contrey be clensed of the mysbelevers and I thynke that 
by you twoo the contrey has ben saved and the people keped 
fro the dethe, by you? goode revoles. It was Godes wyll. 
So I bethinke me of Moyses and Aaron that God sett to save 
the people of Israel. So ye shall haue grete merite and the 

1 W, holy. And did . . . ladye is lacking in R. 

2 W, This auysyon. R, ceste aduision, is probably the original reading. 


guerdone of God ; and as for me, I be ryght myche beholden 
to you. Wherfor, fai? vncle, I make you my lyeu-tenemnt, 
and Ser Patryk shall be senysshall and constable of this 
reaume; for it be goode reason that ye, that has doone so 
5 myche goode and saved the contre, haue the revoll and the 
gouernaunce therof. And ye, Ser Patryke my dere frend, ye 
saued me ; so I shall yeve you londe and goode, so largely 
that ye shall not lese you? true seruice." Se? Patryk kneled 
doune and thonked hym. 1 Then he comaunded theym that 

10 the state of his modre we? keped, and that she shuld haue 
hi? awn cornwandemente, as it we? to his awn propre persone ; 
and also that they shuld sustene as wele the pouere as the 
ryche and that the ryche shuld not ouerlede 2 the pouere. 
And then he comaunded theym to repare the chirches of 

15 glasen wyndowes and of all othre thynges, whe? as they 
were broken, to make theym vp agane, " and I shall take 
you x 3 thovsand besauntes of golde therto. He ordaned ryght 
wele for his reaume all that neded. 

And then he went and herd thre messes and sent his dynne? 

20 to shipp, and toke his leve of his modre the quene and said 
vnto hi?, heryng all men, " Madame I leve you the reaume 
and the tresou? that I haue, all in you? demeyn and gouern- 
aunce. I haue commaunded and cowimaundes all men to 
obeye you as they wold doo to myn awn persone ; and, for 

25 the better, I leve you myn vncle and Ser Patryk my goode 
knyght, the which I haue made constable and senysshall 
of my reaume, and myn vncle my lyeu-tenaitnt." So he 
toke leve wepyng. And she prayd hym to come agane in 
F 1 196 1 snor * e ty me f r sne wold fayne se his wyfe. And he toke 

30 his leue of the lordes and * Jadys of the contrey and went 
to the schippes. 

Euery man arrayd hym and dressed hym to the see. The 
kyng Ponthus come to the barounes and told what avision 4 
was there befallen to hym; wherfor he myght neuer be at 

1 thonked hym is repeated in the MS. 3 R, xx. 

2 W, overlay. 4 MS. a vision. 

124 F. J. MATHER, JE. 

hertes ease, to he had sen the quene his wyfe. So he toke the 
see and saled so long to he see the costes of JBretan. 

And here I leve of the kyng Ponthus and retournes agane 
to the kyng of Bretan and to his doghtre Sydone howe itt 
5 befell theym of the tresone that Guenelete wroght when Pon- 
thus was in Galyce. 

[Cap. XXXI. How Guenelete by fals lettres, that hir lorde 

was deid, wold make Sydone to marye hym, and she fled 

to a toure for to defende hir ; Jjow Guenelete faraysshed 

10 hir and the kyng of Bretayn in the toure vnto she must 

nedes yeld hir.] 

venelete was made kepe? of the kyng of Bretane and of 
his doghtre Sydone, for Ponthus had yeven hym all 
the gouernaunce as ye haue herd before, wherfor he had grete 

15 ioye. Neuerthe les he myght not kepe ne chastie hym selfe 
from tresone. So he bethoghte hym that he wold haue Sydone 
to his wyfe by sume maner of way, and that he wold be lorde 
and kyng of that contrey avthre by fai? maner or by fowle, 
and that he wold put hym in aventure. So the devyll temped 

20 hym so myche that he did stuff the citees and the castelles, and 
sent for souldeours and yeve theym syluer in honde forto haue 
the loue of men of armys. *So thurgh his syluer of evyll 
vertue l the goode men putt theym self in perell of dethe. And 
when he had stuffed all the fortresses (he) 2 did make a fals 

25 scale of Ponthus armys and made twoo fals lettres, oon to the 
kyng and an othre to his doghtre Sydone, the which specified 
that Ponthus recomaunded hym to the kyng, and that all his 
men we? dyscomfeted and sleyn and hym selfe hurt to the 
dethe, withouten any remedye. So he prayd hym that for his 

30 welfare and for the welfare of his, that he wold yeve his doghtre 
to Guenelete, and that bettre he myght not besett hi?. And 

1 W, So is syluer of an euyU vertue for. R makes it still more general : 
Si est largent de male vertue. Car pour lauoir len si met a lauenture de mort. 
9 MS. and. 


forto make the mariege he yeave hym all his tresoure that he 
broght oute of Englond. Thes lettres we? ryght wele devysed. 
And in the le^re of Sydone was, how he prayd hi? and required 
hi?, for all the loue that euer was betwen theym, to take his 
5 cosyn Guenelete. 

And when the kyng and his doghtre sawe thes leftres, it is 
not to aske of the grete sorowe and hevynes that they made. 
Sydone swoned often tymes and weped and whisshed aftre 
hym, the whiche myght not be oute of hi? mynde. She drewe 

10 and rent hi? 1 fare 2 here and made so grete sorowe that itt was 
grete petee to see. So the ladys and the courte we? in grete 
hevynes for hym and said, "Alias ! What damege ! What 
pitee ! The flou? of knyghthode, the flou? of all genty lines, 
the myrrour of all goode maners be dystroyd." The toune, 

15 the burgeses, and all the comon people weped and soroed for 
they? frendes and they? kynesmen, for they trowed that they 
had ben all deyd. 

The? myght noo man comforth Sydone. "Alias ! " sayd 
she. " He was that man in whome all bountee and trewth 

20 dwelled, and by (whome) 1 3 thoght to haue had all my ioye, 
and the which was so free and so trewe and loued me so wele 
and was so likly to haue holden the people in reste and peace. 
How has God soifred suche a venture agane hym and agane 
me? Alias sorofull wreche! What shall I doo?" So the? 

25 was noon so hard a hert bot that it wold haue had pitee of 
hi?; and this sorowe endured more then viij days withoute 

And Guenelete come and said to the kyng, howe Ponthus 
required hym to gyve hym his doghtre. So he flatered hym 

30 full fai? and said that he shuld serue hym and hi? and wor- 

shipp theym and kepe the reaume, and that Ponthus had 

gyven hym golde and syluer more then the reaume was worth. 

Pol. 196 b .] So he offred 4 to hym and * said, " Ser, I pray you goo and 

1 MS. his. * r apparently altered from a c. 

3 After /, trowed cancelled by the rubricator. W, thought. 

4 Si lui offre et dit, the exact original of D's reading. W, offred it. 

126 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

speke with your doghtre, that she wold consente therto." 
The kyng was aged, so he wyst not what to say. And Guen- 
elete did so myche by his subtile wytt that he made the kyng 
to consente. The kyng was aged and come to his doghtre and 
5 comforthed [hi?] the fairest wyse that he myght, and said to 
hi? that dyscomforthe did bot greve to hi? withoute any helpe 
to hym, or to his reauine, and sith that Ponthus required it, 
that she shuld haue Guenelete, for the loue of hym and for 
the grete tresou? that he had gyven hym ; and also that, he 

10 shuld obey vnto hym and kepe his reaume for to revle it, 
" for if (I) gyve you to any kyng, ne wolle lede you in-to his 
awn contrey, and so shall we then abyde withouten gouer- 
naunce or gouernoti?." When Sydone herd hi? fadre thus 
speke, she had grete mervell and said, that, God be pleassed, 

15 he shal not be hi? husbonde and that (she) shuld rathre be 
barren. 1 And the kyng, that loued hi? so myche (sayd), sith 
it liked hi? not, she shuld not haue hym ; bot bad hi? be of 
goode com forth. 

So he come to Guenelete and said vnto hym, that his 

20 doghtre wold haue noo husbond at this tyme. " Howe ! " 
said Guenelete, " Refuses she me ? It shall not be all at hi? 
wyll." So he come to hi? and made myche of hi? and gave 
hi? fai? languege, howe t[hat] 2 he 2 thynkes to serve hi? and 
to obey hi?, and she to be .lady of all, and that noght shuld be 

25 doon in the reaume bot by hi? commaundement; and howe 
he has the grete tresoure of hir said lorde, that was wonne 
vpon the Saresyns, the whiche was yeven hym by hys lettres. 
Myche he made of hi? and flatered hi?, bot all avayled hym 
not ; for she sware to hym that she shuld not be wedded of 

30 all that yere, for noon that spake with tunge. " Howe ! " said 
he, " If you? fadre commaunde you, wolle ye disobey hym?" 
"My lorde my fadre may commaunde me, what so euer that 
it pleasse hym," said she, " bot forto dye, I shall abyde all 

1 W, rather dye. R, dist . . . quelle seroit auant beguyne. D appears to have 
mis-read, baraigne. 
MS. the. W, that he. 


this ye?. Aftre, say I not bot I wolle obey hym." " Yea? " 
sayd Guenelete, " Make ye refuse of me ? And ye wolle not 
obey to the le^res of you? forsaid lorde the whiche ye desired 
and loued so myche, and that the? was no thyng bot that ye 

5 wold doo itt for hym and sith ye lyst not (to) obey to his 
praye? and his \ettre, and also ye list not to obey to the com- 
maundement of you? fade?, by the faythe that I owe vnto 
hym, bot if ye take othre counsell, I doute ye wolle be 
angreed." So he threte hi?, when by fairnes he se that 

10 he myght not haue hi?. And then he says, sith that he has 
the lettre of hi? forsayd lorde and the concentyng of hi? fadre, 
that he wold haue hi?, whethre she wold or noo. " Yea," said 
she, " be I in that partie ? " " Yea," sayd he, " by my faithe, 
ye shall see what may befall." " Rathre," said she, " I shall 

15 haue euery lyme of me hewen frome othre." " Yea," said he, 
" it shall be seen all in tyme." So he departed as a wodeman, 
for he wened not to fale of hi?. 

Sydone was all abasshed, and thoght in hi? hert that it was 
not the furst treson and falsnes that he had doone. So she 

20 thoght wele that the leftres were fals, for othre tymes had he 
doon 1 to vndrestond that Ponthus was deid. So she called 
thre 2 squyers and twoo 3 yomen into hi? chaumbre, that she 
had, and called Ellyous and othre twoo gentylwomen, and 
said vnto theym, that she dovted hi? of Guenelete and shewed 

25 theym how he was hote of loue, wenyng to haue hi? by fai? 
Fol. 197.] maner * or by fowle maner, "for he be malicius and per- 
aventure wold wyrke by strenght. So I haue purposed that 
we shall goo into yonde toure, and doo be? thedre vitell, and 
the? shall we abyde, vnto the tyme that we haue sume rescouse 

30 of ou? frendes, or of sume of the barounes, or elles haue herd 
the trouthe of my lorde Ponthus." They said that she had 
wele said. And so it was doon. They dide bere brede and 
wyne in botelles, in barelles, and in pottes, flesche and cheses, 
and all thyng that theym neded, as long as they had lase? ; 

1 After doon, that cancelled by the lubricator. 

2 W, two. K, deux. * W, .Hi. K, deux chamberlans. 

128 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

and then they schitt the dore, and with barres of yrne, and 
bare vp rokkes and stones for to defende it, for Guenelete 
had thoght to haue taken hi? agane hi? wyll and to haue 
doon hi? outerage, if she wold not haue concented. 

5 So he come into hi? chaumbre and when he fonde hi? not, 
he serched the warderoppes, whe? as he did fynd a gentyll- 
woman, the whiche tolde hym that she was withdrawn into 
the toure, and how she had vitelled it and stuffed it ; and 
when he herd that, he luked as a wodeman and come before 

10 the toure and prayd hi? full fayre to open hym the dore, and 
swore by his feith that he wold not mysdoo hi?. But Sydone, 
whiche knewe wele his vntrouthe, said he shuld not come in 
by that meane. He thret hi? sore and swore that he shuld 
take hi? by force & make hi? his wench, if she wold not take 

15 with to be his wyfe, and bad hi? chese whethre she wold doo. 
"Ay," said she, whiche was ryght angre to here the vngudely 
wordes, " Traitou? thou shal not come therto, and God wolle, 
for thowe shall dye an evyll dethe for this fals entrepHse." 
Then he waxed angree and sayd, sith that he had doone so 

20 myche, he wold fenyshe itt, what so euer befell. 

So he toke the kyng and put hym in prisone, for fere 
that he shuld gedre men of armes aganes hym ; and then he 
come to the burges and said vnto theym, howe Sydone was 
yeven hym of hi? husbonde by goode leftres, and also the 

25 kyng hi? fadre was accorded therto by cause that she wold 
haue ben weddyd to a man of noght, which wolde haue hated 
and dystroyed the contree ; " bot," said he, " if that I haue 
hi?, I shal kepe you? fraunches and you? libertees and I shall 
kepe you as the gold doos the stone. So I haue sett the kyng 

30 in a chaumbre, for he be all doyted and has noo wytt, and he 
wold lyghtly concente to the lewde counsell 1 of his doghtre; 
wherby the contree myght be loste, if it befall as they thynke. 
Bot I shall (kepe) theym wele therfro, with Goddes helpe and 
youres, and to saue the wele-fai? of Bretane." So he gave 

1 W, courage. R,/o/ couraige. 


largely to theym, and putted to theym mony doutes, that 
myght noye hym, 1 and he did itt in suche wyse, wenyng to 
theym that he had sayd trouthe, wherfore they durst not ryse 
ne meve. And also he had mony straunge souldeoures. 

5 When he had spoken to the burges and to the people, he 
come to the toure and assaled itt. So the? was within bot v 
men a[nd] four" woramen, that threwe doune grete stones and 
defended wele the toure. And also there was the most partie 
of theym that did bot feyne, for the[i] wold not that she were 

JO taken. The sawte lasted a grete while and Guenelete had 
fayled of his entente ; so he was ryght sorofull and angree 
and thoght at the lest he wold famyshe theym. " In goode 
faith/' said Sydone, " we haue vytell enughe for a monethe 
day, and in the meane tyme God may helpe vs and sende vs 

15 rescouse." When Guenelete vndrestode hi?, he went to haue 
p Fol. 197 b .] ronne wode for angre ; for he was half dystrakked * by cause 
he had fayled of his purpose, and wold and wysshed that he 
had not begonne ; bot sith he had vndretaken itt, he thoght 
that he wold fynysshe it, or elles dye therfore. So he sett 

20 goode warde and watche aboute the toure, that the? shuld 
come no vytell to theym. 

And then he bethoght hym of a grete malice, for he come 
to the kyng and prayd hym to goo to his doghtre, for he 
knewe wele that he myght turne hi? of hi? folye that she has 

25 taken on honde ; and tolde hym that he wold not famyshe hi?, 
bot fall into a tretee. The kyng, that was goode and true and 
thoght noon harme, went vp to his doghtre and told hi? howe 
she was in a way to be deid and shewed hi? mony ensaumples. 

30 And she answeryd hym to the contrarye, and howe she thoght 
wele the lettres was (false) ; " and ye wote wele," said she, 
" that othre tymes he has sayd that he was deid. So I shal 
rathre dye, bot if I knowe the verray treuthe." " In goode 
faith," said the kyng, " it may wele be as ye say; for I knowe 

MS. theym. W, that he supposed myght noye Aym/translating R, qui lui 
pouuaient nuyre. I. e., " might hinder him" (Guen.). 

130 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

noo man of knowlege that has ben the?, and harde is the werre, 
whe? as noon escapes." So they be sum what comforthed, for 
the grete vntreuthe that they knewe on hym. 

Guenelete asked the kyng, that he sawe aboue at the wyn- 
5 dowe, " Ser, what wolle she doo ? " " So helpe me God," said 
the kyng, " I may not spede, for she be yitt all sorowfull and 
angree for hi? lorde, wherfor I may haue no goode answe?." 
" No ! " said Guenelete, " by the faith that I owe to God, ye 
shall abyde with hi? and be? he? fellishipp, forto ete pesen 

10 and ploumes ; for ye shall bot l twoo dye for hungre, bot 
if I may haue hi? fellysshipp." So the kyng abode with his 
doghtre, wherfor she had the titte? pitee for the hungre and 
the dysease of hi? fadre. They had mete enughe iiij days or v. 
bot the vj* day they? vitelles fayled so that they had navthre 

15 bred nor flesch. So the[i] wer twoo days that they navthre ete 
ne dranke save a litle chese, and iche of theym a draghte of 
wyn. The kyng began forto feble, for Sydone had noo more 
mete bot vj apyls, of the whiche she gave euery day twoo to 
hi? fadre. She weped and sorowed for the grete disease that 

20 hi? fadre was in, and that did hi? more sorowe than hi? awn 
peyn did. She loked often tymes oute at a wyndowe toward 
the citee and the see, if she myght se any thyng. So she 
wyshed ofte tymes aftre Ponthus and then she weped and 
made myche sorowe, desyryng hi? awn dethe, and said to the 

26 kyng, "Ay my lorde, it had ben bettre for you that I had ben 
deid long agoo, then ye to soffre suche payne and so myche 
hungre for me." The kyng weped and sayd, " I had leuer 
dye for hungre then to se yonde traitou? gete you by this 
meane." Sydone called hym, " Fals traitou? and vntrewe, 

30 howe may thou soffre the kyng to dye, that is so trewe 2 a 
man ? Alias ! " said she, " Be thys the nurture that he has 
made of the, when thou has beseged hym and makes hym to 
dye for hungre and thurst, that oftentymes has gyven the 
goode mete and drynke? Be this the guerdon that thou 

35 yeldes hym ? " She said hym myche shame, bot all avaled 

K, t&usdeux. *W,good. K,6on. 


not; for he made his othe that he shuld make hym to dye 
for verray hungre, if she wold not concent to be his wyfe. 

The kyng was almost deid for hungre and lay in his bed 

and myght not styrre. And when Sydon behelde hym she 

5 said that she we? leuer to dye, or to sorowe all hi? live then 

to see hi? fadre dye for hi?. Then she said to hym wepyng, 

" My ryght swete lorde and fadre, I may noo lengre soffre 

you? sorowe ne the hungre that ye abyde. Me is \euer to 

*Fol. 198.] dye, or to be in sorowe all my live days, then to se * you in 

10 this case." The kyng weped and wyst not what to say ; forto 
see that he shuld haue hys doghtre by this way, it greved 
hym sore, and on that othre side, to see hym selfe and hi? to 
dye to gedre, itt did hym grete harme, for she shuld be cause 
of hi? awn dethe. So he sorowed sore and said that he had 

15 to long lived. So he couthe not councell hym self and said 
vnto hi?, " Fai? doghtre, I wote not how we may doo. I 
ne wote what counsell I may yeve you so myche sorowe I 
haue, bot to see you dye, I may not see it ; and I wold that 
the dethe toke me, so that Ponthus we? in this toune on live 

20 on the strong parte, for he wold venge hym wele on the trai- 
tou? that wold have you agane you? wyll." And the squyers 
and the genty 11 women, the whiche were at the dethe and wode 
for hungre, it was noo mervell, for it was iiij days past or 
more sith they ete any maner of mete, and they said, " Ma 

25 dame, ye shal be cause of you? awn dethe and of the kyuges 
you? fadre and of vs. It wer bettre to take the vnhappy ure 1 
then to doo worse." 

When she sawe that she must nedes doo it, for to save hi? 
fadre more then for hi? awn deth, which she sett bot easy by, 

30 then she rose vp and went to the wyndowe and did call 
Guenelete ; and then she come agane and sent hi? fadre and 
badd hym speke to Guenelete, and if he myght fynde noo 
tretee that he shuld accorde with hym, so that he myght haue 
viij days or more respite to recouer vs of the hungre that (he) 

35 has sett vs in. The kyng rose vpp and said to Guenelete that 

1 MS. Vrethen. W, vnhappy man. R, cettui homme. 

132 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

by strenght he shuld neuer haue the loue of hi? ; and if he 
wold leve his entreprise, he shuld yeve hym tounes, or 
castelles, or what thyng he wold haue. And he answerd 
agane and said, that he wold not take all the reaume, bot that 
5 he wold haue hi?, sith that hi? (lorde) had yeven hi? to hym. 
Then said the kyng, " He? be bot litle reason. I dovte that 
ye shall not reiose hi? long." All avaled not that the kyng 
said, for he was more in his cursydnes then he was afore, and 
said, (not) for to dye, he wold leve his entreprise, what so 

10 ever befell. The kyng asked hym a monethe respete, and at 
the monethe ende he shuld yeve hym an answe?. And Guene- 
lete wold ryght not doo ; bot the kyng did so myche that he 
had iiij days resspete, and aftre the iiij days he shuld wedde 
hi? ; and that (she) concented therto. 

15 This 1 was the matie? sworne and agreed. And yit said 
Guenelete, that she shuld not departe oute of the tou? vnto 
the day come of hys weddyng. He had grete ioye and did 
bere hi? euery day of the best metes that he couth fynd. 
And then he helde the kyng wele avysed. 2 Aftre the iiij** 

20 day the feste and the array was grete, and Guenelete floo for 
ioye to haue so fai? a ladye, that he loued so wele. The kyng 
went and broght hi? doune, and she come all for-weped 3 and 
was so heuy that she had leve? haue died then lived, and 
wyssed in hi? hert aftre Ponthus and said, alias in evyll tyme 

25 was she borne, "for a simple chaunge nowe haue I made." 
So she was led to the chirche, and the byschop did wed theym. 
The teres fell often tymes and thyk frome hi? eyn. 

The mete was ordaned and the? was dyuers mynstrelleses, 
of trumpes, taboretes, and fydelles. Ryght mery was Guene- 

30 lete, bot I dovbte it was aganes his mysaventure, as it pleased 
God, for euery man shal be rewarded aftre his seruice. That 
day was the fest ryght grete. 

W, And thus. 

* W, auysed. The reading appears to be a misunderstanding of K's bien aise. 

3 W, bewepte. 


So leve we here of theym and turne agane to Ponthus, 
howe he come on fro Galice to the mariege of Guenelete and 
of Sydone. 

[Cap. XXXII. How Ponthus arrived in Bretan the same 
5 day that Guenelete and Sydone was maried ; and how 
he and his fellawes went to the feste as datincers, and he 
si ewe Guenelete in playne soppe?.] 

;*Fol. 198 b .] * 1 )Onthus was in the shipp and had taken the see and had 
taken his leve at his modre and at his vncle and of 

10 all the barounes of his contrey, and had all ordaned as ye 
haue herd afore. He did drawe vp the sales and had wynd 
at wyll and sailed so long that they arrived in the He of Ree 
fast by the Koch ell. The? they toke leve of hym, the Pety- 
vynes, the Aungevynes, the Manseoues, the Toryngeaus. So 

15 Ponthus toke his leve of theym and thonked theym myche 
and gave theym grete gyftes ; and then he toke the see agane, 
he and the othre navye of Englond and of Bretan ; and the 
wynde fell all calme and Ponthus toke twoo litle ballengers 
and thre scoore fellowes with hym, and began to rowe. 

20 Sydoue had dremed that hi? lorde come ; wherfore she had 
sent oute oon of hi? squyers to the see syde, to see if any 
thyng come, which lepe vpon a coursoure. So he beheld 
twoo ballengers and sawe in theym a standard. So he sup- 
posed that it was of the armys of Galice; wherfor he toke 

25 his hoode and made a signe of callyng. Ponthus beheld and 
said, " See yondre a ryda?, that makes vs a signe of callyng. 
Itt semes vs that he has grete haste, or elles he mokkes vs. 
Haste you that we we? with hym." And when the squye? 
knewe Ponthus, he cryed to hym and said, " Ser, haste you, 

30 for Godes loue." "What?" said Ponthus, "Be the? any 
thyng amys?" Then the squye? told hym howe Guenelete 
had serued hym fro poynte to poynte. And then Ponthus 
blissed hym and was all amervelled, that euer he thoght to 
doo suche treasone. 

134 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

"Nowe," said the squye?, "they wolle anoon be at the 

soppe?, so it shal be harde to come in." " I shall telle you/' 

sayd Ponthus, " howe we shall doo : we shall dysgyse vs at 

yonde vyllege and we shall goo in daunsyng with tyboures 

5 and with pypers, 1 and we shall be? presentes, sayng that we 

be fellowes that has grete ioye of the mariage ; and by that 

meane we shall come in with the daunses." " In goode faith/' 

said the squye?, " it be wele sayd." And so itt was doon. 

And Ponthus dysgysed hym 2 in the gounes of the goode 

10 men of the subarbes ; and then they went daunsyng to the 
courte. So it was neghe the sonne gooyng doune, and men 
lete theym entre into the hall, wele dysgysed. Sume had stree 
hattes and sume of grene bowes and sume had hoodes stuffed 
with hay, sume were haltyng and sume were croke bakked, 

15 euery man made aftre his awne gyse. Guenelete made ioye 
and sayd, " Ye may wele see howe the comon people has grete 
ioye of our weddyng; the? be fai? dysportes that they make 
vs." Bot he knewe not of the bushement, wherby he was 
sone angred. 

20 When Ponthus and his felleshipp had daunsed twys or thrys 
aboute the hall and had beholden the hyghe dese, and sawe 
Guenelete that made grete ioye and grete feste of the daunses 
and getted 3 at the table, Ponthus come thedreward and kast 
away his disgysyng, so that euery man knewe hym ; and then 

25 he said to Guenelete, "Ay thou fals tratou? and vntrewe, howe 
durst thou thynke so grete a treson aganes me and the kyng 
and his doghtre, the whiche has norysshed the and doone the 
so myche goode ? A simple guerdone has thou yelded theym 
agane therfore. Bot nowe thou sail haue thy payment." 

30 Guenelete behelde hym, the whiche was full ferd and wyst 

neuer what to answe?, for he knewe wele that he was bot a 

deid man. And then Ponthus drewe a litle swerd, ryght 

[*Fol. 199.] scharpe, and smote hym, so that he clave the hede * and 

1 W, with pypes and labours. 

9 W, Kynge Ponthus and hisfelowes dysguysed theym. 

3 W, wayted. R, deuisoil. 


the body to the navy 11, and afire he cutted of his hede, the 
which was in peces in sigue of a tratoure, and made hym to 
be draun oute and commaunded that he shuld be borne to the 

5 When the kyng and his doghtre sawe Ponthus, the[i] 
lepte from the table and come rynnyng, they? arrays open, 
and halsed hym and kyssed hym. Sydone weped for ioye and 
kyssed his mouthe and his eyn and she myght not dysseuer 
from hym. Bot Ponthus had so grete pitee for the dysease 

10 that they had soffred, that the teres fell frome his eyn, so sore 
his hert was. And when they? herttes we? sumwhat lyght- 
ened, the kyng said, " Fai? son, it has bot litle failed that ye 
shuld haue lost the syght of you? wyfe and of me." Then 
he told hym of the grete treson, of the fals le^res, and of the 

15 hungre he made theym to soffre. Ponthus blessed hym and 
was all abasshed and sayd l that neuer sith Crist [was] borne, 1 
was suche a tratow livyng, that thoght so fals a tresoune. "I 
bethynke me," said he, " of Ihesu Crist that had xij apostelles, 
of the which oon sold hym. And so we come hidre xiiij 2 

20 fellowes, as it plessyd to God, wherof oon was wors then 

ludas ; bot thonked be God, he be wele payd for his reward." 

"Ay," said the kyng, " and ye had bene lengre absente, ye 

had bene more mokked." " God wold it not," said Ponthus. 

u Nowe leve we this talkyng," said the kyng, "for the 

25 matie? be wele fynysshed to my plesu? ; so lete vs leve of ou? 
disporte 3 and tell ye vs of you? dedes, howe ye haue sped." 
" Ryght wele, I thonke God," said Ponthus. Then he told 
theym of the batell and of the dyscomfetoure of the Saresyns, 
and howe the contrey was clensed and wele laboured. And 

30 then the? we? sum that told all the manere and the revle, howe 
he was coroned. They had all grete ioye to he? of the fai? 
aventures that God sent hym. Then they did bryng hym 

1 W, sayd that newer erst ivas borne suche. K, car oncques mais ne nasqui si 
favlx homme. 

2 R, xiiij. W, .xiii. 

'After disporte, a superfluous and tell vs is cancelled by the rubricator. 

136 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

doune to sope? and aftre songen and daunced and had ioye in 
they? herte. Sydone was merye and glade, and it nedes not 
to aske, howe that she in hi? herte thonked God mekely to be 
escaped frome so grete a perell. That nyght they we? wele 
5 eased, for both thei? hertes we? 1 in dystresse. They talked 
of mony thynges and they had enughe of ioy and of dissportes 
to gedre, for they loved wele to gedre. They loved God and 
holy chirche and they we? ryght charitable and piteous of the 
pouere people. 

10 That nyght the sowdeoures of Guenelete fled a way, 
whoso myght goo, went. All othr^ people thonked God of 
the commyng of Ponthus, and they went (on) pylgremege and 
with processyon, yeldyng graces to God, for euery man wenyd 
that he had ben deid. On the morowe aftre arryved the 

15 navye of Englond, of Bretan, and of Normandye. And when 
they herd the tresoune of Guenelete, they had grete mervell, 
howe that euer he durste thynke suche falshode. 

The kyng of Bretan recey ved theym with grete ioye ; and 
the kyng Ponthus withheld with hym the Erie of Gloucestre, 

20 and wele a twenty knyghtes, and said that within xv days he 
wold goo into Englond to see the kyng and the quene and 
they? 2 doghtre Gene?; and said to the Erie of Richemound, 
"Recommaunde 3 me to theym, I pray you; and if my lady 
Gene? be not wedded, I shall bryng hi? an husbond, if it 

25 pleasse the kyng and hi?." So he tolde hym in his ere that it 

was his cosyn german Pollides, the which be right a goodely 

knyght and of goode condiciones and likly to come to 4 grete 

worshipp. "In goode faithe," said the Erie, "ye say trouthe; 

r*Fol 199 b 1 an( ^ ^ e ky n g wolle be full glade of hym, as I suppose, and 

30 haue hym in * grete chertey, for the love that (he) has to you. 
So he convehed hym as fa? as he myght and aftre toke his 
leve of theym. And so they departed and come into they? 
awn contrey with grete ioye. 

1 W, had ben. 3 Mather'. W, her. E, leur. 

3 MS. recommaumde. 

4 In the MS. to follows worshipp. I follow the order of W. 



The Erie of Richemound come into the courte and founde 
the quene and the kyng of Scotes, that was comen to see 
theyme. The kyng asked hym of the tithynges. And he 
told hym, fro the begynnyng to the endyng, of all the aven- 

5 tures : and howe the contrey was deliuered of the Saresyns, 
and howe the contree and the people had ben saved by the 
Erie of Desture and Ser Patryk, in suche wyse that it was 
wele laboured and peopled of men by the truage that they 
yelded, wherby they lived in peace. And then he told hym of 

10 the treson of Guenelete, and aftre he told theym of the grete 
yeftes, of the grete gentylnes, and the goode chere that kyng 
Ponthus made theym, and howe gretly he was beloued of all 
men. And when he hade all tolde, he toke in councell the 
kyng, the quene, and they? doghtre Gene?, and the kyng of 

15 Scotes, and tolde theym howe Ponthus wold come thedre 
within xv days, and withheld with hym the Erie of Glou- 
cestre, and howe he had spoken to hym of a mariege of his 
cosyn german and of Geneue?. The kyng asked what maner 
knyght he was; and he answerd that he was the goodliest 

20 knyght that he knewe, save Ponthus, " and I tell you/' 
said he, " that he resembled 1 myche to Ponthus, of persone 
and of condiciouns, save he be sumwhat lesse." "Be my 
feith," sayd the kyng, " I accorde me therto, so that it please 
my doghtre." And she kneled doune and said, what it 

25 pleased hym to commaunde hi?, she shuld doo it. The quene 
and the kyng of Scottes agreed theym to the mariege, and 
the kyng of Scottes said, " Ser, it nedes not to marye you? 
doghtre to a kyng, or to a lorde, that wold not dwell in the 
reaume ; for a kyng, or a grete lorde, pera venture, wold not 

30 dwell in this contree, and that we? not goode for the people 
ne for the contrey ; and witt ye wele, that als longe as the 
kyng Ponthus levys the? shall noo man be so hardy, to assayl, 
or to greve, this lond." Then said the kyng that he said 
sothe. Geneuer, that so myche loved Ponthus, said in hi? 

35 hert, that the knyght pleased hi? more then any othre, and she 

1 W, resembleth. R, ressemble. 

138 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

enquered of hym full farre 1 of the Erie and of the knyghtes, 
that had ben at the werre and had seen hym ; and the more 
that she enquires, the bettre she fyndes and the more she 
loves hym. Now has she noo desire so grete as to see hym 
6 and she prayd to God that he myght come soon. So leve we 
to speke of theym and turne agane to the kyng Ponthws. 

[Cap. XXXIII. How kyng Ponthus made a grete feste at 
Vennys for to feste the straungers, wher as he wonne 
the prys aboue all othre.] 

10 1 )Onthus turned agane to Vennys, 2 when he had convehed 
-L the lordes of Englond and of the contrees beyonde. So 
they went to here messe and aftre went to theyr mete ; and 
then said kyng Ponthus to the barounes of Bretan, " Fai? 
Lordes, if it pleasse you, me must see the ladies of this con- 

15 trey, for I wolle feste theym for the love of the Duke of 
Gloucestre and thes knyghtes of Englond, the which e muste 
be fested, and to dyssporte theym with sume dedes of armes ; 
for within xv days we must goo into Englond to see the 
kyng, for certan matiers that I have to speke with hym." 

20 They answerd that it shuld be doon. " Nowe," said he, " I 

charge ichon of you, that ye bryng the fairest ladyes and 

gentyllwommen of you? contrees, and iche of you shall bryng 

his wyfe, and ye shall be here all by this day sevennyght." 

So this was graunted, and euery man went home to his wif 

25 and to theyr frendes and eueryche of theym soghte for the 

[*Fol. 200.] fairest ladys and * gentylwommen, and the beste synghyng 

and daunsyng, that they couthe fynde, and come to Vennys. 

And the kyng Ponthus went aganes theym and resceyved 

theym with grete ioye of mynstrellcie and of othre disportes. 

30 On the morowe aftre we? the iustes grete. Sydone was in 
a scafold, and the kyng hi? fadre, and the grete ladies of 
Bretan and the aged knyghtes. Ponthus was of the inner 

1 W,fromeferre. * MS. Vennys and. 


partie, and the Duke of Gloucestre, Barnard de La Roche, 
Gerrard de Vettrey, Pers de Vettry, Roge? de Loges, the 
Vicounte de Dounges, and Endrus de Doule, for to iuste 
aganes all com oners. 1 So the iustes began grete and harde. 
5 Ponthus bett doune knyghtes and horsses, so that euery man 
dovbted to mete with hym. The ladies prased hym myche 
and so did all othre men. Grete was the feste, the iustes, and 
the dissportes, and lasted to the sonne goyng doune. The? 
we? mony fai? iustes and harde strokes, that longe we? to tell. 

10 At evyn they went to they? soupe? and we? serued with 
mony dyuers smiices; and mynstrelles and herowdes made 
grete myrth and grete noyse. The prys of the uttre syde was 
yeven to the Lorde Mounteford, for ryght wele and sore he 
had iusted. So he had the cupp of gold. And Ponthus had 

15 the prys within and he had a chapelete, that the ladys sent 

And then with (that) come Geffray de Lazygne, Andrewe 
de La Toure, Guyllyam de Roches, and Leonell de % Mauleon, 
the which Ponthus had sent for, to goo with hym into Eng- 

20 lond, for ouer all knyghtes he loued theym beste for thei? grete 
worthenes. And the kyng Ponthus rosse a gane theym and 
toke theym in his armes and made theym grete chere. And 
they said vnto hym that he dide wrong to rysse aganes theym 
and that he was to curtese and to gentyll. Aftre souper the 

25 Lorde de Lazigne said, "Ye have this day iusted withoute 
vs, and if it please you," said he to Ponthus, " we iiij that be 
last comen shall iuste to morowe." Then said Ponthus, " Ye 
shall haue with you my cosyn Pollides and the Vicounte de 
Lyon, for to be vj ; for I vndrestond this day by the Vicounte 

30 wordes, that he was wrothe by cause that he was not of the 
inner partie, for we shall nowe at this tyme ease his hert." 
Then he was called, and Pollides told theym that to morowe 
they vj shuld iust aganes all com oners. 

So the cry was made that the white fellowes shuld delyuer 

35 all maner of knyghtes ; and he that withoute shuld haue the 

1 W, comers. R, venans. 

140 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

pris, he shall haue a gyrdle and a gybser of the fairest lady 
of the feste ; and he that within shuld haue the prys, shuld 
kysse the fairest ladye and of hi? shuld haue a rynge of gold. 
So the? we? grete iustes and mony grete strokes gy ven ; hot 
5 who so euer iusted wele, or noo, I lete it passe forto abryge 
thys storye. And neuer the lesse, the pris withoute was yeven 
to Geffray de Chateawbreaunce, and the price within, to Pol- 
lides ; bot sum said that Geffray de Lazygne had wonne it, 
so the? was therfore a grete debate. 


10 [Cap. XXXIV.] l Her followes of the mariege of Pollides 
and of [the] kynges doghtre of Englond. 1 


jn the morowe aftre Ponthus toke his leve of the kyng 
and of Sydone and of the ladys of Bretan, and toke 
the see and led with hym xij of the barounes of Bretan and the 

15 iiij knyghtes before said. So they passed over ; for the Erie 
of Glouce^tre parted before theyni a day iourney, for to tell 
the kyng of Englond that the kyng Ponthus come for to 
see hym. 

The kyng vndrestode wele by the Erie of Rychemond that 

20 he come ; so he was garnysshed and stuffed of all thynges 

[*Fol. 200 b .] that hym neded forto receyve hym * worshipfully. With hym 

was the kyng of Scottes, his brothre, and the kyng of Ire- 

londe and the kyng of Cornewayle, his neviewe, and the erles 

and the barounes of his reaume. So they had grete ioye of 

25 his comyng. The kyng prayd theym all to doo hym all the 
worschypp and chere that myght be doon, " for," said he, 
" ye wote wele howe by hym this reaume was releved both of 
negheboures and Saresyns." They said all that they shuld 
doo they? powe?. The kynge lepte on hors bak and thos 

30 othre knyghtes and rode agane kyng Ponthus wele a myle, 
with all maner of mynstrellcy. They receyved hym with 

1 Since this sentence of the text is quite in the form of a chapter heading, 
I have used it as such. 



grete ioye and worshipp. The che? that they made hym be 
not to tell of, for itt was ryght grete. 

The kyng Ponthus was right rychely arrayd with perles 
and precius stones, and he had vpon his hede a cercle of 
5 stones and of perles. They we? twenty knyghtes with Pol- 
lides, and the vj ! that I spake of afore and iiij hundreth of 
Galyce. Thes twenty knyghte[s] we? cled in singulatones 
furred with 2 wyld ware all in oon suyte. They we? wele and 
richely arrayd of gyrdells of gold and of gyspers, fai? and 

10 ryche, the which apered vndre thei? ryche man ty 11s. They 
we? myche luked vpon, and thei? ordenawnce was holden 
riehe, both fai? and goode. With grete ioye intred the kyng 
Ponthus into London and the? he founde the queue and hi? 
doghtre and hi? ladyes in the courte abydyng hym. 

15 So when he sawe the quene, he lyght a farrorn and went 
rynnyng toward hi?, and she kyssed hym and halsed hym, 
and he was receyved with grete ioye and worship. The quene 
asked hym howe he had doon sith he departed from thens; 
and he said, " Ryght wele." Geneuer the kynges doghtre had 

20 alwey hi? eye to see Pollides, the which she had grete desire 
for to see. So she knewe hym by the tokens and the liknes 
of his cosyn Ponthus, and she se hym so gracius and so 
plesaunt that she liked hym aboue all othre. And yit, to be 
in more certan, she asked the Erie of Gloucestre of hym ; and 

25 he shewed by a signe whiche was he. Then she said in hi? 
hert, that she had not faled to chese hym and that hi? hertt 
told hi? wele that it was he. They went to mete, and the? 
we? mony straunge seruices and notablely serued ; for the 
barounes serued by the kynges cowmcmndement. Aftre mete 

30 they ete and dranke and toke spices. And Geneuer had grete 
desire that they shuld speke of hi? matie? ; so she said to hi? 
vncle the kyng of Scottes, laghyng, (t I wote not what shall 
be of the speche that the Erie of Richemound broght." And 
the kyng smyled and said, "Ye haue seen hym. What say 

1 W and B have the correct reading, .xvi. 
* W, with veer, following B. 

142 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

ye by hym ? Plesys itt you of hy m ? " She waxe rede. " I 
shall doo as my Lorde my fadre and ye wolle." So he sawe 
wele that she liked hym and come to the kyng and said vnto 
hym, it was goode to wytt of the rnatie? of his nece. 
5 Then said the kyng of Englond, " Ye say trouthe. With- 
drawe you into yonde chaumbre." And the kyng withdrewe 
hym, and sent for the kyng of Irlond and for the kyng of 
Cornewale and for the lordes and barounes of his reaume. 
And when they we? comen, he tolde theym howe the Erie of 

10 Rychmond had spoken vnto hym fro the kyng Ponthus of the 
mariege of his doghtre and of Pollides ; and he said vnto 
theym, " Fai? Lordes, ye knowe wele that I be aged, so it 
behoues that ou? doghtre be maried to a man that we? likly 
to kepe you in reste and in peace. If ye take a grete lorde, a 

15 kyng, or a prince, peraventu? he wolle make his dwellyng in 

[*Fol.201.] his awn contrey, and so * shuld ye be withouten gouernou?; 

and if any wrong be doon to any of you, or to this reame, 

or to any of ou? pouere 1 comones, they shuld be fane to goo 

oute of the contrey to seke ryght of his request. Therfore, 

20 as me semes, it we? bettre to haue a yonge knyght of high 
kynrede, that wolle abide and dwell with you, and that wold 
thynk hymself to (be) beholden to haue worsshipp by hys 
wyfe ; and in so myche he shuld be the more enclined to obey 
you and the reaume. So I wolle tell you all the matie? that 

25 has ben spoken vnto me." Then he declared theym howe 
the kyng Ponthus had spoken to the Erie of Richemound of 
his doghtre and of Pollides, the whiche men holden for a goode 
knyght and wele condicioned. So the? was myche talkyng 
both of oon and of othre, that longe were to tell ; bot the ende 

30 was that all was accorded, and said, that they myght noo 
bettre doo for the welfare of the reaume and forto be obeyd 
and oute of trouble, and that as long as his cosyn Ponthus 
levys, the? shuld noo man be soo hardy to meve any werre 
aganes theym. 

1 After pouere, me cancelled. 


And when the kyng sawe that they concented, he said to 
the kyng of Scottes and to the Erie of Richmound, the which 
were worshipfull knyghtes, " Goo ye," said he, " to the kyng 
Ponthus and doo hyrn to wytt of all thes maters and say 
5 hym that for his love we wolle haue his cosyn." Thes twoo 
departed and called the kyng Ponthus aside and tolde hym 
ryght graciusly howe the kyng and his lordes we? concented 
for the love 1 and worshipp of hym vnto the mariege that he 
had spoken of to the Erie of Richemound. Ponthus thouked 

10 the kyng and the barounes full mekely and said that they did 
hym myche worship, for the which God graunte hym grace 
forto deserve it. And so long went and come the kyng of 
Scottes to he assembled theym in the kynges 2 chaumbre and 
the? come the Archbysshop of Caunterbury, the whych fyanced 

15 theym. 

It be not to aske if Geneuer had ryght grete ioye in hi? 
hert, all thoghe she made the? bot simple chere outeward. 
Sche loued hym and praysed hym myche the more for his 
gudelenes and the gude name that men gave hym and also 

20 for the love of his cosyn Ponthus, the which she loued myche 
afor tyme. And also Pollides thonked God devoutly in his 
hert for the grete worship that he had sent hym in this world, 
and to haue so fai? a lady and of so goodely behavyng. So 
the day of the weddyng was sett the viij* day aftre. Grete 

25 was the feste and grete we? the iustes, the which begane the 
morowe aftre the day of the mariege ; for the kyng Ponthus 
said that he wold not accorde that the? shuld be any dedes of 
armes doon the day of the mariege, and that he said was by 
cause the kyng of Burgon deid the day of his mariege. Forto 

30 say of all the goode iustes 3 it we? to long to tell, bot ouer all 
Ponthus iusted wele, for he was withoute 4 any pitee or 4 pere. 
Right wele iusted Pollides and the kyng of Irlond, the Lorde 
de Lasigne, the Lorde de La Toure, the Lorde Maunford of 

1 After love, a superfluous and worship stands cancelled. 

2 R, c. du roy. W, queues. 

3 W, well lusters. 4 W omits. 

144 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

Bretan thes had all the voice of the wele iusters. It were 
long to tell all, so I lete it passe lyghtly ; for it were a grete 
thyng to tell of the grete feste, of the ordenaunce, and of the 
seruices, and of the price that was yeven, and of all the dys- 

5 sportes. The feste endured fro the nionday vnto the fryday. 

Aftre mete the kyng Ponthus toke his leve of the kyng 

and of the quene, bot with grete payne they gave hym leve. 

Geneufr convened hym wele two rnyle, and they had myche 

[*Fol.201 b .] goode talkyng to gedre, and she said vnto hym ho we * she 

10 loved hi? lorde Poll ides myche the more, by cause that she 
had loved hym covertly before, anof that she prased hym the 
more, by cause that he had keped truly his furst love. Pon- 
thus smyled and said that the? was noo wyle bot that wommen 
knewe and thoght. So they spake enughe of dyuers thynges ; 

15 and then he made hi? to turne agane, with grete payne, and 
said vnto hi?, "My lady and my love, I be you? knyght 
and shall be as long as I live ; so ye commaunde me what it 
pleasse you, and I shall fulfyll it at my powe?." And then 
he said befor Pollides, " My fai? lady and my love, I wolle 

20 that my cosyn here love you and obey you, and that he haue 
noo plesaunce l to noon so myche as to you. And if the? be 
any favte, doo me to wytt and I shall correcte hym." " Ser" 
said she, " he shall doo as a goode man owe to doo." " God 
graunt it," said he. So he toke his leve/ and departed. 

25 Then the kyng of Scottes, the kyng of Irlond, and the kyng 
of Cornewale wold haue convehed theym, that is to say, 
Ponthus and his felisship, vnto the porte, bot Ponthus wold 
not soffre theym. Bot the? was hevynes and curtesie at they? 
departyng. And aftre they toke they? leve at hym and turned 

30 agane to the kynges hovs. And the kyng Ponthus come to 
the porte and called to hym his cosyn Pollydes aside and said 
vnto hym, "Thonked be God, ye owe grete guerdon vnto 
God, for ye be in the way to by ryght a grete kyng and 
myghty of armys and of havi? and of notablenes, and grete 

35 lordes you? subiectes ; so ye owe to thonke God highly, and 

1 MS. plesaunt. W, pleasaunce. 


therfor it behoves you to have foure 1 thynges, if ye wolle 
reiose all in peace and to live peacyble : 

" The furst, it behoves that ye be a verray true man, that 
is to wyte, love God ouer all thyng, with all you? hert, and 
5 drede to disobey hym ; if ye love hym, ye shall faire the bettre 
and he shall helpe you and sustene you in all you? nedes. 
Love and worship holy chirche and all the commaundementes 
therof truly kepe. This be the furst seruice that men shuld 
yeld to Allmyghty God. 

10 " The secunde be, that ye shuld bere worshipp and seruice 
to theym that ye be comen of, and to theym of whome ye haue 
and may haue worship and riches, that is to say, love to 
serue you? fadre and you? wyfe, wherof myche worship shall 
befall you. Be to hym a verray ryght sonne ; kepe you that 

15 ye angre theym not ; soffre and endure what languege and 
wordes that shal be said vnto you, or of whate tales shall be 
reported vnto you, sum to please you and some to flater you, 
or elles for malice coverte of suche men as wold not the peace 
betwen you and theym ; for fai? cosyn, he that wolle soffre 

20 of his bettre and of his grettre, he ouercomes hym. It is 
a grete grace of God and of the worlde, a man 2 toward hym 
self 2 to haue sofferaunce, for dyuers resones, the which shuld 
be long to tell. 

"The third resone is forto be meke and amyable, large 

25 and free, aftre you? powe?, to youre 3 barounes and to you? 
knyghtes and squyers, of whome ye shall haue nede ; and if 
ye may not shewe theym largesse and fredome of you? goodes, 
at the lest, be to theym curtes and debonere, both to the grete 
and to the litle. The grete shall love, the litle shall prase 

30 you ouer all of you? goode che? ; and so 4 it shal gretly avale 

1 Ws reading. MS. thre. Ponthus' homily is actually divided under four 

* W omits a man and has towarde hymselfe immediately following worlde 
and modifying grace probably the true reading. 

3 The e of youre shows a tag apparently for a second, unfinished e. 

4 W, so he shall auayll you a ryght heralde. R, Et vous vauldra ung droit 


146 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

you, so myche ye shall be prased ouer all. And also it is 
to vndrestonde that ye shuld be curtes and gentle vnto you? 
wyf afor any othre, for dyuers resons ; for by worshipp and 
by curtesie 1 beryng vnto hi?, ye shall hold the love of hi? 

5 bonde vnto you ; and forto be dyuers and roode vnto hi?, she 

[*Fol. 202.] myght happenly chaunge, and the love * of hi?, so shuld ye 

wors reioys ; and peraventure she then myght gyve it to an 

othre, whe? as she myght take suche plesaunce, 2 wherof ye 

myght be right sorye, and that ye shuld not withdrawe it 

10 when ye wold. And so the? be grete^perell and grete maistre 8 
to kepe the love of mariege. And also be wa? that ye kepe 
selvyn true vnto hi?, for it be said in Gospell that ye shuld 
chaunge hi? for noon othre. And if ye doo thus as I say, God 
shall encrese you in all goode welthe and worship. If ye see 

15 hi? angree, apese hi? by fairnes, and when she comes agane 
to hi? selfe, she shall loue you myche the more ; for the? be 
noo curtesie doon to a good hert bot that it is yolden agane ; 
and when an hert be fell and angre and men wrath it more, it 
imagyns thynges wherof mony harmes may fall. 

20 "The fourte reson be, that ye shuld be petuous of the 
pouere, the which that shall require right of the ryche, or 
of the myghty, that wold greve theym ; for therto be ye sett 
and ordaned and all othre that has grete lordeshipes, for 
ye come into the worlde as pouere as they dide, and as pouere 

25 shall ye be at the day of you? dethe ; and ye shall haue noo 
more of the erthe, save oonly you? lenghte, as the pouere shall 
have, and ye shall be lefte in the erthe allone, as the pouere 
shall be. And the? (fore) shall ye haue noo lordeship, bot forto 
holde ryghtwysnes, withoute blemyssyng, or doute of any grete 

30 maistre, 4 or repreve, nethi? letyng for the love ne for the hate, 
for thus commcmndes God. Euery friday in esspeciall he? the 
clamou? of the poue? people, of wommen and of wydoys. Putt 
not thei? right in resspete ne in dilacion, ne beleve not allway 

1 W, courteys. 3 W, maystry. 

9 MS. plesaunt. 4 MS. maistrie. W, mayster. 


you? officers of Query thyng that they shall tell you ; enque? 

befor the truthe, for sum of theym wolle doo it to purchese 

darnege to the pouere, for hate, and sume for covetyse, to 

haue thei? goodes, when they see that they may not doo so 

5 with theym as they wold. So, if they come with fals reporte, 

it is a perilous thyng for a grete lorde to be lyght of beleve." 

He taght and 1 shewed mony goode ensaumples. And Pol- 

lides thonked hym and said vnto hym, "Ser, I knowe wele 

ye loue, and of you? goodnes ye haue purchesed > me the wor- 

10 ship and the welfare that I haue ; therfor I pray you, by the 
way of charitee, that we may euery yere mete and comon 2 to 
gedre ; for that shall be my comforth, all my sustenemnce and 
ioye." " I graunte therto," said Ponthus. And aftre, when 
they had spoken and talked of mony thynges, they toke they? 

15 leve echon of othre and halsed and kyssed to gedre ; and 
navthre of theym had powa? to speke oon worde, for mervel- 
lously they loved to gedre. 

When the kyng Ponthus had his hert sum what clered, 3 
that he myght speke, he toke his leve of the lordes of Eng- 

20 lond and offred hym self myche vnto theym. And Pollides 
turned agane vnto the kynges hous, whe? as men made hym 
right grete ioye. 

Pollides helde wele the goode doctrine of his cosyn Ponthus, 
for he smaed and obeyd the kyng and the quene, and made 

25 hym selfe to be loved both of the ryche and of the pouere by 
his larges and curtesie. Ryght wele he loued God and holy 
chirche and was pituous and charitable vnto the pouere people. 
The kyng and the quene loued hym as thei? awn childe, and 
aboute vij yeres aftre, the kyng died ; and then was Pollides 

30 crowned kyng peaseablely, and ryght goode (loue) was betwen 
hym and his wyf and the olde quene, and so he reigned in 
peace and in goode ryste. 

So leve we he? of hym and turne agane to Ponthus. 

1 After and, we cancelled. 3 R, le cuer luy esclaircisl. 

8 W, se vs. 

148 F. J. MATHER, JR. 

[Cap. XXXV. How kyng Ponthus returned to Bretan and 
gouerned the real me vvysely vnto his dethe.] 

[*Fol.202 b .] * l/^ ! yng Ponthus saled so long on the see, he and his 
JL.JL. barounes, that they come and londed in Bretan and 

5 then they went to the kynges hous, whe? as they we? receyved 
with grete ioye of all maner of people. And when they had 
sodiourued wele vij days, Geffray de Lasigne and Andrewe 
de La Toure and the straungers toke their leve and departed. 
Ponthus gave theym rnony grete gyftes and riche presentes 

10 and thonked theym and witheld theym as his fellowes and 
his frendes, and then he convehed theym a liege, 2 whethre 
they wold or not: Then they toke leve echon of othre. 

The kyng of Bretan lived aboute space of thre yeres aftre, 
for he was ryght wele aged ; and so was Ponthus kyng and 

15 was ryght wele beloued of the astates and of all maner of 
people. He was right goode and rightwys of iustice, charita- 
ble and petuouse of the pouere. Ryght wele they loued to 
gedre, he and the quene his wyfe, and led a ryght goode, holy 
live and did mony almus dedys. And when the houshold 

20 shuld remeve from oon place to an othre he did crye that all 
they that he owed any goode vnto, we? itt for his houshold, 
or for any othre thyng that we? taken for hym, that they 
shuld come to hym or to his officers, and all he did pay for, 
that was taken of any man ; 3 for he said that all that witheld 

25 any goodes or det frome the pouere shuld haue litle merite 
therof. He vsed and led right a goode, holy live. 

And so then the[i] went and wonned a ye? in Galice, whe? 
as they we? right wele beloued, dred, dovbted, and worshipped. 
The Erie of Destrue thonked myche the kyng his neviewe of 

30 the worshipp that he had doon his sonne. The kyng Ponthus 
gave grete heritage and londes to Ser Patryke, which had 
saved hym in the shipp and had doon so myche goode to the 

1 This K extends through four 11. of the MS. * a two myle. 

8 W inserts, for he sayd that they were foles that abyde to theyr heyres or to 
theyr executors/for fewe were contented following R literally. 


contrey. Right grete reuerence bare the quene Sydone vnto 
the olde quene hi? lordes modre. The kyng sent for his vncle 
the kyng of Aragon and for the lordes and barounes of the 
contrey aboute, and made grete iustes that dured wele x days. 

5 And aftre the quene and the houshold went on pilgremege to 
Sainte lames in Galice. 

And aftre his turnyng agane, he dwelled not long bot that 
he went to the weres in Spayne aganes the Saresyns. And 
he led with hym the barounes of Bretan, of Anyoye, of Mayne, 

10 of Petowe, of Tourreyn, of Normandie. Of the Normandes, 
he led the Erie of Morteyn, the Vicounte of A vrences, Tesson, 
Panel!, and mony othre knyghtes; of Mayne, Hungres de 
Beamouude and Guy de Laball 1 and dyuers othre ; of Anyoye, 
Piers de Doune, Andrewe de La Toure, Guyllen de Roches, 

15 the Lorde of Marmonte, 2 John de Petowe, the Lorde de La- 
signe, Guy de Towars, Leonell de Malleon, Hungres de Par- 
teney ; of Turreyn, Hubberd de Malle, Hondes de Bausy, 
Patryk d'Amvoys; 3 and mony of theym of Bretan and of 
Gascoigne. They we? wele xv M1 , and discomfeted the hethen 

20 people, and ther they did mony grete dedes of armes and toke 
mony grete tounes and castelles ; and then vpon the wynte? 
euery man turned home agane into his awn contrey. And all 
gave grete Jove and prasyng 4 to Ponthus, for he payd theym 
wele the[i]? wages and gave theym grete gyftes, in so myche 

25 that they said, the? was no right cheften bot he, and that he 
*Fol. 203.] was likly to conque? all mane? of contrees * be his knyghthode, 
larges, and curtesie, " for all goode condiciones be in his per- 
sone, aftre the revle of God and of the world, and in hym be 
all goodelynes, so that it be mervell of hym before all othre, 

30 he owe grete guerdon vnto God." 

He dwelled a while in Galice, and aftre he come agane to 
Bretan, and then he went and sawe his cosyn Pollides, the 
which was croned kyng of Englond, whe? he was receyved 

1 W, la vale. R, laual. 3 MS. Damvoys. W, damboise. 

9 W, Nermount. 4 W, loos and pryce. 

150 P. J. MATHER, JR. 

with grete ioye. It be not to aske if the quene Geneuer sett 
a grete payne forto feste hym and make hym grete chere. 

And aftre that went the kyng of Englond into Gascoigne 

and into Galice to see his fadre and his kynesmen and he gave 

5 theyra grete gyftes. And then he turned agane into Bretan, 

whe? as he was myche made of and had grete chere. And 

aftre he went home agane into his awn reame. 

The kyng Ponthus and the quene leved long enughe and 
reigned to the plese? of God and then they discesed and 
10 finisshed to the grete sorowe and hey^ynes to they? people. 

Bot thus it is of this worldly live ; for the? be noon so fai?, 
ne so ryche, so strong, ne so goode, bot at the last he must 
nedes leve this worlde. Explicit. 1 

1 After the last 1. of the romance are four 11. blank. The rest of f. 203 
has been cut out. 







The influence of the Orlando Jfwioso on Spenser's faery 
Queen has long been recognized. YFarton, in his excellent 
Observations, devoted a section to it, and ethers have here and 
there remarked upon the affinity of the two poems. I cannot 
find, however, that any writer has jet given the subject more 
than casual attention. The reasons for this neglect are, of 
course, not far to seek, Men read and study the Faery Qiwev., 
and men read and study the Orlando Furioso, but few care to 
read and study them side by side, with the obligation of go- 
ing through the Morgante Maygiore, the Orlando Innamorato, 
Rinaldo, and the GentealeMme JLiberaia, for casual reference 
and general illustration. The Faery Queen, as it stands, is 
nearly twice a:s long as the Odyssey, the OrlayidoJFunoso is 
lo^gerfchaD^he^q^en^gweCTi, and the others are of varying, but 
always substantial bulk a rather formidable array. More- 
over, despite_yasfc differences of_sjH r ft: and method, thes.poem9- 
deal wjth the. samp subject-matter, romantic chivalry; and too... 
steady converse with romantic chivalry~~is7 "to" say lie least, 

already done by Warton ; critics n;ay very probably have felt 
that further labor in this iield would hardly be worth while. 



152 R. E. NEIL DODGE. 

If one could hope for no more than to add a few parallel 
references to Warton's list, the labor would certainly not be 
worth while, for, in themselves, parallel references are mere 
curiosities of literature. One must classify arid compare and 
analyze them, before the influence of one poet on another can 
be determined. Just this, however, Warton has not done, did 
not attempt to do ; it was not within the scope of his plan. 
Yet the work would seem to be worth doing. In the follow- 
ing pages I have tried to cover in part the field which he very 
naturally neglected. I do 'not aim at exhaustiveness. I 
shall not examine how far Ariosto nifty have influenced the 
literary methods of Spenser, nor shall I attempt to analyze 
the Orlando Furioso and the Faery Queen as typical romance 
poems, to discover just what elements Spenser may have bor- 
rowed from the Ferrarese. I wish merely to discuss those 
specific imitations of theFuriosc which are to be found in the 
Faery Queen, and to indicate how Spenser made direct use of 
his original. 


Before taking up detail-study it may be well to give a brief 
preliminary glance at the beginnings of the Faery Queen. The 
earliest mention of it which has come down to us is in the two 
well known letters which Spenser and Harvey exchanged in 
the spring of 1580. Spenser writes : 

Novre my Dreames and Dying Pellicane, being fully finished .... and 
preseutlye to bee imprinted, I wil in hande forthwith with my Faery Quvene, 
whyche I praye you hartily send me with al expedition : and your frendly 
Letters, and long expected Judgement wythal, whyche let not be shorte, 
but in all pointes sache, as you ordinarilye use, and I extraordinarily desire. 1 

Harvey replies, and his friendly criticism has become a 
classic of Spenser literature : 

To be plaine, I am voyde of al judgement, if your 27iue C-ymcedits, where- 
onto in imitation of Herodotus, you give the names of tho Nine Muses (and 

1 For this passage and the following v. Dr. Grosart's edition of Spensor, 
vol. ix, pp. 274 and 277. 


in one mans fansie not unworthily), come not neerer Ariostoes Comcedies, 
eyther for the finenesse of plausible Elocution, or the rarenesse of Poetical 
Invention, then that Elvish Queene doth to his Orlando Furioso, which not- 
withstanding you wil needes seeme to emulate, and hope to overgo, as you 
flatly professed yourself in one of your last Letters. 

Besides that you know, it hath bene the usual practise of the most 
exquisite and odde wittes in all nations, and specially in ItcUie, rather to 
shewe, and advaunce themselves that way, than any other: as namely, those 
three notorious dyscoursing heads, Bibiena, Machiavel, and Aretine did (to 
let Bembo and Ariosto passe) with the great admiration, and wonderment 
of the whole country : being in deede reputed matchable in all points, both 
for conceyt of Witte and eloquent decyphering of matters, either with 
Aristophanes and Menander in Greek, or with Plautus and Terence in Latin, 
or with any other, in any other tong. But I wil not stand greatly with 
you in your owne matters. If so be the Faerye Queene be fairer in your eie 
than the Nine Muses, and Hobgoblin runne away with the Garland from 
Apollo : Marke what I saye, and yet I will not say that I thought, but there 
an End for this once, and fare you well, till God or some good Aungell putte 
you in a better minde. 

Thesej3assages--givc us one-plain. fkcli_at Jhejf erj_pu . tsgt. of 
his great poem Spenser is emulating the Orlando Fwrioso and 
hoping to .surpass it. Circumstances, indeed, made the emu- 
lation almost inevitable. 

In the spring of 1580, Spenser was about twenty-eight 
years old. He had been out of the University some three 
years and a half, and was then in London, the protege of 
Leicester and the friend of Sidney, looking forward with 
a young man's hopefulness to a career of practical activity. 
The October eclogue of the Calender, to be sure, speaks with 
some bitterness of the indifference shown to poetry and true 
poets, and Spenser would unquestionably have liked to devote 
himself without check to the cultivation of his genius; but 
he very well understood the conditions of his day, and his 
lament, despite its genuine fervor, need not be taken too 
seriously. 1 His familiar correspondence with Harvey, of this 
same period, certainly shows no signs of dejection. 

During these years he had been unusually active with his 
pen. Many of the poems which later appeared in the volume 

1 1t is after Mantuan. 

154 K. E. NEIL DODGE. 

of Complaints had been more or less nearly completed and 
laid aside, and of the works in prose and verse since lost or 
transformed beyond certain identification we have a list of 
nearly two dozen numbers. He was one of the aristocratic 
"Areopagus," interested in classic quantities, half believing, 
perhaps, in the revolution to be wrought in English verse, 
though with a poet's inconsistency following his own irre- 
sistible bent towards the national measures and rhyme. As 
Immerito, or Colin Clout, or " the new poete," he was famous 
all over literary London. The Calender, indeed in which 
youthful voracity of taste is so distiffct would, itself alone, 
indicate the varied interests and activity of his mind. None 
of these early works, however, was in any sense great, or 
opened the door to European fame, and he was of a genera- 
tion which did not rest content with small things. We are, 
therefore, not surprised to find him already concentrating his 
attention on what is to be the poem of his lifetime, the Faery 

Now, the Orlando Furioso was by common consent the 
master-piece of the century. Neither France nor England 
had produced anything to match it : even in Italy it was 
still unequalled, for the Rinaldo, besides being of relatively 
modest scope, was no more than the work of a promising 
youth, the Italia Liberata was so dull that nobody read it, 
and the Gerusalemme Liberata had not yet been published to 
the world. Ariosto's fame was supreme, and would be the 
natural mark of every ambitious young poet like Spenser. 
Moreover, the Orlando Furioso was the one long poem of 
Europe which^ dealing with -romantic_chi valry, gave it accom- 
plished artistic expression. The poetical romances of the 
middle ages could of course not serve him for models; the 
Morte d y Arthur, despite its fine prose dignity, could give him 
nothing but raw material ; the Morgante Maggiore, which he 
very probably did not know, was too grotesque for his pur- 
poses ; and the Orlando Innamorato, which also he seems not 
to have known, had been too thoroughly eclipsed by the 


Furioso to invite imitation. Ariosto's poem alone stood for a 
model to study and an achievement to emulate. We need 
hardly wonder, therefore, to find Spenser at the very outset; 
of his Faery Queen consciously pitting himself against the] 
great Italian. 

The temper of Ariosto's mind and the main qualities of 
his work need not here be analyzed in detail. Essentially 
secular and modern in his outlook, he sees in the world of 

chivalry a fantastic, amusing, utterly unreal show. Ksjjnati*-; 

*^ i ... i * na _ 1__ ^_^. 

lates his imagination ; it stirs his sense of humor. He is not I 
a strenuous poet ; he has no thought for grand themes ; all 
he cares for is complete artistic liberty. Planning to write a 
great poem, therefore, he looks about him for an unencum- 
bered field, a field in which his fancy can range unrestricted, 
in which his wit and humor can find congenial topics and 
his worldly observation can be at ease, which will give him 
themes for varied sentiment and lively action, and satisfy 
his sense of beauty with landscapes and gardens and palaces 
and colored pageantry such as make his own Italian world 
so pleasant a place to live in. Just this field is open to him 
in rnma^rtic^chivalry. It is almost infinite in extent and 
variety, and it has no beaten highways which a man must 
travel or miss his goal. Here he will be free and out of the 
reach of Aristotle. Furthermore, if he adopts chivalry, he 
can in part spare himself the labor of inventing a plot and 
characters. The Orlando Innamorato is at hand, unfinished : 
he can take up Bojardo's theme at the point of cessation, 
refine the cruder elements to meet his own more cultivated 
taste, and then carry it on wherever his fancy leads him. 
What more attractive work for a poet who, though bent on 
avoiding artistic constraint, has no ambition to be funda- 
mentally creative ? 

The plainer qualities of A riosto's poetry are notorious, and yet 
critics continue to differ about the Orlando Furioso. It con- 
tains passages of unquestionable jrony it contains passage of 
unquestionable seriousness. Is it a flippant poem, a deliberate 

156 B. E. NEIL DODGE. 

satire _on chiyajj^ colored here and there with rhetoric and 
factitious sentiment ? Or is it, on the whole, a serious poem 
enlivened by sallies of irony and humorous extravagance? 
The answer seems plain : it is neither. Those critics hardly 
understand Ariosto who imagine that he has a set point-of- 
view. If ever a man was " divers et ondoyant," it is he. We 
find him at times playing with chivalry as Heine plays with 
the legend of Rhampsenit : at times we find him portraying 
the emotions of his characters with genuine sympathy and 
power. There is no inconsistency in his attitude, for he has 
no definite attitude, or, better, his atfltude is that of the im- 
\/ partial artist. He is a man of the Renaissance, indifferent to 
Y moral steadfastness, alive to the beauty of the world and the 
interest of life, determined, above all, to have free play for 
I his faculties. The fervor and the fine idealism of chivalry 
amuse him and impress him by turns, according to his mood. 
If a distinction were possible we might .say that mere chivalry 
provokes him to a smile ; that when he is serious he is stirred 
by qualities of form or feeling or thought which are not 
/ peculiar to chivalry. Or we might say that though the 
\ spirit of chivalry means nothing to him, the external forms 
'* of chivalry, in their richness and varied life, strike his imagi- 
nation and rouse him to an artist's sympathy. But such 
, ; distinctions are hazardous ; he is too elusive to be caught by 
v definition. We recognize, of course, that he impresses various 
people very distinctly. To some of us his fertility, ease, and 
delightful art, his humor and his sujmy-^c^ticjsni are a 
constant charm ; others can see nothing but his moral indiffer- 
ence^his frivolity, his licentiousness. Whether we like him 
or not, however, and for whatever reason, we shall certainly 
not understand him if we try to classify his temper as either 
serious or flippant. Most of us will agree that irony is the 
main trait of his genius, and that much of his seriousness is 
very conventional ; but, on the other hand, we shall surely 
be uncritical if we deny that such passages as the crisis of 
Orlando's love (c. xxm) are sincerely sympathetic. A tenta- 


tive analysis might perhaps declare him to be an ironical, 
disillusionized courtier, gifted with the sensitive temperament 
of a poet. But again, he is too elusive to be caught by defi- 

Looking back on Ariosto from the vantage ground of our 
own critical century, we can readily discriminate and weigh 
these elements of his genius : his contemporaries, of course, / 
read him without need of analysis or commentary. During 
the sixty years, however, between the first appearance of his 
poem and the times of Spenser's emulation the temper of 
Europe changed, and in 1580 men no longer understood him 
as we can understand him now, or as his contemporaries 
understood him. If we would estimate his influence upon 
Spenser, therefore, even partially, we must first of all de- 
termine what Spenser really saw in him, and, to do this, we 
shall have to glance at the history of his reputation, that is, the 
development of Ariosto criticism in Italy. Certain important 
lines of this development do not lead us directly to Spenser's 
own views, but they can hardly on that account be eliminated. 
The movement should be taken as a whole. It is singular 
and interesting. 

A traditional anecdote tells us that when Ariosto was plan- 
ning his poem he turned to Bembo for advice, and that Bembo 
urged him to write it in Latin. According to another story, 
Bembo also urged him to cast it in regular epic form. Ariosto, ..... 

te artistic liberty, would of course 

not listen to such suggestions as these. Yet he was far from 
neglecting the classics. The writing of so long a poem as the 
Furioso necessitated a careful gathering of material, and in 
his search for this he not only ransacked what mediaeval 
romances were at hand, but turned as a matter of course to 
the authors of antiquity. One has only to glance at some of his 
most effective episodes Rodomonte within the walls of Paris, 
the midnight expedition of Cloridano and Medoro, Olimpia 
abandoned by Bireno on the desert island, Angelica exposed 
to the Ore and rescued by E-uggiero to understand how 

158 R. E. NEIL DODGE. 

freely he took from them. Nor does he, like Bojardo, utterly 
transform these borrowed passages in the spirit of frank and 
unregenerate romanticism : though accepting no limitations to 
his fancy, he yet has the true Renaissance taste for his origi- 
nals and keeps as close to them as he fairly can. Indeed, as 
Professor Rajna has pointed out, the Furioso contains the 
germs of that classical movement which was to make such 
rapid progress in Italy during the middle of the sixteenth 
century. Ariosto would not hamper himself with the laws of 
epic construction, but he borrows from classic literature almost 
as freely as the pedants of later time, and seems to think with 
them that such imitation in itself adds beauty to a poem. 

From the days of the Arioso onward the progress of classic- 
ism in Italy was indeed appalling. Ariosto's own comedies 
had already sent men back to Plautus and Terence, and in 
the very year in which his great poem was being prepared 
for the press Trissino wrote his Sofonisba and established the 
type of neo-classic tragedy. In narrative poetry the transfor- 
mation came later. Before Ariosto's death, however, the Italia 
Liberata had been begun, and in 1547 Italy could at last boast 
of having an epic, unreadable to be sure, but rigidly classical. 
A little later Alamanni composed his Avarchide, in which 
Caesar's Avaricum was besieged by King Arthur exactly on 
the lines of the siege of Troy. Even the pure romance poem 
was infected. Almost within the decade of Ariosto's death 
Giovan Maria Verdizzotti, a lad of sixteen, divided between 
delight in the Ferrarese and reverence for the classics, began 
an Orlando, the style of which was to be modelled on that of 
the Furioso, while the structure was to be after Aristotle's 
strictest laws. In 1560 appeared Bernardo Tasso's Amadigi, a 
work of the transition, in which the attempt to cast a romance 
poem in Aristotelian mould was frankly made and as frankly 
abandoned. Two years later the attempt was at least par- 
tially successful in Torquato Tasso's Rinaldo. Finally, in the 
Gerusalemme Liberata, of 1581, the union of episodic romance 
with classic action and dignity was fully accomplished. This 


union, however, was but temporary. In the Gerusalemme 
Conquistata romance was at last driven out and classicism 
triumphed unopposed. 

During this period the Orlando Furioso ran a singular 
course of celebrity and misconception. At its first appear- 
ance there were a few murmurs from the critically orthodox, 
but the reading public and most men of literary judgment 
were captivated by its charm. It took its place almost at 
once as the chief work of Italian literature since the days of 
Petrarch and Boccaccio. Then, in the course of time, as 
classicism more and more fully possessed the critics and 
men like Trissino contemptuously said that the poem was 
merely popular, the need was felt of defending it systemati- 
cally. The chief objections of the orthodox were that it 
violated the laws of epic construction and that it lacked 
seriousness. Its champions set themselves the task of prov- 
ing its artistic legitimacy. 

In the matter of construction, Ariosto had worked with 
the freedom of the man who makes his own laws. Aiming at 
variety of incident and situation, he had clearly seen the need 
of definite action, that if his reader's attention and interest 
were to be held, events must move constantly forward to an 
avowed goal. Hejmd^accordi ngly laid down side by side two 
or three main plots, so carefully interwoven that they could be 
brought together in a common end, and so distinct that neither 
constant shifting of scene, nor continual digressions, nor the 
multitude of independent and active characters could obscure 
them. He had reduced the wilderness of romance to complete 
artistic order ; he had brought to perfection the type created 
by Bojardo. It was not epic, but it was of final excellence. 
When, therefore, in the middle years of the century, Giraldi 
and Pigna came forward to defend his title, their answer to 
the orthodox was clear. A new type had been evolved, the 
romance poem, having some qualities in common with the epic 
and many qualities peculiar to itself. It could not be judged 
by the athority of Aristotle ; it was its own authority. Pigna 

160 K. E. NEIL DODGE. 

put the truth best: "PerchS d'erranti persone & tutto il poema, 
egli altresi errante & inquanto che piglia ed intermette infinite 
volte cose infinite : e sempre con arte : percioch& se bene Por- 
dine epico non osserva, non che una sua regola non abbia." 1 
Yet if the constructive laws of the romanzo differed from those 
laid down by Aristotle for the poema eroico, its higher ideals, 
said Pigna, were essentially the same. "Come in tutto il 
duello non mai da lui veduto lume ne diede esso Aristotile : 
cosi quivi ne' romanzi stato la nostra guida : benchfc egli 
mai non ne parlasse." 1 

These views held their own for about a generation. In 
1581, however, the appearance of the Geriisalemme Liberata 
again brought the classical question to the fore. 2 The new 
poem was naturally compared to the Orlando Furioso, and as 
Tasso's chief boast was that he had framed it according to the 
strict laws of Aristotle, the argument for his admirers was 
evident : the Furioso was excellent of its kind, as good as a 
romance poem could ever be, but here was a poem of equal 
charm and of a far nobler type, for no one could deny that 
the romance poem was in itself inferior to the epic. This 
argument, pushed by Cammillo Pellegrino in his Cfarajfa, 
apparently took the followers of Ariosto by surprise. So long 
as the issue had been between the Furioso and such poems as 
the Avarchide, which nobody read, they had been content 
with the position of Pigna and Giraldi. Now, however, with 
this new poem running like wild-fire among the people and 
through the courts, they could not listen to Pellegrino's argu- 
ment with comfort. They did what most persons will do 
under such circumstances they shifted ground. The quarrel 
which arose is one of the dreariest in literature. The Acca- 
demia della Crusca took up the cause for Ariosto, and others 
were drawn into the controversy, even Tasso himself. There 

'G. B. Pigna: I Romanzi. Venice, 1554, pp. 44, 65. 

2 Though not directly bearing on Spenser's early emulation of Ariosto, 
this phase of Ariosto criticism in Italy is too significant and important 
to be omitted. * 


is no need to report their bickerings : suffice it to say that the 
Orlando Furioso was now declared to be in accordance with 
the very letter of Aristotle, to be much more classically regu- 
lar than the Gerusalemme Liberata. In other words Ariosto, 
who to an earlier generation had been the master of a wonder- 
ful new type of poetry, was now become one more humble 
follower of the Stagirite. 

One of the few sensible opinions put forward in this con- 
troversy is that of Patrizio, that Ariosto's chief aim is to 
delight, not to instruct his reader. " Pellegrino ha gran torto 
negando che PAriosto mirando a solo dilettare, posposto abbia 
il giovamento : >M Others were less clairvoyant or less frank. 
Even Giraldi preached the Aristotelian ideal, " indurre buoni 
costumi negli animi degli uomini," 2 evidently believing that 
Ariosto faithfully lived up to it; and in Giolito's 1554 edi- 
tion of the Furioso (dedicated to the Dauphin of France) we 
read : " non e libro nessuno dalquale e con piu frutto, e con 
maggiore diletto imparare si possa quello, che per noi fuggire 
e seguitare si debba." In brief, that^element of seriousnessjn^ 
the^j<itfaws#--which still makes some readers uncertain tow to 
classify the poem was being magnified and enhanced by these 
critics to the high seriousness of the Iliad and the Aeneid. The 
exaggeration was but natural, for with the progress of the classi- 
cal spirit in Italy, a somewhat new conception of the dignity of 
literature was beginning to make itself felt : poets were at least 
more self-conscious. Perhaps the change was chiefly due to the 
times. The Renaissance was now dead ; the Catholic Reaction 
was afoot. The cheerfulness, the freedom, the mere delight 
in life which the men of Ariosto's generation had felt and 
expressed had given way to a gayety less frank and to a sad- 
ness much more frequent. Literature, in its looser moments 
more abandoned than ever before, had become, in its moments 
of seriousness, either dull and pedantic, or plaintive, melan- 

1 Tasso : Opere. Venice, 1735, v. m, p. 155. 

* G. B. Giraldi : De' Romanzi; in the Biblioteca Eara, v. 52, p. 64. 

162 R. E. NEIL DODGE. 

choly, and suspicious. Tasso is the representative of this 
order, and his experience with the Gerusalemme Liberata is 
thoroughly characteristic. He wrote the romantic episodes 
because he delighted in romantic beauty, but when he sub- 
mitted the poem to his chosen set of critics, these episodes 
were at once attacked. He was told that they were trivial, 
unworthy an epic; he was told that they might even be 
dangerous- and that the Inquisition might feel called on to 
interfere; and in the end, in order to save them he had 
to invent an allegory which gave them a mystic meaning. 
Then, with the Gardens of Armida^and the Enchanted Wood 
conveying a spiritual lesson, the romance was allowed to pass 
the pikes of his friends' censorship. 

Among such sensitive critics the Orlando Furioso was 
strangely interpreted. We have seen how seriously Giraldi 
and Pigna took it : it did not have to wait till the days of 
Tasso to be even more gravely expounded. Ariostey-jadi 
nevep--^erloikd_what might give_Jiis--.pnpm vawfy" and 
i richness, had here gnd fograjrmflp use of allegory. It was 

V^\ purely episodic; it served an immediate purpose; that was all 

^.g 1 he cared for. Within twenty years after his death, however, 
^ Fornari and Toscanella took his poem up and systematically 

\^ read allegory into its minutest episodes and details. To them 

* it was highly serious, almost cabalistic, and called for the 

penetrating commentator. What more rational ? There was 
allegory on the surface; there must, of course, be allegory 
below the surface ; they would dig for it. This pedantry 
may raise a smile ; yet to find an exact parallel we have 
only to turn to our own century and read certain com- 
mentators on Rabelais. Rabelais, like Ariosto, is at times 
highly serious, and at times pretty obviously allegorical : 
therefore, let us read high seriousness and allegory into all he 
says. Even Coleridge fell victim to this illusion. It is old. 
We have seen what work the critics made of Ariosto : how 
meanwhile was he read by the public at large? Very much, 
I fancy, as he has always been read for his mere delight- 


fulness or, unfortunately, for his casual licentiousness. The 
average man thought little or nothing about the meaning of 
the Furioso, not only because the average man rarely reads to 
think, but because the poem itself would effectively distract 
attention from any possible meaning. One can draw moral 
inspiration from Dante, even from Tasso ; only a genius could 
draw moral inspiration from Ariosto. Even the critics of 
that day must have read the poem like other men when 
they were not intent on professional study. However sincere 
their convictions, it is not probable that they all took their pleas- 
ure in it so " moult tristement " as their critical writings might 
imply. It had been treated contemptuously ; they were moved 
to defend their taste for it ; and their defence was necessarily 
governed by the recognition of certain literary axioms. That 
there might be a discrepancy between their critical utterances 
and their real enjoyment of the Furioso would be no stumbling- 
block. They would continue to read the poem for its delight- 
fulness and to praise it for classic dignity, untroubled. 

Having followed this strange history, having seen how 
classical prepossessions so warped men's understanding that 
the Furioso was seriously classed with the Iliad and the 
Aeneid, and how all manner of grave meanings were read 
into it, we may be reasonably sure that the Ariosto of 1516 
is not quite the Ariosto whom Spenser emulated ; for when an 
Elizabethan undertook to study Ariosto, he would naturally 
turn to the Italian critics for guidance, and would naturally be 
influenced by their formal views. How readily such an Eliza- 
bethan might thus fall into their critical dualism read and 
enjoy the poem one way and interpret it another may be 
judged by the case of Sir John Harington, the first English 
translator of the Furioso, a thorough man of his time. 

Harington is not only translator, he is critic as well. Be- 
sides his version of the poem the volume of 1591 contains an 
Apologie of Poetrie, a Brief e Allegoric, a Life of Ariosto, and 
commentaries on all the cantos. He is evidently taking pains 
to make his opinion of the Furioso as distinct as possible. At 

164 R. E. NEIL DODGE. 

times he is almost earnest a mood which is somewhat comi- 
cal when we think of his rumored point-of-departure. The 
story goes that in his mischievous way he Englished the notori- 
ous twenty-eighth canto of the Furioso and sent the manuscript 
round among the maids of honor, and that the Queen, irritated 
by this scandalous proceeding, ordered him not to show his 
face in court again till he had rendered the whole poem, good as 
well as bad. Whether apocryphal or not, this anecdote shows 
us how young Englishmen of that day were inclined to take 
Ariosto. Harington's further course is equally enlightening. 
He studied the poem with some cafe, having in mind all the 
while Her Majesty's rebuke, and he read the Italian com- 
mentators and their allegorical schemes, and in the end the 
Furioso stood revealed to him as a creation of high serious- 
ness. He saw that the allegory was " the verie kyrnell and 
principall part, or as the marrow, and the rest but the bone 
and vnprofitable shell'/' and he saw that, for the most part, the 
looser passages were but a necessity of poetical decorum, that 
having some faulty characters to deal with, Ariosto must at 
times bring his poem to their level. The poem, as a whole, 
was unquestionably edifying. This conversion of Harington 
was not consciously insincere. We find, to be sure, that his 
translation shows no loss of relish for the scandalous, that 
though throughout the poem he condenses very freely, often 
cutting Ariosto's narratives down by a good third, he never 
condenses the questionable episodes, that they are given line 
for line. This, however, is no more than nature asserting 
itself. His formal views, though he took them whole from 
the Italians, he held seriously, even heartily. His pleasant 
Apology is no piece of hack-work done to placate the Queen, 
it is manifestly genuine. He is amusingly inconsistent, but 
he speaks what he really thinks. 

Harington's attitude toward the Furioso was probably that 
of not a few Elizabethans, since many who read the poem for 
mere pleasure would be only too glad to persuade themselves 
that they were also being edified. There must have been 

r N^> 


some of less flexible disposition, however, who would not be 
so readily contented, men of idealizing and thorough natures. 
How would they take the poem assuming, of course, that 
they cared to read it at all ? Perhaps no set auswer is possi- 
ble ; yet we have the suggestion of an answer in one of those 
fine, self-assertive utterances of Milton, himself in so many 
ways but a later Elizabethan, In that passage of the Apology 
for Smectymnuiis in which he speaks of the studies of his youth 

and early manhood, he writes : 


I betook me among those lofty; fables and romances, which recount in 
solemn can toes the deeds of knighthood founded by our victorious kings, 
and from hence had in renown over all Christendom. There I read it in 
the oath of every knight that he should defend to the expense of his best 
blood, or of his life, if it so befell him, the honor and chastity of virgin and 
matron; from whence even then I learned what a noble virtue chastity 
sure must be, to the defence of which so many worthies, by such a dear 
adventure of themselves, had sworn ; and if I found in the story afterward, 
any of them, by word or deed, breaking that oath, I judged it the sama 
fault of the poet, as that which is attributed to Homer, to have written 
indecent things of the gods : only this my mind gave me, that every free 
and gentle spirit without that oath, ought to be born a knight, nor needed 
to expect ihe gilt spur or the laying of a sword upon his shoulder, to stir 
him up both by counsel and his arms to secure and protect the weakness of 
any attempted chastity. So that even these booksij which to many others 
ha ?e been the fuel of wantonness and loose living, I cannot think how, 
unless by divine indulgence, proved to me so many incitements, us you have 
heard, to the love and steadfast observation of that virtue which abhors the 
society of hordelloes. 

There can be hardly a doubt, I think, that in writing these 
memorable words Milton was thinking chiefly of the Orlando 
Furioso; for that poem was probably the most famous romance 
poem of Europe, and, as we have seen, it was certainly read 
by young men for " the fuel of wantonness and loose living." 
It ha? always attracted curious readers, most of them only 
too blind to its genuinely admirable qualities. How, then, did 
Milton take it in the clays of his early manhood ? Without 
attempting to interpret his general statements too specifically, 
we can perhaps draw a reasonable inference. It is clear that 
he did not, like Harington, condone the looser passages. To 


him they were so much foulness, which could not be explained 
away. It is equally clear that, in despite of them, he could 
read his own fervent idealism into the poem, could even make 
them so many incentives to lofty thought. He was of the 
temper to mould things after his own mind. His judgment 
might very probably tell him that the chivalry of the Furioso 
was anything but earnest : he would read the poem with steady 
control of his imagination, and make it what he pleased. He 
would accept as much of the humor and irony as left his own 
ideal undisturbed. ; the rest ho would ignore. He would exalt 
the serious passages to a higher serious" ness. What he actually 
did make of Ariosto in later life we may see by comparing 
his Paradise of Fools (Par. Lost, ill, 440-497) with that limbo 
of the moon in which Orlando's lost wit was stored (0. F., 
xxxiv, 73-86). Ariosto's limbo is a brilliant and effective 
allegorical satire on the vanities of this world written by a 
witty courtier ; Milton's is the grotesque vision of a Puritan, 
out of place in a great epic, perhaps, but not without impres- 
siveuess. Had Milton carried out his early plan of writing 
an epic on King Arthur, he might have left us imitations 
from Aiiosto as remarkable as those by Spenser. 

Harington's temper put him in sympathy with Ariosto, 
and he read the Orlando with natural delight. He .took to 
the doctrine of its high seriousness from the need of justifying 
his taste. Milton's temper was the very reverse of Ariosto's, 
and if he read the poem with pleasure, it was because of his 
own transmuting idealism. He apparently felt no need of per- 
suading himself that it had genuine raoral elevation. What 
was Spenser's attitude? 

What, in the first place, was his temper? Milton has called 
him ''sage and serious," but had he nothing in common with 
Harington ? 

The passage from Harvey's letter of 1580 might seem 
significant. It tells us that Spenser had written nine come- 
dies which, however distantly, suggested comparison with the 
comedies of Ariosto, Bibbieria, Macchiavelli, and Aretino. 


He would of course not give himself to the grosser licentious- 
ness of those Italian plays, but we might infer that he was 
at least not out of sympathy with Italian comic humor. The 
recollection might come to us of those early drafts of the 
Hymns, written u in the greener times of my youth," which 
" too much pleased those of like age and disposition," and for 
which he was later induced to cry peccavi; and we might 
think of that golden-headed apparition in the Harvey corre- 
spondence, " altera Rosalindula, mea Domina Immerito, mea 
bellissima Collina Clouta." Spenser's youth was certainly 
not like Milton's. 

It is not very likely, however, that the comedies had much 
Italianated humor in them. It is by their a finenesse of plausi- 
ble Elocution " and " rarenesse of Poetical Invention " that 
they impressed Harvey, and although we really know nothing 
whatever about them, we might guess, without much danger 
of error, that they were mere closet plays, more literary than 
dramatic, perhaps somewhat like the comedies of Lyly. Be- 
ing named after the nine Muses, they can hardly have had 
very much in common with the Mandragola. Then, as to 
the poet's early years, he was certainly not a Harington. An 
element of Puritanic coldness and strength tempered his sen- 
suous nature, and, as he grew to maturity and his idealism 
more and more fully crystallized his imaginative life, merely 
sensuous pleasures probably appealed to him with less force. 
He was never austere, like Milton, for his ideals were much 
less inexorable and stern, but he was almost equally steadfast. 
Though in 1560, therefore, he may have enjoyed the looser 
episodes of the Orlando Furioso much like Harington, by 
1589, when the final touches were put to the first three books 
of his poem, his taste must have been decidedly more sober. 
There are some few indications 1 that he never quite lost 
sympathy with Ariosto's scandalous verve; for instance, the 
tale which the Squire of Dames tells to Sir Satyrane (Bk. in, 

v. Bk. in, c. 10, st. 48. 


168 R. E. NEIL DODGE. v 

c. 7, st. 53 ff.) suggested very probably by part of mine host's 
tale in canto xxvni of the Furioso (especially st. 45-49), and 
manifestly worked up for comic effect. Such things, however, 
merely show that he was less rigid than Milton ; they do not 
contradict the genuineness of his idealism. 

But how did Spenser interpret Ariosto? Certainly very 
much like Harington. In the Letter, addressed to Raleigh, 
which prefaces the Faery Queen, he couples Orlando with 
Aeneas as being meant to " ensample " " a good governour 
and a vertuous man," and this of itself shows clearly that he 
accepted the conventional views about Ariosto's high serious- 
ness. It was natural that he should do so ; for though his 
temper was, in most ways, the very reverse of Ariosto's, he 
evidently enjoyed the Furioso much more than Milton did, if 
not so unreservedly as Harington, 1 and he would therefore be 
moved, like Harington, to give it the most favorable inter- 
pretation possible, without too scrupulous analysis. Since he 
read it in a somewhat more sober spirit, he would be less 
open to the feeling of inconsistency. Yet, though he might 
escape the grosser critical dualism of Harington reading and 
enjoying the poem in the gayer spirit of Ariosto and interpret- 
ing it as though it were another Iliad he could hardly avoid 
a certain dualism of his own. He might believe that the 
Furioso was a poem of high seriousness, but when he actually 
came to transfer some of its serious passages to his own lofty 
poem he would instinctively change and elevate them ; for 
whatever theories he might hold, his immediate poetic sense 
was unerring. An example will make this clear. At the 
beginning of the third canto of Book in, the book of which 
Britomart is heroine, is an address to Love. Now, as we 
shall see later, the early cantos of this book are a sort of 
counterpart to the early cantos of the Furioso; they are full 
of the most distinct and evident imitations from the Italian. 
This address to Love was undoubtedly suggested to Spenser 

1 This point is discussed later. 


by the smiilar address which opens canto n of the Furioso. 
Let us compare them. Ariosto writes : 

Ingiustissimo Amor, perch e si raro 
Corrispondenti fai nostri disiri? 
Onde, perfido, avvien che t' si caro 
II discorde voler ch' in dui cor miri ? 
Ir non mi lasci al facil guado e chiaro, 
E nel piu cieco e maggior fondo tiri : 
Da chi disia il mio amor tu mi richiami, 
E chi m' ha in odio vuoi ch' adori ed ami. 

And now Spenser : 

Most sacred fyre, that burnest mightily 

In living brests, y kindled first above 

Emongst th' eternall spheres and lamping sky, 

And thence pourd into men, which men call Love ; 

Not that same which doth base affections move 

In brutish minds, and filthy lust inflame ; 

But that sweete fit that doth true beautie love, 

And choseth Vertue for his dearest dame, 

Whence spring all noble deedes and never-dying fame : 

Well did antiquity a god thee deeme, 

That over mortall mindes hast so great might, 

To order them as best to thee doth seeme, 

And all their actions to direct aright : 

The fatall purpose of divine foresight 

Thou doest effect in destined descents, 

Through deepe impression of thy secret might, 

And stirredst up th' heroes high intents, 

Which the late world admyres for wondrous moniments. 

The inference is clear. In reading Ariosto for hints Spenser 
was struck by the effectiveness of that opening stanza; but / / ' ^ 
Ariosto's conception of Love was too radically different from 
his own, and, therefore, instead of directly translating the 
stanza, as he unquestionably would have done, had it proved 
adaptable, he took the theme suggested, and for the graceful, 
but rather conventional sentiment of the Italian substituted 
his_own_^rave and lofty meditation. His general attitude, 
then, seems evident. Despite an instinctive sense that such 

170 R. E. NEIL DODGE. 

\passages as this were not highly serious, and despite the touches 
jof irony and open humor with which the Furioso abounds, he 
round no difficulty in believing that Ariosto's aims were lofty 
and his genius eminently moral. In those days of literary 
'dogma a man's theories and his impressions were not necessarily 
at one, for our modern critical analysis was then unknown. 
This attitude is assuredly not that of Milton, and yet, as we can 
see, Spenser must constantly have studied and imitated Ariosto 
with the complete imaginative independence of Milton. His- 
conception of cjiivalry -was ..nob 10 as Miltoii-s^. indeedy. it 
was in good part because the spirit of chivalry was, SQ .sympa- 
thetic to his own consistent idealism that he chose the deeds 
of Prince Arthur and the mysteries of FaerjJLand__for. the 
theme of his great poem ; in them he could best embody his 
grave spiritual convictions. The chivalry of the Furioso, on 

the other hand, was anything but earnest whatever his con- 
ception of it may have been and it only too often provided 
" the fuel of wantonness and loose living." When he studied 
the poem, therefore, he must constantly have followed his 
own fervent imaginings like Milton. When he adopted 
passages for imitation it was certainly with the transmuting 
touch of Milton. A couple of passages, which give the very 
essence of the two opposing views of chivalry, will make his 
independence clear. 

In the first canto of the Furioso Angelica is fleeing terror- 
stricken from Rinaldo, the lover whom she detests and whom 
she will do anything to escape. He is afoot, she on her pal- 
frey. In her headlong flight she comes upon Ferrau, another 
of her lovers, who, seeing her distress, rushes at Rinaldo and 
violently turns him off from pursuit. A furious combat is at 
once engaged : Angelica, not daring to await the issue, hurries 
on as fast as her palfrey can carry her. After some minutes 
of hot fighting Rinaldo, who is the cooler of the two cham- 
pions, becomes aware that the lady has disappeared. He at 
once draws off, and with notable sense of fact suggests that 
it is rather foolish to be fighting for a prize which is gone. 




Would it not be better, he asks, to catch Angelica before we 
fight for her ? Ferrau is rather impressed by his idea, and at 
once agrees. He takes up Rinaldo behind him on his horse, 
and the two dash off after the lady. Then Ariosto breaks 


Oh gran bonta de' cavallieri antiqui ! 

Eran rivali, eran di fe diversi, 

E si sentian degli aspri colpi iniqui 

Per tutta la persona anco dolersi ; 

E pur per selve oscure e calli obliqui 

Insieme van senza bospetto aversi. 

Da quattro sproni il destrier punto arriva 

Dove una strada in due si di parti va. (st. 22.) 

The effect of this serious apostrophe is evident : it heightens 
the comic humor of the preceding situation by a touch of 
unexpected irony. It is itself heightened and completed by 
that ludicrous image of the war-horse, bestridden by two hot 
champions and spurred on after the missing lady, poor beast, 
" da quattro sproni." 

In the Faery Queen, in the first canto of the third book, 
Britomart appears on the scene unknown and runs a course 
with Sir Guyon. Guyon is overthrown by the power of the 
magic spear, and in his shame and anger would continue 
the combat afoot. But Prince Arthur and the Palmer inter- 
pose and by judicious words succeed in calming him. The 
two adversaries are reconciled, and all the party go on together 
in amity. Then Spenser breaks out in an apostrophe which 
is the exact counterpart of Ariosto's, the first line of it being 
a free translation from the Italian. 

O goodly usage of those antique tymes, 

In which the sword was servaunt unto right ! 

When not for malice and contentious crymes, 

But all for prayse and proofe of manly might, 

The martiall brood accustomed to fight : 

Then honour was the meed of victory, 

And yet the vanquished had no despite : 

Let later age that noble use envy, 

Vyle rancor to avoid and cruel surquedry ! (st. 13.) 


172 R. E. NEIL DODGE. 

The situation, one sees, is much the same with a difference. 
Kinaldo and Ferrau are reconciled after fight, though for a 
comically unchivalric motive, and rush off in their wild goose 
,chase of Angelica ; Britomart and Guyon are likewise recon- 
jciled after fight, and ride on together in goodly companionship. 
Ariosto's apostrophe is apropos; Spenser adopts it. He ignores 
its irony, which he can hardly have failed to perceive, and 
accepts its literal seriousness. The conclusion is clear. When 
Spenser read the Orlando Furioso for suggestions he read it in 
the light of his own serene idealism.^ 

Spenser's talent for transforming the comic into the serious 
may be illustrated by another example. 

^In the first canto 1 of the Furioso, Angelica, having escaped 
from Binaldo and Ferrau, has put herself in the charge of 
Sacripante, King of Circassia, yet another of her lovers. She 
has persuaded him to conduct her back safely to her home in 
the Orient. They have hardly left the spot where she met 
him, however, when Rinaldo appears on the scene and loudly 
challenges her escort. Sacripante is not slow to defend his 
charge, and the two warriors rush to combat. This time 
Angelica waits to see the result, but before long a furious 
blow from Rinaldo, which partially cripples Sacripante, so 
alarms her that she flies the field. In her flight she meets a 
reverend friar, and asks the way to the nearest seaport. He 
is surprised by her beauty and tempted to a disreputable plan ; 
she will not stay with him, such is her fear of Rinaldo, but 
presses on ; he conjures a demon into her palfrey, instructed 
to lead her a circle to a desert island, where he himself will 
again find her. Meanwhile, another demon sends Rinaldo and 
Sacripante hurrying off to Paris, by the false report that Or- 
lando has kidnapped Angelica and is taking her thither. 

These bare facts hardly render the spirit of levity in which 
Ariosto handles this episode. The early passages are among 
the most diverting in the poem, the later among the most 

^he episode is strung out over three cantos: I, 72-81 ; II, 1-23; VIII, 
29 ff. 


scabrous. Such as it is, however, Spenser reproduces it in 
some of its main features in the sixth canto of Book I (st. 
34 ff.). Una is wandering in quest of the Red Cross Knight, 
under conduct of Satyrane (cf. Angelica : Sacripante). They 
come upon Archimago in his habitual disguise of the reverend 
old man (cf. the reverend friar and his magic), and asking him 
about the Red Cross Knight, are informed that the latter has 
recently been slain by a Paynim champion (a lie, of course, 
as that with which the friar's demon troubles Rinaldo and 
Sacripante). Satyrane rushes ahead to find the Paynim and 
wreak vengeance ; Una follows. When she reaches the place 
of the combat, which has meanwhile begun, she finds that the 
Paynim is Sansloy, he who formerly had her in his clutches 
and from whom she was rescued at the last moment by the 
Satyrs (in the O. F. cf. the preceding episode of Angelica rescued 
from Rinaldo's hot pursuit by Ferrau). When Una appears, 
Sansloy, recognizing her, makes at her, but is turned by 
Satyrane. Una in terror flies (like Angelica), and Archimago, 
who has been watching the affair from the bushes, hurries 
after her, " in hope to bring her to her last decay " (like the 
friar after Angelica). The champions are left fighting, and 
we are told nothing about the issue of their combat. In the 
third book Satyrane appears again; Sansloy is heard from 
no more. Ariosto, scrupulously careful of his plot, leaves no 
such loose ends : the Rinaldo-Sacripante duel is brought to a 
definite close. 

Spenser, we see, has taken the bare facts of the episode, 
not necessarily humorous in themselves, and has made use of 
them for his own grave purposes, utterly ignoring the turn 
which Ariosto gave them. Yet this is one of those passages 
which indicate that he was not insensible to Ariosto's humor. 
Why did he reproduce the facts of the episode, if not because 
they had fixed themselves in his mind and came to him at 
the time he was writing this canto? And what fixed them in 
his mind if not an enjoyment of the humor with which Ariosto 
handles them? One cannot, of course, argue from a single 

174 R. E. NEIL DODGE. 

instance: we shall find others that are still more striking. 
Indeed, after surveying the whole list of Spenser's imitations 
from Ariosto, one can hardly resist the conviction that he 
enjoyed him in almost all his work, serious, humorous, even 
ironical barring perhaps that variety which so particularly 
appealed to Hariugton. This makes his complete imaginative 
independence all the more remarkable. 


I shall now examine more at large some of Spenser's specific 
imitations from the Furioso, with a view to indicating their 
character and variety. It would be tedious and unprofitable 
to enter into exhaustive detail, or to give a very systematic 
survey of the whole field. A few characteristic examples, 
briefly explained, will suffice. 

It is well known to the readers of Ariosto that Orlando is 
not the hero of the poem which bears his name, and that the 
heroic wars of Charlemain and Agramante are not the centre 
of narrative interest: Ruggiero and Bradajnajite-^u^ 
\ hero and heroine, and the real centre of narrative .interest is 
the story of their lovesT This apparent inconsistency was 
inevitable. In continuing Bojardo's poem Ariosto found his 
titular hero and his main action already chosen for him, and 
he adopted them very willingly and made the most of them. 
One of his chief aims, however, being to celebrate the glories 
of the house of Este, and Ruggiero and Bradamante having 
been already set forth by Bojardo as the founders of the house, 
he naturally made them his chief care. They are perhaps the 
only prominent characters who are treated with almost uni- 
form seriousness from beginning to end of the poem, and it is 

their nuptials and Ruggiero's duel with Rodomonte that 
j the poem comes to a triumphant close. 

Now, the Faery Queen offers us a singular parallel to this. 
Prince Arthur is the nominal hero of the poei% and Gloriaua 


the titular heroine, but by reason of the curious narrative 
structure which Spenser adopted, Arthur remains a mere 
figure-head, appearing but once in each book, and the Faery 
Queen is a virtual nonentity, not appearing at all. If we 
seek for a real centre of interest in the poem, we shall find it 
only in Arthegall and Britomart and their love-story. From 
the beginning of the third book to the end of the fifth they 
are kept pretty constantly before us, and the prophecies of 
Merlin (Bk. m, c. 3, st. 26-29) and of the Priest of Isis (Bk. 
V, c. 7, st. 23) tell us enough of the future to make their story 
complete. How much prominence Spenser meant ultimately 
to give them, we have no means of telling, but, as the poem 
stands, their_ story is the only real centre of action, and they 
are in a way the real hero and heroine. Britomart, of course, 
as' a ''lady knight" and possessor of the magic spear, is the 
counterpart of Bradamante. Arthegall may stand for Rug- 
giero. He is certainly Spenser's ideal knight, strong, just, 
steadfast, much more real than the magnificent Arthur, and 
real because he was modelled on a real man, Arthur Lord 
Grey of Wilton, Spenser's chief patron. As Ariosto, there- 
fore, made Ruggiero and Bradarnante the centre of interest in 
his poem, to exalt the house of Este, so Spenser made Arthe- > 
gall his virtual hero, in tribute to his former patron, to the \ 
man who more than any other had made a lasting mark on 
his imagination. He was presented as the lover of Britomart 
by analogy from Ariosto ; to complete the analogy, the pair 
were made the ancestors of Elizabeth, through the genuinely 
British kings following Arthur. 

When we come to trace the love-story we find that at 
almost every point it touches Ariosto. It is naturally brief, 
for Britomart and Arthegall, as the types of Chastity and 
Justice, are principally busied in allegorical action and have 
scant time for love. The passages which bear on the course 
of their love are few, and are scattered at rather wide intervals 
over the three books. As a centre of action the story is cer- 
tainlvjrather slight. It is, nevertheless, the only plot of its 

176 K. E. NEIL DODGE. 

kind in the poem. Its dependence on Ariosto will be worth 
noting in detail. 

In the first place, Britomart falls in love with Arthegall 
by the single glimpse which she has of his image in her 
father's enchanted mirror (Bk. in, c. 2, st. 22 ff.). The first 
account which we have of Bradamante in the Furioso (11, 32) 
tells us simply that she is in love with Ruggiero, whom she 
has seen but once. Now, Spenser probably did not know the 
Orlando Innamorato; he was, therefore, ignorant of the cir- 
cumstances under which the two lovers first met (0. L, 1. in, 
c. 4, st. 49 to end, c. 5, c. 6, st. 1-33), and the passage in the 
Furioso, which was intended merely to refresh the memories 
of Ariosto's readers, gave him no more than a bare fact. He 
adopted the fact and accounted for it in his own way. 

In the image which Britomart sees the knight's armor is 
inscribed with the legend : "Achilles armes which Arthegall 
did win " (Bk. in, c. 2, st. 25). One of Ruggiero's greatest 
feats is the killing of Mandricardo in single combat, as a 
result of which he becomes possessed of the armor of Hector, 
which his antagonist had formerly borne (0. F., xxx). 

The visit of Glauc and Britomart to Merlin in his cave 
and the prophecy of Britomart's future line (Bk. in, c. 3) is 
of course taken bodily from canto ill of the Furioso, in 
which Bradamante enters the cave of Merlin by chance, and 
is informed of her descendants by Melissa. One may note 
certain differences. In the Furioso the spirit of Merlin speaks 
from the tomb, and delivers a brief welcoming address of 
vaguely prophetic import; Bradamante's descendants are re- 
vealed to her in a series of phantoms conjured up by Melissa, 
like the vision of Banquo's issue in Macbeth. In the Faery 
Queen Merlin is sitting in his cave, alive and visible, and 
reveals Britomart's future line by word of mouth. In stanza 
32, however, " Behold the man!" etc. would seem to indicate 
that Spenser had in mind the visible phantoms of the Arioso, 
and forgot himself. 


Britomart wandering about Faery Land in quest of Arthe- 
gall is like Bradamante, who at the beginning of the Furioso 
is wandering about France in quest of Ruggiero (0. F., II, 
33). Britornart's long quest after Arthegall and the brief 
periods during which she enjoys his presence, periods inter- ^ 
calated in long months of separation, correspond very closely 
to the rare meetings and the long periods of separation which 
disturb the love-story of Ruggiero and Bradamante. 

ArthegalPs courtship of Britomart follows upon their very 
first meeting (Bk. iv, c. 6, st. 40 ff.), and her consent is given ^ 
before they separate. Ruggiero and Bradamante exchange 
troth at their first definitive meeting in the Furioso (0. F., 
xxii, 3136). Arthegall leaving Britomart, to pursue his A 
quest, and promising to return at the end of three months 
(Bk. iv, c. 6, st. 42, 43) is like Ruggiero pursuing his affaire 
d'honneur with Rodomonte and promising to rejoin Brada- 
mante within twenty days (0. F., xxx, 76-81). 

Britomart waiting impatiently for the return of Arthegall, 
j seeing the time appointed for his return slip by, tormented by / 

fears and jealousies (Bk. v, c. 6), is the exact counterpart of 

| the love-sick Bradamaute waiting for the return of Ruggiero 

' (0. F., xxx, 84 ff.; xxxn, 10 ff.). Talus, who brings back 

news of ArthegalPs defeat by Radegund and his captivity, 

thereby rousing Britornart's jealousy, corresponds to the "cav- 

\ alier guascoue " who brings to Bradamante the report that 

f Ruggiero is betrothed to the warrior maiden, Marfisa. The 

conduct of Britomart when she receives the news is exactly 

like that of Bradamante : she first indulges in resentful 

despair, then sets out to go to her lover. The combat of 

Britomart with Radegund (Bk. v, c. 7, st. 26 ff.) might be, 

likened to the combat of Bradamante with Marfisa (0. F., 

i xxxvi). As Bradamante discovers her jealousies to have been 

' causeless, so Britomart. 

Here the love-story of Britomart and Arthegall comes to an 
end. How Spenser would have terminated it, had he carried 
his poem further, we, of course, do not know. In Bk. in, 

178 K. E. NEIL DODGE. 

c. 3, st. 28, however, we have a prophecy by Merlin of the 
final destiny of the pair. This destiny is almost exactly that 
of Bradamante and Ruggiero, as given in the Furioso, c. XLI, 
st. 60 ff. 

Could any imitation be more deliberate and thorough than 
this? Spenser has not merely taken suggestions here and 
there; every point of his story has its counterpart in the 
Furioso; the correspondence from beginning to end is com- 
plete. Of course, Spenser varies the details to meet the 
conditions of his poem, and, of course, his story has an atmos- 
phere of its own ; but he could hardly show himself more 
indifferent to the merits of narrative invention. He evidently 
had the genuine Elizabethan instinct for saving himself the 
trouble of inventing a plot. 

Having seen how Spenser could borrow a plot, let us see 
how he might take hints for a character. Perhaps the most 
remarkable instance of his talents for this kind of work may 
be found in Braggadochio^who is commonly supposed to be a 
satirical portrait of the Duke of Alen9on. 

In constructing this character Spenser determined on two 
main traits, inordinate boasting, and cowardice. Having 
chosen these he turned to his Furioso for suggestions. 

Now there are several braggarts in the Furioso, but the 
most prominent, setting aside. IVfnrfni, whn i? a woman ) are 
apdric^rd^. Rodomonte is much the more 
celebrated of the two, as one may judge by our well-known 
word, " rodomontade." It would seem at first sight, there- 
fore, that Spenser would probably take him for model. But 
Rodomonte is something more than a braggart; there is in 
him a touch of the king. He is a figure of heroic size and 
impressiveness, hot-headed and extravagant, to be sure, but 
capable at times of self-repression, even of wise counsel, and 
towards the close of the poem his fierceness settles into a 
sinister melancholy which makes him an almost sympathetic 
character. Mandricardo, on the other hand, though equally 



fearless, is merely extravagant and savage. There is no im- 
pressiveness in nis truculence. His inordinate boasting is 
very commonly ridiculous, and leaves a mark on our memo- 
ries which that of Rodomonte does not. Spenser, therefore, 
chose Mandricardo. 4g for the coward, thjej^was~Be-room 
for HTOTTP. Martano hag 

took him without question. 

That Spenser had these two characters in mind when he 
sketched his portrait of Alen9on, alias Braggadochio, may be 
proved by the incidents which mark the scare-crow's career. 
On his very first appearance (Bk. n, c. 3) he promises Archi- 
mago to go in quest of the Red Cross Knight and Guyon 
and kill them, and when the enchanter, perceiving him to 
be without a sword, suggests that on such a perilous adven- 
ture he will have need of one, he says : 

" Once did I s weare, 

When with one sword seven knightes I brought to end, 
Thenceforth in battaile never sword to beare, 
But it were that which noblest knight on earth doth weare." 

(St. 17.) 

This is the vow of Mandricardo never to carry sword till 
he should win Orlando's famous Durindana (O.F., xiv, 43). 
Orlando is chief of the paladins; the "noblest knight on earth" 
is his British peer, King Arthur. Mandricardo's vow is seri- 
ous ; Braggadochio's of course a mere lie, for he is a coward, 
which Mandricardo certainly is not. 

The passages which tell of the stealing of Arthur's sword 
(Bk. n, c. 3, st. 18 ; c. 6, st. 47; c. 8, st. 19-22 ; c. 9, st. 2) 
may be compared with that which tells of the appropriation 
of Durindana by Mandricardo (0. F., xxrv, 58, 59). Man- 
dricardo does not win the sword in fight: he comes upon it 
at the time of Orlando's madness, and calmly takes posses- 
sion of it, under pretext that Orlando is feigning madness 
to escape him. The act is virtual theft. Braggadochio, the 
coward, is not capable of even stealing Morddure ; Archimago 
has to undertake that, and succeeds. The good sword does 

& ' 

180 K. E. NEIL DODGE. 

not come into Braggadochio's possession; but that is a mere 
variation of detail. 

The next important appearance of Braggadochio is at the 
tournament of Satyrane (Bk. iv, c. 4 and 5). Here the knights 
fall out over False Florimel, and it is agreed to set her in the 
midst and let her choose which of them she pleases. She 
, chooses Braggadochio, the most unworthy of them all (c. 5, st. 
22 ff.). 1 This is a reminiscence of the choice given to Doralice 
between Rodomonte and Mandricardo, who are disputing the 
possession of her (0. F., xxvii, 104ff.). She chooses Man- 
dricardo, who, as I have said, is much less worthy than his 

The incidents which tell us that Spenser also had Martano 
in mind are equally clear. 

In the tournament of Satyrane Braggadochio's cowardly 
hesitation to joust (Bk. iv, c. 4, st. 20) is of a piece with 
Martano's cowardice at the tournament of Damascus (0. F., 
xvii, 88-90). 

At the tournament in honor of the spousals of Florimel 
(Bk. v, c. 3), Arthegall borrows Braggadochio's shield, and, 
riding into the ml6e, wins foremost honors. He then returns 
the shield to its owner. When the prize is to be awarded 
Braggadochio with his shield steps forward and claims it. 
Martano at the tournament of Damascus is guilty of a similar 
trick (0. F., xvii, 108-116). While Grifone, who has won 
first honors, is asleep in his lodgings, Martano steals his armor 
and appears at court to claim the prize. 

Both Braggadochio and Martano are in the end disgraced 
(F. ., Bk. v, c. 3, st. 37. 0. F., xvin, 91-93). 

In fine, in almost every incident of Braggadochio's career 
we find some reminiscence of either Mandricardo, the braggart, 
or Martano, the coward. The conclusion is plain : Spenser 

1 Braggadochio had formerly won her for his lady (Bk. in, c. 8, st. 11- 
14), as Mandricardo won Doralice (O. F., xiv, 38 ff.), but he had imme- 
diately lost her through cowardice. His exploit in winning her might be 
regarded as a burlesque of Mandricardo's exploit. 


went to Ariosto for help in devising his character. He had 
already chosen the two main traits to be developed ; he, there- 
fore, selected the two characters of the Furioso who best 
embodied those traits, and drew from them. The result is 
his own. Braggadochio is too distinct a figure to be called 
a mere reproduction : for he is neither Mandricardo nor Mar- 
tano, but a personality evolved from the combination of both. 
We shall not grudge Spenser his imitation, when the result is 
so original. 

Turning from characters ta^aituatioasL we find Spenser 
working under slightly different circumstances. No one can 
read the Furioso attentively without noticing how much of 
its ftffatflymmsfs ^nmesJrom_Ariosto ? s unlimited^genius for the 
handling of situation. It is just this, indeed, whiclT~peTtraps 
more than anything else distinguishes his poem from the 
Orlando Innamorato. There are few situations in the In- 
namorato which we remember ; there are scores in the Furioso. 
The twenty-seventh canto, for instance, gives us a long climax 
of them, which for rising brilliancy of effect is among the 
most remarkable passages in Italian literature. Ariosto's 

best situations, howeve^ are almost exclusively comic, and 

were therefore ill adapted to Spenser's purposes; land yet 
Spenser, who must frequently have read the Furioso for 
pleasure only, could not forget them. We accordingly find 
him adopting them not infrequently, but giving them such a 
peculiar turn that they are hardly recognizable. 

L-kftve-already -noted the situation at the end of the sixth 
canto of Bk. i. It is thoroughly characteristic of Spenser's 
methods. He gets his external facts from Ariosto, but so 
renders them that the effect is not comic but highly serious. 
Indeed his situation, strictly speaking, is not that of Ariosto 
at all ; for the character of a situation does not depend on 
mere external fact alone, but also on the qualities and the 
sentiments of the persons brought together. Throughout his 

1 1 use the term "situation" in a somewhat loose sense. 

182 R. E. NEIL DODGE. 

poem Spenser works in much this same way. When he 
borrows the facts of a situation which in Ariosto are given 
a comic turn, he either treats them seriously ontrjght. or 
tones down the comedy to harmonize~with the general seri- 
ousness of his work. An example of such toning down will 
make what I mean clear. 

One of the most laughable situations in the Furioso is that 
in which Marfisa and Zerbino joust together in presence of 
the old hag Gabrina (0. F., xx, 106-129). Marfisa and 
Gabrina are travelling together in^ casual companionship, 
and Zerbino, meeting them, bursts out laughing at the sight 
of such a hideous beldam, apparently the lady of so big a 
knight. Marfisa resents his mirth, and challenges him to 
combat. Zerbino replies that he is no such fool as to fight 
for a hag like that. Then, says Marfisa, we will arrange 
matters this way : you shall joust with me, and the one who 
is overthrown shall be obliged to take the lady and bear her 
company faithfully. Zerbino confidently agrees; they come 
together ; he is unhorsed ; and Marfisa rides off laughing, 
calling back to him to remember his promise. 

The situation is one of those which you remember : it is 
handled with all the liveliness and humor of which Ariosto 
at his best is so consummate a master. Spenser remembered 
it, and when he came to the hot-headed quarrels of the 
knights in the early cantos of Bk. iv, he made use of it. In 
canto 4 of this book Blandamour is riding in company with 
other knights, having two ladies with him, False Florimel 
and the hag At. Braggadochio joins them, and spying False 
Florimel, whom he had formerly had for lady himself, claims 
her as his own. Blandamour refuses, of course, to part with 
her, but is willing to joust, and makes the following proposi- 
tion (st. 9) : that Florimel anc( At be made the prizes of the 
combat; that the winner shall nave Florimel and the loser 
the hag, under compact to keep her company till he can win 
another lady. Braggadochio, as usual, avoids the combat, 
and the proposition is left unexecuted. 



The situation, one sees, is merely suggested. Spenser could 
not have developed it without giving it a frankly comic turn, 
and that would have been incongruous to the general character 
of his poem. That he introduced it at all would seem to indi- 
cate that he was not insensible to Ariosto's humor. 

Spenser snmpj-jynpu rfl^aoa a, situation. 

In the seventh canto of the Furioso Ruggiero is brought to 
the palace of Alcina. His life with her is an allegory of the 
self-indulgence of youth. On the evening of his arrival he 
has secured her promise that she will come to him that very 
night; and when all the house is silent he awaits her with 
the impatience, the anxiety of expectant passion. His sus- 
pense and his final rapture are given by Ariosto with very 
considerable vivacity (st. 21 ff.). 

In the first canto of the third book of the Faery Queen 
Britomart comes to the house of Malecasta, one of the more 
obvious allegories of this book. The lady of the house, 




naturally mistaking her sex, pays open court to her, and at 

, , 

night, when all is quiet, steals in timorous suspense from her 
chamber to that of the Britoness, and softly lays herself down , 
beside her (st. 59-61). Britomart's rage when she becomes 
aware of the intruder closes the scene. 

This situation is manifestly the exact reverse of Ariosto's. 
The spirit in which Spenser developes it, treating with moral 
gravity a scene which Ariosto had treated with immoral levity, 
is one more indication of how he could read his own stead- 
fast idealism into the most openly licentious passages of the 

One has only to set these situations from the Faery Queen 
side by side with their originals to jirmJYp that Sprnnnr had - 

for situation. They are anything but vivid ; 
indeed, we hardly thrnlTof them as situations at all ; they are 
mere groups of narrative fact. It is of course evident that 
Spenser did not need effective situations for the Faery Queen. 
Ariosto, aiming at narrative variety and life, would find 
them indispensable ; Spenser, in a poem chiefly reflective and 

3 - --- : - . _ *~ 

184 K. E. NEIL DODGE. 

picturesque, would find no use for them. Perhaps, however, 
this is merely another mode of saying again that he had no 
genius for situation. 

Those who enjoy Ariosto are not likely to forget his descrip- 
tionji. They have never the concise vividness of Dante's, they 
show no imaginative insight, they lack what we call natural 
magic, yet the best of them have a charm which, if somewhat 
external, is not the less satisfying. Ariosto's sense of beauty 
is not subtle ; but this defect is largely compensated for by 
his sense of artistic balance. Hejoefter overloads his. pictures; 
even his enumerative descriptions, which have proved so alien 
to our modern taste such as the once famous portrait of 
Alcina are composed with a precision and economy of effect 
which half reconcile us to them. Sometimes he has a distinct- 
ness which one might almost call Theocritan. The following 
stanzas are characteristic (0. F., viu, 19 and 20). 

Tra duri sassi e folte spine gia 
Ruggiero intanto in ver la Fata saggia, 
Di balzo in balzo, e d'una in altra via, 
Aspra, solinga, inospita e selvaggia ; 
Tan to ch'a gran fatica riuscia 
Su la fervida nona in una spiaggia 
Tra '1 mare e '1 monte, al mezodi scoperta, 
Arsiccia, nuda, sterile e deserta. 

Percuote il Sole ardente il vicin colle ; 

E del calor che si riflette adietro, 

In modo 1'aria e 1' arena ne bolle, 

Che saria troppo a far liquido il vetro. 

Stassi cheto ogni augello all' ombra molle: 

Sol la cicala col noioso metro 

Fra i densi rami del fronzuto stelo 

Le valli e i monti assorda, e il mare e il cielo. 

Turning to the descriptive work of Spenser, w^ shall per- 
haps be surprised to find very few traces ofjlriosto. The 
description of JBelpnoebe, to be sure (F. ., Bk. n, c. 3, st. 
21 ff.), might be compared for method to that of Alcina (0. F., 


VII, 1 1 ff.), though it is more pompously ornamental, and the 
naked beauties of Serena (F. Q., Bk. vi, c. 8, st. 42, 43) might 
seem to be after those of Olimpia (0. F., XI, 67 ff.) ; but the 
parallel is in neither case close, and the method is generally 
Italian, not peculiar to Ariosto. The House of Morpheus (F. 
Q., Bk. i, c. 1, st. 39-41) was perhaps suggested 1 by the Casa 
del Sonno (0. F., xiv, 92-94); but one has only to set the 
two side by side to see that, if so, Spenser borrowed nothing 
save the primal idea. In the Gardens of Adonis (F. Q., Bk. 
in, c. 6 and iv, c. 10) one might see a vague similarity to 
certain scenes in the Furioso the Island of Alcina (vi, 19- 
22), in which the -bridge guarded by Erifila, i. e. Avarice (vi, 
78, 79 and vn, 2-5) might have suggested to Spenser the 
bridge guarded by Doubt, Delay, Daunger, etc. ; the Gardens 
of Logistilla (x, 61-63); the Terrestrial Paradise (xxxiv, 
49-51) but one cannot be sure that Spenser had Ariosto 
in mind. Finally, such things as the tapestries of the House 
of Busyrane, setting forth the wars of Cupid (Bk. in, c. 11, 
st. 28 ff.) are apparently borrowed from the Furioso (cf. the 
pictures at the Rocca di Tristano prophesying the wars in 
Italy, 0. F., xxxin) ; but these are merely part of the stage-r 
setting, used indifferently, whenever convenient. In shortA 
Spenser could, as we have seen, take a whole plot in all its\ 
essential details from Ariosto, he could make distinct charac- \ 
ter-studies from the figures of the Furioso, he could adopt \ 
situations; but he apparently did not think it worth while to J 
imitate Ariosto's descriptions. His generally Italian methods I 
of description he might get, as I have said, from Ariosto or ' 
from almost any sixteenth century poet. 

This specific neglect of Ariosto may be ascribed to several 
causes. In the first place, the Furioso, being essentially a 
poem of plot, character, and action, Spenser would imitate it 
chiefly in just these lines, the more readily in that his own 
genius for plot, character, and action was not strong. In the 

1 See, however, Chaucer : The Book of the Duchesse, 11. 153 ff. Also Ovid : 
Metam., xi, 591 ff. Statius : Theb., x, 84 ff. 

186 B. E. NEIL DODGE. 


second place, Spenser may not have felt the charm of Ariosto's 
descriptions. His own taste probably inclined towards greater 
richness. In the third place, he found a much more congenial 

odel in Tasso. The richness which Ariosto lacked Tasso had 
in full measure ; indeed, to some modern critics, his descrip- 
tive beauties have seemed rather cloying. He certainly has 
not the artistic balance of Ariosto. Spenser, however, who 
was of Tasso's own generation, seems to have been captivated 
by him; at any rate, he goes to him for descriptive work, 
rather than to his great predecessor. The Bower of Bliss 
(Bk. u, c. 12) is taken bodily from t6e Gerusalemme Liberata 
(c. xv, xvi), and the Retreat of Cymochles (Bk. n, c. 5, st. 
28 ff.), which gives us another glimpse of the Bower of Bliss, 
is after his manner. It is possible that the first enthusiasm 
roused by the appearance of the Gerusalemme may have been 
an element in the eclipsing of Ariosto. 

There is one minor branch of descriptive work, however, 
in which Spenser has sometimes imitated Ariosto, and that is 

the comparison. The comparisons, of -the Fwfioso^ indeed, are 
often wonderfully effective, with the distinctness which comes 
from clear vision and sure style. They are rarely impressive, 
and almost never highly beautiful, but they generally have at 
least the virtue of efficient illustration. A single example may 
serve to indicate how Spenser could use them. 

Ruggiero has suddenly attacked a rabble of men-at-arms, 
who are conducting Ricciardetto pinioned to execution. 

Come stormo d'augei, ch'in ripa a un stagno 

Vola sicura e a sua pastura attende, 

S' improvviso dal ciel falcon grifagno 

Gli da nel mezo, et un ne batte o prende, 

Si sparge in fuga, ognun lascia il compagno, 

E de lo scampo suo cura si prende : 

Cosi veduto avreste far costoro, 

Tosto che '1 buon Ruggier diede fra loro. (xxv, 12.) 

Talus, the iron groom of Arthegall, is attacking a rabble 
with his terrible flail. They fly from his presence and hide 
themselves in holes and bushes, 


As when a faulcon hath with nimble flight 

Flowne at a flush of ducks foreby the brooke, 

The trembling foule, dismayd with dreadfull sight 

Of death, the which them almost overtooke, 

Doe hide themselves from her astonying looke 

Amongst the flags and covert round about. 

When Talus saw they all the field forsook, 

And none appear'd of all that raskall rout, 

To Arthegall he turn'd, and went with him throughout. 

(Bk. v, c. 2, st. 54.) 

One cannot but note that Ariosto's version is the more 
precise and effective. Indeed, the qualities of Spenser's style 
hardly adapted themselves to work like this requiring point 
and vivacity. He is more successful, perhaps, in his imita- 
tions of Tasso's comparisons, which are rich, one might say 
Venetian, in effect, and less strictly illustrative. 

There is a field in which the dramatic and the picturesque 
come together, what one might call picturesque situation. In 
this field Spenser is more successful than in the field of merely 
narrative or dramatic situation, and naturally, for though he 
is not a poet of action, he isji descriptive poet of a very high 
order. As an instance of what"he could get from Ariosto in 
this field one may cite the revelation of Bradamante at the 
Eocca di Tristano ( 0. F., xxxii, 79, 80). She enters the castle- 
hall clad in full armor, and is of course received as a man ; 
then, when she takes off her helmet, her golden hair bursts 
from its coif and streams down over her shoulders, revealing 
her a beautiful woman. The effect is startling, and Ariosto 
has rendered it with his customary brilliancy. 

In the episode of Britomart at the House of Malbecco, an 
episode written throughout with constant reminiscences of the 
Rocca di Tristano, one might almost say distinctly modelled 
on it, Spenser repeats this situation (Bk. m, c. 9, st. 20-23). 
In the more dramatic quality of it one cannot say that he 
equals Ariosto. The latter rests his effect on one touch, the 
sudden rush of the hair when the helmet is taken off; Spenser 

188 R. E. NEIL DODGE. 

adds a touch by making his heroine remove the rest of her 
armor, thereby revealing also her womanly form, and in so 
doing he weakens his effect very badly. Yet the picturesque- 
ness of the situation he renders well enough ; his description 
catches the eye, though it is certainly not one of his more 
remarkable successes. 

Another category might be glanced at, in which may be 
grouped things rather matter-of-fact than artistic. 

The famous lancia d'oro, for instance, reappears in the 
Faery Queen as Britomart's ebon spear (that it is of ebony is 
told us in Bk. iv, c. 5, st. 8). Its qualities are the same, and 
are also unknown, apparently, to its possessor. 

The magic shield of Atlante reappears as the shield of 
Arthur (Bk. I, c. 7, st. 33-35). In the Furioso it has the one 
quality of rendering temporarily senseless those who chance 
to look on its dazzling surface ; Spenser has added a number 
of qualities to this, it cannot be said felicitously. The magic 
horn of Astolfo, likewise, which in the Furioso merely serves 
to throw all who hear it into headlong and terrified flight, is 
reproduced, as the horn of Arthur's squire, with additional 
qualities (Bk. I, c. 8, st. 3, 4). 

Rodomonte's bridge (0. F., xxix, 33-37) is made use of 
as the bridge of PollentS (F. ., Bk. v, c. 2, st. 6-8), again 
with complicating additions, in this case, as probably in the 
preceding, suggested by the allegory. 

In another field, Pinabello's shameful custom (0. F., xxn, 
48) is reproduced as the " wicked custome " of Turpine (Bk. 
yi, c. 6, st. 34). 

There is no need to multiply instances or to attempt a detailed 
classification. It is evident that for such chivalric parapher- 
nalia Spenser went to the Furioso with his customary freedom. 
Whatever caught his fancy, or would serve some immediate 
purpose, he adopted and transferred. He, of course, did not 
draw from the Furioso exclusively. The Morte d? Arthur could 
give him plenty of such things, or any romance of chivalry 



he might happen to read, and he certainly took material wher- 
ever he found what he wanted. What he borrows from the 
FuriosOy however, usually has some special mark which indi- 
cates its origin, and that poem was unquestionably his chief 

One final category may be chosen to round out this incom- 
plete and cursory classification the introductory stanzas with 
which Ariosto opens each canto and which Spenser, following 
him, not infrequently employs. Such stanzas in the Furioso 
are either reflective or take the form of an address to the poet's 
imaginary audience. Spenser's are almost always reflective 
we have seen above how he could take a theme suggested by 
Ariosto ("Ingiustissimo Amor") and raise it to a loftier plane 
of meditation but once, at least, he adopted the address, on 
an occasion when Ariosto's precedent seemed worth following. 

By way of cautionary preface to his twenty-eighth canto 
that which Harington first translated Ariosto writes : 

Donne, e voi che le donne avete in pregio, 
Per Dio, non date a questa istoria orecchia, 
A questa che 1'ostier dire in dispregio 
E in vostra infamia e biasmo s'apparecchia ; 
Ben che ne macchia vi puo dar n fregio 
Lingua si vile, e sia 1'usanza vecchia 
Che '1 volgare ignorante ognun riprenda, 
E parli piu di quel che meno intenda. 

Lasciate questo Canto ; che senza esso 

Puo star 1'istoria, e non sar& men chiara. 

Mettendolo Turpino, anch' io 1'ho messo, 

Non per malivolenzia nd per gara. 

Ch' io v'ami, oltre mia lingua che Pha espresso, 

Che mai non fu di celebrarvi avara, 

N' ho fatto mille prove ; e v'ho dimostro 

Ch' io son, He" potrei esser se non vostro. 

An apology was, without question, desirable, and Ariosto 
makes it in the tone of playful deprecation which he can 
assume so well. 

190 B. E. NEIL DODGE. 

When Spenser came to write of Paridell and Hellenore 
(Bk. in, c. 9), he seems to have thought the opportunity a 
good one to imitate Ariosto's apology. His own story was 
relatively sober, and unquestionably, had not Ariosto set the 
precedent, he himself would never have thought of apologiz- 
ing for it ; indeed, he might seem to be going somewhat out 
of his way to do so. Adopting the suggestion, however, he 
sets his own unmistakable stamp upon the stanzas. They are 
utterly different in tone from Ariosto's. 

Bedoubted Knights, and honorable Dames, 

To whom I levell all my labours end, 

Bight sore I feare least with unworthie blames 

This odious argument my rymes should shend, 

Or ought your goodly patience offend, 

Whiles of a wanton lady I doe write, 

Which with her loose incontinence doth blend 

The shyning glory of your soveraine light ; 

And knighthood fowle defaced by a faithlesse knight. 

But never let th' ensample of the bad 

Offend the good : for good, by paragone 

Of evill, may more notably be rad; 

As white seemes fayrer macht with blacke attone : 

Ne all are shamed by the fault of one : 

For lo ! in heven, whereas all goodnes is, 

Emongst the angels, a whole legione 

Of wicked sprightes did fall from happy blis ; 

What wonder then if one, of women all, did mis ? 


To those who read the Faery Queen with Ariosto in mind 
the opening cantos of Book in are almost startling. At the 
very outset Britomart appears on the scene, and we at once 
recognize her for a copy of Bradamante. She makes her 
entry exactly like Bradamante, coming suddenly into view, 
and without pause rushing to an encounter with the knight 
in her path, and bearing him down (F. ., Bk. in, c. 1, st. 4 ff. ; 
0. F.y I, 60 ff.). Then, a reconciliation being effected, her 



antagonist, Guyon, Prince Arthur, and she ride on together, 
till suddenly a damsel on a milk-white palfrey dashes out of 
the brush pursued by a lustful forester, and Arthur and Guyon 
immediately spur after the pair, to save the damsel from harm 
(c. 1, st. 15 ff.). We are reminded of Angelica in the first 
canto of the Furioso, and the sequel indicates that Spenser had 
her in mind (c. 4, st. 46 ; cf. 0. F., I, 21-23 : c. 7, st. 1, 2 ; 
cf. 0. F., I, 33-35). Florimel, in fact, with her many lovers, 
might be taken throughout the book for the faint counterpart ^ 
of Angelica. Meanwhile Britomart, continuing her course 
alone, comes to the House of Malecasta, where, as we have 
seen, her experience is an imitation of Ruggiero's experience 
with Alcina just reversed. So much for the first canto. In 
the second and third cantos we have the beginnings of her 
love-story, which is continuously parallel to that of Brada- 
mante. These main facts, and some half-dozen minor imita- 
tions bring the early cantos of Book in so close to the early 
cantos of the Farioso that Spenser might seem to have taken . , 
a fresh start in his " emulation " of Ariosto. As a whole, the N y 
third book is incomparably richer than the preceding two in 
reminiscences of Ariosto. 

This fact is, perhaps, hardly surprising, for Britomart being 
heroine of the book, Spenser's mind would naturally be occu- 
pied more than ever with his original. What is much more 
noteworthy is that the general character of Book in differs 
markedly from that of the preceding books, and approximates 
very distinctly to the type of the Furioso. The phenomenon 
is not inexplicable. 

The first two books of the Faery Queen are, without doubt, 
most systematic and careful of the six we now have. 
_ is devoted to the quest of a single knight, and each is 
mnded out to comypj^te^JUJiity. In the second book, how- 
ever, we can detect signs of a change. The plot of the first is 
rigidly concentrated; in the second though the book can 
hardly be said to have a real plot, being made up of a string 
of unprogressive episodes Braggadochio and Belphoebe, and 

192 R. E. NEIL DODGE. 

the chronicle of British kings, and the combat of Arthur with 
Maleger mar the narrative unity, if they do not absolutely 
destroy it. Spenser seems to be reaching out towards a some- 
what freer, more varied narrative plan. 

His stricter allegorical method seems also to be giving him 
trouble. The career of the Red Cross Knight in its progres- 
sive vicissitudes, from the Den of Error, through the House 
of Pride, the Dungeon of Orgoglio, the Cave of Despair, the 
House of Holiness, to the final combat with the Dragon of 
Evil and the triumphant marriage w^ith Una, is, on the whole, 
set forth with rare imaginative power. In the career of Guyon 
the allegory begins to lose life. The House of Golden Meane 
is tolerable, but Medina herself is so pale and bloodless that 
Spenser seems to have hardly dared make her Guyon's avowed 
mistress ; their mutual troth is suggested only in the faintest 
manner (Bk. n, c. 2, st. 30, 1. 5 ; c. 7, st. 50) ; and the House 
of Temperance with its cut and dried allegory of the human 
body, the house of the soul, is perilously close to a reductio 
ad absurdum. Spenser, one would think, must have felt that 
if his characters and scenes were to continue to be the embodi- 
ment of merely abstract qualities and conditions, or the trans- 
mogrification of things material, there would be danger of his 
poem becoming completely ossified. His imagination could 
not continue indefinitely to give life to abstractions. 

We shall hardly be surprised, therefore, at the change in 
narration and allegory which comes with the third book. 

TnjnarrflHnn flpenser abandons Unifo ftf a^.injj. Thp plot 

of which Florimel is heroine runs side by side with the main 
plot, the quest of Britomart, touching it only at the outset, 
and other characters give other centres of interest, or incipient 
plots, as Timias and Belphoebe. There are frequent digres- 
sions. The scene is constantly shifting. The quest of Brito- 
mart moves towards no definite goal of action ; the achieve- 

O * 

ment with which she brings the book to a close is accidental 
and unforeseen. The end of the book, indeed, ends nothing, 
for all the main threads of interest are still to be spun 



out. In brief, the narrative character of this book is utterly 
different from that of the first two. For a single knight, 
pursuing his quest through opposing dangers, with varying 
vicissitudes of fortune, all accessory figures grouped about 
him in strict subordination, we have independent knights and 
ladies, whose paths cross and recross, who come and go much 
as fate drives them, without definite goal, all dominated by 
Britomart, but not controlled by her. This is manifestly the 
varied world of the Furioso. 

The change in allegory is equally marked. One notices, for 
instance, that there are fewer allegorical sign-boards. From 
the "Wood of Error" to the " House of Holiness" the first 
book is full of them, and the second book has the " House of 
Golden Meane," the " Cave of Mammon," and half a dozen 
others : the third book has the " House of Malecasta," and 
that alone. One notices, too, the absence of characters labelled 
as mere abstractions. The first book has Despair, Orgoglio, 
Corceca, Sansfoy and his brethren, and others too numerous to 
mention ; the second book has Furor, Occasion, Atin, Alma, 
Medina, Mammon, etc., etc. ; save Malecasta and her crew 
for the Masque of Cupid may fairly be set aside the third 
book has hardly one. Taking the list of characters in each 
book at large, we discover a similar distinction. The Red 
Cross Knight, Una, Duessa, Archimago are the embodiment of 
manifest abstractions, as also are Guyon, the Palmer, Acrasia, 
Cymochles ; what abstractions are embodied in the characters 
of the third book ? Britomart is nominally the embodiment 
of Chastity; but what abstraction does Florimel stand for? 
Malecasta is, of course, Unchastity incarnate ; what, then, is 
Hellenore? If Hellenore stands for some abstraction or other, 
why does Spenser apologize for writing of u a wanton lady/' 
and defend himself from the charge of aspersing womankind 
by saying that she is merely " one, of women all " (c. 9, st. 1 
and 2) ? As for Malbecco, his ultimate transformation into 
the abstraction, Jealousy, is described with wonderful effect : 
what abstraction does he represent before his transformation ? 

194 R. E. NEIL DODGE. 

Then, for the allegorical action. In the first book Holiness 
is shown struggling through those spiritual dangers which 
peculiarly beset it to the overthrow of Evil and to union with 
Heavenly Truth. In the second book Temperance stands 
firm against those passions and desires which peculiarly beset 
it, and in the end triumphs over Incontinence, the worst of 
all. In each case the allegory presents a perfectly definite 
succession of spiritual states considered in the abstract. What 
does Britomart, or Chastity, do? She reads Malecasta a lesson ; 
she drives off Ollyphant, a type of Lust; she sets Amoret free 
^from Busyrane which may be taken to signify the power 
\ of Chastity freeing Womanhood from thraldom to material 

passion. But what is the hidden spiritual significance of her 
combat with Marinell, of her sojourn in the castle of Mal- 
becco ? Taking her career as a whole, one cannot but see 
that, whatever else the allegory may do, it certainly does not, 
like that of the first two books, present a succession of dis- 
tinct spiritual states considered in the abstract. And turning 
from Britomart to Florimel, one perceives immediately that 
the allegory of this unfortunate lady's career is at the very 
antipodes to the allegory of abstractions. To sum up, the 
characters of Book in may fairly be regarded as men and 
women of certain general types engaged in actions which are 
typically moral. And here again we find ourselves close to 
the Furioso, which has allegorical episodes, but of general 
allegory only so much as one might read into almost any 
romance poem. Set Book in and the Furioso side by side, 
and one lends itself to allegory almost as readily as the other., 
This change is certainly remarkable : it is a change OP 
world. The world of Book I is a world of spiritual abstrac- 
tions, in which the outer semblance of chivalry does not for 
an instant deceive the reader; the world of Book in is the 
world of chivalry itself, which occasional abstractions in no 
way perturb. Book n marks the transition. The change is 
lasting. In Book v we have a partial reversion to the earlier 
type, but Books IV and vi are distinctly of the later ; Book 



VI, indeed, is about as purely chivalric as one could desire. 
Consciously or unconsciously, Spenser has drawn nearer to 
Ariosto. That his poem should begin in a world peculiarly 
his own, and then, as if irresistibly, drift into the world of 
the Furioso is perhaps not without significance. 


How far Ariosto influenced Spenser's literary methods and 
what elements in the Faery Queen may be traced to the Orlando 
Furioso are questions beyond the scope of the present investi- 
gation. The data we have secured, however, will afford us 
some general conclusions about Spenser's imaginative debt to 
Ariosto which will be worth a brief statement. 

First, we notice that the two men are radically different in 
temper and views. Aringfo> is hnmnmiia r jrQmqal. worldly-wise 
QT>fl ' cf;n mnr ^ - Spenser is " sage and seri- 

ous" by fundamental constitution. Ariosto^iTattitude towards 
chivalry is that of the urbane sceptic, or of the impressionable 
artist ; tpJSpeiisui "TsMvafay-4e--aB' mspirmg ^de^-tfae^Jiighest 
expression of human nobiHtv^n^ejijaifialliess. The two men, 

inrpflTTfyj havp nnrKingT>nl7hprr^flrt f in onmmnn^ and even on 

that they are not at one. However seriously, therefore, Spenser 
may at times have taken Ariosto, it is manifest that the latter j 
can have had no real influence upon his deeper imaginative life. 
If any romance poet exercised such ah influence on him, it 
was Tasso. The intense seriousness, the reverence for chivalry 
which pervade the Gerusalemme Liberata could hardly fail to 
attract Spenser powerfully ; even its somewhat morbid sadness 
and dolcezza seem to have charmed him, for though his own 
temperament was serenely cheerful, 1 he certainly had a strong 
taste for the poetry of melancholy witness Du Bellay, the 
saddest of the PUiade poets and the only one of them who 

1 Those who read Spenser attentively will hardly be convinced, I think, 
that there was " a life-long vein of melancholy " in him. v. Dr. Grosart's 
Spenser, vol. I, p. 185. 


196 R. E. NEIL DODGE. 

ever influenced him, and witness his own poetical laments. 
In the days when he first undertook the Faery Queen he was 
acquainted with the Rinaldo and borrowed from it; when 
the Gerusalemme Liberata reached him he was apparently as 
enthusiastic over it as the Italians themselves. If, as might 
very well be, he was then engaged upon his second book, the 
remarkable imitations of Tasso's poem of which that book is 
full might be taken to represent the first impulses of his 

How far Spenser was in sympathy with Tasso may be indi- 
cated by the character of his imitations. When he copies 
Ariosto it is almost always with a change. He may take the 
|facts of a plot one by one as they stand in his original ; 
tthe peculiar rendering will always be his own. He may 
adopt a situation it will be with certain modifications which 
alter its character. He may imitate a reflective passage the 
spirit of the version will be new. In other words, he is never 
thrnsffkly-iii tniioh^w\th Ariosto. When he imitates Tasso, 
however, he does not feel the need of change, or if he changes, 
he preserves in good part the spirit of the original. The 
Bower of Bliss (Bk. n, c. 12) is a simple reproduction of the 
Gardens of Armida (G. L. y xv, xvi), partly by direct trans- 
lation, partly by close imitation, partly by adoption of general 
features. The song of Phaedria (Bk. II, c. 6, st. 15-17) has 
not a word in common with the song of the siren (G. L., xiv, 
62-64) ; yet the spirit of the two is exactly fohe same ; they 
might be transposed. In other words, Spenser finds in Tasso 
a kindred genius, and has no need of asserting imaginative 

Spenser imitated Tasso whenever he found occasion. 1 The 
Gerusalemme Liberata, however, was too little a romance poem 
to furnish him very much material ; the epical subject-matter 

1 Sometimes he superimposes Tasso upon Ariosto not always felicitously. 
What Britomart says of her early training in arms (Bk. in, c. 2, st. 6, 7) is 
imitated from Clorinda (G. L., n, 39, 40), but is in manifest contradiction 
to Glauc&'s words (c. 3, st. 53, 57). 


which Tasso had adopted was too far removed from the sub- 
ject-matter of the Fawy Queen. Having begun his poem with 
Ariosto in mind, therefore, he still found Ariosto his most 
convenient resource; indeed, as we have seen, during the very 
days of his early enthusiasm for the Gerusalemme Liberata the 
Faery Queen was drifting, as if irresistibly, towards the type of 
the Furioso, and was accumulating imitations in double vol- 
ume; for Spenser was imitating, not to record his critical 
preferences, but to fill in the outlines of his extended poem. 
And, after all, it would be a grave mistake to imagine that 
he did not really enjoy and admire the Orlando Furioso. He 
and Ariosto were radically different in spirit, and could rarely, 
or never, be in complete sympathy, but we know that he 
thought him a grave and edifying poet, not much the worse 
for a strain of somewhat free humor, and it is evident to the 
most casual observer of his imitations that he read the Furioso 
repeatedly and assiduously. Had he undertaken to emulate it 
merely in the spirit of opposition, he would hardly have gone 
to it so frequently for suggestions and direct help, he would 
hardly have studied it with such care. Or if we conceive of 
him as borrowing from it in cold blood, using it merely 
because it was full of convenient plots, characters, situations, 
etc., we must admit that his memory for things he did not 
really enjoy was sometimes singularly tenacious, that he has 
imitated passages which he could not have hunted up for the 
occasion and which, to the unsophisticated observer, would 
seem to have stuck in his mind because they pleased him. It 
is not necessary to assume that Ariosto fascinated him, was 
his favorite poet ; but a careful survey of the data will con- 
vince most of us, I think, that Spenser took very genuine 
pleasure in the fertile and amiable Italian. He certainly did 
not go to him for inspiration of the higher order, but for the 
practical conduct of the Faery Queen he found him invalu- 
able the consummate artist of the romance poem, a poet 
of almost inexhaustible variety and suggestiveness. Every 
passage borrowed might be recast, modified, animated with 

198 K. E. NELL DODGE. 

another spirit all, apparently, in repudiation of Ariosto's 
meaning; but that would not imply antagonism. Spenser 
might recognize the difference between his own poem and the 
Furioso without, therefore, disapproving of the latter except 
casually ; and he might read the Furioso like Milton without 
feeling any grave discrepancy between his own imaginings and 
the spirit of the context. He probably did not analyze his 
impressions like a philosopher. 

f^tjie roniatteepoe~j Spenser emulated and imitated 
him, and read him with pretty constant pleasure. 


The following list contains what specific imitations from 
Ariosto I have been able to discover in the Faery Queen. 
Many of them are also recorded in Warton's Observations 
and elsewhere, but as I drew up my list without assistance, 
and found upon later examination that, with four or five 
exceptions, it contained all the parallel passages noted by 
Warton and the others, I have thought it superfluous to give 
references. The list does not pretend to be even approxi- 
mately complete : any one with a clear memory who chose to 
read and reread the two poems side by side might add to it 
considerably. In such a bewildering multitude of episodes 
and striking passages the discovery of a particular imitation 
may often be a matter of mere accident. I do not think, 
however, that any very important imitation has escaped me. 
\Some ofthe imitations which I cite may seem to be wholly 
\ imaginary.^ As Spenser frequently worked from mere sug- 
gestions, passages which the student of the two poems will 
incline to think clearly imitative may often, to the unpre- 
judiced reader, seem absolutely original. I have endeavored 
to be moderate in my ascriptions, but in conducting investiga- 
tions like this it is often very difficult for the critic to "mark 
that point where sense and dulness meet." 


The imitations are given in order as they occur. This 
arrangement makes it clear how steadily and frequently 
Spenser drew on the Furioso for matter. 


C. 1, st. 29. Red Cross Kt. and Una meeting Archimago. Warton cites 
Angelica meeting friar (0. F., n, 12, 13). Both sages are deceivers and 
magicians. Perhaps more striking reference would be to Tasso's Rinaldo, 
I, 31, where Malagigi appears as venerable old man. 

C. 1, st. 34. Faint similarity to 0. F., XLI, 57. 

C. 1, st. 39-41. Of. O. F., xiv, 92-94. 

C. 2, st. 3. Warton cites Atlante's magic palace (0. F., xn) where every 
knight is deceived by an image of his mistress. 

C. 2, st. 30 ff. Cf. 0. F., vi, 26 ff. Astolfo transformed by Alcina into 
myrtle tree. That the main suggestion came from Ariosto seems certain. 
Spenser may also have had Tasso in mind, G. Z/., xm, 41, 42. 

C. 3, st. 38. Cf. O. F., iv, 27. 

C. 5, st. 7, 1. 2. Similar to 0. F., 11, 8, 11. 4-8 ; but hardly an imitation. 

C. 6, st. 3 ff. Cf. 0. F., xm, 26-29. Very characteristic difference of treat- 

C. 6, st. 33-48. Una, Satyrane, Sansloy, Archimago. Cf. 0. F., I, 72-81 ; 
n, 1-23 ; vni, 29 ff. Angelica, Sacripante, Einaldo, the friar. See detailed 
comment in sect. I of this paper. 

C. 7, st. 7. Cf. O. F., i, 59, 72. Sacripante and Angelica interrupted by 
a loud noise in the wood. 

C. 7, st. 13, 11. 1, 2. Cf. 0. F., ix, 91, 11. 1-3. 

C. 7, st. 33-36. Arthur's shield fabricated by the enchanter Merlin. Cf. 
0. F., II, 55, 56. The shield of the enchanter Atlante. For further notice 
see sect. 11 of this paper. 

C. 8, st. 3, 4. Cf. 0. F., xv, 15. 

C. 8, st 19. Cf. 0. F. } xxii, 84-86. 

C. 8, 46-48. Cf. 0. F., vn, 72, 73. 

C. 10, st. 46 ff. Cf. Ruggiero with the hermit on the rocky island; bap- 
tised ; his destiny in part revealed. 0. F., XLI, 52 ff. 

C. 1 1, st. 20, 21. Might seem to be an amplification of 0. F., xxx, 60, 11. 1-4. 

C. 12, st. 1. Cf. stanzas with which Ariosto opens the concluding canto 
of his poem, 0. F., XLVI, 1 ff. 


C. 1, st. 26. One might refer to 0. F., xxxvi, 37, 38. 

C. 2, st. 24. Somewhat similar to 0. F., xxi, 53. 

C. 3, st. 4. The stealing of Guyon's horse may have been suggested by 
several episodes in the Furioso: xxn, 12 ff.; xxm, 33 ff.; xxxni, 92 ff.; I/ 
perhaps i, 72 ff. 


\ v 

_ \ /i . A; ~ Vr / 

200 B. E. NEIL DODGE. 

C. 3, st. 17. Braggadochio' s vow : cf. Mandricardo's, 0. F., xiv, 43. For 
character of Braggadochio see sect, n of this paper. 

C. 3, st. 18. Archimago's promise to steal Arthur's sword for Brag- 
gadochio. Cf. Mandricardo appropriating Orlando's sword, O. F., xxrv, 
58, 59. 

C. 3, st. 22 ff. Belphoebe. Cf. description of Alcina, 0. F., vn, 11-16. 
Spenser's more ornate method of description reminds one rather of Tasso. 

C. 4, st. 18 ff. The tale of the Squire is after the story of Ariodante, O. 
F. t iv, 57 to vi, 16. Spenser's modifications are very characteristic. Ariosto's 
novella had to be harmonized with its new and more ideal surroundings, and 
its allegorical possibilities had to be developed. 

C. 5, st. 4, 5. Similar to O. F., xxiv, 105, 106. 

C. 8, st. 30. Pyrochles strikes full at Arthur's crest with Morddure, hop- 
ing to cleave his head : the good sword swerves aside from its master and 
leaves him unhurt. In 0. F., XLI, 95, 96, Gradasso strikes full at Orlando's 
head with Durindana : the sword does not swerve aside from its master ; it 
is true to Gradasso's aim ; only Orlando's invulnerability saves him. The 
parallel is suggestive. Pyrochles acquired Morddure from Archimago, who 
stole it for Braggadochio : Gradasso acquired Durindana from Mandricardo, 
^/ who virtually stole it. 

C. 8, st. 42. Cf. 0. F., xvm, 19. 

C. 9, st. 2. Arthur, like Orlando, wins back his sword in open combat. 
0. F., XLI, XLII. 

C. 10. Spenser in devoting a canto to the ancestry of Elizabeth is follow- 
ing the precedent of Ariosto, who in various ways and at different times 
celebrates the genealogy of the Estes. This canto is linked with c. 3 of 
Book ni. Both together find their closest counterpart in canto in of the 
Furioso. As exordium to this pair of cantos Spenser adopts the stanzas 
which open Ariosto's canto (F. Q., Bk. u, c. 10, st. 1-4: O. F., in, 1-4). 
Here, as in several other imitations, Spenser directly translates the first 
few lines, and then drifts into an entirely original rendering of the theme 

C. 11, st. 5ff. Cf. 0. F., vi, 60-66. 

C. 11, st. 33 ff. Warton likens Arthur's difficulty in killing Maleger to 
the difficulty which Grifone, Aquilante, and Astolfo have in killing Orrilo, 
0. F., xv, 67 ff. 

C. 12, st. 56. Possibly suggested by 0. F., x, 39, 40. 


C. 1, st. 4 ff. Britomart, like Bradamante, first appears in a chance 
encounter, in which she overthrows her antagonist : 0. F., I, 60 ff. How 
completely she is the counterpart of Bradamante has been indicated in 
sect, n of this paper, and will be made clear by many other reminiscences 
of Bradamante not there noted. 


C. 1, st. 10. Spenser does not explicitly state that Britomart was igno- 
rant of the virtue of her ebon lance, but we come to perceive that she was 
so. Cf. 0. F., xxxn, 48 ; XLV, 65, 66. 

C. 1, st. 13. Cf. 0. F., i, 22. 

C. 1, st. 42, 43. Perhaps suggested by O. F., xxxn, 79, 80. 

C. 1, st. 49. Cf. O. F., xxn, 1-3. 

C. 1, st. 59 ff. Cf. O. F., vn, 23-26. For discussion see sect, n of this 

C. 2, st. 1-3. In these stanzas and in st. 1 and 2 of c. 4 Spenser is imitat- 
ing Ariosto : 0. F., xx, 1-3 ; xxxvii, 1 ff. The imitation is scattering. 

C. 2, st. 25, 1. 6. Cf. Kuggiero's conquest of arms of Hector, borne by 
Mandricardo, 0. F., xxx. For connected account of Britomart's love story 
see sect, n of this paper. 

C. 3. Imitated from c. in of the Furioso. For discussion see sect, n of 
this paper. 

C. 3, st. 1. Cf. 0. F., H, 1. For discussion see sect. I of this paper. 

C. 3, st. 22, 11. 5-9, 23. Cf. 0. F. t in, 17, 18. 

C. 3, st. 28. CtO.F., XLI, 6iff. 

C. 3, st. 60. The Zcmcra tforo of the Furioso, which Astolfo turns over to 
Bradamante : 0. F., xxm, 15. 

C. 4, st. 46. The flight of Florimel, begun in c. 1, st. 15-18, and concluded 
in c. 7, st. 1-4, is after the flight of Angelica, 0. F., I, 33-35, with a possi- 
ble reminiscence, at the end, of Erminia in the Gerusalemme. Arthur and 
Guyon pursuing her and parting at the parting of the ways may be com- 
pared to Kinaldo and Ferrau, O. F., I, 21-23. Florimel, with her many 
lovers and her adventurous career, might seem at times to be modelled on 
Angelica, though, of course, she is a very different character. 

C. 7, st. 34. Possibly suggested by 0. F., xxvi, 111. Spenser's compari- 
son is imperfect, since the Beast is finally subdued a good example of his 
indifference to exact illustration. 

C. 7, st. 53 ff. Cf. 0. F., xxvin, especially st. 45-49. 

C. 8, st. 11-13. Cf. the winning of Doralice by Mandricardo. 0. F., xiv, 
38 ff. 

C. 8, 15 ff. Spenser may have had in mind O. F., i, 77-81 ; n, 3. False 
Florimel's apparent dismay is like Angelica's. 

C. 9, st. 1, 2. Cf. 0. F., xxvin, 1-3. For discussion see sect, n of this 

C. 9, in which Britomart comes to the castle of Malbecco is a reminis- 
cence of 0. F., xxxn, 64 ff., in which Bradamante comes to the Rocca di 
Tristano. Malbecco's jealousy (st. 5) is like that of Clodione (in 0. F., st. 
83-94). The bad weather which forces Britomart to shelter (st. 11-13) is 
like that which Bradamante experiences (in 0. F., st. 63) ; both arrive at 
nightfall. Britomart jousting with Paridell for entrance to the shed is like 
Bradamante jousting for entrance to the castle (in O. F., st. 69-77). The 
revelation of Britomart (st. 20, 21) is after that of Bradamante (in 0. F., 

202 K. E. NEIL DODGE. 

st. 79, 80). As Brad am ante is entertained by pictures of the future wars in 
Italy, so Britomart is entertained by the story of "Troian Brute" told by 

C. 10, st. 47. Warton suggests comparison with Norandino getting access 
to Lucina in a similar way, 0. F. t xvu, 45-48. 

C. 11, st. 7 ff. Manifestly after O. F.. n, 34 ff. Pinabello's mistress, like 
Scudamour's, has been carried off by an enchanter and confined in an inac- 
cessible castle. In each case the heroine later sets the lady free. 

C. 11, st. 29 ff. Cf. the pictures of the wars in Italy at the Rocca di 
Tristano : O. F., c. xxxin. 


C. 1, st. 13. Warton refers to 0. F., xxvi, 28. More probably imitated 
from 0. F., xxxn, 79, 80, already used in Bk. in, c. 9, st. 20, 21. 

C. 1, st. 14. Britomart- Bel lona. Warton refers to 0. F., xxvi, 24. Cf. 
Bk. in, c. 9, st. 22. 

C. 1, st. 19 ff. Cf. Alcina seeking Invidia and bringing her up to the 
world to work mischief, in the Cinque Canti, I, 38 ff. The Cinque Canti 
were, in Spenser's day, commonly printed as an appendix to the Furioso. 

C. 3, st. 45. The reference is to 0. F., XLII, 60-67. 

C. 4, st. 9, 10. Cf. O. F., xx, 106-129. For discussion see sect, n of this 
paper. One may note that in this episode Spenser forgot himself. In c. 1, 
st. 17, Ate" is given the outer form of a fair lady ; but the description of her 
natural form, in c. 1, st. 27-29, and her vile conduct suggested the analogy 
of Gabrina, and led Spenser to introduce this episode without noticing that 
he was contradicting his first statement. Spenser is very careless in such 
small matters: Ariosto is scrupulously careful. 

C. 4, st. 20. Cf. O. F., xvu, 88-90. 
_ C. 5, st. 22-24. Cf. the conduct of Discordia in O. F., xxvn, 39 ff. f, 

C. 5, st. 25, 26. Cf. 0. F., XXVTI, 103-107. 

C. 6, st. 40, 41. Cf. O. F., xxii, 31-36. 

C. 6, st. 43. Cf. 0. F., xxx, 76-81. 

C. 7, st. 15 ff. Aemylia in the cave of Lust is apparently a reminiscence 
of Isabella in the robbers' cave, O. F., xn, 89 ff. Her story in part resem- 
bles the story of Isabella, O. F., xin, 4-14. The old woman, her companion, 
is like Gabrina, with perhaps a touch of the house-keeper of the Ore: 0. 
F., xvu, 33. 

C. 8, st. 36, 11. 5, 6. Cf. O. F., xxxvii, 78, 11. 3-6. 

C. 9, st. 26. Cf. confused and shifting fight in 0. F., xxvi, 70 ff. 

C. 10. The Gardens of Adonis have a faint resemblance to certain gardens 
in theFurioso: vi, 19-22, x, 61-63 ; xxxiv7 49-51. The bridge guarded by 
Erifila, i. e. Avarice (O. F., vi, 78, 79; vii, 2-5) may have suggested the 
bridge guarded by Doubt, etc. (st. 11 ff.). For st. 25 cf. O. F., vi, 74. See 
sect. IT of this paper. 



C. 1, st. 9, 10. Chrysaor might be compared to Ruggiero's Balisarda: 
0. F., xxx, 57-59. 

C. 2, st. 6-8. Cf. Rodomonte's bridge: 0. F., xxix, 33-37. For the 
combat between Pollente and Arthegall, cf. that between Rodomonte and 
Brandimarte: 0. F., xxxi, 67 ff. Britpmart passing the bridge despite 
Dolon's sons (c. 6, st. 36-39) is like Bradamante: she alone passes it with- 
out being forced into the water, 0. F., xxxv, 38 ff. 

C. 2, st. 54. Cf. O.F., xxv, 12. 

C. 3, st. 10-15. Cf. 0. F., xvn, 86-113. 

C. 3, st. 33. Cf. the ferocity of Baiardo, 0. F., I, 74. 

C. 3, st. 34. Brigadore = Brigliadoro, Orlando's horse. 

C. 3, st. 37. Cf. 0. F., xvin, 91-93. 

C. 4, st. 11. Cf.O.^., vi, 5. 

C. 4, st. 21 ff. Cf. Ariosto's amazons : 0. F., xix, 57 ff. 

C. 6, st. 3 ff. Cf. O. F., xxx, 84 ff. ; xxxii, 10 ff. For discussion see sect. 
II of this paper. 

C. 6, st. 7, 1. 4. Cf. the " alta torre " in O. F., xxxii, 14, 1. 5. 

C. 6, st. 8. Cf. the "cavalier guascone" in 0. F., xxxii, 28. 

C. 7, st. 29 ff. Cf. the combat of Bradamante and Marfisa : O. F., xxxvi. 

C. 9, st. 11. Cf. Caligorante's net, 0. F., xv, 44, 45. 

C. 10 and 11. Cf. 0. F., ix, 17 ff. Arthur's exploit in behalf of Belgee is 
very much like Orlando's exploit in behalf of Olimpia. Note that Olim- 
pia's dominions are in the Low Countries. It seems probable that Spenser, 
determining to allegorize the English wars in the Low Countries under 
Leicester, remembered this story of the Furioso and adopted certain of its 

C. 12, st. 13. Cf. 0. F., xxxii, 108. This comparison is one of the com- 
monest in Italian literature : v. Dante, Inferno, c. n, 11. 127-129 ; Boccaccio, 
Teseide, ix, 28 ; Fr. Bello, Mambriano, c. vin, st. (quoted by Panizzi, 
Orlando Innamorato, vol. I, p. 318) ; OeriLsalemme Liberata, xvin, 16, xx, 129. 
It is evident that Spenser is following Ariosto's version. 


C. 3, st. 30 ff. Turpine is modelled on Pinabello, and Blandina, though 
of different character from Pinabello's meretrice, might be set beside her in 
vice. This episode might be compared with 0. F., xx, 110 ff. 

C. 3, st. 38. Cf. 0. F., xxxii, 83 ff. 

C. 4, st. 4 and c. 5, st. 2. This "salvage man" might seem to be a remi- 
niscence of the mad Orlando, naked and invulnerable. 

C. 6, st. 34. Cf. Pinabello's custom : 0. F., xxii, 48. 

C. 6, st. 42. Compare or contrast the meretrice, 0. F., ran, 76-79. 


204 K. E. NEIL DODGE. 

C. 6, st. 44. Compare Pinabello treacherously seizing Aquilante and his 
companions in their beds : 0. F., xx, 104, 105 ; xxii, 53. 

C. 7, st. 1. Cf. O.F., xxxvi, 1. 

C. 7, st. 3 ff. Of. Pinabello deceitfully obtaining the assistance of Aqui- 
lante and his companions in maintaining his wicked custom, O. F., xxn, 
53 ff. 

C. 7, st. 28 ff. Mirabella's story and the lesson thereby conveyed might 
be compared to Lidia's story: 0. F., xxxiv, 11-43. 

C. 7, st. 47. Distantly like 0. F., xxiv, 62. 

C. 8, st. 42, 43. Cf. 0. F., xi, 67-71. 

C. 11, st. 2 ff. Pastorella in the cave of the robbers. Warton cites Isa- 
bella in the cave of the robbers : O. F., xii, 91 ff. 

C. 11, st. 25, 11. 8, 9. Cf. O. F., xvm, 35. * 



It is admitted by all critics that the Beowulf is essentially 
a heathen poem ; that its materials are drawn from tales 
composed before the conversion of the Angles and Saxons to 
Christianity, and that there was a time when these tales were 
repeated without the Christian reflections and allusions that 
are found in the poem that has reached us. But in what 
form this heathen material existed before it was put into its 
present shape is a question on which opinions are widely 
different. In the nature of the case we can look for no entire 
consensus of opinion and no exact answer to the question ; 
the most that one can expect to establish is at the best only a 

The following hypotheses are possible : 

1. The poem was composed by a Christian, who had heard 
the stories and used them as the material for his work. 

2. The poem was composed by a Christian, who used old 
lays as his material. (This differs from the first supposition 
in assuming that the tales had already been versified and 
were in poetical form before they were used by the author.) 

3. The poem was composed by a heathen, either from old 
stories or from old lays. At a later date it was revised by a 
Christian poet, to whom we owe the Christian allusions found 
in it. (This hypothesis differs from the others in assuming the 
existence of a complete poem without the Christian coloring.) 

The purpose of the present study is to contribute to the 
settlement of the question inferences drawn from a careful 
examination of the passages that show a Christian coloring. 
Whether the Beowulf is a unit or a compilation made from 
several poems originally distinct is not considered, except in 
so far as a conclusion may be drawn from the character of 
the Christian allusions, and all other questions in regard to the 



genesis of the Epic in general or of the Beowulf in particular 
are also left untouched. 

It must be noted, however, at the beginning of the dis- 
cussion, that it is not in all cases a simple matter to decide 
whether a passage under consideration is Christian in character. 
ptt is clear, I think, that we have no right to classify under 
f this head those passages that are simply moral and ethical. 
The commandment not to bear false witness is regarded with 
good reason as a fundamental part of Christian doctrine, but 
when the dying Beowulf says, ' I sought not unrighteous strife 
nor swore oaths deceitfully/ we are justified in claiming the 
passage as Christian only by bringing proof that our fore- 
fathers, before they were enlightened by the instruction of 
Christian missionaries, thought false oaths right and proper. 
But when the hero continues, 'In all this I may rejoice, though 
sick with mortal wounds, for when my life hath left my body, 
the Ruler of men may not charge me with the murder of my 
kindred/ we may properly recognize the Christian coloring. 
This does not lie in the assertion of the speaker that he has 
kept the commandment not to kill, for Christianity can claim 
a monopoly of this no more than of the other just referred to, 
but in the apparent reference to a judgment after death and 
to the Ruler who is to try men for their deeds ; a reference 
that seems to prove the writer's knowledge of the teaching of 
(the Gospels. 

Other passages are doubtful for a different reason. It is 
well known that the missionaries of the early Church took 
many words belonging to heathen beliefs and practices and 
applied them to corresponding conceptions and usages of the 
Christian system. In Yule, Easter, God, hell, etc., we still 
keep words thus adopted ; others, now obsolete, are hcdend, 
nergend, drihten, metod, frea, etc. To these may be added the 
various epithets applied to the Persons of the Trinity, which 
are used so freely by the Old English poets. Most of these 
are simply equivalents of Latin expressions, or imitations of 
them ; e. g. celmihtig (omnipotens) ; ece drihten (dominus seter- 


nus) ; wuldorcyning (rex glorise) ; and the like. This use of 
native words and epithets is nothing peculiar, of course ; the 
same thing had already taken place in Latin and had given 
to deuSj dominuSy etc. their ecclesiastical meaning. But when 
such words are first used by the church, it is plain that some- 
thing of the old meaning still clings to them and is suggested 
to the hearer. In some cases the older meaning vanishes after 
a time or becomes entirely subordinated to the later one ; e. g. 
the word Christ has entirely lost, for most of those that use or 
hear it, its original meaning ; God and Saviour have the older 
and more general meaning at times, but more often the later 
specialized one ; Father and Son, as names of the Persons of 
the Trinity, are far less frequent than as ordinary names 
of relationship. We cannot always feel certain, therefore, in 
reading the Beowulf, whether the word is used by the writer 
with full consciousness of its later sense or with its older 
meaning. All cases of this kind are included in the follow- 
ing discussion ; the question whether the earlier or the later 
meaning is to be assumed is considered in its place. 

There are in the Beowulf sixty-eight passages in which the! 
form of expression or the character of the thought seems to 
suggest something in Christian usage or doctrine, and we may 
properly assume that they had this effect on Christian readers 
at the time that the manuscript that has reached us was 
written. These passages may be classified according to con- 
tent as follows : 

1. Passages containing Bible history or allusions to some 
Scripture narrative. 

2. Passages containing expressions in disapproval of hea- 
then ideas or heathen worship. 

3. Passages containing references to doctrines distinctively 

4. Incidental allusions to the Christian God, to his attri- 
butes, and to his part in shaping the lives and fortunes 
of men. The fourth class is by far the most numerous; 
it comprises fifty-three cases, while under the first only 


three passages fall, under the second one, and under the 
third ten^> 

Of the three passages under the head of Scripture history, 
two refer to the Creation, the Fall, and the death of Abel ; 
one contains an allusion to the Flood. They are found in 
vv. 90-113; 1261-1266; 1687-1693. 

Under the second head, disapproval of heathenism, falls a 
single passage, vv. 175-178. 

These four passages are of much greater length than those 
under the other two heads, and a closer study shows that they 
differ also in other respects. They will be taken up for con- 
sideration after we have examined the others. 

The third class comprises ten allusions, more or less dis- 
tinct, to Christian doctrines. Of these one refers to reward 
in heaven, six to hell or its inhabitants, and three to the day 
of judgment. They are the following : 

756. deofla gedraeg, 

' the throng of devils/ 

788. hellehsefton, 

' helPs captive/ 

808. feonda geweald, 

' the power of fiends.' 

852. hsepene sawle ]>aer him hel onfeng, 

' the heathen soul, there hell received him/ 

977. Sser abidan sceal 

maga mane fah rniclan domes 
hu him scir metod scrifan wille, 

' there stained with crime must the man await the 
great doom, how the pure Lord will appoint for him/ 

1274. gehna3gde hellegast, 

' crushed the hellish spirit/ 


2741. for 'Sam me witan ne ftearf waldend fira 
morSorbealo maga ]>onne min sceaceft 
lif of lice, 

' for when my life hath left my body, the Ruler of 
men may not charge me with the murder of my kins- 

2819. him of hwaeftre gewat 

sawol secean softfsestra dom, 

< his soul departed to seek the lot of the righteous.' 

3069. o$ domes dajg, 

( until doomsday.' 

3072. hellbendum fjest, 

' fast in the bonds of hell.' 

These passages, when studied in connection with the context, 
are found, with one or two exceptions, to lack the clearness 
that one would wish in deciding how far Christian influence 
has shaped them. For example, the reference in 977 ff. seems 
when standing by itself to be a clear allusion to the day of 
judgment, but in the poem it is put into the mouth of Beo- 
wulf, who assures Hrothgar that the escape of Grendel is a 
matter of no importance, since his wound is surely mortal. 
The doom that Grendel must abide seems therefore to be 
death. The allusions to hell in 788, 852 and 3072, become 
equally doubtful when we remember that Hel is the goddess 
of the world of the dead and corresponds to the classical 
Persephone. If we treat the word as a proper name we make 
the allusion entirely heathen. But " hellegast," in 1274, we 
may assume, would be used only by a Christian. Other pas- 
sages receive their Christian coloring from the use of the 
words deqfol and feond. But it is not certain that feond, 
which strictly means ' foe,' has here the later sense that we 
DOW attach to the word ' fiend,' and deofol, though it was 
introduced from Latin with the coming of Christianity, does 
not refer in v. 756 to the devils of hell, but to the ocean 


monsters like Grendel, into whose company he wishes to 
escape. It is possible that the word, which is often used 
of nixies, kobolds, gnomes, etc., had already lost its meaning 
to such a degree that it could be used without suggesting 
anything in Christian teaching, in the way that a Protestant 
might use " Jesuit " in a sense that suggests nothing of the 
derivation or original sense of the term. Still we cannot 
suppose that any one but a Christian would use the word in 
this way, and it is, therefore, included among the Christian 

Under the last head, incidental allusions to God and his 
power, goodness, etc., fall the great majority of the passages 
that show a Christian coloring. They are the following : 

13. J>one god sende, 

' whom God sent. 7 

16. him J>8es liffrea 

wuldres wealdend woroldare forgeaf, 

' the Lord of life, the Prince of glory, gave them 
prosperity thereafter/ 

27. feran on frean wsere, 

' go into the Lord's keeping.' 

73. swylc him god sealde, 

' which God had given him.' 

?169. for metode (reading not certain), 
* because of the Lord.' 

227. gode J>ancedon, 

'thanked God.' 

316. feeder alwalda 

mid arstafum eowic gehealde, 

' the Almighty Father kindly keep you ! ' 

381. hine halig god 

for arstafum us onsende, 

' the holy God hath sent him for our help.' 


440. iSser gelyfan sceal 

drihtnes dome se ]>e hine dea$ nimeiS, 

'he whom death shall take must yield him to the 
Lord's will.' 

478. god eaj>e maeg 

J?one dolsceaftan daeda getwsefan, 

' God can easily keep the foe from his deeds.' 

570. beorht beacen godes, 

' God's bright sign ' (the sun). 

625. gode pancode, 

' thanked God.' 

670. metodes hyldo, 

' the Lord's favor.' 

685. witig god 

on swa hwsej>ere bond halig drihten 
maerSo deme swa him gemet ]?ince; 

' let the wise God, the holy Lord, adjudge honor on 
either side, as seemeth meet to him.' 

696. ac him dryhten forgeaf 

wigspeda gewiofu, 

* but the Lord gave them victory.' 

700. soft is gecyj?ed 

j?set mihtig god manna cynnes 
weold [wjideferhft, 

' the truth is shown, that the mighty God hath ever 
swayed the human race.' 

706. pa metod nolde, 

' since the Lord was unwilling.' 

711. godes yrre bser, 

' bore God's wrath.' 

786. godes ^sacan, 

God's adversary.' 


811. fag wi$ god, 

1 hostile to God.' 

928. alwealdan |?anc, 

' thanks to the Almighty.' 

930. a maeg god wyrcan 

w under sefter wundre wuldres hyrde, 

' ever can God, the glorious protector, work wonder 
on wonder. 7 

940. j?urh drihtnes miht, ^ 

' through the might of the Lord.' 

945. fset hyre eald metod este wsere, 

'that the ancient Lord was kindly toward her.' 

955. alwalda J?ec 

gode forgylde, 

1 the Almighty repay thee with good ! ' 

967. J>a metod nolde, 

' since the Lord was unwilling.' 

1056. nefne him witig god wyrd forstode 

3 ftses mannes mod metod eallum weold 
gumena cynnes swa he nu git deft, 

' had not the wise God, fate and the man's courage 
withstood him. The Lord ruled all men, as he still 

1271. -Se him god sealde, 

< which God gave him.' 

?1314. hwsej?re him alfwalda sefre wille 
sefter weaspelle wyrpe gefremman, 

' whether the Almighty (alwalda by conj.) after a 
period of sorrow will work a change.' 

1397. gode J?ancode 

mihtigan drihtne, 

' thanked God, the mighty Lord.' 


1553. 3 halig god 

geweold wigsigor wihtig drihten 
rodera rsedend hit on riht gesced, 

' and the holy God, the wise Lord, the Ruler of the 
skies, controlled the victory, adjudged it rightly.' 

1609. j?onne forstes bend faeder onlseteft 

onwindeft wselrapas se geweald hafaft 
ssela 3 maBla J?set is soft metod, 

' when the Father, that hath control of times and 
seasons, that is the true Lord, looseth the fetters of 
the frost, etc.' 

1626. gode j?ancodon, 

< thanked God.' 

1658. nynrSe mec god scylde, 

' had not God protected me.' 

1661. ac me geuSe ylda waldend 

l?set ic on wage geseah wlitig hangian, 

f but the Ruler of men granted to me to see hang- 
ing on the wall, etc.' 

1682. godes "jsaca, 

' God's adversary.' 

1716. "Seah J?e hine mihtig god msegenes wynnum 
eafej?um stepte ofer ealle men 
for$ gefremede, 

' though the mighty God had aided him with the 
joys of power and with might, etc.' 

1724. wundor is to secganne 

hu mihtig god manna cynne 
|>urh sidne sefan snyttru bryttaiS 
card 3 eorlscipe he ah ealra geweald, 

' wondrous is it to tell how the mighty God giveth 
to mankind wisdom, home, and rank. He hath power 
over all, etc.' 


1751. |>ses |?e him ser god sealde 

wuldres waldend weorSmynda dsel, 

"after God, the glorious Ruler, hath given him 
much honor.' 

1778. ]>8es sig metode f>anc 

ecean drihtne, 

" for this thanks be to the Lord, the eternal Prince !' 

1841. ]>e J?a wordcwidas wigtig drihten 
on sefan sende, 

' the wise Lord hath put tkese words into thy heart.' 

1997. gode ic j?anc sege, 

< I thank God.' 

2182. ginfsestan gife ]>e him god sealde, 

'the ample gifts that God had given him.' 

2186.? drihten wereda, 

< Lord of hosts ' (?). 

2292. se $e waldendes 

hyldo gehealdeft, 

' who hath the favor of the Ruler.' 

2329. ]>a3t he wealdende 

* * * ecean drihtne 

bitre gebulge, 

' that he had angered the Ruler, the eternal Lord.' 

2469. godes leoht geceas, 

1 chose God's light" (t. e. died). 

2650. god wat, 

' God knows.' 

2794. ic ftara frsetwa frean ealles "Sane 
wuldurcyninge wordu secge 
ecum drihtne, 

' I thank the Lord of all, the* King of glory, the 
eternal Lord, for these treasures.' 


2857. ne ftaes wealdendes wiht oncyrran 
wolde dom godes dsedu raedan 
gumena gehwylcu swa he gen deft, 

'nor change the Ruler's will (willan by conj.) ; the 
power of God was to rule the fate of every man, as 
yet it doth/ 

2874. hwseftre hi god nfte 

sigora waldend ]?aet he hyne sylfne gewrsec 

'yet God, the ruler of victories, let him avenge 

3054. nefne god sylfa 

sigora softcyning sealde J?am fte he wolde 
he is manna gehyld hord openian 
efne swa hwylcu manna swa hi gemet ftuhte, 

'unless God himself, the true King of victories 
(he is the protection of men), should grant to whom 
he would to open the hoard, even to whomsoever he 
thought fitting.' 

3109. on -Sees waldendes wsere, 

' into the Ruler's keeping.' 

A careful reading of the passages under this head shows 
that nearly all of them receive their Christian tone simply 
from the use of the words God and Lord (god, frea, metod, 
drihten), or of some equivalent expression (wuldres wealdend, 
feeder alwalda, ylda waldend, or the like). In a few cases 
these terms are qualified by an epithet and in a few others 
there is a statement, always in very few words, in regard to 
God's power or goodness. A classification based on these varia- 
tions in the form of expression gives the following results : 

(a). Cases in which a simple name of Deity is used ; 39, 
viz.: god, 23; metod, 7; waldend, 4; drihten, 2; frea, 2; 
fa3der, 1. 

(b). Cases in which this name of Deity is qualified by an 
epithet, either an adjective, a genitive, or a word compounded 


with the name-word, 28, viz. : god, 7 ; drihten, 8 ; waldend, 
6 ; metod, 1 ; frea, 1 ; faeder, 1 ; cyning, 2 ; hyrde, 1 ; radend, 1. 

(c). Cases containing some Christian reflection, not simply 
a name or name accompanied by an epithet. Under this head 
fall seven cases, most of which have no more force than an 
epithet; in fact, in no one of them is more expressed than is 
stated by implication in the cases under the second head. Such 
a statement, for example, as ' he hath power over all ; (he ah 
ealra geweald, 1727), has no more force than the epithet 'all- 
powerful' (alwalda, 316). 

In all the Christian allusions of fne poem, including those 
yet to be considered, there is one peculiarity that should not 
be overlooked. In no one of them do we find any reference 
to Christ, to the cross, to the virgin or the saints, to any doc- 
trine of the church in regard to the trinity, the atonement, etc., 
or to the scriptures, to prophecy, or to the miracles. They 
might all have been written by Moses or David as easily as 
by an English monk. In fact, if it were not for the use of 
certain names and titles that have been appropriated by the 
church and thus given a technical meaning, it would not be 
difficult to find parallel expressions in Plato or Marcus Aure- 
lius. This astonishing list of omissions seems to be without 
explanation if we assume that the poem first took its present 
shape at the hands of a Christian writer. We can well believe 
that many an inmate of the cloister had enough of the spirit 
of his fathers to find delight in tales of adventure by sea and 
land, and there is plenty of evidence that in many cases the 
monk was a kind of Friar Tuck, with only a thin veneer of 
Christianity, but we can hardly suppose that one could be 
found that would compose a poem and insert Christian reflec- 
tions and yet fail to put in a single one on those phases of 
Christianity that were especially emphasized in the training 
of the time and that form the bulk of the poems professedly 

The vague and colorless Christianity of these passages be- 
comes very apparent if for the word God or equivalent epithet 


we substitute fate or the name of some heathen divinity. No 
further change is needed in many of the passages cited to 
remove the Christian tone and make them entirely heathen. 
For example, in describing the avarice and cruelty of Here- 
mod (vv. 1716 if.), the author says, ' Though the mighty God 
had exalted him with the joys of power and with strength, 
and had helped him more than all men, yet in his heart there 
grew up a cruel disposition, etc.' If for God we substitute 
fate, or some word of like meaning, the moral sentiment of 
the reflection remains, to be sure, but it is no longer a Chris- 
tian sentiment. In fact, in many cases it is not necessary to 
change a word but only to assign to it its older meaning. 
When it is said that Grendel could not destroy the followers 
of Beowulf, \a metod nolde (v. 706), ' because the Lord willed 
it not/ it is quite as natural to render the clause ' fate willed it 
not/ thus giving to metod its older meaning. The sentiment 
of this translation finds a parallel in many other passages of 
the poem. It would require but little skill to remove the 
Christian tone of the whole, with the exception of two or 
three passages, by making a few verbal changes and giving 
to certain words the older meaning instead of the later one. 

Now if these passages can be heathenized by a few changes 
of this kind it is a very natural hypothesis that they were 
Christianized in the same way, and such a supposition ex- 
plains their occurrence and their peculiarities. We may 
assume the existence of an older poem composed by a heathen 
Scop and containing moral sentiments and reflections of the 
same character as those of Homer or Virgil or the Edda. 
Later a Christian monk " edits " it for Christian readers. 
Where the author has spoken of the gods, he changes the 
word to the singular or makes some other change in the word- 
ing so that the God of the Christians may be referred to. He 
substitutes a verse of his own, or a portion of a verse, when 
necessary, possibly omits portions that do not readily yield 
to simple amendment, but does not materially change the 
general tone, which remains, therefore, essentially heathen. 


This method of incidental change explains the lack of all 
allusions to the leading doctrines of the Church and of any 
reference to Christ and his teaching, to say nothing of the 
many other things that we should expect to find, if we sup- 
pose that the work was composed in the first instance by a 

This method of revision requires great skill, if it is to 
escape detection, and there are several of the passages quoted 
that seem to show that the task that the pious reviser took 
on himself was beyond his poetic skill. The Christian allu- 
sion often has the tone of a deliberate insertion rather than a 
reflection naturally suggested by the situation or the course 
of the thought. Moreover, the revision was not thorough, 
for there are many passages that still keep the heathen tone, 
especially those that name Wyrd as the controller of the des- 
tiny of men ; in one case this word apparently stands as an 
appositive to a name of Deity. The lack of sequence, and in 
one or two cases even grammatical confusion, suggest that 
we shall not be far wrong if we assume that the changes are 
the work of some monkish copyist, whose piety exceeded his 
poetic powers. That this Christianizing of an older work is 
quite possible, hardly needs proof; if an illustration of the 
method is needed, it may be found in Alfred's Boethius. 

This explanation, if accepted, will account for all the pas- 
sages under the third and fourth heads, and for the allusion 
to the Flood under the first. It is not necessary to attempt 
to restore the older readings by conjecture ; in some cases it 
is not hard to find traces that suggest a reconstruction, but in 
most of them only conjectures are possible. A trace of the 
older heathen version may be seen, I think, in the allusion to 
the Flood, just mentioned. The sinners that lost their lives 
by the waters are there called giants, and one or two pecu- 
liarities of expression lead me to hazard the suggestion that 
the passage, before it was Christianized, contained an allu- 
sion to the Northern tale of the war of the gods with the 
giants. The whole passage reads : 


1688. on ftam wses or writen 

fyrngewinnes sy$]>an flod ofsloh 
gifen geotende giganta cyn 
frecne geferdon ];set wses fremde J>eod 
ecean dryhtne him J?ses endelean 
]>urh wseteres wylm waldend sealde, 

' thereon was written the beginning of the ancient 
strife, when the flood, the pouring sea, destroyed the 
race of the giants (shameless was their behavior) ; 
that was a people hostile to the eternal Lord ; the 
Ruler gave them a reward therefor through the whelm- 
ing of water/ 

There are still left three passages for which the hypothesis 
of alterations by a scribe does not seem to suffice, and which 
must be regarded as interpolations in a broader sense, either 
by the supposed reviser or by some one else. The longest of 
these is found in vv. 90-113, and contains the story of the 
Creation and Fall, with a reference to Cain as the father of 
evil monsters like Grendel. The same reference to Cain occurs 
again in vv. 1261-1266. The third case is the reference to 
idol-worship and ignorance of the true God in vv. 175-188. 
I give this first. 

175. hwilum hie geheton set hrsergtrafum 
wigweorjmnga wordum bsedon 
]>set him gastbona geoce gefremede 
wr3 ]?eodj>reaum swylc wses J?eaw hyra 
hsej?enra hyht helle gemundon 
in modsefan metod hie ne cuj>on 
dseda demend ne wiston hie drihten god 
ne hie huru heofona helm herian ne cu]>on 
wuldres waldend wa br<$ J>sem $e sceal 
j;urh slrSne nr<$ sawle bescufan 
in fyres fse]>m frofre ne wenan 
wihte gewendan wel bi$ ]>ssrn ]>e mot 
8efter deai$da3ge drihten secean 
and to faeder fsej^mum freofto wilnian, 


'at times they vowed honors in their temples, prayed 
that the devil would give them help against their woes. 
Such was their custom, the hope of the heathen ; they 
thought on hell in their hearts, they knew not the 
Lord, the judge of deeds ; they knew not the Lord 
God, nor could they praise the Keeper of Heaven, the 
Ruler of glory. Sad is it for him that must thrust 
his soul into the embrace of fire in direful enmity, nor 
hope for comfort or change; well it is for him that 
shall be allowed after his death-day to visit the Lord 

and enjoy protection in the bosom of the Father.' 

This passage does not call for extended comment. Its 
Christian tone lies in the reflection with which it closes, which 
brings it also under the third class, and in the implied con- 
demnation of heathenism contained in the statement that the 
Danes worshipped the devil and knew not the true God. But 
Hrothgar, the king of these same Danes, says that the holy 
God has sent Beowulf to his aid, that God can easily keep 
Grendel from his evil deeds, and thanks God for the sight of 
GrendePs arm, which Beowulf has torn off in the fight. So, 
too, his queen, when she greets Beowulf, thanks God that her 
wish for a champion able to cope with the monster has been 
fulfilled, and the Danish coast-guard, after directing Beowulf 
and his comrades to the Hall, dismisses them with the pious 
wish, 'May the All-ruling Father keep you!' These and 
other instances are not in accord with the statement that the 
Danes knew not the true God, and seem to furnish good 
evidence that the passage containing the latter is an interpola- 
tion. I assume that the first reviser, in trying to put the 
poem in Christian garb, had left a little heathenism exposed 
here, as he has in other places, and that a later hand has added 
a moralizing passage on the wickedness of worshipping idols 
and the awful consequences to the worshipper. 

There remains one case, the reference to Cain as the ancestor 
of Grendel and the other beings of earth, air and sea, who 
were put under ban by the coming of Christianity. This 
allusion, as was said, is found twice. The second passage is 


short and will be considered with the longer one. It contains 
a direct allusion to the murder of Abel, which is only implied 
in the first, and repeats the statement that Cain was the pro- 
genitor of the various monsters. The two passages may best 
be treated together, for it is safe to assume that they are from 
the same hand. 

It is in these two passages that we find the most distinctly 
Christian coloring of the whole poem. The first one extends 
through about twenty-four verses, but seems to be inter- 
mingled with references to Grendel and to the Danes, and as 
it stands in the MS. offers serious difficulties of interpretation 
and confusion of thought to a much greater degree than we 
should expect, even in Old English poetry. This confusion 
is not sufficient, of itself, to warrant us in pronouncing the 
passage a later addition, though it raises suspicion of its genu- 
ineness, but when we find that a re-arrangement makes the 
whole clear, this suspicion is strengthened until it approaches 
the character of proof. It can at least lay claim to consider- 
ation as a very good hypothesis. 

An interpolation may be an intentional insertion by the 
copyist, and the motive for such insertion may be what it 
may ; or it may be unintentional, the scribe inserting the 
matter because he supposes that it belongs there. The latter 
is most often the case when additional matter has been written 
on the margin. The copyist supposes that this matter has 
been added because it was omitted by the former scribe, and 
therefore puts it in. He does in this way just what the com- 
positor now does with the additions of the proof-reader, and 
misplacement is likely to occur, as it now does, if the position 
of the new matter is not carefully marked. 

It is in this way, as I suspect, that the passage under con- 
sideration found its way into the text of the poem. The MS. 
of the Beowulf that has reached us is a copy of an older one, 
on the margin of which, I assume, some pious owner had 
written some twenty or more verses about the creation, the 
crime and punishment of Cain and the monsters like Grendel, 


whose origin was thus accounted for. This note occurs at 
the place where Grendel is first mentioned, and was supposed, 
no doubt, to make the work more fit for Christian readers 
and more edifying to Christian warriors. The copyist, sup- 
posing that this matter belonged to the story, copied it into 
the text, but in so doing he blundered badly and mixed the 
statements about Cain with those about Grendel into a story 
that is almost unintelligible. 

The division and rearrangement that I propose is as follows : 

Original; vv. 102-1 04a; 86-9(^1156. 

Interpolated; vv. 90b-101 ; 107-110; 104b-106; 111-114. 

By putting the verses noted in this order and omitting those 
that I suppose to have been added later, we get what I suppose 
to have been the original form of the story. Hrothgar has 
built a hall and feasts there daily with his retainers. The 
writer goes on to say : 

102. wa3s se grim ma gaest grendel haten 

ma3re mearcstapa se J?e moras heold 

fen 3 fasten 
86. fta se ellengaBst earftrSlice 

];rage gej?olode se ]>e in J>y strum bad 

}>&t he dogora gehwam dream gehyrde 

hludne in healle J?ser wses hearpan sweg 

swutol sang scopes 
115. Gewat $a neosian syjrSan niht becom 

hean huses hu hit hringdene 

aefter beor];ege gebun hsefdon 

Fand J>a "Sser inne a}}>elinga gedriht 

swefan sefter symble, 

This arrangement leaves two verses incomplete, a result of 
the confused arrangement of the scribe who did not find it 
easy to fit the inserted matter to the old. But the story is 
clear and straight. It runs thus : 

' There was a cruel spirit named Grendel, a famed 
mark-treader, who held the moors and the fen as his 


fastness. This mighty spirit, that dwelt in darkness, 
endured with difficulty for a time the daily hearing 
of loud revel in the hall ; there was the melody of 
the harp, the bard's clear-sounding song. When then 
night came on he set out to visit the lofty house [and 
to see] how the Danes had occupied it after their 
banquet. He found there a troop of warriors sleep- 
ing after their feast/ etc. 

The interpolation, arranged as indicated above, runs thus : 

90. ssegde se ]>e cuj>e 

frumsceaft fira feorran reccan 
cwaBiS J?a3t se a3lmihtiga eorSan worh[te] 
wlitebeorhtne wang swa wseter bebugeft 
gesette sigehrej?ig sunnan 3 monan 
leoman to leohte landbuendum 
y gefraBtwade foldan sceatas 
leornum 3 leafum lif eac gesceop 
cynna gehwylcum J?ara fte cwice hwyrfaj? 
Swa i$a drihtguman dreamum lifdon 
eadiglice o&Saet an ongan 

fyrene frem[m]an feond on helle 


107. in caines cynne )?one cwealm gewra3C 
ece drihten J;a3S he abel slog 
Ne gefeah he fsere fsehfte ac he hine feor forwrsec 
metod for J?y mane mancynne fram 

104. fifelcynnes eard 

wonsa3li wer weardode hwile 
siJrSan him scyppend forscrifen ha3fde 

111. J>anon untydras ealle onwocon 
eotenas ^ ylfas 7 orcneas 
swylce gigantas ]?a wi^S gode wunnon 
lange prage he him $a3S lean forgeald. 

This passage, it will be seen, is entirely clear and consecu- 
tive, when thus arranged, except that two or three verses 


containing a reference to the Fall and the death of Abel are 
needed to make the proper connection between 101 and 107. 
It is noticeable that this gap is occupied in the MS. by the 
three verses in which Grendel and his dwelling-place are 
first mentioned. These verses, which in the rearrangement I 
have transposed to the beginning of the episode, where they 
naturally belong, have apparently crowded out a small por- 
tion of the interpolation. If the broken connection is restored 
by conjecture the story will run thus : 

' He that knew how to telHhe tale of the beginning 
of men from of old has said that the Almighty made 
the earth, the fair-shining plain which the water en- 
circles, that the Victorious set the brightness of sun 
and moon for a light to men and decked with bough 
and leafage the regions of the earth ; he also gave life 
to every living thing that dwells [therein]. Thus 
then mankind lived blessedly in joy, until one, the foe 
in hell, began to work mischief. [He beguiled them 
into disobedience, whereby they lost their home, and 
led Cain, their first-born, to slay his brother.] The 
Lord avenged on Cain's race the slaying of Abel, he 
was not pleased with the murderous deed, but he, the 
Lord, drove him into exile far from mankind. The 
wretched man, after the Creator had outlawed him, 
inhabited awhile the land of the monsters ; from him 
sprang all the monsters, the Jotuns and elves and sea- 
beasts ; also the giants that long fought against God ; 
for that he gave them their meed.' 

The other passage in which there is a reference to the de- 
scent of the various monsters from Cain contains about what 
we have supplied to make a consecutive story in the passage 
just given. It is as follows : 

1261. styftan camp wearS 

to ecgbanan angan brewer 
fsederenma3ge he ]?a fag gewat 
morj?re gemearcod mandream fleon 
westen warode ]?anon woe fela 


geosceaftgasta wses J^aera grendel sum 
heorowearh hetelic, 

' after Cain (so by conj.) became the slayer of his 
own brother, his father's son ; stained with murder 
and outlawed he fled the joys of men and dwelt in the 
desert. From him sprang many an accursed spirit ; 
one of these was Grendel/ etc. 

The conclusions reached in this study of the Christian allu- 
sions in the Beowulf are these : 

1. Of the passages in the Beowulf that show a Christian 
coloring, two are interpolated. The interpolation is proved 
in the case of one of these by the statements in it, which are 
contradicted by the evidence of the poem itself; in the case 
of the other by the dislocated arrangement, which shows an 
unskilful insertion of marginal matter. A small portion of 
this latter is repeated by interpolation farther on. 

2. All the other passages in which any Christian tone can 
be detected have been made to suggest Christian ideas by 
slight changes such as a copyist could easily make. The evi- 
dence for this conclusion is found in the colorless character 
of the allusions, which appears in the entire lack of reference 
to anything distinctively Christian as contrasted with heathen- 
ism. Only on some such theory can we explain the entire 
lack of any reference to Christ, to New Testament narratives 
and teachings, and to Church doctrines and practices most in 
vogue at the time. 

^iJTFrom these two conclusions there naturally springs a 
third ; that the Beowulf once existed as a whole without the 
Christian allusions. 



The Old Saxon (or Old High German) Hildebrandslied 
occupies a unique position among the remains of Germanic 
antiquity. It is the only specimen of the ancient German 
national epic preserved in the O.H.G. or the O.S. language. 
Interesting as this noble poem is, wjjen considered by itself, 
it gains still more in interest when viewed as an older type 

1 This paper was read at the meeting of the Central Modern Language 
Conference at Chicago, December 31, 1895. A paper on the "Dialect of 
the Hildebrandslied," read by Dr. Francis A. Wood at the same meeting, 
is published in the Publications of the M. L. Assoc., xi, p. 323 f. A contribu- 
tion by Kauffmann in Philologische Studien (Festgabe fur Eduard Sievers), 
1896, was received after the manuscript was in the hands of the editor 
and could not, therefore, be considered here. 

It is hardly necessary to give a comprehensive bibliography of the Hilde- 
brandslied as the principal works are mentioned in G rein's edition 8 , 1880, 
p. 3 f ; Miillenhoff-Scherer, Denkmdler deutscher Poesie und Prosa*, vol. II, 
p. 8; Braune, Althochdeutsches Lesebuch 3 , p. 168 f ; Kogel's Althoch- und alt- 
niederdeutsche Literatur in Paul's Grundriss der Germanischen Philologie, vol. 
II, p. 174; Kogel's Geschichte der deutschen Litteratur, vol. I, 1 Teil, p. 211; 
furthermore in the Jahresberichte fur germanische Philologie, 1878 f. 

The text employed in this investigation is that of the manuscript un- 
changed, on the basis of Braune's Althochd. Lesebuch 3 , xxvin, pp. 76, 77. A 
German translation of the poem is given by Grein, p. 19 f., and by Kogel, 
Gesch. d. d. Lilt., p. 212. 

Foremost among articles on the Hildebrandslied are Kogel's, in Paul's 
Grundriss and H. Holler's Zur althochdeutschen Alliterationspoesie, 1888, n. 
Zum Hildebrandsliede. 1. Der Dialekt des Hildebrandsliedes, p. 53-80. Kogel 
seems to have settled the vexed question of S. or H. G. origin in favor of 
S. origin. Holler's searching investigation sought to establish the Hilde- 
brandslied a purely H. G. poem. On account of this view held by Moller, 
and from facts developed in the course of this investigation, it is possible 
to agree with him only in parts. The following works may be mentioned 
because they will be referred to : Schroder, JBemerkungen mm Hildebrands- 
liede, 1880; G. Kossinna, Uber die altesten hochfrdnfcischen Sprachdenfcmdler, 
1881 ; and the author's treatise, Zum hocfialemannischen Konsonantismus der 
althochdeutschen Zeit, 1891. 




of the epic poetry developed into perfection, at a later period, 
in works like the Nibelungenlied. Its orthography and dia- 
lect also offer most interesting problems. These considera- 
tions will explain why a renewed detailed examination of the 
manuscript, orthography, and dialect of the poem were deemed 


The question how many hands have written the two pages 
on which the Hildebrandslied is contained has frequently been 
considered by scholars. Wilhelm Grimm * decided that the 
whole poem was written by one scribe except the portion 
from the top of the second page (1. 25 of the manuscript) 
down to inwit (in all not quite 8 lines) ; this, according to 
Grimm, is the work of a second scribe. I shall endeavor to 
show in the following paragraphs that this opinion, although 
it has met with general favor, is untenable. 

Objection might be raised at the outset against views radi- 
cally different from those commonly accepted in regard to a 
well-known manuscript. It is appropriate, therefore, to recall 
that questions of hand-writing often present difficulties quite 
parallel to those which embarrass the critic in the attempt 
to determine the authenticity of a painting, or in the attempt to 
assign it to an artist when its origin is not known. A minute 
examination of single lines, next of lines grouped together, is 
necessary until it becomes apparent whether distinctions exist, 
small perhaps, but sufficiently eloquent in their constant repe- 
tition to establish a distinctive character in the work of art, 
or the hand-writing, as the case may be. To decide delicate 

1 De Hildebrando antiquissimi carminis teutonici fragmentum, 1830. 

The Hildebrandslied covers the first and last page of cod. Theol., fol. 54, 
of the Library at Kassel (Grein, p. 8). The fac-simile employed in this 
investigation is that of Konnecke's SUderatlas zur Geschichte der Deutschen 
NationaMiUeratur, 1887, pp. 6, 7. The facsimile of Grein's edition is worth- 
less for the purpose of minute examination of the script. Sievers' edition 
was not accessible to me. 

228 P. H. WILKENS. 

questions of hand-writing a special training is necessary just 
as in art-criticism. 

I shall try to show that the only manuscript of the Hilde- 
brandslied which we possess was written by five different 
hands, not two, as is generally assumed. The five hands are 
distributed in the following manner : 

The 1st hand (a) wrote to gufthamun inclusive 

(verse 5). 

First page The 2d hand (/3) from gurtun to uuortum inclu- 
of the MS. ! sive (v. 9). * 

The 3d hand (7) from wer to quad inclusive 
I (v. 30). 

f The 4th hand (S) from Hiltibraht to man inclu- 


sive (v. 41) or a word or two further. 
* S * I The 5th hand (e) from so to end (v. 68). 

A crease in the second page and blurred writing make it 
impossible to determine by means of the facsimile the exact 
word where S ends and e begins ; this, however, is a matter 
of little importance. 1 

These five hands are distinguished not only by differences 
in the form of single letters, but also as would be naturally 
supposed by a difference in the general character of their 
writing; furthermore, by differences in punctuation and in 
the way in which words are spaced or written together. A 
magnifying glass will be found of service in bringing out 
clearly the distinction of the different hands. 

We may begin with the letter <?, which is especially adapted, 
on account of its complicated form, to accentuate variations in 
the writing. To make the matter plainer the different parts 
of the letter will be designated by (a) a loop at the top, (6) 
a shank below the loop, and (c) an appendage attached to this 
shank. In scribe a the shank is turned to the right with a 

'According to W. Grimm, a new hand begins with inwit; according to 
Sievers (Schroder, p. 4), with ewin. 


sharp turn and a club-shaped appendage turned slightly up- 
ward is attached. The upper and lower half of the g are 
about of equal size. In ft the shank is more vertical and the 
appendage takes the form of a well-defined hook bent at acute 
angle. The g of 7 is similar to that of a, but has a more 
strongly defined hook (appendage). In S we find a g that is 
very characteristic. The shank is drawn with a firm hand 
far to the right, and the appendage is in proportion longer. 
In e the g shows slightly varying forms ; this variability in 
the form of letters is quite characteristic of e and extends even 
to the way in which the words are spaced now more, now less 
perfectly. But generally the shank or appendage show an 
angular break, which is quite peculiar to this scribe, and often 
appears even in lines which ordinarily should be straight. 
This peculiarity would seem to indicate that his hand was 
slightly palsied. 

In a similar manner differences in the formation of the 
Anglo-Saxon runic symbol for w may be shown. Examples 
are wanting for a and ft. Scribe 7 (as Schroder has noticed) 
was evidently not accustomed to the use of this letter. Once, 
in was (v. 27), the runic w was written pu, the p being changed 
by a line placed over it into a faulty runic w. In wer (v. 9), 
the first word written by 7, we have, likewise, it seems, a p 
doing service for runic w. Scribe 8 writes his runic w with 
energetic strokes, so that a triangle with sharply defined 
corners and outlines is formed. Scribe e breaks the down- 
ward line along the right side of the triangle, such a breaking 
of lines being quite characteristic of his writing as just men- 

Differences in the formation of the s are, likewise, sufficiently 
apparent to deserve mention. The s of the Carolingian minus- 
cule shows a vertical shank to which is affixed at the top a 
club-shaped appendage turned to the right. This appendage 
is raised boldly upward in ft and is more curved than in a, 
with whom it is attached almost horizontally, and has a 
different shape. A difference between the s of the scribes 

230 F. H. WILKENS. 

7, e is apparent on close examination, but it would hardly be 
possible to describe it in words. The appendage in 8 first 
rises in a curve and then extends horizontally to the right. 

In the case of other letters, also, differences in the writing 
of the five scribes are recognizable. More important, even, 
than the detection of variation in detail is an appreciation of 
the difference in the general character of the hands. The 
writing of a is clumsy, of /3 decidedly calligraphic, while 
the writing of 7 is plain and somewhat slanting, though not 
specially careful or calligraphic. Scribe S writes an energetic 
hand, while a fracture of curved, and frequently of straight, 
lines is characteristic of e. Apart from this defect (due, per- 
haps, as stated, to a palsied hand), the writing of e is not bad. 
The five scribes use a plain Carolingian minuscule belonging 
to about the beginning of the ninth century, possibly falling 
within the time of Charles the Great (768-814 A. D.). 

Before leaving the subject of hand-writing it may not seem 
inappropriate to state that the division into five hands here 
proposed had been definitely determined, purely on the basis 
of the writing and without the least consideration of the con- 
tents of the poem, when it was discovered that the %'s of the 
Hildebrandslied are a peculiarity of scribe a only. Since the d, 
S had not been noticed at all in distinguishing the hands, and 
since the cross bar of the $ is so faint as to escape attention 
when searching for the salient characteristics of the writing, 
there can be no suspicion that the distribution of $ and d 
unconsciously influenced the determination of the different 
hands. We see, therefore, that a striking orthographic pecu- 
liarity supports the division into different hands at a place 
where it is most likely to be overlooked. 

The spacing of words and the punctuation next deserve our 
attention. By spacing I mean the spaces between the words, 
unless specially stated. It will be found that in this respect, 
also, the different hands betray a different treatment which 
can in part be explained by the care bestowed upon their 
writing. In a the words are not properly spaced ; sometimes 


they are not spaced at all, sometimes inadequately, some- 
times normally. In /3 the letters of a word are written evenly 
without abnormal crowding or spacing, the single words are 
separated by even spaces. In 7, again, the words are some- 
times spaced and sometimes not, no special system is observa- 
ble. In S the words are correctly spaced ; in a few cases 
unaccented forms are affixed to preceding accented forms, the 
scribe thereby indicating the possibility of treating such forms 
as proclitics or enclitics. In e the spacing is not as neat as in 
S ; but words with weaker accent are sometimes attached, as 
if proclitic and enclitic, to more strongly accented words. The 
careful observer of these differences is forced to recognize that 
the spacing of the words points to a number of different hands. 

The punctuation of the five scribes shows the following 
peculiarities : 

In a we find punctuation three times at the end of the half- 
verse; more often (four times) it is neglected. There seems 
to be no attempt to punctuate according to the structure of 
the sentence. 

In /3 punctuation occurs three times at the end of the sen- 
tence, once between clauses (once omitted), once at the end of 
the half-verse, twice to separate words. 

In 7, up to v. 24 a inclusive, punctuation is found eight 
times at the end of the sentence (three times omitted), twice to 
separate clauses (once omitted). From 24 b on, we find punctu- 
ation at the end of the sentence only once (omitted five times). 
It seems the scribe gets very careless towards the end and 
neglects to punctuate as before. 

In S punctuation is always (six times) employed at the end 
of the sentence, once for separating clauses. 

In e punctuation is employed thirteen times to separate 
sentences (omitted once), five times to separate clauses (eight 
times omitted), four times to mark the end of the half-verse. 
It seems that in several cases this scribe mechanically made 
sentence-divisions where they did not belong, because he did 
not fully perceive the connection of the passages. 

232 P. H. WILKENS. 

It is not always possible to determine exactly according to 
what principle punctuation is used, whether with reference to 
sentence-structure or to indicate the end of the half-verse; 
for the end of the clause and sentence almost always agree 
with the end of the half- verse. Furthermore, we have to take 
into consideration the difficulty of determining how the scribes 
divided the text into sentences. The contrast between a and 
ft in regard to punctuation is very decided and helps to deter- 
mine a difference of hands. The scribes that are most careless 
in regard to writing, and spacing of words (a and 7) are also 
most careless in punctuation. We perceive, therefore, the 
connection already mentioned between handwriting, spacing, 
and punctuation, with reference to the care bestowed upon 

The mistakes and corrections of the different scribes might 
with propriety have been treated in this connection. But the 
more delicate points can hardly be decided without an exami- 
nation of the manuscript. The matter is, therefore, omitted 
here. 1 

The question might be raised, what caused each of the five 
scribes to break off in the middle of the sentence when turn- 
ing over the manuscript to the next scribe? According to 
what divisions were the different parts apportioned? The 
idea suggests itself that the scribes in certain cases wrote to 
the end of a line of the manuscript which they were copying. 
To test this assumption we may count the letters of scribe a 
and ft. We find 126 letters in a, 150 in the portion written 
by ft. These two numbers can be divided by 25 as neatly as 
is to be expected in a case where mathematical precision is 
impossible. It is, therefore, possible that a copied 5 lines of 
a manuscript having lines of 25 letters on an average, and 
that ft copied 6 lines. The mistake in verse 26, miti(^) 
Deotrichhe [darba gistonturi], is neatly explained if we assume 
lines of about 25 letters in the manuscript copied. The part 
given in brackets is evidently added falsely, the eye of the 

1 The subject is treated by Schroder, p. 6. 


scribe having strayed to the Detrihhe darba gistuontun of v. 
23 above. With lines of the given length in the manuscript 
copied the second Deotrichhe would be just 4 lines in a 
vertical direction below the first Detrihhe, which may have 
stood at the beginning of the 17th line, in the portion copied 
by 7 ; here such a mistake was most likely to happen. The 
sections 7, 8, e do not help us to determine anything. Scribe 
e breaks off abruptly when he has reached the bottom of the 
second page of the manuscript; scribe 7 also seems to have 
written to the bottom of his page, in which case it is 
impossible to make calculations with 8 such as have been 
attempted with a, /3, although it is possible that he, too, 
stopped when he reached the end of a line in the manuscript 
that furnished the text. 

The suggestion just made does not claim to be more than a 
hypothesis advanced in the hope that further proof may be 
forthcoming at some future time. 

It has long been recognized that we do not possess the 
original manuscript of the Hildebrandslied. A number of 
mistakes in the extant version can only be explained as due 
to the process of copying. 1 The existence of five scribes 
confirms this view. Every one of them stops in the middle 
of a sentence. This would not be possible if each scribe wrote 
his part from memory, or at the dictation of some one. The 
method followed in our manuscript was only possible in 
copying from another manuscript. 

The extant manuscript of the Hildebrandslied may be 
designated as K (Kassel). The lost manuscript from which 
it was copied may be called X. The following reasons seem 
to make it certain that X was copied from a third manu- 
script, which we may designate as Y. Holtzmann l and Meyer 2 
have already explained 2 that the form -braht, which occurs a 
number of times for -brant (for example, Hiltibraht instead 
of Hiltibrant), must be due to a ligature in which the a was 
raised above the line, and the line connecting the a with the 

1 Pfeiffer's Germania, vol. ix, p. 290. * Pfeiffer's Germania, xv, p. 19. 

234 P. H. WILKENS. 

n below was taken for the shank of an A, while the n was 
taken for the lower part of an h. We find this mistake with 
all of five scribes of K, as the following list shows : HiM- 
brakt, v. 3 (scribe a), v. 7 (), v. 30 (S), v. 45 (e). Hadubraht, 
v. 14 (7), v. 36 (8). We find the correct form in Hiltibrant, 
v. 14, 17 (7), v. 36 (S), v. 44, 49, 58 (e); Hadubrant, v. 3 (a), 
v. 17 (7) ; Heribrant, v. 7 (/3), v. 44 (e). It is not likely that 
this mistake should have happened to five scribes of manu- 
script K, since, after all, the ligature of a and n is common 
enough in manuscripts of the eighth century, and does not 
even bother the tiro in matters of paleography. The mistake 
was evidently made by one person, and once made was several 
times repeated. It is needless to state that the mistake speaks 
well neither for the scribe of manuscript X, who made the 
mistake, nor for scribes K, who transmitted it unchanged : 
they cannot possibly have taken great interest in the subject 
of the poem they were copying. 

The abbreviation bt (the b crossed by a horizontal line) 
occurs only once, in the form Heribtes (== Heribertes), v. 45 
(scribe e). This would seem to open up the possibility that 
the original (Y) had, in places at least, the abbreviation bt 
for brant; that the scribes of X read it incorrectly as braht, 
and that the mistakes were copied by K. In this case, too, 
we might argue (in a manner similar to a former argument) 
that it is not likely that five scribes should all have read 
an abbreviation as -braht when a number of other readings 
were possible. This common second part of Germanic proper 
names occurs variously, as -berht, -beraht, -bert, -berat, -breht, 
-braht, -bret (although not necessarily all in the same dialect 
and with the same person). Hence, it is more natural to hold 
one scribe (X) instead of a number (K) responsible for the 
reading, and X must have copied from a third manuscript, Y. 
It is, however, doubtful whether this course of argument 
need be resorted to, for apparently the abbreviation bt was 
only used to designate -bert and its several variants. In 
collating the original documents of the cloister of St. Gall 


(eighth and ninth century), the most reliable and at the same 
time a most copious source for the O. H. G. proper names, I 
have not, as far as I could determine, seen the abbreviation 
used in any other way ; nor is it, a priori, at all likely that 
any doubt should be left in regard to the exact form of a 
proper noun. 

To sum up, it seems much more likely that scribe e found 
in the manuscript X (from which he was copying) the form 
Heribrahtes and substituted for this an abbreviation, Heribtes, 
that was quite admissible. 

A second reason for assuming an intervening manuscript, 
X, between K and the original Y is that the H. G. elements 
in the Hildebrandslied are too much of one cast to assume that 
they were solely or principally introduced by the five scribes 
of K. They were probably introduced by the same scribe, 
X, who is responsible for the reading -braht instead of -brant. 
It is not intended, however, to convey the impression that 
scribes K had no influence in changing the orthography. In 
fact, if we assume that the repetition of the darba gistuontun 
(v. 26) from v. 23 is due to a carelessness of scribe 7, which is 
a likely assumption, considering the careless manner in which 
7 evidently writes, then it becomes necessary also to assume 
that 7 has changed, in one way or another, the orthography 
of the manuscript copied. It seems that in writing the words 
a second time (incorrectly) he was more conservative and 
retained the original more faithfully. It is possible, however, 
that the mistake is due to X, and gives us an insight into the 
method according to which X copied Y. Scribe a seems to have 
introduced the ft's, which occur only in the part written by him. 

It seems not likely that another manuscript, or more than 
one manuscript, intervened between X and the original Y. 
I do not find anywhere traces that the poem has gone suc- 
cessively through the hands of a number of H. G. scribes ; 
but, what is more important, I do not see how so many 
Saxon elements (compare the following chapter) should have 
passed unharmed through more than two copyings. 

236 P. H. WILKENS. 

The following table gives an idea of the genealogy of the 
manuscripts of the Hildebrandslied as inferred in our investi- 
gation : 

Y (original). 



We cannot make any definite statements in regard to the 
writing of X and Y. The writing of K has already been 
characterized. There are indications to show that X was 
written in A.S. script. 1 In v. 13 (scribe 7) ram occurs, which 
was probably due to a false reading of mir in A.S. script, the 
A.S. r being very similar to an n. 2 The same scribe 7 shows 
an A.S. / in feheta (=fehta) v. 27. Likewise the use of A.S. 
runic w probably goes back to this scribe X. 

The original Y, if not written in Merovingian cursive (we 
have, I think, no good reason to assume this), still must have 
shown some cursive elements, as is proved by the ligature of 
a and n, which was erroneously read by X as -braht instead 
of -brant. It is interesting to note that these considerations, 
too, favor our assuming two manuscripts, X and Y, antedating 
our manuscript K. 

II. THE ORTHOGRAPHY OF THE Hildebrandslied. 

An attempt shall be made in this chapter to show that the 
orthography of the Hildebrandslied, as we possess it (K), has 
retained far more of the orthography of the original manu- 
script than seems at first sight compatible with the view that 
the original was an O.S. poem ; in the second place, that this 
orthography of the original manuscript was a systematic, 
though not very perfect, attempt to designate O.S. sounds on 
the basis of O.H.G. orthography. I assume that Kogel has 

1 Moller, p. 66. Schroder, p. 6. 


proved that the Hildebrandslied is an O.S. poem, 1 and that the 
O.S. elements which we find in our manuscript of the Hilde- 
brandslied are traces of the original O.S. version. To facilitate 
a clearer understanding of the following investigations it may 
be stated here that scribes K and X were Middle G., while 
the dialect of the H.G. scribe (Y) who noted down the poem 
is more uncertain. 

On examining the orthography of the Hildebrandslied we 
are impressed by the fact the Germ, t appears always as tt or t 
(Saxon against H.G. zz, z), 2 while Germ, d is always (about 
108 times) t (H.G. against S. d). 3 This contrast is all the 
more striking inasmuch as we find besides the S. tt, t a great 
number of other reminiscences of the O.S. original (for ex- 
ample, the forms in ce, ^, e for O.H.G. ei, the forms 6dre, 
gwfthamun, &c., to mention only the most striking examples). 4 
How is it that we do not once find O.S. d, but always H.G. #? 
The orthography d is the regular one in many Middle G. 
monuments, occurs frequently in interchange with , and is not 
unknown even in Upper G. 5 It is true that d is, in many 
cases, a trace of the orthography of an older manuscript, but 
this only proves that the d was not scrupulously changed into 
t and favors the statement which is now to be made. It seems 
that the original (Y) of the Hildebrandslied represented O.S. d 
by means of t. 

Two explanations would suggest themselves for the use of 
t instead of d. Either a H.G. scribe wrote in this manner 
because he was not acquainted with the ordinary O.S. system 

1 Paul's Grundriss, vol. n, p. 155. 

8 Moller, p. 58, propounds the view that tt is simply an archaic orthog- 
raphy for H.G. 2. This view cannot find consideration in our investigation 
inasmuch as Moller supposes the original of the Hildebrandslied to have 
been H.G. 

3 In chind, v. 13, 53, we have an agreement of final consonant in O.H.G. 
and O.8., on account of different Ablaut in the two dialects. 

4 Of. Wood, Publ. of M. L. A., vol. xi, p. 326. 
6 Cf. Braune, Ahd. Gramm*, % 163. 

238 F. H. WILKENS. 

of orthography, 1 or the peculiar orthography was adopted for 
the convenience of H.G. readers. Of these two possibilities 
the former seems by far the most likely. In considering the 
use of t for O.S. d the following is to be noted. The genuine 
H.G. t is not identical with the English or North G. t; it is 
in the Middle G. and many Upper G. dialects a lenis 2 (i. e. t 
a sound not having a strong articulation). That it was also a 
lenis in the O.H.G. period seems reasonably certain from the 
fact that it is now generally a lenis and was developed out of 
the voiced lenis d ; furthermore from the O.H.G. orthography 
d instead of t. 3 The O.H.G. t and O.S. d were, therefore, not 
so very different. One advantage of the use of t for O.S. d 
was this that the similarity of the O.H.G. and O.S. vocabulary 
was clearly brought out. An O.S. 'word' would appear as 
' wort,' in the form familiar to a H.G. It is even possible 
that a H.G. attempting to speak Saxon, pronounced O.S. word 
like wort. He would then be in the same position as a Ger- 
man from Southern Germany attempting to pronounce our 
English word. He does it in such a manner that we seem to 
hear a t. There might perhaps be another reason for the use 
of t for O.S. d. It is possible that the H.G. scribe of the origi- 
nal (Y) used d to designate a spirant th, at least in some posi- 
tions, in which case d would not be available to designate O.S. 

1 The question might be asked whether a system of 8axon orthography 
existed when the Hildebrandslied was first written down. 

* Behaghel, Paul's Grundriss, I, p. 588, 94, 4 ; Leidolf, Die Naunheimer 
Mundart, pp. 3, 36 ; Lienhart, Mundarl des Zornthales, p. 18 ; Mankel, Mundart 
des Mutisterthales, p. 6. 

The use of t in O.H.G. does not necessarily point to a fortis as Behaghel 
assumes (1. c. (2)) ; it may in many cases have been employed to distinguish 
a voiceless sound from the voiced d (= Germ. th). Even if part of the Fran- 
conian should have fortis t at the present day ( Wrede, Zeitscftr. /. d. Altert. t 
xxxvi, p. 137) this does not prove fortis for the O.H.G. period. 

3 Braune, Ahd. Gramm. 9 , $ 163, Anm. 3. This d may have been employed 
extensively in the Rhenish- Franconian dialect because Germ, th long kept 
its spirant character in this dialect (Braune, Ahd. Or*, \ 167 b ), so that the 
sign d was available for Germ. d. It does not necessarily prove a different 
pronunciation from that used in other O.H.G. dialects. 


d. The use of d in O.H.G. for designating a spirant cannot 
well be denied. 1 

Germ, t appears only as t, it (Anlaut 5, Inl. 14, Ausl. 20 
times). The Inl. after vowels shows -ft-, not only in the 
gemination (luttila v. 20, 67, sitten 20), but also where the O.S. 
requires simple consonant (in urhettun v. 2, hcetti, heittu 17, 
motti 60, muotti 61, fyttun 63, huittf 66). In muofm v. 2 (O.S. 
geminate) and seeotantero v. 51 we have simple consonant 
after long vowel, probably due to scribes X or K. Kogel has 
pointed out that the -it- for -t- cannot be O.S. So much is 
certain that it has been adopted with some reference to the 
O.H.G. system of sounds and orthography. Kogel thinks (as 
others before him) that the use of double t has been suggested 
by the fact that the H.G. scribe of the original wrote zz for 
the mutated t of his O.H.G. dialect. 

This explanation, however, does not seem quite satisfactory. 
It seems to me that this peculiar -ft- is rather an attempt to 
give the more strongly articulated, possibly aspirated, t of the 
O.S. 2 Considering that t was used to designate S. d, as has 
been made probable, no expedient for distinguishing S. d 
from S. t was left but that of doubling the t. A double t at 
the beginning or end of the word were such monstrosities in 
O.H.G. orthography, as to be practically impossible; simple 
t had to do duty in these positions. It is a significant fact in 
this connection that -it- after long vowels occurs not only in 
Upper G. (where its occurrence is to be expected), but also in 
Middle G. where geminates after long vowels hardly occur. 3 

A third sound of the dental series, Germ, th, next deserves 
our consideration. If we except scribe a who uses $ (4 times) 

1 Cf. Author's Zum hochal. Konsonantismus, p. 82, $ 120. 

8 Such a sound may be inferred for the O.S. from the quality of the t in 
the Low G. and English of to-day. 

3 Examples in Sievers' 2d. ed. of the O.H.G. Tatian, \ 43 ; Weissenburyer 
Katechismus, hluttru, eittar; Isidor, Cap. 3, $ 6, hluttror / furthermore forms 
like leitta in Tatian and Otfrid. Is it possible that in these cases it is a fortis 
rather than a geminate ? 

240 F. H. WILKENS. 

we find only d. The Theotrihhe of v. 19 has no significance. 
It is a traditional spelling of the name which we find for 
instance in Notker's Boethius, 1 at a time when the spirant had 
long disappeared in the High Alemannic dialect. Consider- 
ing that scribe a alone has the $, and that he always employs 
it to designate Germ, th, it is clear that the orthography is 
introduced by him and does not belong to X or the original 
(Y). 2 Our argumentation now is as before. If the original 
had any other orthography than d it is strange that it should 
have disappeared entirely, even in the Anlaut (54 d excepting 
scribe a) where th is the rule in Middle G. and frequent in 
Upper G. of the oldest period. 3 There is nothing strange 
in the use of d to designate a spirant ; it is clearly established 
by the orthography of the proper names in the original docu- 
ments of St. Gall. 4 The d may be simply an imperfect, 
perhaps archaic, orthography for the spirant. 

Reviewing the series of dental consonants connectedly we 
easily recognize a system according to which the scribe of the 
original (Y) apportioned the different letters. He connected 
with d the idea of a spirant and applied it for O.S. th. He 
employed t (the designation of a voiceless lenis in O.H.G.) to 
designate a similar O.S. sound, the d. For O.S. t (a fortis?) 
the scribe of the original availed himself of it in the Inlaut, 
while t had to do service for the Anl. and Ausl. The d and t 
(= Germ, d) were copied unchanged because X and K used 
the same orthography. If the t, it (=Germ. t) were not 

l Die Schriften Notkers, hsg. von Piper, I, p. 5, 1. 17. 

2 M611er, p. 56, assigns the % to the source of our manuscript: "Im 
Anfang pflegen Die Abschreiber der Vorlage genauer zu folgen." His 
explanation loses its force when we recognize a number of hands. 

3 Braune, A hd. Gramm. 2 , % 167 b . 

*Cf. Author's Hochalem. Konsonantismus, p. 82, 119; Sievers' Angels. 
Gramm*, 199, Anm. 1. The Alemannic Benediclinerregd undoubtedly 
designated a spirant, by d, likewise an old Franconian monument like the 
Frankfurter Glossen (Steinmeyer-Sievers' Ahd. Glossen, 11, 144 f., Pietsch, 
Zeitschr.f. d. Phil., vii, 414 f. Moller suggests, p. 56, that d in the Hitde- 
brandslied may be an archaic orthography for th. 


changed into z 9 zz by X and K, this proves that no systematic 
attempt was made by them to change the orthography of the 

While O.S. t appears unchanged in our manuscript, the 
same statement cannot be made in the case of Germ, k it 
appears unchanged only in ik v. 1, 12, harmlicco 66, against 
H.G. spirant. The forms chunincriche v. 13, Deotrichhe 26, 
riche 48 are doubtful ; ch might designate the spirant as well 
as the explosive. 1 That ch has been used in the original for 
k seems to be reasonably certain from the frequent occurrence 
of ch in the Anl., Inl. after consonants, and in gemination where 
the H.G. preserves k. This ch occurs in scribe 7 (folche 10, 
chind 13, 53, chud 13, 28, chunincriche 13, chonnem 28), 
S (cheisuringu, chuning 34), e (reccheo 48, chind 53), and per- 
haps in dechisto 26 (7) and Otachres 18, 25 (7) ; it must have 
occurred in X and probably in Y. The c of cnuosles 1 1 probably 
belongs to X or K ; c is a later orthography for ch in East 
Franconian 2 ; qu in quad v. 30, 49, 58 is doubtful. If -ch- 
was used for k in the original, the H.G. scribes K and X 
might interpret ch as a spirant 3 and substitute for it hh or h 
without knowing that they were making a spirant out of a 
S. k (examples of hh: welihhes 11, Theotrihhe 19, Detrihhe 23, 
aodlihho 55). If -ch was used for -k in the original in ih 17, 
29, 50, 54 the -h of K might be explained in the same way. 
It seems probable, however, from the form ik 1, 12 that -k 
was used in the original, and that X or K changed it into -h. 
In folc v. 51 the c may be a reminiscence of the original. 

It is doubtful whether mih v. 40 (2), 51, 53, dih 59 (sih 2, 
5, 61) correspond to forms like mik, thik, or mi, tht, in the 
original. The Saxon dialect is divided into two sections, the 
one section using these pronominal forms with k, the other 
without k. 4 Although no definite decision is possible, still 

, Ahd. Gramm*, g 143, Anm. 2, 3; 144. 
'Kossinna, p. 51. 

3 For this common use of ch in O.H.G., cf. Braune, Ahd. Gramm?, $ 145. 

4 Behaghel, Paul's Grundriss d. g. Phil., I, p. 537. 

242 F. H. WTLKENS. 

the following facts deserve attention. The miti v. 19, 26, 68 
is apparently the S. midi found in certain sections of the Cod. 
Cott. of the Heliand, and not a H.G. form. The mik and thik 
of the Cott. do not occur in the same sections as the midi, so 
that it seems the scribes who used mik, thik did not use midi 
and vice versa. This would speak against a form mik, thik in 
the original (Y). We have to concede, however, the possibility 
that miti is H.G., although no such form occurs in the O.H.G. 
monuments. 1 The sih (v. 2, 5, 61) must be regarded as H.G. ; 
for an O.S. sik does not occur, although it puts in an appear- 
ance at a later period, perhaps under external (H.G. ?) influ- 
ences. 2 Before leaving Germ, k we should notice how -cc- in 
harmlicco 66 again betrays a H.G. scribe writing O.S. ; since 
he only knew unchanged k in the Inlaut as a geminate, he 
used the geminate to designate Saxon unchanged k. 

Germ, g (a spirant in Saxon) in the Anlaut and Inl. is desig- 
nated by g which was probably also used in the original Y. 
In the Ausl. we usually find c (chunincriche v. 13 (7), dine 32 
(8), wic 43, sehslic 50, burc 52, taoc 55, enic 57 (e)), only once g 
(chuning, v. 34). Perhaps the original had -g, but scribe X 
(and K?) changed this into -c which was more familiar to 
them. Such a change could be made mechanically, without 
knowledge on their part that -c (explosive) was not Saxon. 
chuning might then be preserved from the original. That -c 
was used in the original (-c sometimes designates a spirant s ) 
seems to me not probable. 

Germ, p appears unchanged in werpan v. 40, scarpen 64, 
and possibly in wambnum 68 and stoptun 65. 4 Holler's sug- 
gestion that a scribe took the line over the runic w in wamb- 

1 Moller, p. 75. methi (= meti, miti ?) occurs in the Altdeutsche Gesprache 
(Zeitschr. f. d. A., xxxix, p. 11 (101)). The Gesprache are localized by 
Martin at Miinster in the Alsace. But the form may be Low G., since 
Low G. elements occur in the piece (ibid., p. 20). 

2 Behaghel, Paul's Grundr., I, p. 629. 

3 Braune, Ahd. Gramm*, \ 145, Anm. 1 ; Author's Hochal. Kons., \ 80. 
4 Moller (p. 60) assumes for p the value of an affricate, which assumption 
is of no interest if the Hildebrandslied is O.S. 


num for the line designating an m seems quite possible ; it 
would give us a form wabnum. The 6 in this word may 
have been introduced for p by the Middle G. scribes X or K 
because they were not accustomed to the use of p in the Inl. 
As in the East Franconian Tatian Germ, p may have been 
changed into pf with them. 

Germ, b in the Anl. appears as b (except in prut 21, pist 
41) ; for the Inl. we have 12 b (besides habbe 29, sippan 31 
with gem. 6) and 1 v in hevane 30 ; for the Ausl. kop 27, gap 
34 ; lib 29, ab 30. The v in hevane must be S. and was probably 
preserved because the word seems to be unknown in H.G. 
It is quite possible that b was also used in the original to 
designate the Saxon spirant 6, which orthography is common 
in O.S. and old A.S. 1 The form ab perhaps favors this 
assumption, if it can be regarded as a S. form foreign to the 
dialect of scribes X and K, while ur, ar are the H.G. forms, 
not known in S., of some scribe. 2 The phrase ab hevane was 
probably copied unchanged from the original. If -b was used 
in the original it is easy to see how scribes X and K might 
substitute -p without being conscious that they were changing 
the designation of a spirant sound. 

The A.S. w is frequently employed for the usual uu, u. It 
has been recognized by Schroder that the A.S. w was copied 
from another manuscript; for scribe 7 was evidently not 
familiar with the letter and twice used p instead (see Chap. I, 
form of runic w with the different scribes). Scribe X who 
used as has been argued A.S. script is probably responsible 
for the introduction of this sign. The uu, u (= w) may be, 
in part, reminiscences from the original. The way in which 
runic w is copied even by 7, who does not know the letter, 
illustrates the conservative tendency of scribes K. 

The following examples of h before consonant occur : wer 
v. 9, welihhes 11, werdar 61 (all three have runic w), huitte 66, 
ringa 6, hrustim 46, hrusti 56, hregilo 61. Since the allitera- 

Altsdchsische Gramm., \ 106; Sievers, Angels. Or., % 191. 
2 Holier, p. 71. 

244 F. H. WILKENS. 

tion proves that hr, hw were known to the original, 1 it is likely 
that h was omitted in hw, when X substituted runic w for uu, 
u of the original (Y). The form huitte may go back to Y. 
The dialect of X perhaps retained hr but had w for hw; such 
a development is known in O.H.G. 2 

The questions of consonantism so far treated are those 
which seem of interest for the purpose of the present investi- 
gation. The following remarks suggest themselves in regard 
to the vocalism of stem-syllables. 

Germ, ai appears in the following forms : 2 ce, 1 ae, 5 , 
15 e, 5 6i, 1 ai. B The ei, ai are clearly H.G., and may be due 
to X or K, while the others indicate S. e. The ce, ae, q would 
seem to be the designation for an open e sound ; they are often 
used in O.H.G. to designate the open e. 4 In Upper German 
ce, q is frequently employed for the open e developed out of 
ai before h, r, w. 5 The O.S. (= Germ, ai) may with some 
probability be regarded as an open sound, 6 in which case the 
ce, $ would be particularly appropriate. The e of the Hilde- 
brandslied (instead of ce, q) may in many cases be attributed 
to X and K. We find it particularly before h, r, w, where 
the Middle G. has e instead of ei, and Middle G. scribes were 
therefore particularly tempted to make a slight change and 
substitute e for ce, q, while the more radical change from ce, $ 
to ei was not so easily made. It may be noted in passing 
that the ae (not joined into a ligature) belong to 7, who per- 
haps was not accustomed to the ligature. 

The use of ce, q in hcetti 17,furiaet 20, Iqttun 63, to designate 
e 2 (as in H.G. h$r=hear, hiar) is most peculiar, as Kogel has 
noted. 7 It is peculiar in view of the fact that the e was proba- 

1 Braune, Ahd Gramm*, g 153, Anm. 1. 
* Braune, Ahd. Gramm*, \ 153, Anna. 1. 

3 Wood, Publications of the M. L. AM., xi, p. 326. 

4 Braune, Ahd. Gramm*, \ 28, Anm. 2. 

5 Braune, Ahd. Gramm. 9 , \ 43, Behaghel, Paul's Grundr., I, p. 567. 
'About the quality of this sound in Middle Low G. cf. Behaghel, Paul's 

Grundr., i, p. 567. 
1 Paul's Grundr., u, p. 176. 


bly a closed sound. Only one explanation seems to suggest 
itself, namely, that the H.G. dialect of the original scribe (Y) 
had but one designation for a long e, namely, OB, while e 2 had 
already changed into ea, ia. The extant Upper G. monu- 
ments, it must be acknowledged, do not favor the view that 
e 2 became ea, ia after the orthography had taken the place 
of ae (from ai), 1 but in some dialects the development may 
have been different. In the following chapter it remains to 
be shown how the ae, q seems to point to Bavarian dialect of 
scribe Y. 

Germ, au appears in the following forms : 4 ao, 9 o. 1 ou, 
1 au. The ao must belong to the original Y, since taoc cannot 
be H.G. and must stand for S. d6g. Moller takes ao to be a 
designation of O.H.G. au, ou; 2 but such a use is not known. 
The ao can hardly be explained on any other ground than 
that the original scribe Y used ao to designate H.G. 6 (from 
Germ, au before dentals and K)f and therefore also employed it 
to designate an open S. 6. If scribe Y had in his H.G. dia- 
lect employed 6 (from au before dentals and h), which must 
have been an open sound (for it is distinct from the 6 which 
becomes uo), then he would also have used 6 for the S. 6, 
which we may assume was an open sound. 4 It seems the o in 
the Hildebrandslied has often been substituted by K and X 
for ao. The au, ou in rauba 57, bouga 33 (according to the 
fac-simile it might as well be baoga) may also be due to X and 
K. As is well known ao is especially frequent in Bavarian, 
though not confined to it. 

Germ, eu and 6 require only passing notice. We always 
find eo (example, deot, v. 13), never io once in Detrihhe, v. 
23, and possibly also in breton e appears for eo. Possibly all 
three scribes wrote eo in their own dialect. Germ. 6 shows 
7 d, 6 uo; the uo may be due to K and X entirely, or in part. 

1 Braune, Ahd. Gramm., 35 with \ 43. 
8 P. 66. 

3 Braune, Ahd. Gramm., \ 45. 
4 Behaghel, Paul's Grundr., I, p. 567. 

246 F. H. WILKENS. 

III. THE DIALECT OF THE Hildebrandslied. 

In this chapter the dialect of scribes K, X, Y shall find 
treatment, special attention being devoted to the dialect of the 
original Y. It appears that scribes K have not materially 
changed manuscript X which they were copying; the H.G. 
elements are so much of one cast that they must mainly be 
attributed to one scribe X, as already mentioned in Chapter I. 
The clearest indication that we have for the dialect of K is 
the % in scribe a. Since scribes K nowhere appear active in 
bringing out S. peculiarities, we cannot regard % as an attempt 
to designate O.S. th. It must be a peculiarity of the dialect of 
a which is thus marked as Middle G. The $ occurs in the 
East Franconian Lex Salica, 1 to which dialect scribe a (and 
his companions ft, 7, 8, e) may also belong. 

The dialect of scribe X appears likewise to have been East 
Franconian. This scribe was probably less conservative than 
K and to him may be due some of the Middle G. forms col- 
lected by Moller. 2 The her (occuring in scribes 7 and S) was 
probably copied from X and may have been introduced by 
the latter. 

Looking over the list of Middle G. monuments we find that 
scribe 7 3 of the O.H.G. Tatian shows perhaps the greatest 
resemblance to the H.G. elements of the Hildebrandslied as 
far as phonology and orthography are concerned. The fact 
that the Tatian is East Franconian and that it (at least the 
original) was written in Fulda 4 is significant in view of the 
fact that the Hildebrandslied (K), too, belonged at one time to 
the cloister of Fulda. 5 How far the peculiarities in scribe 7 
are due to this scribe or were copied from another manuscript 
does not concern us materially. I give a list of the principal 
similarities of Tatian 7 and the H.G. elements of the Hilde- 

1 Cf. Braune, Ahd. Lesebuch 3 , xiv, p. 37. * Cf. Sievere' ed. 2 , p. xxn. 

2 P. 71. * Cf. Grein's edition 8 , p. 12 f. 
8 Cf. Sievers' ed. 2 of the Tatian, p. xn. 


Most cases of j after consonants preserved before a and o 
occurring in the Tatian belong to 7 (Sievers, 7). For the 
Hildebrandslied cf. Moller, p. 64. 

d- for th- occurs in 7 (Sievers, 19, Anm. ; 20, 1). 

p- for b- (3 times) occurs only in 7 ( 26). Hildebrands- 
lied: prut v. 21, pist v. 41. 

-p for -b is found 3 times in 7, occurring also with other 
scribes of the Tatian ( 26). 

-G for -g is not found in 7, but is quite frequent with scribe 

ch for k after cons., and for geminate occurs in 7 ( 48). 

e not changed to ea, ia occurs only in 7 ( 69, 2). ea, ia 
does not occur in the Hildebrandslied for ce (== e). 

6 instead of uo occurs in 7 ( 70). 

au occurs once instead of the usual ou ( 72). 

eo is the regular form for this diphthong in 7 ( 74). 

It is necessary to state that scribe 7 of the Tatian does not 
show traces of Upper G. dialect, but simply an archaic Fran- 
conian orthography resembling the Upper G. 

What was the H.G. dialect of scribe Y, who first wrote 
down the Hildebrandslied f Moller has argued strongly against 
the idea that our poem contains any traces of Bavarian dialect or 
orthography. 1 Certain considerations seem, however, to point 
more or less distinctly to Bavarian dialect. Why should a 
Middle G. scribe employ ao and ce to designate O.S. sounds 
when in his own dialect he employed 6 and e to designate the 
same or very similar sounds? 2 Moller states it is not likely 
that an O.S. poem should have been written down before the 
end of the eighth century; for the subjugation of the Saxons 
had only just taken place then. 3 Granting the correctness 
of his argument, it is not likely that the Hildebrandslied was 
written down at a period when peculiar archaic orthographies 
like ao and ce were in vogue in Middle G. The use of OB 
seems to be quite unknown in these dialects. It must be 

1 Moller, p. 55. 2 Cf. chap, n, where ao and ae are treated. 

3 Moller, p. 72. 


248 F. H. WILKENS. 

conceded, however, that the proper names of the Codex diplo- 
maticus Fuldensis show certain orthographies similar to those 
assumed for the H.G. of scribe Y. In the documents of scribe 
Wolfram (anno 753-781), for instance, we find ao (Gaozott, 
No. 26,^io/mo(?) 27), d instead of th (Deodoni Danghili 17, 
Pliddrvdae 36, Gordrud 39) and a number of minor corre- 
spondences. Kogel inclines to the opinion that the original 
scribe was Bavarian. 1 

The H.G. dialect of scribe Y having been considered, the 
question next arises, was the poem pure Saxon when first 
written down, or Saxon and H.G. mixed. A definite decision 
of this question is hardly possible ; but something may be 
said in favor of the latter assumption. Take for instance the 
pronoun sih. 2 Can we imagine that scribes K or X substi- 
tuted the same for a S. form (sea or something similar) when 
there is no indication that X or K read the manuscript intelli- 
gently, or could read a passage like v. 2 intelligently ; when 
X is responsible for a promiscuous use of Hiltibraht and Hilti- 
brant, and scribes K copied this nonsense faithfully. It is 
more probable that the original scribe Y substituted, con- 
sciously or unconsciously, H.G. forms in an O.S. poem which 
he may have committed to memory at some time, perhaps 
while staying among the Saxons. Probably the O.H.G. scribe 
found the absence of a distinct reflexive sih as strange as we 
do and may not have mastered the Saxon idiom taking the 
place of this reflexive. 

The memory of the original scribe Y in regard to Saxon 
forms does not seem to have extended beyond certain limits and 
to have retained particularly substantives, verbs and charac- 
teristic phrases that impress themselves on the mind, while 
being less reliable in regard to particles and inflexions. The 
forms sudsat v. 53, alter 38, 3 usere I5,fateres 24, 4 all show 

1 Cf. Kogel, Qesch. der d. Litt., p. 228. 
* Cf. chapter n, treatment of Germ, k in this paper. 
8 Cf. Kogel, Litteraturgesch., p. 221. 

4 Ibid., p. 218. The O.S. would be fader (or fater in the orthography of 
our poem). 


H.G. inflexion which apparently, for metrical reasons, must 
have existed in the original. Kogel recognizes the fact that 
these forms cannot easily be eliminated from the original and 
advances the suggestion that the language of poetry contained, 
within certain limits, a mixture of O.H.G. and O.S. forms. 
It seems to me more probable that these H.G. forms are to 
be explained in connection with the peculiar orthography of 
Y based on the H.G. orthography. Both the language and 
the orthography (as far as we can infer them) show distinctly 
that a H.G. was attempting to write a language with which 
he was not absolutely familiar, and a poem in this unfamiliar 
language which he did not remember perfectly. Our theory 
could only be proved if it were possible to show that a number 
of phrases are distinctly H.G., just as Kogel has shown a 
great number of characteristic phrases to be Saxon. 

If scribe Y was a Bavarian of the end of the eighth century 
then a number of forms may perhaps be attributed to him, 
forms which are not Saxon or Middle G., or not well known 
in those dialects, such as the chonnem v. 28 (with gem. after 
long vowel), sippan (pp for bb) 31. 

A further prosecution of this study would demand a criti- 
cal investigation of the text and meter ; this would carry us 
too far, involving as it does most difficult questions. The 
investigation, therefore, rests here for the present. 

The results of our investigation are in short : 

Our manuscript (K) of the Hildebrandslied is written by 5 
scribes (a, /3, 7, 8, e), whose dialect is Middle G. (East Fran- 
conian). On the whole they seem to have copied mechanically. 

Another manuscript (X) must have intervened between K 
and Y; the dialect of this scribe was likewise Middle G. 
(East Franconian). This scribe probably was responsible for 
a part of the H.G. forms. 

X probably copied from the original (Y). It is not reason- 
able to assume more copies than these, else the O.S. elements 
would have been more nearly obliterated. 

250 P. H. WILKENS. 

The orthography of Y is explained as a systematic attempt 
to designate O.S. sounds by means of a system of sound nota- 
tion familiar to a H.G. scribe. It seems that Y was a 
Bavarian, and that in attempting to write the O.S. poem he 
introduced H.G. forms through ignorance of the language, 
aggravated by an imperfect memory of the poem. 



Spain, during the fifteenth century, was very prolific in 
writers of verse, as a glance at the Candoneros of Baena, 
Castillo, Estufiiga, and a number of other early collections, 
both printed and manuscript, will show. That these were 
not all poets by divine right, no one perhaps will gainsay, nor 
would the world have suffered any great loss, if much of their 
verse had disappeared forever. In the time of Don Juan II. 
(1407-1454), himself a poet, 1 it seemed to have been considered 
a necessary accomplishment of every courtier to write poetry, 
and as the Spanish language falls into measure and rhyme at 
the slightest provocation, the practice of such an accomplish- 
ment was fraught with little difficulty. Still, despite what 
has been said above, there is a charm about much of the poetry 
in these Candoneros that is undeniable, and among their poets 
many names occur that will always occupy an honorable place 
in the literature of Spain. With perhaps a few exceptions, 
the best poetry in these collections is found in the short lyrical 
pieces. They are often delightfully naive, but necessarily 
suffer from sameness, love being the theme of most of them, 
and even this may become wearisome. But there were also 
poets, though in much lesser number, who turned their thoughts 
to things spiritual. Of these, two of the most famous were the 
Marquis of Santillana, 2 and his kinsman Fernan Perez de 

1 The poems of Don Juan II., King of Castile, have been printed by Pidal 
in the Appendix to the Cancionero of Baena, Madrid, 1851, p. LXXXI. One 
of the manuscript collections alluded to above has since been published by 
the writer: Der Spanische Cancionero des Brit. Mus. (MS. Add. 10431) in 
Vollmoller's Romanische Forschungen, Bd. x, Erlangen, 1 895. 

2 They are collected under the rubric " Obras devotas," in Amador de los 
Rios, 06ms del Marques de Santillana, Madrid, 1882, p. 299 ff. With the 
religious poems of a later poet, Juan Tallante, a Valencian, begin all the 
editions of the Cancionero of Hernando del Castillo, from 1511 to 1573. 


252 H. A. KENNEBT. 

Guzman, some of whose religious poems are here published 
for the first time. They are among the best verses that he 
has written, and are very fairly illustrative of his style and 
ability as a poet. 


Fernan Perez de Guzman, Sefior de Batres, was the son of 
Pero Suarez de Guzman, Notario Mayor of Andalupia, and 
of Dofia Elvira de Ayala, a sister of the great Chancellor of 
Don Juan II., Pedro Lopez de Ayajfl. 1 Unfortunately neither 
the year of his birth, nor that of his death are known. 

Ticknor says (vol. I, p. 420), " he was born about the year 
1400," a date which has been generally accepted, but which 
is certainly wrong. In all probability Fernan Perez was born 
about a quarter of a century before this ; nearly all the facts 
we know concerning his life point to the period between 1375 
and 1380 as the time of his birth. 2 In the Candonero of 
Baena (ed. of Madrid, 1851), p. 629 (No. 571), we read the 
following, prefixed to a poem by Fernan Perez : " Este dezir 
muy famosso e" bien fadado e" letradamente fecho fiso e" orden6 
el dicho Ferrand Peres de Guzman, sefior de Batres, quando 
mury6 el muy ourrado 6 noble cavallero don Diego Furtado de 
Mendoza, Almirante mayor de Castilla." Pidal, in a note to 

1 The best sketch of the life and works of Fernan Perez de Guzman, to 
which all later accounts have been more or less indebted, is the one prefixed 
to his Generaciones y Semblanzas (Madrid, 1775), and written, I think, by 
D. Eugenio Llaguna y Amirola, the name not being given anywhere in the 
copy I have, which contains also the Centon Epistolario of Fernan Gomez de 
Cibdareal, and the Claros Varones de Castillo, of Fernando del Pulgar. See 
also Ticknor, Hist, of Span. Lit., I, 420. The latter's statement, however, 
that the father of Fernan Perez was a brother of the Marquis of Santillana, 
is a mistake. See Amador de los Kios, Obras, etc., p. x. Amirola, I. c. t 
gives no date of the birth of our author. Some account of the Guzman 
family is given in Salazar de Mendoza, Origen de las dignidades seglares de 
Castilla y Leon, Madrid, 1794, pp. 362, 363, and also Fernandez de Navar- 
rete, Vida del celebre poeta Garcilaso de In Vega, Madrid, 1850, p. 145. Gar- 
cilaso was a descendant, in the female line, of Fernan Perez. 

'See below, p. 254, note 1. 


this poem, says : " The Almirante D. Diego Hurtado de Men- 
doza died in 1405, a time when Fernan Perez could not have 
written verses, if, indeed, he was yet born" (p. 701). But 
there can be absolutely no doubt that our author wrote this 
poem, for it is the very one mentioned by the Marquis of 
Santillana in his well known letter to the Constable of Portu- 
gal, 1 to be referred to hereafter. The Marquis quotes the first 
verse of the poem : 

" Onbre que vienes aqui de pressente," 

thus leaving no question on this point. But there is other 
evidence in the Candonero of Baena to show that Fernan 
Perez was a well known poet at the beginning of the fifteenth 
century. A reply by him to a dezir of Fran9isco Imperial's 
is found on page 224 (No. 232). The latter was a Genoese 
who wrote a long poem (ibid., p. 197, No. 226), celebrating 
the birth of Don Juan II., at Toro in 1405. From others of 
these poems (Nos. 113, 545, and 546) we also see that Fernan 
Perez exchanged verses with Alfonso Alvarez de Villasandino, 
a poet who, according to Pidal (1. c., p. 640), wrote as early 
as 1374, if not earlier. 2 These facts induce Pidal to doubt 
Fernan Perez' authorship of these poems in the Candonero of 
Baena; he says: "deben ser de otro poeta" (p. 658). But 
in view of the direct testimony of the Marquis of Santillana 
above, Pidal's doubts are unfounded. Besides, we know that 
our poet's mother was a sister of Pedro Lopez de Ayala. 
Now, Don John's great Chancellor was born in 1332, and 
died in 1407. From this, the impossibility of Perez de Guz- 
man's being born as late as 1400, is at once apparent. In 
addition we are to take into account that the Marquis of 

Kios, Obras, p. 16. The Constable of Portugal (1429-66), 
afterwards King of Aragon for a brief period, was also a poet, whose verses 
are printed in the Ccmcioneiro de Resende, ed. Kausler, vol. I, pp. 67-69. See 
Romania, xi, p. 155, and Grober's Grundriss, vol. n, pp. 135 and 231-232. 
'According to Amador, Obras del Marques de Santillana, p. 592, Villa- 
sandino was born in 1340, and died about 1420. 

254 H. A. KENNERT. 

Santillana (born in 1398) calls Fernan Perez his uncle. The 
latter was therefore probably, though not necessarily, older. 1 
Like many other distinguished Spaniards of his time, Fer- 
nan Perez de Guzman was both a soldier and man of letters. 
The earliest notice of him in the Chronide of Don Juan II., 
is under the year 1421. In that year he was sent, together 
with the Archbishop of Santiago, as an envoy of the Infante 
Don Enrique, to the Queen of Aragon, the mother of the 
latter. According to Gomez de Cibdareal, 2 Fernan Perez de 
Guzman took part in the battle fought by King John II. 
against the Moors at la Higueruetfi in 1431, fighting under 
his cousin Don Gutierre de Toledo, Bishop of Palencia. A 
curious incident of this battle is related by the same writer, 
He says : "After the battle the King commanded Alfon de 
Acufla that he should take as prisoners to Cordova Fernan 
Perez de Guzman, he of Batres, and the Comendador Juan de 
Vera of Merida, because they had, in the presence of the 
King, vehemently disputed the honor of having rescued Pero 
Melendez Valdez from the hands of the Moors. He wa& 
only released through the intercession of the Prior Don Juan 
de Luna." On the King's return to Castile he ordered Don 
Gutierre de Toledo, whom he suspected of being in communi- 
cation with the Kings of Aragon and Navarre, to be put in 
prison. Fernan Perez was also imprisoned, for no other 
reason, apparently, than that he was a cousin of Don Gutierre. 
There may have been some reason for suspecting the latter 
(see Epistola LII), but as nothing could be proved against the 
Bishop, both were set at liberty. 

1 It was not until long after the above was written that I was enabled to 
consult Amador de los Kios, Historia Oritica de la Literatura Espaftola, vol. 
VI, p. 21 2, where a portion of the will of Pero Suarez de Guzman, the father 
of Fernan Perez, is quoted, dated January 9, 1381, in which he mentions 
his three children, Ferrando, Maria and Aldonza, and says of them "son 
pequefios menores de edat ; " also that his wife was already dead. So, if 
Ferrando was the oldest child, he must have been born about 1376, at the 

* Cenlon Epistolario. Epistola LI. Ed. 1775, p. 92. 


Puibusque 1 says of their release: "Mais la politique eut 
plus de part que la justice a leur elargissement ; Mafaya, 
ambassadeur de Portugal, intervint en leur faveur. Perez de 
Guzman, degoute des intrigues par cette rude Ie9on, se retira 
dans sa seigneurie de Batres, et ne se mla plus aux troubles 
qui agiterent tout le re"gne de Jean II. II mourut vers 

After this imprisonment (1431), Fernan Perez seems to 
have abandoned the profession of arms ; at all events, there 
is no record of his having taken any part in the wars which 
for years afterward devastated the kingdom. The above date 
(1470) is taken from Llaguno, who says (I. c., p. 192), "I 
presume that he died before 1470, for the introduction by 
Doctor Pedro Diaz to the Querella de la Governaeion of 
Gomez Manrique, 2 seems to have been written in the last 
years of the reign of Don Enrique IV. (1454-1474), and in 
it he speaks as if Fernan Perez were already dead." 

There is nothing in this introduction, however, to show 
that it was written "in the last years of the reign of D. 

1 Histoire compares des Litteralures Espagfiole et Francaise. Paris, 1843. 
Vol. i, p. 417. The source of Puibusque's information is unknown to me. 
In the Chronicle of D. Juan II., p. 310, the Portuguese ambassador is called 
Pero Gomez Malafaya. 

8 This Introduction is printed in: Paz y Melia, Cancionero de Gomez 
Manrique. Madrid, 1885. Vol. n, pp. 230 ff. The rubric is as follows: 
Introdu9ion al dezir que conpuso el noble cauallero Gomez Manrique, que 
yntitula : Exclamafion e querella de la Gouerna9ion, al muy noble e muy 
reuerendo sefior, su syngular seiior, Don Alfonso Carillo, por la gracia de 
Dios Arcobispo de Toledo, por el Doctor Pero Diaz. Diaz says (p. 233) : 
En la nuestra Ispana a avido assy mesmo grandes varones de conponer en 
metro, entre los quales fue Fernand Perez de Guzman en aquesta nuestra 
hedad, que fue cauallero bien ensefiado, e conpuso notables obras, assy 
quanto alia forma del conponer como ala sentenyia de las cosas conpuestas. 
He then speaks of the Marquis of Santillana (died in 1458), as though he 
too were already dead. Perhaps much faith cannot be put in the words 
of the Toledan Doctor, who says, on the next page that Gomez Manrique 
(born 1415) is beginning to write verses, and that if time spare him, he 
will equal the poets already named. Supposing that this was even no later 
than 1458, it will be seen that Don Gomez must have courted the muse 
rather late in life. 

256 H. A. RENNERT. 

Enrique IV." It only shows that it could not have been 
written before 1446, for in that year Alfonso Carillo, of the 
house of Acufia, became Archbishop of Toledo, nor after 
1482, in which year the Archbishop died (Garibay, Com- 
pendia Historial, Barcelona, 1628, pp. 480 and 633). Bios 
is therefore mistaken when he says this dedication was proba- 
bly written between 1483 and 1487 (Historic, Oritica, vol. 
vn, p. 109, note). 

We know that Fern an Perez wrote a poem on the death of 
his friend Don Alonso de Cartagena, Bishop of Burgos, who 
died in 1456, and that he was stiW living in 1458, is shown 
by the poem of Gomez Manrique, quoted below, though it is 
very probable that our author did not long survive his great 
kinsman, the Marquis of Santillana, who died in that year 
(1458). Be that as it may, it is quite certain that he passed 
the latter years of his life away from the Court, upon his 
estates at Batres. 

The following verses are found in the Candonero of Cas- 
tillo (ed. of Madrid, 1886), vol. i, p. 147 : 

" Ved aqui la inuencion mia 
no sotil ni eleuada ; 
como en Batres fabricada, 
assi es grossera e fria." 

And that his retirement was not voluntary is evinced by 
his lines, likewise addressed to the Marquis : 

" pues entre rustica gente 
me fizo vivir fortuna." * 

There is ample evidence to show that in his time, Fernan 
Perez de Guzman enjoyed great reputation as a poet. The 
Marquis of Santillana says of him in his letter written in 

1 These lines are quoted by Llaguno, 1. c., p. 188, as being in the Intro- 
duction to the "Quatro Virtudes Cardinales" of Fernan Perez. The Can- 
donero General, i, p. 139, contains the poem, but evidently the Introduction 
is there missing, as these verses cannot be found. 


1449, to Don Pedro, Constable of Portugal: 1 "Fernand 
Perez de Guzman, mi tio, cavallero doto en toda buena 
dotrina, ha compuesto muchas cosas metrificadas, e" entre las 
otras aquel epitdphio de la sepoltura de mi seflor el Almi- 
rante, don Diego Furtado, que comien9a : 

" Onbre que vienes aqui de pressente. 

Fi9O muchos otros de9ires e* cantigas de amores, e* aun agora 
bien poco tiempo hd escrivi6 proverbios de grandes senten9ias, 
6 otra obra assaz titil e" bien compuesta de las Quatro Virtudes 
Cardinales." 2 

Gomez Manrique, in a poem on the death of the Marquis of 
Santillana, says that no one is capable of doing justice to the 
great virtues of the deceased as well as Fernan Perez de Guz- 

" un cauallero prudente 
tan sabio que, ciertamente, 
yo no hallo que nos queda 
otro ninguno que pueda 
tomar el cargo presente." 3 

The religious poetry of Fernan Perez de Guzman appears, 
as is quite natural, to have been written during the latter years 
of his life. In a treatise called the Oradonal, or Book of 
Devotion, written by Don Alonso de Cartagena for Perez de 
Guzman, and printed at Murcia in 1487, the author says in 
the prologue, speaking to Fernan Perez : " En vuestra juven- 
tud, y en la viril edad, 6 algun tanto provecta, vos veia 
ocupado en questiones, e facer vuestros dulces metros e" ritmos, 
que coplas llamamos, de diversas materias; mas eran sobre 
cosas humanas, aunque estudiosas e" buenas. Pero agora 
acordades pasar & lo divino e" devoto, que a" todo lo humano 
trasciende, escribiendo por vuestra suave metrificatura himnos 
6 oraciones, 6 otras contemplaciones pertenecientes & considera- 

1 The date of this letter has been quite clearly established by Elos, Obras 
del, Marques de Santillana, p. xc, note. 

2 'Rios, /. c., p. 16, 3 Candonero General, I, p. 167. 

258 H. A. RENNERT. 

cion del culto divino, de que yo algo lei e" vi leer e" loar al Rey 
(Don Juan el II.) de gloriosa memoria, que de pocos dias acd 
de nos se parti6." 

As Don John II. is here mentioned as having died but 
a few days before, this prologue must have been written in 
1454. For an account of the other works of Fernan Perez 
one may consult Ticknor, vol. I, p. 423 et seq. Several of 
them exist in MS. in the National Library at Madrid, and 
have not yet been published, so far as I know. See Gallardo, 
Emayo, etc., vol. 11, Appendix, p. 126. 


The poems here subjoined are contained in three MSS. of 
the Bibliothe"que Nationale, Paris, described in the Catalogue 
under the numbers 587 () ; 588 ((7); and 591 (F). 1 Of 

1 Catalogue des Manuscrits Espagnols et des Manuscrils Poriugais, par M. A. 
Morel -Fatio, Paris, Imprimerie Nationale, 1892, p. 192. These poems are 
found likewise in the Cancionero de Ixar. See Gallardo, Ensayo de una 
Biblioteca Espanola, etc., Madrid, 1863, vol. I, col. 586 ; also in a Cancionero 
in the private library of the King of Spain. See Pidal, in the introduc- 
tion to the Cancionero de Baena, Madrid, 1851, p. LXXXVII. 

Since the above was written, I have had an opportunity to examine the 
Cancionero de Ixar, now in the National Library at Madrid. The " Cient 
Trinadas" begin on folio 295, and the other poems of Fernan Perez here 
printed, on folios 66 ff. The readings of this MS. agree, except in a very 
few instances, with B ; the variants are marked /. It may be mentioned 
here that the Cancionero de Ixar is composed of at least three separate col- 
lections, made at various times, and bound together in one volume. The 
first and earliest portion of this Cancionero ends on the verso of folio 329, 
where the date is given as follows : "A nueve dias de Marpo Afio MCCCCLXX." 
In the additional poems that follow, two handwritings are easily distin- 
guishable ; the first being probably as late as the middle of the sixteenth 
century; the last, perhaps, even of the seventeenth century. The poems 
here printed are likewise contained in volumes in and iv of a MS. Cancio- 
nero del Siylo XV, in ten volumes, also in the National Library at Madrid : 
No. 9 in vol. in, the others in vol. iv. All of these volumes are recent 
copies, the verses in volume in being copied from the Cancionero de Fray 
Inigo de Mendoza, now in the private library of the King; those in volume 
IV, from the Cancionero de Fernan Perez de Guzman, likewise in the King's 


these manuscripts, B is the oldest, being of the latter part 
of the fifteenth century; F, or that part of it, at least, that 
contains these poems, is perhaps equally old; while C is 
probably not much older than the middle of the sixteenth 
century. There are indications, both phonic and graphic, 
which show that F was copied by a Catalan scribe ; l B is 
doubtful, the deviations from the Castilian orthography being 
comparatively slight ; while C is evidently Castilian. A pecu- 
liarity of B, which is shared by neither of the others, is the 
constant occurrence of s where the etymology requires a z or p. 
Among the graphic modifications in F which indicate a 
Catalan scribe are : ch instead of c before a and o : iMchas, n, 
1 ; pocho, v, 4. The use of ny instead of n : senyor, iv, 5 ; 
enganyos: danyos, m, 66-67; senyalados, I, 108, and often. 
The loss of prosthetic e, even in cases where it is necessary for 
the metre: spiritual, I, 159 ; spanto, I, 236; stan, I, 279 ; scura, 
IV, 12; spejoj iv, 28; strella, II, 18, etc. The spelling linatge, 
in, 61. Initial I and li instead of the Castilian form II: lieuas, 

library. The variants of the latter MS. are marked N, in the few cases that 
my notes give them. 

An examination of the MSS. (except JV T , my collation of this copy being 
imperfect, and my attempt to consult the original, unsuccessful) shows that 
they fall into two divisions: BI and CF, though other differences show 
that neither one was copied from the other. The sequence of the stanzas 
in i and the next to the last stanza of No. xi, are evidence, moreover, that 
B and I do not derive from the same copy, while other differences between 
C and F show that the same holds good for these. To properly edit the 
poetry of Fernan Perez, the MS. in the King's library, would, of course, 
have to be consulted, while the date of the Cancwnero de Ixar, which was 
written probably within ten years of our poet's death, would alone entitle 
it to much credit ; still, the evident care with which B is written, together 
with the fact that it is perhaps equally as old as 7, has induced me to adhere 
to my original intention of merely publishing B, always indicating the vari- 
ants of the other MSS. and making only such obvious corrections as they 

1 It is true that most of the variations from the Castilian, that are noted, 
might be due to Aragonese influence ; linatge, however, in F is decisive for 
Catalan. Two others, at least, of the Spanish manuscript Cantioneros, in 
the National Library, are of Catalan origin. See Romania, in, p. 416. 

260 H. A. EENNEBT. 

VI, 19 (also in .B); lueuen (Hover), IX, 23 (both B and F); 
leuan, ix, 43 ( J?, lieuan) lieuen, x, 48 (B only) ; leuado, xi, 
112 (5); lamar, x, 27; Zenos, ix, 34. 

Among the phonic modifications in F are : Atonic u sub- 
stituted for o: suspiro, I, 167; turmento, I, 206. Atonic a 
instead of e: piadades, m, 70. The diphthong we for o: 
muestrados for mostrados, I, 107. T final, instead of d, is the 
rule in both -B and .F: grant, in, 73, and often ; riudat, in, 
2; virtutj i, 81 ; segunt, in, 98; also where it has no etymo- 
logical basis, as in ningunt, ix, 64 ; algunt, in, 36 ; probably 
influenced by segunt. The form , of the conjunction, has 
been everywhere changed to e, while for the s of B, a a has been 
substituted in every case where the etymology required it. 
There are few peculiarities in the vocalism in addition to those 
noted above. Latin ^ and o are regularly diphthongized ; of. 
fruente, in, 90, later f rente. 

Consonants. P is inserted between mn in condempno, I, 
239; solepne, ix, 30; this is not rare in Castilian, and quite 
frequent in Proven9al and Catalan, cf. Mussafia, Die Catalan- 
ische metrische Version der sieben weisen Meister, p. 159. 

Ct rhymes with t: defecto: subjeto, in, 24; it is merely a 
learned spelling ; the loan-words have t, cf. Grundriss, I, p. 
705. So pt: t, which it regularly became: escripto: bendito, 
Vin, 21 ; cf. abto = acto, vi, 40; but latinisms abound every- 
where in these poems. The forms alganqa, IV, 55 ; alganqado, 
algangar, vi, 37, seem to support the Arabic origin of this 
word, first favored by Diez, cf. Rom. Forschungen, iv, 388. 
As g however is not found in Castilian MSS., we may consider 
it as an inaccurate reproduction of a word that was strange to 
the Catalan scribe. Alcanzar took the place of older acalzar 
and enccdzar, and is a crossing of both, influenced at the same 
time by the numerous words with initial al-; percanzar fol- 
lowed ; the Port, has the older form percalgar. The rhyme 
digno: camino, ill, 108, shows that Fernan Perez, as indeed 
all Castilians, pronounced dino, for which the scribe substi- 
tuted the latinized spelling, and also wrote by false analogy 


magnifesto, xi, 88, which would scarcely have slipped from 
the pen of a Castilian. On the other hand the rhyme antigo: 
enemigo, I, 175-6, shows that the former is due to the poet; 
it is moreover the regular form in old Spanish. 


dent Trinadas d loor de la Virgen Maria. 

Alma mya, 
Noche e dia 
3 Loa la Virgen Maria. 

Esta adora, 
Esta onora, 
6 Desta su favor implora. 

Esta llama, 
A esta ama, 
9 Que sobre todos der- 

Sin seruicios, 
12 E nos libra de los vicios. 

Esta estrella 
Es aquella 
15 La qual, Virgen e don- 

Pari6 e cri6 

18 Al gran Rey que nos 

No tafiida 
21 De culpa, mas eximida 

Del maluado 
E grant pecado 
24 Quel mundo a contami- 

Asi junta 
Desque defunta 
27 En cuerpo e elma as- 

Fue al cielo 
Con tal vuelo 
30 Que en pensarlo me con- 

Non se lee 
Nin se cree 
33 Que jamas se vy6 nin vee. 

Que quien llama 
A esta dama 
36 Con deuoto ardor e flama, 

5. F a esta h. 8. I omits A. 9. N todos dos d. 12. 7e noblefa de 1. v. 
18. C al granrer. 19. Wanting in I. 21. Ode al por mas e; /del mundo 
mase. 23. C omits e. 24. /contraminado. 25. CAffinjunta; -Fasumpta; 
jWAnsi tacta. 26. N desque difinita. 27. Fen cuerpo e en a. disjunta; 
N en c. e a. despanta ; / disjunta. 29. N de tal b. 30. F Que en lo pre- 
sumir me c. 34. F lama ; C ama. 



Su gemido 
Non oydo 
39 Fuesse, mas bien respon- 

Esta rosa 
42 E clara pyedra preciosa, 

Con su uiso, 
Gozo e riso, 
45 Da & todos el parayso. 

Quien se inclina 
A la muy fina 
48 Dulze flor de clauellina, 

Sin fala9ia 
Aurd la grayia 
51 De aquel Rey quel 9ielo 

54 Esta reyna, e no dude- 


Quel favor 
Del su valor 
57 Nos dara salud e onor. 

E dotores, 
60 Sotiles conponedores, 

63 Toda du^e raelodya, 

Vos cantando, 
Vos rimando, 
66 Nunca cesses predicando, 

69 Ditando, versificando 

Los loores 
E honores 
72 De la rosa entre las flores. 

El que sabe 
Nunca acabe 
75 De loar, mas siempre 


A la santa 
De quien tanta 
78 Gloria se lee e canta. 

Cierto sea 
El que desea 
81 Loar su virtud, y crea 

Que aplaze 
E satisfaze 
84 Al Rey que d todos nos 


Mucho yerra 
El que cierra 
87 Su boca, e la pone en 

E no predicando 
90 Sus loores, nin cantando : 

37-39. Wanting in I. 38. F hoydo. 39. F fue. 42. C omits e. 45. I 
omits el. 50. Csug. 54. CF omit e ; / esta fin. 55. I en el f. ; F aquel f. 
58. .F horadores. 69. ZFdoctores. 60. .Fsuptiles. 65. / vos rezando ; CF 
nos. 66. / cesais ; F cease yo. 69. F dictando. 70. / omits los. 72. F 
desta rosa. 81. -Fvirtut. 84. Nlos. 85. CF mucha; / yera. 86. /en 
q. ciera. 87. N la boca. 89. JVnos. 90. IN los 1. e c. 


4 Por qual via 
Yo podria 
93 Fallar la saluacion mya 

Tan presta, 
Como por esta 
96 Virgen preciosa e on- 


Non por santos, 
Aunque quantos 
99 Son, e si fuessen die9 

tantos ; 
Ca su gloria 
E su vitoria 
102 Ex9ede toda mernoria. 

Antes creo 
Que, se veo 
105 E oygo dezir e leo 

Ser obrados 
E mostrados 
108 Milagros tan sefialados, 

A loores 
De doctores, 
1 1 1 Martires, e confessores ; 

De sagradas, 
114 Virgines purificadas ; 

Por fauor, 
Virtud e vigor 
117 Son desta preciosa flor. 

Si gozamos, 
120 Si de virtudes usamos. 

Si salud, 
Gracia, e virtud 
123 En vejez e jouentud ; 

Gran onor, 
Fama e valor, 
1 26 Riqueza, ques bien menor, 

Si tenemos, 
No dudemos 
129 Que desta Virgen lo aue- 


Ca orando, 
E obsecrando, 
132 Ella nos lo va inpetrando. 

Syempre exora 
Esta sefiora 
135 Al gran Rey quel pielo 

ad or a, 
Por fyeles, 
Por crueles, 
138 Obedyentes e rebeles ; 

Por diuerso, 
Aunque un verso 
141 El ruego vaya disperse. 

i O beata, 
144 Deo et angelis grata, 

91. F por la via. 98. jP haunque. 99. N fueren. 100. C la su g. 
105. F oyo. 107. C a mostrados; F muestrados. 108. F miraglos t. 
senyalados. 110. OF dolores. 116. IF omit e. 120. F virtut. 121. F 
salut: virtut: jouentut. 124. F grant; F always has final t; such variants 
are not noted hereafter. 126. / Requesta ques bien mayor. 128. F dub- 
demos. 131. IN observando. 132. C inpretando. 140. F hahunque; 
/ aunque universe. 141. IF e disperse. 144. F de los angeles g. 



Quanta cura, 

Muy antigo 

Virgen pura, 


147 Has de toda creatura ! 

177 Eres defension e abrigo. 

Byen lo vee 

Si padesco, 

El que cree 

A ti gradesco, 

150 Los tus milagros que lee. 

180 Porque es menos que 



E contricion, 

Si byen e, 

153 E eficaz oracion ; 

A ti dare 


183 Gra9ias e loor, porque 


Mas de pena 

156 Umildad e obediencia; 

Que de estrena 

Por tu ruego 

186 Soy digno, Sefiora buena. 

Les das luego 

Quyen vi6 tanta 

159 El espiritual fuego. 

Bondad quanta 

A ti amo, 

189 Es la tuya, Virgen san- 

A ti llamo, 


162 Porque eres el verde ramo 

Que vigor, 

Do la flor 

Salud e onor 

Del nuestro amor 

192 Procuras al pecador. 

165 Frutifico sin umor. 

; O benigna ! 

A ti miro, 

Tanto digna 

E sospiro, 

195 De loor quanto maligna 

168 Ca si me rebueluo e giro, 

Es la escura 

Non ver6, 


Nin fallare" 

198 De quyen tri as tanta 

171 De quyen tanto bien aure. 


A ti quyero, 


En ti espero, 

Luz del dia 

174 Porque del maligno e 

201 Non punir la maldad 



145. F sancta cura. 150. / miraglos. 152. N contancion. 153. F 
omits e. 158. F las ; CF da. 159. F e spiritual. 161. /clamo. 162. 1 omits 
el verde ramo. 163. / de la f. 164. I de. 167. FI a ti suspire. 168. C 
Quasi; F casi me bueluo e regiro ; ^resgiro. 171. -Fabre. 173. Jspero. 
181. Fatibien; IN he. 184. /m. da pena. 185. Fedeestrena. 186. F 
no digno. 200. C lus. 201. C pugnar ; 1 consumit la m. m. 


Byen rendir 
A mal venir 
204 Quyen lo podrd esto ser- 


E amable, 
207 Dul9e e muy deleitable 

Es loar, 
210 Tus virtudes e dictar. 

Quyen el mar 
Puede agotar, 
213 E las estrellas contar, 

Aquel cuente, 
Si se syente 
21 6 A ello suficiente, 

En memoria 
O ystoria, 

219 La tu excelencia e glo- 

Si tentado 
O turbado 
222 Soy del diablo maluado, 

Al tu accorro 
Me recorro, 
225 E sin toda duda corro. 

Si penado, 

228 Affligido e molestado 
[De] pobredad, 

231 E de otra aduersidad ; 

Si yo siento 
Su tormento, 
234 A ti, Virgen, me presento. 

So tu manto 
Todo espanto 
237 Pierdo, e con dul9e canto 

Loo ti, 
Condenpno mi, 
240 Porque nunca te serui. 

So tus alas, 
Porque valas 
243 A mi e mis obras malas, 

Td repares 
Quando orares 
246 Al tu fyjo e supplicares; 

Busco abrigo, 
Pues contigo 
249 No temo al mal enemigo, 

Muy loados, 
E famados, 
252 Vos, poetas laureados, 

A Maria 
Toda via 
255 Vostra alta fantasia 

Siempre alabe, 
E nunca acabe, 
258 Ca mas que vos dyreys 

203. F beuir. 204. N sentir ; F sto seruir ; the line is wanting in 1. 
208. C deuen loar. 218. Fen; IN e y. 219. OF la tu excelente g. 
225. /acoro; JVsocorro. 227. <7tribulado. 231. 1 toda. 236. Fsp&nto. 
239. 1 condepno. 240. F nunqua. 243. F omits a. 245. OF Quanto. 246. 
OF omit e. 249. F el. 252. / dos p. 253. CF Amaria. 254. F has 
simply via. 255. F la v. ; I yo loo con alegria. 257. C adcabe. 258. I 
que mas que los dires c. 



Mai espendido 
261 Es vuestro dezir polido, 

En loores 
De sefiores 
264 Terrenales, e de amores. 

Mas que loar, 
267 Se puede el vuestro lla- 


Quyen se vee 
Sabyo, e cree, 
270 Su siencia aqui lanplee. 

I O sefiora ! 
A quien ad ora, 
273 De cuya virtud se inflora 

El jardin 
Donde sin fin 
276 Cherubin e seraphin 

A ti loando, 
E no cesando, 

279 Santa sacra estan can- 


Huerta signada, 
282 Fuente e puerta sin en- 


Que non vi6 
Jamas, ni entr6 
285 Si no el Rey que nos 

En Ge~rico rosa, 
288 E oliua [e]speciosa 

De Cades, 
Palma e 9ipres 
291 Que en el monte Syon es : 

Clara aurora, 
Mas decora 
294 Que la luna, por ml ora 

Al diuino 
Uno e trino, 
297 Cuyo espiritu en ti vino; 

E tti guya 
El alma mia 
300 A la celestial via. Amen. 

Ymno d sant Luchas. 1 

Animal del qual nos canta 
La vision de Esechiel, 
Sabio discipulo de aquel 
Ypocras de fama tanta ; 

260. F despendido. 261. C el vuestro. 270. F la emplee ; /su saber a 
que cunpliere. 273. N de cuita; F virtud implora; 1 se inplora. 275. F 
onde. 277. C omits A ti. 278. O a ti no c. 279. F santa santa stan c. ; J 
esta sacra esta c. 280. 1 cerada. 281. F vera e signada; / e guardada. 
282. / fuiste e p. 287. 1 e generosa. 288. / e oliva muy preciosa. 
294. Cpor un ora. 297. C en tu vino. 298. Fen tu guia. 

l Here, and in the following poems, the orthography of B is given. 


5 E de la gente muy santa 

En sus actos coronista, 
Pintor de la dulye vista 
Que los diablos espanta. 

Fuyste del santo portero 
10 Plenariamente ynstruydo, 

Para ser constituydo 

Euangelista tei^ero ; 

Despues fiel conpanero 

Del grant vaso de eleccion, 
1 5 Que de tu fe e devocion 

Es notable plegonero. 

Fe tan copiosa y plena 
Es dada lo que escreuiste, 
No de vista, mas que oyste, 
20 Y por region agena ; 

Como aquel que en la grant pena 

De la cruz non se parti6 

Del Sen" or, y res9ibi6 

En guarda su madre buena. 

25 Lo qual es grant argumento 

De tu vida virtuosa, 

Pues tu euangelica prosa 

Aprou6 el sacro convento ; 

Aun es regla y documento 
30 Para que sea creydo 

El justo en lo que non vido, 

Pues fama lo faze esento. 

O Lucas, por nacion Syro, 
E medico por ofi^io, 

16. Cpregonero. 18. F sereniste. 23. B resabio. 29. J^haun. 32. C 
le faze ; F lo faz exempto. 

268 H. A. RENNERT. 

35 Relator del sacrifigio 

Del deyficado viro ; 
Del vulto precioso rairo, 
Virginal, sotil pintor, 
Ora por ml, pecador, 

40 Que mal biuyendo deliro. 


A Santa Leoottdia. 

Defensora e patrona 
De la ynperial 9iudat, 
Que fue de la majestat 
Gotica trono e corona ; 
5 Mi negligencia perdona, 

Sy tan presto e diligente 
Non loe, nin dignamente, 
Tu santisima persona. 

Desden, du^e madre mia, 
10 Non fue, nin mengua de amor, 

Esto sabe aquel Sen" or 
Que el mundo rige e guia ; 
Mas cres9iendo cada dia 
Copia de tribulaciones, 
15 Que son grandes turbaciones 

Del que en este mundo fia. 


Dizese quel yntellecto 
Cres9e con la vexation, 
Creolo, sy su inten9ion 
No pasa el termino recto ; 

37. CFemiro. 38. F subtil. 40. jBZbuyendo. 

III. 2. Ccibdad. 6. C omits e. '7. Slnon loare d. 9. .B/ En vos dulfe 
m. m. 10. JSI non fue mengua de a. 12. (7et lo guya. 19. OF infeccion. 


Mas quando el flaco subjecto 
En estremo es conbatido, 
De ne9esario el sentido 
Padespe mengua e defecto. 

25 Aflegido e molestado 

De la contraria fortuna, 

Sy fortuna ay alguna, 

O por pena de pecado 

Fue tu loar retardado, 
30 j O Virgen clara e serena ! 

Que nin bendita ni (h)ordena 

El yngenio mal tratado. 

Non porque vayan cesando 

Un punto las afi^iones, 
35 Mas por tus interpesiones 

Algunt tanto respirando 

De la flaqueza, sacando 

Fuer9a, sy plaze al Sefior, 

De tod os bienes actor, 
40 Voy tus loores cantando. 

Naciste, Virgen muy santa, 
En el reyno castellano, 
E del vergel toledano 
Eres muy preciosa planta ; 
45 En el tienpo que fue tanta 

La rauia de Da9iano 
Contra el pueblo cristiano, 
Que la fama nos espanta. 

De genera9ion muy noble, 
50 Virgen santa, des9endiste, 

29. B relatado; F detardado. 34. F him p. 36. BIF respinando; 
C algun quanto. 39. C ator. 40. B doctos loores c. 41. B Nasaste. 
48. Espanta. 

270 H. A. RENNERT. 

E lo que vale al trasdoble, 
En la santa fe nayiste ; 
Non turbada quando oyste 
Que venia el celerado, 
55 Mas con gesto muy pagado 

Al martirio te ofre9iste. 

El maestro malecioso, 
Usando de su asti^ia 
Diabolica, e versucia, 

60 Mostr6se manso, amoroso ; 

Loando el tu generoso 
Linaje e tierna edat, 
Fingiendo humanidat 
En cora9on engafioso. 

65 Enpero porque dubdo 

Yaler tanto sus engafios, 

Luego con terribles daflos 

E penas te amenaz6, 

Dixiste : no a9epto yo, 
70 Mai onbre, tus piedades, 

Ni temo tus crueldades, 

Amo al que me redirni6. 

Grant linaje no es virtud, 
Mas sonbra vana e menguada, 

75 Formosura e jouentud 

Flores son de alborada ; 
Muy frescas con la rociada, 
March itas con el sol fuerte, 
Tus tormentas no dan muerte, 

80 Mas vida glorificada. 

51. F tres doble ; / La que v. 53. C non te turba ; F non te turba. 
54. Colorado. 55. C jesto. 59. OF omit e. 62. Flinatge. 63. BI de 
huraanidat. 66,67. Fenganyos: danyos. 70. Fpiadades. 73. Flinatge. 
77. C la rosada ; B omits la. 78. F mas chichas. 


Quo* deraandas pues, mal onbre? 
Dexa tu braueza e arte, 
Jamas aquel du^e nonbre 
De Jesus de mi se parte ; 
85 Su cruz es mi estandarte, 

Sus clauos mi prote9ion, 
Su Ian9a mi corayon 
Trespass6 de parte a parte. 

Su corona espinada 
90 De mi fruente es diadema, 

Perla nin pre9iosa gema 

A ella no es conparada ; 

Mi sed farta e sa9iada 

Es con su vinagre e fiel, 
95 La mi gloria es el vergel 

Do su carne fue en9errada. 

Viendo asy tu fe constante, 
Segunt que lo afirmo yo, 
For fuer9a no presumi6 
100 Quebrantar tal diamante; 

Tir6 via e paso auante, 
Dexando a ti encar9elada, 
Creyendo que en su tornada 
Te faria mudar semblante 

105 Quando a tu noticia vino 

Ser aqui la ruciada 
De la sangre purpurada 
De aquel terno santo e di(g)no ; 

84. G Jesus de mi no se parte. 86. B proctecion. 88. B traspasado. 
93. .Fset. 95. 1 del v. 97. C Veyendo aquel tu fee constante ; .Fviendo aqui. 
98. C de artes desespero; F de artes desespero yo. 100. F crebantar. 
105. I nopia. 106. El ser aguila rufiada; auila ropiada; F auila 

272 H. A. RENNERT. 

E de aquel mesmo camino 
110 Santa Julia en la batalla 

Triunfar con sant Olalla, 
Confesando el rey diuino ; 

Non el martirio temiendo, 

Mas el 9ielo deseando, 
115 E la tierra desdefiando, 

Deuota oracion faziendo ; 

Las manos a" Dios tendiendo, 

El espiritu enbiaste 

Al Seflor que tanto amaste, 
120 Con el qual reynas biuiendo. 

Myenbrete, Virgeu, la hora 
Que dexiste al grant perlado 
Santo, e de Espafia primado, 
Por tl biuo ; mi Sefiora, 
125 El e tti orad agora, 

Porque por mi ore aquella 
Al su fijo, de quien ella 
Tanto ynpetra quanto ynplora. 


Ymno al arcangel sant Miguel. 

Principe muy ex9ellente 
De la sacra gerarchia, 
E de aquella monarchia 
Celestial presidente ; 
5 Del Sefior onipotente 

Sieruo constante e leal, 

III. Ctriunpho. 112. F al rey. In C lines 115 and 116 are interchanged. 
115. F desdenyando. 120. B buiiendo; G beuyendo. 124. FC blue. 
127. Ftufijo. 128. Cimpreta. 

IV. In C lines 4 and 5 are interchanged. 5. F senyor. 6. C omits e. 


Enemigo capital 
De la Iu9ifera gente. 

Quando aquella criatura 
10 Que muy clara fue criada, 

E despues por su maluada 

Presun9ion tornada escura ; 

Con orgullo e desraesura 

Dixo : en aquilon porn6 
15 Mi sylla, e ygual ser6 

De aquel cuyo soy fechura. 

Muchas criaturas bellas 
De la angelica natura, 
Seguieron esta locura 
20 Por la qual se dize dellas 

Que el ter9io de las estrellas 
Cayeron con su doctor 
A do nunca mengua ardor, 
Fuego, fumo, e 9entellas. 

25 Til, arcangel muy pre9ioso, 

Premi9ia de lealtad, 

De consta^ia, fe, y verdad 

Un espejo muy lunbroso; 

Todo ardiente e ynflamoso 
30 Contra el colegio maluado, 

Con espada e bien armado 

Fuyste sienpre riguroso. 

La estrella matutina, 
Con todo su cruel vando, 

12. F scura. 13. C argullo. 16. / que soy f. ; C so. 18. C omits la. 
19. Fata. 21. F strellas. 23. F nunqua. 24. C fuego et f . ; F e fuego 
fumo e centellas. 26. / primicia de lealtades. 28. F him spejo. 29. C 
con zelo muy viguroso ; then follows I. 29 of the text above, while I. 31 is 
wanting; F con sello m. v. with the same arrangement as C; 1. 30 in C 
inflamado. 31. / con la e. 32. G fueste forte et riguroso. 33. Estrella. 

274 H. A. RENNERT. 

35 Cay6 relanpagueando 

Al suelo de la 9entina ; 

Donde 9ufre e resyna 

Los queraa syn piedat, 

Blasfemando su maldat 
40 De la justi9ia diuina. 

El Sefior que al mali9ioso 
Non dexa syn pui^ion, 
Nin syn remuner^ion 
Al leal e virtuoso* 
45 Punido el escandaloso, 

Fizo & tl su alferez santo, 
E del su colegio tanto 
Prin9ipe muy glorioso. 

Porque los sus benefi^ios 
50 Son de tanta ex9ellen9ia 

Que con gran magnin*9en9ia 

Sobran todos los serui9ios ; 

Afladiendo mas 069103, 

De ti fi6 la balan9a, 
55 Donde por virtud se alcan9a 

Gloria, e pena por vi9ios. 

Ven9edor de los maluados, 
Capitan de los leales, 
Juyzios justos e yguales 
60 Son en tu peso afinados ; 

Los ynojos ynclinados 
[Yo] te ruego noche e dia, 
Que d la Sefiora mia 
Supliques por mis pecados. 

35. C relanpeguando. 37. B rasina ; C reyina ; F suffre e rasina. 42. C 
pugnicion. 45. F scandalosso. 47. C ed al su c. santo; F omits e. 53. F 
anyadiendo. 55. B algan9a. 56. C sin vifios. 62. B la noche e dia. 



Fyn de loores de santos. 

Como fizo Bonifayio 
Del panteon todos santos, 
Faziendo fiesta de tantos 
En un dia e poco espayio ; 
5 Yo aqui, aunque no 53910, 

Fago fyn a los loores 
De vos, muy dul9es sen" ores, 
Con este breue Iauda9io. 

Quien d vos, & ml onora, 
10 A mi esperne quien & vos, 

Son estas palabras dos 

Del rey d quien el pielo adora ; 

Flores de quien se enamora 

Todo el santo parayso, 
15 Dad loor noil ynterciso 

A la muy santa Sefiora. 

Floresced, pre9iosas flores, 
Reholed, lirios muy santos, 
Suenen vuestros dn^es cantos, 
20 Calandrias e ruyseflores ; 

Martires e confesores, 
E virgines con las aues, 
Cuyos cantos muy suaues 
Sienpre dan d Dios loores. 

25 Resplandes9ientes estrellas, 

Fazed claro e luminoso 

4. F en him d. e pocho espascio. 5. F yo asi h aunque n. s. 7. Ode 
vosotros d. s. 8. CF esta. 9. C Q. vos ama a mi o. 10. F sperne ; esper- 
nir, cf. It. spernere. 11. F stas. 12. B aqui. 18. <7redoled; .Fredolet. 
22. B son las a.; Fe las v. con 1. a. 26. Ffazet. 

276 H. A. KENNERT. 

Este mundo tenebroso, 
Con vuestras virtudes bellas ; 
Claras e biuas 9entellas 
30 Del diuino fuego ar^esas, 

Orad con manos estesas 
A la flor de las donzellas. 


A santa Elisabel d* Ungria. 1 

Gra9ias d santa Maria 
Por cuyas suplica9iones, 
Meritos e ynte^esiones, 
El nuestro Sefior enbia 
5 En sus sieruos cada dia 

Deseos e deuo9iones, 
Deuotas contenpla9iones, 
i O santa reyna de Ungria ! 

Elizabet muy pre9iosa, 
10 La qual syn par e enxenplo 

Entre las reynas contenplo, 

Mas santa, mas virtuosa ; 

Muy odorifica rosa 

Entre las flores de aquella 
15 Huerta que la grant don9ella 

Plant6 tan marauilloso. 

De las santas conjugadas, 
Dexando a santa Ana aparte, 

30. -Fancessas. 31. <7estensas; Fextessas. 

1 Ymnos a santos e a santa Elisabel de U. ; C Ysabel ; F Elisabet. 

10. Comitee. 11. BF ante. 12. Cymasv. 13. Codorifera. 15. BIF 
muerta. 17. .B sojudgadas ; /soluzgadas. 18. Cadparte. 


Tti lieuas el estandarte, 
20 E de las canonizadas 

Reynas bien auenturadas, 
Dignas de clara memoria, 
Aunque Elena ouo grant gloria 
De las reliquias falladas. 

25 Qual discre9ion e elegan9ia 

Ay tan florida que baste 
A contar corno juntaste 
En tu nueua y tierna ynfan9ia 
Tan(ta) copiosa abundancia 

30 De virtud e santidat, 

Inno9en9ia e castidat, 
Omilldat, con grant co[n]stan9ia. 

Si yo no(n) soy engafiado 

Mas pre9io es de dexar, 
35 Renunciar, desanparar 

Lo poseydo e ganado ; 

Que el que no(n) es alcan9ado, 

Aunque se pueda alcan9ar, 

Menospreciar, desdeflar, 
40 Pero es abto asaz loado. 

En la dignidat real 
06910 seruil usaste, 
La continen9ia guardaste 
En el matrimonial ; 

19. I lyeuas. 23. C duo. 25. G Q. exe^ipio o eleganpia. 27. O 
mostraste. 33. I so ; F enganyado. 34. F omits de ; C mas perfepion es 
dexar ; perhaps Mas prefiado es d. 36. F possehido. 37. B alganpado ; 
C lo que. 38. B a don que se p. alganjar. 39. F desdenyar. 40. C ato ; 
F acto. 42. FC de ofi9io. The sequence of the verses has been changed 
in this stanza. In B it is 42, 44, 45 ; in C 42, 44, 43, 46, but a correction 
indicates that 1. 45 should be in place of 1. 44 ; in F 42, 44, 43, 45. 43. 
Bl la conpien9ia tu g. ; F la consyien9ia g. 

278 H. A. RENNERT. 

45 Asy al Seflor amaste 

Que, por tu gracia se leen, 
Doze muertos, e se creen, 
Que & vida resu9itaste. 

A ti miren las princesas 
50 Reales, e en tl reguarden 

Las que con cobdi9ia arden, 
E deste mundo son presas ; 
Sy quieren sanas ser esas, 
E de penas escapar, 

55 Cunpleles seguir e amar 

Las tus deuotas en presas. 


Ymno d Nuestra Senora, enbiado al prior de Lupiana fray 
Estevan de Leon. 

La flor que de eterna laude 
Es mas digna non que una, 
Mas que quantas so la luna 
Nascieron, e raas aplaude 
5 Al Seflor. que sienpre aude 

Por nos otros suplicar, 
En esto e en Dios loar 
Se letifica e congaude. 

La gentil perla que esmalta 
10 Todo el 9ielo e lo clares9e, 

Mas que los angeles alta 
Refulge e resplandes9e ; 

45. CetsialS. amaste. 46. BIFsu. 53. F sanas e illesas; Cetylesas. 
54. FC de las penas e. 55. Ccumplelos. 

VII. 1. F eternal. 3. B quantos. 9. C omits que. 10. C esclarespe. 
11. B q. en los a. 


Magnifica, aumenta e cres9e 
Los diuinales loores, 

15 E por DOS, muy pecadores, 

Orando nunca fenes9e. 

El 9afir que faze ornado 
El 9ielo con las estrellas, 
Sus virtudes digo aquellas 
20 Con que pares9e argentado ; 

El su primero tratado 
Es sienpre loar d Dios, 
E inter9eder por nos 
Es el segundo ditado. 

25 La discreta ynte^esora, 

Con yndustria ynestimable, 

Primero faze placable 

Al Sefior, e lo enamora ; 

E por conseguiente ynplora 
30 Remision de nuestros vi9ios, 

Quien podrd los benen^ios 

Regular desta Sefiora ? 

Rescebid, padre honorable 

De la dulce religion, 
35 Que segunt mi opinion 

Es de todas mas amable, 

Este loor venerable 

De la celestial rosa, 

Cuya virtud gloriosa 
40 Vos faga a Dios agradable. 

Muestrate, Virgen, ser madre, 
Homillmente suplicando 

13. .Baumente. 17. BlF$a,far. 18. Estrellas. 23. BI e sienpre en- 
tender ; G en interpeder ; F e entender p. n. 27. N pecable. 

280 H. A. KENNERT, 

Al diuine eterno Padre, 
Su grapia nos ynpetrando. 
45 Muestrate madre mandando 

Al tu Fijo, que mand6 
Onrrar los padres e di6 
Luenga vida en aguilando, 

Muestrate, Virgen Maria, 
50 Ser madre osadamente, 

Mandando al fijo obediente, 
Pulsa, ynsiste e ptfrfia. 
Muestrate, Sefiora mia, 
Ser madre, e sey ynportuna, 
55 E fard, syn dubda alguna, 

Gran fruto tu osadia. 

Pues & nos, gentes maluadas, 
Di6 liyenyia e libertad 
A la ynportunidad 
60 Ser atreuidas e osadas, 

Muestrate, Virgen, aosadas, 
Ser madre, e tti veras 
Que en pedir mas tardaras 
Que en las grapias ser ganadas. 

65 Toma aquel dul9e ;aue! 

De [la] boca de(l) Grabiel, 

Ecce ancilla, con el 

Beruo omill e suaue ; 

Abrirds con esta llaue 
70 Las puertas de la clemen9ia ; 

44. C enpretando ; O (Cane. Gen.) implorando. 47. G que dio. 48. 
aguilando, v. Romania, iv, 253 ; Q aguinaldo. 53. B Con ruego ynsiste e p. 
54. B syn ynportuna ; F y ser importuna ; G madre e sey in terportuna. 
59. Cetalai. 61. F a osadas. 62. G omits tu. 66. C Gabriel. 67. O y 
con el. 69. F con sta laue. 


Considera tu poter^ia, 
Non te sera" el osar graue. 

Pues aquella porfiada 

Solicita Cananea, 
75 Pero que ynfiel e rea, 

Non se fal!6 desdefiada ; 

Demas de serle otorgada 

La ynportuna peti9ion, 

La su fe e deuo9ion 
80 Del Sefior fue muy loada. 

Tti, Reyna glorificada, 
Fuente de virginidat, 
Corona de humildat, 
Tanto mas ser&s osada 
85 Quanto mas aventajada 

Eres desta muge^illa, 
Siendo trono, tenplo e sylla 
De la palabra encarnada. 

Quien cree ser desdettada, 
90 Virgen, tu suplica9ion, 

Creer syn discrepion 

Ser tti de madre negada, 

Tti, princesa muy sagrada ; 

Falso es el antecedente, 
95 Falsissimo el consequente ; 

Madre eres yndubitada. 

Myenbrate, Virgen prepiosa, 
Que por tu humildat el Padre 

72. G no ser '1 considerar graue. 75. B ynfiel erea ; F erra ; (? aunque 
infiel y rea. 77. G mas de le ser o. 78. C interportuna. 79. N donapion ; 
jBJe la su f. 83. B e corona. 87. G s. templo, torno, silla. 92. G omits de. 
93. C absit processa s. ; F absit princessa ; so G and N. 95. IS altissimo. 
96. JVM.esindilitada. 

282 H. A. BENNERT. 

Te elegi6 por digna madre 
100 Del su Fijo, j O gloriosa ! 

Esfuer9ate, santa rosa, 
Nunca canses ni te enojes ; 
Que dubdas ? ^ porque te encoges ? 
Manda, atreuete e osa. 

105 El tu Bernaldo deuoto, 

E sieruo muy singular, 

Como yo aqui lo noto, 

Nos anima d te rogar ; 

A ti nos manda llamar 
110 En nuestras tribula9iones, 

E manda en las tenta9iones 

A ti, estrella, mirar. 

En la ora peligrosa, 

En qualquier triste a9idente, 
115 Mira sienpre e puramente 

A la Reyna gloriosa. 

De tu boca aquella prosa 

No se parta, ave Maria, 

Su memoria de" alegria 
120 Al cora9on do reposa. 

Non yerras siguiendo & ella, 
Tan justas son sus carreras ; 
Confiando en esta estrella, 
Nin temes nin desesperas. 
125 Las actoridades veras 

E dul9es de Sant Bernardo, 
Me en9ienden asy que ardo 
En flamas muy pla9euteras. 

100. B e gloriosa; G del su Hijo glorioso. 102. CFnin canses. 103. C 
en cojes. 104. Cm. a. rosa. 105. Q Y tti B. 108. BI no es a mi a te r ; 
F no es anima a. 109. <7mando. 111. G relaciones. 114. O otra acidente. 
115. Cparamyente. 119. Cda alegria. 121. B yerra; O aquella. 122. 
Ctus. 124. C temas. 126. B O dulces. 127. C pero que ardo. 



A Nuestra Senora. 

I O sacra esposa del espiritu santo ! 
De quien nas9i6 el sol de la justicia, 
| O resplandor ! j O grandiosa Ieti9ia 
Del parayso, e del ynfierno espanto ! 
5 i O prote9ion, conseruacion e manto 

De pecadores ! j O caxa gloriosa 
De aquella joy a oliente e pre9iosa 
A quien alaba el serafino canto ! 

Como podrd toda la humanidat 
10 Renderte gra9ias nin fazer tal seriu^io 

Que digno sea tanto benefi9io, 
Quando se acuerda que por tu humildat 
Tanto agrades9e & la diuinidat 
Que en ti se fizo Dios, nuestro hermano ; 
15 j O excelente obra del pueblo humano ! 

I O ynefable e du^e caridat ! 

De tanta gra9ia, Sefiora, contenta 
La tu clemen9ia e anior ynfinito, 
Pues nuestras culpas continua e atenta 
20 Ora9ion faze al tu fijo bendito ; 

I Qual pensamiento, qual lengua 6 escrito, 
Sefiora mia, lo podr& regra9iar, 

1. CF spirtu. 2. B omits la. 3. e grandiosa. 4. .Fspanto. 5. B e 
protecion ; F a p. 6. / e caxa. 7. O loculenta preciosa ; F 1. e p. 8. O 
serafico. 9. B todo; B I omit la; J^podera. 11. B tal beneficio. 12. B 
quanto. 13. Cagradaste. 14. O nuestro dios nuestro h.; F omits se. 15. 
Co excelente gloria; B omits o. 16. grant c. 17. CFno con- 
tenta. 20. BNFsu fijo ; O fazes a tu f. 21. B nin 1. nin e.; C qual 1. qual 
espirto ; F qual p. q. lengua only. 

284 H. A. RENNERT. 

Qual eloquer^ia, qual discrete loar? 
Al tu Bernaldo lo dexo e remito. 

25 Yo creo ser conclusion vera e clara, 

Syn requerir otra ynterpreta9ion, 
Que tu favor e santa obsecra9ion 
Sostiene el mundo, conserua e anpara 
Las criaturas que en esta vida amara 

30 Jamas non 9esan al Seflor ofendiendo, 

Nin tti, Sefiora, 9esas ynter9ediendo 
Al fijo tuyo que por ti nos repara. 


A la singular virginidat de Nuestra Sefiora. 

Sy yo mi ynsufi9ien9ia, 
E baxa yndignidat 
Miro, e tu santidat 
E gloriosa excellen9ia, 
Sefiora, en cuya presen9ia 
El 9ielo todo se ynclina, 
E en quien la virtud diuina 
su ' 

Qual serd mi presun9ion, 
10 E quanto mi atreuimiento, 

Auiendo conoscimiento 

De mi pobre condi9ion, 

E de tu gran perfec9ion, 

Sy te cuydo dar loor ? 
15 O ser sobra de amor, 

O mengua de discre9ion. 

23. F q. discretion loar. 24. F e lo remito. 25. EG <mit vera. 27. B 
Q. el tu f. e obsecration. 28. F al mundo. 29. B su vida. 32. C mas r. 
IX. 8. (78apien9ia. 9. (7 prosun9ion. 10. C adtuuimyento. 


Mas por que el amor perfecto 
Desecha todo t(h)emor 
E plaze nuestro Seflor, 
20 Sano e deuoto yntellecto ; 

E sobre recto 6 non recto 
Lueue(n) e(l) su sol ynflama, 
Catard del que ti ama 
Mas su fe que su defecto. 

25 La tu grant benignidat, 

Muy du^e Virgen Maria, 

Me da deuota osadia, 

Pero con toda omildat, 

Loar tu virginidat 
30 En alto solepne grado, 

Non segunt el vulgo errado, 

Virgen, en comunidat. 

De virgines e don9ellas 

Llenos son los calendarios, 
35 Non bastan los breuiarios 

A las Clones de aquellas ; 

Afirmo que todas ellas 

De obra fueron guardadas, 

E por tales collocadas 
40 Mas altas que las estrellas. 

Pero de las tenta9iones, 
E subitos mouimientos, 
Palabras que lieuan vientos, 
E noturnas ylusiones ; 
45 Los humanos coragones 

Nunca fueron atreguados, 
Mas remotos e apartados 
De tf, por diuinos dones. 

21. C omits e. 22. F lueuen e su s. ; C llueue y su s. 28. I para con t. o. 
30. C sublime ; .Fsolempne. 34. Flenos. 43. lieuan. 45. B corapiones. 

286 H. A. RENNERT. 

Tti fuyste virgen obrando, 
50 Virgen en tus sentimientos, 

Virgen en tus pensamientos, 

Virgen dormiendo e velando ; 

Departiendo e razonando 
, Sienpre la virginidat, 
55 En nueua e madura (h)edat 

La fuyste continuando. 

De virgines se pagaron 
Los 9elerados vapones, 
E con promesas e dones 
60 Su sauta honestad tentaron ; 

Virgen, los que & tl miraron, 
Asy fue el carnal fuego 
En ellos muerto, que luego 
En ningunt mal nou pensaron. 

65 En la ley & Moysen dada, 

Tti diste principio santo 

A esta virtud, que tanto 

Es en el 9ielo pres9iada, 

Sy de virgines amada 
70 E seguida fue despues, 

E agora asy lo es, 

For tu puerta fue su entrada. 

^Sabes tti, Sefiora raia, 

Sabelo aquel en quien creo, 
75 Qual fue sienpre mi deseo ? 

A te loar todavia ; 
Non digo quanto deuria, 
Ca esto, quien bastara 

50. BI mouimentos ; C consentimyentos, and changes places with I. 51. 
52. OF durmyendo. 53. F de partiendo. 59. SI e sus promesas. 63. B 
muertos. 64. For ningunt, cf. l Grundriss,' pp. 708, 762. 70. F segunda. 
71. C agora si assi lo es. 74. Cyocreo; BF omit en. 78. l^Caesto; CI 
que a esto. 


Mas, sy & tl agradara 
80 Eso poco que sabria ? 


Ymnos d los gozos de Nuestra Sefiora. 

Virgen que fuyste criada 

Ab inigio et eterno, 

Del Rey diuino e superno 

Elegida e consagrada ; 

De aquel viyio conseruada, 

Comun e oreginal, 

De que la gente umanal 

Toda fue contaminada. 

La til genera9ion vino 
10 De reyes, tan gloriosa 

Qual conuiene la esposa 

Del espiritu diuino ; 

Tu eres el verde espino 

Que del fuego qued6 sano, 
15 De ser saluo el pueblo humano 

Tti sola fuyste el camino. 

i O bendita ! que creyste, 
Porque obedeyiste, madre, 
Del muy altisimo padre 
20 Es fijo el que concebiste ; 

Syn pena e dolor pariste, 
Mas, como faria dolor 
El que fue consolador 
Del mundo lloroso e triste ? 

79. C Mas se ti a. 

10. B reys. 11. C sposa. 17. C Bendita por que c. 18. B per que. 
19. Csantissimo. 20. BI el fijo que c. 22. Cfizyera. 

288 H. A. RENNERT. 

25 Coil los pastores gozosa, 

Que velauan las sus greyes, 

Allegre con los tres reyes, 

E la estrella gloriosa ; 

E con Simeon gaudiosa 
30 Por las palabras primeras, 

Pero con las postrimeras 

No dubdo que temorosa. 

Dulpe te fue la partida 

Al tu Jusep reuelflda, 
35 Porque seria conseruada 

Al santo nifio la vida ; 

Delectable la venida, 

Pues era el tirano muerto, 

Que las naues en el puerto 
40 Quem6 con rauya encendida. 

Los sus miraglos mirando, 
E sus palabras oyendo, 
Entre ti las conferiendo, 
En tu cora9on seruando ; 
45 Quanto dulcor fue gustando 

Tu alma, yo la eontenplo, 
Aunque despues en el tenplo 
Te dolias, non lo fallando. 

Yo redugo & tu memoria 
50 Actos dulces e grayiosos, 

Non los trist9S e llorosos, 

Aunque dignos de grant gloria ; 

Paso por la vera estoria 

De la muy santa pasion, 
55 Que de nuestra reden9ion 

Report6 clara victoria. 

26. B greys : reys. 29. B e consimen grandiosa ; / consymen gaudiosa. 
Cf.TheGo8pdofSt.Luke,u,29-Z2. 31. Cf. St. Luke, H, 34-35. 45. idulje. 


Vengo con todo deseo 
A honor e gloria suya, 
Cantando con aleluya 
60 Gloria in excelsis Deo ; 

Non solo d la que leo 
Relatar con deuopion, 
Mas la que syn fic9ion, 
E syn toda dubda creo. 

65 Digolo por la sagrada 

Resurecion que dubdaron 

Los que lo desanpararon, 

Mas de ti sienpre esperada ; 
I Como seria en9elada 
70 Tal obra d madre tan santa, 

Pues la Magdalena canta 

Ser a" ella demostrada ? 

El que te quiso dar parte 

De su ynjuriosa pasion, 

75 De su cruz e su pasion, 

I Como querria apartarte 

De su gloria, e yelarte 

Acto de tanta alegria? 

Diriamos que mas queria 
80 Afligirte que alegrarte. 

Los padres onrrar mand6, 
E en su remunera9i'on 
De la tal venerapion 
Luenga vida prometi6 ; 
85 Pues de aqui me esfuer9O yo 

A prouar deuotamente 
Que & ti, madre excellente, 
Antes se ma(g)nifest6. 

62. Ctudeuo9ion. 69. C Como te seria celada. 70. Co madre. 74-75. 
So in BIG. 79. IB diremos. 82. C omits su. 85. Coffresco yo. 

290 H. A. RENNERT. 

Espiritualmente veo 
90 Aquel triunfo ynefable, 

Mas glorioso e notable 

Que de esar, nin Ponpeo ; 

Quant d 11196 e grajioso creo 

Ser & ti consola9ion 
95 Tu santisima apension, 

Dexando este mundo feo. 

El tienpo que aca quedaste 
Fue para edification 
De la nueua planta9ion 
100 Del fijo que tanto amaste ; 

Ynstruyste e ynformaste 
Descipulos e euangelistas, 
E cosas ellos non vistas, 
Nin sabidas, reuelaste. 

105 Aquel dia ya llegado 

De la tu fin gloriosa, 

Que ante Dios es pre9iosa, 

Por ti tanto deseado ; 

Fue tu gozo acabado 
110 E conplido, Virgen alma, 

Quando el cuerpo con el alma 

A la gloria fue leuado. 

Cesen de su vil estoria 

Los que te niegan con9epta 
115 Syn pecado, e non re9epta 

En cuerpo e en alma en gloria; 

Peresca la su memoria 

De aquellos que ban afirmado 

So el vaso & tl encerrado, 
120 Que port6 el rey de victoria. 

94. NO a tu c. 95. C su s. a. 97. C aqua. 105. I allegrado. 116. C 
en cuerpo e alma; Ne alma en la g. 117. C la tu m. 119. Gser el vaso 
incinerado. 120. Calrey. 


Entre mi ynsufi$ien9ia 
De virtudes, e defecto, 
E el tu clarisimo aspecto, 
E perfecta preheminen9ia, 
1 25 Con toda omill reuerer^ia 

Pongo los gozos presentes, 
Los quales son sufi^ientes 
A ynpetrar la tu clemen9ia. 

Como quier que muy bien veo 
130 Ser el loor ynperfecto 

En boca de onbre non recto 

Qual yo so, e tal me creo ; 

Pero sy oygo e leo 

Tu amor e caridat 
135 Ser tanta, que la maldat 

Supliras de qual quier reo. 

Asaz me pone t(h)emor 
Aquello que dixo el 9iego, 
Lo qual con Agostin niego 
140 Dios non oye al pecador ; 

Mas creo que el tu valor 
Es tanto, Virgen Maria, 
Que la pobre obra mia 
Fards digna ante el Seflor. 

145 A la tu clara ex9ellen9ia, 

Que todo defecto sobra, 

Suplico que aquesta obra 

Yndigna de tu presencia, 

En estilo e eloquencia 
150 Material e tan grosera, 

122. B e virtudes. 123. C omits e. 127. C omits son. 128. C creo a 
inpetrar tu c. 129. (7como quiere. 132, 133 are interchanged in B. 133. 
N Pero si oigo et lo veo. 135. C se que tanta es la bondad. 136. Cque 
suplirtfe q. q. reo. 142. CO Virgen M. 146. -Befecto. 150. C tan omitted. 

292 H. A. RENNERT. 

Sea dulpe e plazentera 
A la tu magnifi9en9ia. 


Oradon d Nuestra Sefiora en fin de toda la obra. 

Virgen preciosa de muy du^e aspeto, 
O debuxado, 6 ymaginatiuo, 
En este cuerpo mortal en que biuo, 
A grandes vi9ios pecados subjeto, 
5 Tanto me alegro y en 61 me delecto, 

Que, segurando en la mi fantasia 
La gra9iosa semblansa de Maria, 
Jamas de ml non se parte el dilecto. 

Reyna del cielo, en cuyo amor ardo, 
10 E en quien es toda la mi esperan9a, 

De cuyo dul9e e benigno reguardo 
Mana e des9iende toda mi confian9a ; 
En tl, mi Seflora, por tu humildan9a 
Fue ennoblecida la umaua natura 
15 Quando el factor fizo su fatura, 

Como el gra9ioso poeta romanca. 

En el tu vientre se en9endi6 el amor 
Que conso!6 la natura humana, 
Fue germinada en ti aquella flor 
20 Que descendi6 de la luz soberana ; 

Eres del 9ielo lunbre merediana 
De caridat e de la mortal gente, 

1. F de cuyo d ; C cuy. 2. BIF emit 6. 5. B A tanto me alegra ; FC 
tanto en el me d. 6. C figurando ; B omits la. 7. FC La muy g. 9. BF 
ando; .Fyo ando; Cyo ardo. 10. Fes mi unica e.; 6 Y toda mi u. e. 11. 
G En cuyo. 12. B esperanca ; F speranpa. 13. FC grant umildanza. 15. 
FCse fizo. 16. FC lo romanpa. 18. B con solo; C conjelo. 21. B lus. 
22. FC e presente. 


En esta vida transitoria, presente, 
De esperan9a eres muy clara fontana. 

25 Tanto magnifica e de tanto valor 

Eres, SeHora, que quyen grapia demanda 
Sin requerir e llamar tu fauor, 
Yerra la vya e no sabe do anda ; 
(La) tu poten9ia que 9ielo e terra manda, 

30 No solamente quando es llamada accorre, 

Mas muchas vezes al demandar precorre, 
Con tales flores florece tu guirlanda. 

Misericordia, piedat e clemen9ia, 
Que en tl, Sefiora, asy son juntadas 

35 Que todas juntas personas creadas 

Non son yguales la tu prudencia ; 

j O Virgen ! digna de toda excellencia, 

Yo te supplico deuota e omillmente, 

Que de"s tal gra9ia d la obra presente 

40 Que de buen fruto aya sufi9ien9ia. 


De la gruesa ynuen9ion mia, 
E synple maginacion, 
Ved aqui la region, 
Muy buen onbre Aluar Gar9ia; 
45 Plega d la Virgen Maria, 

Que Sant lohn e Sant Benito, 
Al gozo dul9e, ynfinito, 
Nos lieuen con alegria. 

24. FG (mil muy. 25. The sequence of the stanzas is that of FIG; in B 
this stanza is wanting. 27. F lamar. 31. / Aquien te llama sienpre le 
acorre. 32. I [?] de tales flores es tu g. 34. FG ayuntadas. 35. FClas 
personas. 36. FG magnifi9ien9ia. 37. F inestimable excellenpia ; G in- 
effable. 42. C ymaginapion. 44. Come; Fbuennombre. 45. F omits a,. 
46. C San Juan et San Benito ; F Sanct Johan. 47. <7qualgozo. 




I. These verses are not in B ; about thirty of them (not 
consecutive) are printed in Rios, Historia Critica, etc., vi, p. 
92. In the Candonero de Ixar (fol. 295), the verses in the 
text are followed by others, which are here subjoined : 

O Maria, luz del dia 
E respandor ; 
Quien tu virtue! loaria 
4 E gran valor ; 

Sefiora, pulcra e decora 
E mansueta, 
De los cielos regidora 
8 Muy discreta. 

^Qual balada e cancio- 


A te loar con perfeta 
12 Melodia? 

^Qual prosa tan copiosa 
Es o sera", 

Que d tu virtud gloriosa 
16 Loara? 

Qual musica cantara", 
Virgen Maria, 
Tus loores, no podria 

20 Nin sabra". 

Virgen santa de quien 
+ canta 

De cuyo viso se espanta 
24 El dragon ; 

Angelica profesion 
E gerarchia, 
A loar tu perfecion 
28 Fallesceria. 


Tenplo, divino tenplo, 
El tu dulyor 
Con que aplazes sin en- 

32 Al Saluador ; 

I O sancta e preciosa flor ! 
Acore e guia 
Al tu pobre seruidor, 
36 Que en ty confia. 

Among the extracts from the Candonero de Ixar published 
by Gallardo, Ensayo, etc., vol. I, col. 586, the opening lines 
of this poem are also given. 

L. 175, antigo : enemigo; antigo is regular, from the spoken 
Latin anticus, antiqua, Old Span, always antigo, antigua. 

L. 180 in C is followed by deuen loar (1. 208) ; the text 
gives the sequence of FL 


L. 280 ; cf. Pero Lopez de Ayala, Rimado de Palacio, 836, 
838 (ed. Janer, Bibl. de Aut. Esp., p. 453). 

III. Santa Leocadia, patroness of Toledo (1. 2), was born, 
according to Ford, Handbook for Spain (ed. of 1847, p. 484), 
in the year 306, and was cast down from the rocks by order 
of the praeses Dacian (1. 46). The relics of St. Leocadia were 
translated from Toledo to Soissons, according to Gautier de 
Coincy, in the time of Pope Gregory IV. (828-844), and sub- 
sequently to Vic-sur-Aisne. See Ward, Catalogue of Romances 
in the Brit. Mus., vol n, p. 19. 

L. 108, dino : camino ; see the remark in the Introduction. 
dignus > digno or dino is opposed to the phonetic rule, not 
only because this requires gn > fi, but also I > e. In fact in 
Fr., Sp. and Port, dignus exists popularly only in the com- 
pounds dedaigner, desdefiar; learned gn in the early period 
gives n : dino, indino (hence the "judino" Alfonso de Baena), 
malino, benino, sino, etc. Cf. Grundriss, p. 706. 

L. 110, Santa Julia, virgin martyr at Merida, with Sant 
Eulalia (1. 111). The latter is said to have been born at 
Merida in the year 290. She suifered martyrdom under the 
Emperor Maximian, surnamed Herculius, being burned alive 
in the year 304, by order of Dacian (P. Datianus praeses 
Hispaniarum). She is the patroness of Merida. See Ford, 
Handbook, p. 258. There seem to have been two Saint Eula- 
lias, for she is also the tutelar of Barcelona, v. Zeitschrift fur 
Rom. PhiloL, xv, pp. 34-35, and p. 41 . 

VI. St. Elizabeth of Thuringia was a daughter of King 
Andrew II., of Hungary, and was born at Pressburg in 1207. 
She became the wife of the Landgrave Ludwig of Thuringia, 
and bore him a son and two daughters. She died in 1231, 
and four years afterwards was canonized by Pope Gregory 
IX. Her head is said to be preserved in the church of St. 
Elizabeth at Breslau. Cf. Rutebeuf 7 s poem : La Vie Sainte 

296 H. A. RENNERT. 

Elysabel, Oeuvres, ed. Jubinal, Paris, 1839, vol. u, pp. 151 
and 358 ; also Zeitsehrift fur Rom. Phil., vol. xix, p. 375. 

L. 18, St. Anna, according to tradition, was the mother of 
the Virgin Mary, and the wife of Joachim. Her body is said 
to have been brought from Jerusalem to Constantinople in 
the year 710. 

L. 10, for forms like enxemplo, with intercalated n, see Zeit- 
schriftfur Rom. PhiloL, v, p. 551. 

VII. Fray Estevan de Leon, prior of Lupiana, is men- 
tioned as having made an exchange'of hereditaments with the 
Marquis of Santillana on January 3, 1448. Amador de los 
Rios, Obras del Marques de Santillana, p. Lxxxvri. Lupiana 
is about two leagues from Guadalajara, the family seat of the 
Marquis of Santillana, on the road to Cuenca. With the excep- 
tion of the first five stanzas, this poem appeared in the Cando- 
nero de Castillo (1511). It is entitled: Hymno trobado por 
Hernan Perez de Guzman que dize: "Monstrate esse Matrem," 
v. the edition of 1882, vol. 1, p. 67. 

X. This hymn is not in F, but is contained in vol. iv of 
the Gang, del Siglo XV, in ten volumes, in the Bib. Nacional, 
Madrid. This volume is copied from the Can$. of Fernan 
Perez de Guzman, in the private library of the King, with the 
note : Los dos primeras estrofas se imprimieron en la edicion 
de los ' Sietecientas ' hecha en Lisboa, afio de 1564, 4. 

XI. L. 44, Aluar Ga^ia de Santa Maria was the brother 
of Don Pablo de Santa Maria, Bishop of Burgos. This dis- 
tinguished family of baptized Jews, which played an important 
part in the reign of D. Juan II. (1407-1454), produced two 
well-known poets, whose works are found in the Candoneros 
Generales: Don Alonzo de Cartagena, Bishop of Burgos, who 
died in 1456, and Don Pedro de Cartagena, who died in 1478. 
Ponz, Viage de Espana, Tomo xn, p. 70. Both were sons of 
Aluar Garcia de Santa Maria. The latter was one of the 


chroniclers of Don Juan II., the first thirteen years of this 
chronicle, i. e., down to the year 1420, being due to him. In 
the prologue to the Chronicle (ed. of Valencia, 1779), he is 
called, by mistake, a son of Don Pablo, Bishop of Burgos. 
He died in 1460, and is buried in the capilla mayor of the 
monastery of San Juan de Burgos. Amador de los Rios, 
Historia Oritica, vol. VI, p. 217. 








While the Germans have long recognized a Litteraturwis- 
senschaft, we do not often speak in English of a ' science of 
literature.' Do we then lack something which the Germans 
have, or do they lack something which they think they have? 
Do we feel that the name is a misnomer ? Or is it that we are 
satisfied to possess the thing without caring how it is called ? 
If this last is so, it were as well perhaps to be a little less 
indifferent, since names gradually affect modes of thinking. 
A rose by any other name will smell as sweet, but a rose by 
the name of rose tempts people to smell of it, especially blind 
people. It is a fact of some import for the users of German, 
that they have the convenient word Wissenschaft, which they 
can apply freely to the serious and systematic study of any 
subject under the sun. On the other hand, we are not unaf- 
fected, and I think the effect is bad, by the drift of English 
usage toward a restricted application of the word ' science.' 
The tendency leads people to associate with that word not so 
much the grand ideals of carefulness and love of truth, as 
rather the particular methods employed, and the kind of accu- 

1 Address of the President of the Modern Language Association of America, 
at its Annual Meeting, held at Cleveland, December, 1896. 



racy aimed at, in the study of physics and biology. Many are 
also led to feel that there are spheres of thought in which 
science has nothing to say; and so, instead of enlarging their 
conception of science, they become suspicious of it. The re- 
sult is that we are far from realizing that universal allegiance 
to the scientific spirit, which in our day we ought to have. 
Instead, there is a division of sentiment, many persons, intelli- 
gent persons too, feeling that for certain purposes science is a 
blind guide. As if there could be in the long run any better 
basis of life than the truth ! And^as if there could be any 
more hopeful way of getting at the truth than to keep trying, 
with all our might, in the light of all the evidence ! 

Nevertheless, the division of sentiment to which I have 
referred exists and a phase of it is found right in our own 
camp. On the one side are the men of letters and those 
whom they inspire, looking a little disdainfully upon the 
patient plodding, the extreme circumspection, of the philolo- 
gists, 1 and teaching by example that the important thing in 
dealing with literature is, as M. Tissot expresses it, ' to talk 
well rather than to think well. 7 2 Their ideal of the literary 
discourse tends toward the elegant causerie, which is apt to 
be interesting but not true. On the other hand, the philolo- 
gists feel that what the literary men say consists pretty largely 
of cunningly-phrased guess-work, superficiality and personal 
bias. For their part they wish their work to rest on good 
foundations. It is the solidity of the fabric, not its beauty, 
that they care for. Thus they are tempted as a class (for every 
class has its besetting danger) to undervalue form and to con- 
fine themselves to somewhat mechanical investigations, such 
as promise definite, exact and unassailable results. They are 
suspicious of the larger and more subtle questions of litera- 

1 1 use the word * philologist ' to denote the type of the investigator, in 
distinction from the litterateur. 

*Les Evolutions de la Oritique Franqaise, p. 63 : Jusque dans cette pre'occu- 
pation de la forme trahie par la recherche de la diction je retrouve 
1' esprit moderne qui a plus soin de bien dire que de bien penser. 


ture; and so their ideal gravitates in the direction of the 
amorphous Abhandlung which is apt to be true but not inter- 

Now I am not guilty of supposing that a new and better 
era would dawn at once if we were all to commence talking 
about the ' science of literature.' In what I said a moment 
ago I only meant to drop the suggestion that if we were more 
familiar with the phrase, perhaps that very familiarity might 
help a little to the better realization of what the phrase im- 
plies. But I do not urge the value of the suggestion and I 
frankly admit that it does not loom up very large in my own 
field of vision. Meanwhile what we are all interested in is 
the thing, if not the name; and it is about that, or some 
aspects of it, that I purpose to speak. You see I assume 
that there is such a thing as literary science. Its object is 
to explain literature not simply the bones, but the soul of 
literature. Of course we know that this is a hard task which 
will never be finished. Until our planet shall freeze up litera- 
ture will no doubt continue to tease the thinking mind with 
new problems and to suggest fresh explanations. Probably 
our latest descendants will occasionally be taken in, even as 
we are, by crude theories and wrong deductions. But we 
need not be too much saddened by such considerations. A 
similar fate awaits all branches of science, including those 
which we call by courtesy ' exact. 7 

For the purposes of scientific study a literary production 
presents three main aspects. We may regard it, first, as a 
link in the chain of historical development, fixing our atten- 
tion upon its relation to antecedent conditions and inquiring 
into the provenience of the factors that compose it. Secondly, 
we may regard it as an artistic fact in itself. Our aim will 
then be to explain its character and describe the effect it pro- 
duces. In the third place, we may look at it as the product 
and the expression of personality, incidentally also as a link 
in the chain of personal development. I do not say that no 
other aspects are possible, nor that these three can always be 


kept, or need to be kept, distinct. In some cases too the one 
or the other may be unimportant, or hidden from view, as is, 
for example, the personal aspect of the Nibelungenlied. It is 
enough that these are the three main lines along which the 
study of literature has been and is likely to be most fruitful. 

Nothing is more characteristic of the scientific intellect in 
our time than its habit of looking at things under the aspect 
of development. Indeed, so fixed and so instinctive has this 
habit become that we should be justified in calling it the scien- 
tific habit par excellence. Whatever the matter that interests 
us, the first question we ask is, How came the thing to be 
what it is? We are interested in beginnings and in bit-by- 
bit evolutions. Under the influence of this historical spirit 
we have taught ourselves to look upon literature as the out- 
growth and the register of ever-changing conditions, and hence 
as a connected series of social documents in which to read the 
spiritual history of large masses of people. This interest in 
conditions is connected with the two most momentous facts 
in the political history of the century now drawing to a close, 
the development on the one hand of nationalism and on the 
other of socialism. The effect of the drift is obvious. It leads 
us to emphasize the social and the national aspect of litera- 
ture. We are very much concerned about general tendencies 
and movements, the action and reaction of social forces, the 
formation of schools and isms, the flocking of large numbers 
this way or that. Persons interest us for their relation to 
these generalities. We study authors for the purpose of label- 
ing them, and if they refuse to fit in the boxes prepared for 
them, we resort to Procrustean surgery. I use the pronoun 
' we' in a spirit of urbane condescension to sinners. Of course 
I do not really mean you nor myself. 

The historical method, which received its first impetus not 
from the late-born Frenchman Taine, but from the great 
German pathfinder, Herder, was begotten in the spirit of 
opposition to literary dogmatism ; more specifically, opposi- 
tion to the worship of canons assumed to be absolute, but in 


reality themselves the product of national tradition. Finding 
that certain writers spoke of Homer, Sophocles and Aristotle 
as if these names stood for perfection, for the ideal which 
modern nations had simply to copy after as best they might, 
Herder interposed the consideration that the Greeks were 
simply the Greeks. Each nation's poetry and its rules of 
poetry were determined by the national tradition and environ- 
ment, and were to be judged accordingly. Since no two 
peoples had the same tradition and environment, one could 
not possibly be a norm for another. The greatest glory of 
each was to be itself. 

This doctrine, with all its far-reaching implications, has 
become for us a fundamental postulate. No one now thinks 
of judging Shakespeare, for example, by standards that were 
not his standards. But does it then follow that judgment, or 
criticism in the old etymological sense, is out of place in the 
scientific interpretation of literature? A strict determinism 
seems to lead to this conclusion. If an author or his book is 
the inevitable outcome of antecedent conditions, is it not folly 
to blame or praise him for being what he could not help being? 
There is nothing to do apparently but to explain and describe. 
One does not find fault with Niagara for being where it is, or 
for not being higher ; and if any one says that he is or is not 
impressed by it, we set that down as a matter of taste which 
tells us something about the observer, but nothing at all about 
the cataract. There are some writers of our day who seem to 
have taken a through ticket on the deterministic route, and 
tell us, in effect, that all criticism is an impertinence. I quote 
from one of them : l " Our sole aim should be to know, and as 
invariably any expression of surprise is nothing more than a 
confession of ignorance, our blame can merely come from a 
lack of knowledge of all the facts and the same must be true 
of our praise. The highest quality of human nature is com- 
prehension, which is a placid quality." 

1 T. S. Perry, From Opitz to Leasing, p. 58. 


Is this sound ? Will the critics be forced out of business in 
the good time coming ? And must we give them their walk- 
ing-papers in the name of science ? I do not think so. It 
does not seem to me a betrayal of the scientific spirit to use 
one's judgment, if one has such a thing, or to express one's 
opinion, provided the opinion has been carefully formed 
according to the evidence. We must not be misled by the 
analogy of natural phenomena. Between Niagara Falls and 
Hamlet, for example, there is at least one momentous differ- 
ence; and that is that the latter has in it an element of 
purpose. To find out what that jfiirpose is and whether 
the work does or does not accomplish its end, is a perfectly 
legitimate scientific enterprise. The play was meant to excite 
certain emotions. What emotions ? Does it succeed ? If so, 
how? If not, why not ? Where does the fault lie? These, 
so far as I can see, are just as strictly scientific questions as 
any that can be imagined ; but no one can do anything with 
them without calling into play his aesthetic judgment. On 
the other hand, if there is any purpose in Niagara, it is at any 
rate hidden from our view. We have no reason to suppose 
that the Falls were meant to arouse feelings of awe and admi- 
ration in the human biped. If we had, an aesthetic opinion of 
them would come quite within the purview of science. Of 
course opinions might differ, but experts differ about all sorts 
of things. They may disagree about the strength of a bridge 
or the height of a tower. 

I am arguing simply that admiration and disapproval are 
not necessarily unscientific. In the realm of natural science, 
no doubt, comprehension is a " placid quality," if one choose 
to call it a quality at all ; but how can one be placid and 
comprehend a great poem? The poem is meant to move, 
and unless one is moved by it one does not really compre- 
hend it as literature at all. Literary criticism is rightly con- 
ceived, it seems to me, as the science of the emotional effects 
produced by literature. If this is so, then the critic's capacity 
for admiration is the organ by which he apprehends the facts 


with which he must deal. If he lacks such an organ, or has 
a poor one, he can not talk knowingly of literature. He is a 
deaf man discoursing of music. But if he has the organ why 
should he not report his impressions, when his impressions 
are intimately bound up with his comprehension ? Is it that 
another and another may be impressed differently, and there 
is no court of appeal to decide between conflicting opinions 
and tell us which is right ? This is a matter worth looking 
into somewhat closely, for it must be admitted, I think, that 
there are no universal canons of literary excellence. The poem 
which delights you or me will leave an educated Chinese quite 
cold; and if we tried to explain the grounds of our admira- 
tion we should probably make little impression on his mind. 
We should find that our associations of literary beauty, power 
and value were quite different from his. And even among 
the occidental nations that have a large common inheritance 
there are no general and immutable standards, though edu- 
cation has done much to create a common basis of feeling. 
Thus an Englishman, a German and an Italian may read a 
book of the Iliad, each in his own way, and all get pleasure 
from it, though a pleasure quite different in quality from that 
aroused in their hearers by the old Ionian rhapsodists. But 
is the heroic hexameter beautiful in itself? Is it adapted to 
German or English poetry? These are questions upon which 
the wise will at once begin to disagree. Is the Alexandrine 
verse good for dramatic dialogue ? The Frenchman will proba- 
bly say ' yes/ the Englishman ' no/ because their aesthetic sense 
in this sphere has been trained upon different models. So 
too the stylistic and spiritual qualities which we admire in 
literature appeal to us usually through personal experience 
and education. Whether one is to find joy and edification in 
Wordsworth, for example, will depend largely on the road 
one has privately travelled in religion and philosophy. Who 
can tell how far our liking for the literary quality of the Eng- 
lish bible depends upon purely religious associations? Are 
there any qualities of style which are always and everywhere 


good ? Is lucidity, for instance, such a quality? One can not 
say so. Poetry often charms us by its very lack of lucidity. 
Perfect clearness would spoil it. 

In short, one's taste in literature is very largely a matter 
of national and individual peculiarity. It does not follow a 
logic which is valid for all mankind, but grows out of tempera- 
ment, education and experience. There is no objective test of 
Tightness; indeed, we can associate no idea with the phrase 
1 correct taste' except the idea of conformity to a certain 
fashion. The political economists sometimes talk of the 
' economic man/ meaning a human* abstraction conceived as 
having nothing in the world to do but to move naturally 
under the impact of economic laws. If we do not hear of 
a corresponding aesthetic man, I suppose it is because wisdom 
from on high would be needed to tell how such a man would 
act in a given case. 

But conceding that the critic's opinion can settle nothing 
for those who do not agree with him, does it follow that his 
opinion is an impertinence from the scientific point of view ? 
Certainly not if it is a faithful record of honest feeling. If 
we think of criticism as the science of the effects produced by 
literature, what can be more relevant than a description of 
these effects, with the greatest possible precision and minute- 
ness, in a particular case ? For the effect of literature is not 
produced upon humanity in the abstract, but always upon indi- 
vidual souls. The feelings of men and women with regard to 
books or, to speak in the jargon, their emotional reactions 
under the stimulus of literature, are facts which have the 
same right as other facts, to be carefully recorded and studied 
for such instruction as they may be capable of yielding. In 
the aggregate they constitute the evidence by which we must 
estimate the power of literature, its power to impress and to 
edify. It is of course essential to this view of the matter that 
the critic be honest in reporting the state of his mind. Let 
him tell how he is actually impressed, and regard this as more 
important than to tell how other people ought to be impressed. 


If he does this he will perform a service in any event, and a 
great service if he has the advantage of wide knowledge and 
delicate sensibility. His first virtue is breadth. He should 
know what there is to be known about that which he assumes 
to judge, should let his mind play freely about it, and be 
patient in the search for light. And then his second virtue is 
candor ; he should tell the truth as he feels it, resisting every 
temptation to sacrifice this truth to rhetorical point, to the 
turn of a phrase, to wit or humor, to any didactic aim, to 
the fashion of his time or his coterie. When he begins to 
sophisticate and to think less of the truth of what he is say- 
ing than of its effect upon his own reputation for sagacity 
or literary cunning, then, indeed, he parts company with the 
scientific spirit. 

I should be sorry if any one were to draw from what I 
have just been saying the inference that I undervalue the 
graces of style in criticism. Far from it. My point is simply 
that the ideal of perfection in style is not opposed to but in 
harmony with the ideal of all science, namely, a continual 
approximation to the truth, the greatest possible fidelity to 
the facts. But the facts with which we have to do in aesthetic 
criticism are of a subjective nature; they consist of feelings to 
be recorded. Of course we can not draw a rigid line between 
feelings and thoughts. They run together inextricably so that 
the critic will often find occasion to explain, to argue and even 
to dogmatize. But his true function, his highest function, is to 
report feelings with nicety. The other things are ancillary 
to that. Now other things being equal he is the best stylist 
who can best seize upon his own more subtle thoughts and 
feelings, his nicer observations and discriminations, the more 
delicate promptings of his aesthetic sense, who can best seize 
upon these elusive things, disentangle them, find precise expres- 
sion for them and present them effectively so that another may 
think and feel them after him and verify his statements. Take 
Macaulay and Matthew Arnold, for example. How can we 
better describe the difference between them than by saying that 


Arnold, besides being more discriminating, cares more for the 
subjective truth of what he says. But are not discrimination 
and truthfulness precisely the highest of scientific virtues? 

I come now to that other aspect of literary study, which our 
printed program invites you to regard as the proper subject of 
this address. Literature is the expression of personality and 
may be studied for the purpose of comprehending personality. 
There are many proper studies of mankind besides man, but 
none is more instructive, none more difficult; and not the 
least of the factors which render it so instructive and so diffi- 
cult is the simple truth that, do wffat we will, personality can 
never be made to appear entirely inevitable. It comes upon 
us with the effect of something new in the world, something 
not fully deducible from the past. It has a way of eluding 
our formulae. With astonishing recalcitrancy it often refuses 
to belong to its own school, to move with its own movement 
and to conform to the ism which has been named after it. 
Plato was no Platonist, Byron was much more than Byronic, 
nor is Ibsen an Ibsenite. 

Let me not be misunderstood. From the view-point of 
pure theory I am a good enough determinist. Nothing hap- 
pens without a cause and this law is just as inexorable in the 
domain of psychology as elsewhere. Had we a complete 
record of all the pertinent facts, any man's character would 
be like an open scroll. We could draw the curve of his 
personality, account for his traits and his doings and even 
predict how he would act under the influence of given condi- 
tions. And nowhere would there be any room for surprise 
or admiration except, indeed, such as we may feel in presence 
of purely physical phenomena. But this is only a way of 
saying that if men were gods, things would be different. We 
have no such record of the facts that make up personality 
and we can not possibly get it. The web is too fine and 
intricate for our unraveling. Many of the things we should 
need to know in any given case will always be lacking through 
mere imperfection of the record. Many more will be hope- 


lessly beyond our reach, because, from their very nature, they 
do not admit of precise recording. And then, worst of all 
perhaps, we are ever more in danger of being misled by facts 
which have the unfortunate peculiarity of not being so. And 
thus it comes about that personality is always more or less 
incalculable. Examine the political, social and religious con- 
ditions of Germany in the eighteenth century as much as you 
will ; study the city of Frankfurt, into which Goethe was born ; 
scrutinize his ancestry as far back as you can trace it ; take 
account of every discernible influence that affected him at 
each stage of his life, and what have you got? No doubt 
much that is worth knowing, but you have not got the secret 
of the man's individuality. That is something that defies 
your synthetic efforts. The conditions noted will be seen to 
have been for the most part general conditions that affected 
also a large number of other men. At the beginning of every 
life there is a certain something, call it if you will the form 
of the individual, which has for our minds at least the quality 
of an original datum, which we can not get behind. An oak 
tree and a beech grow side by side, nourished by the same 
soil and air, exposed to the same winds and rains. Evi- 
dently the essential difference between the two can not be 
accounted for by these conditions. Nor can it be cleared up 
by the microscopic or the chemical study of an acorn and a 
beechnut. We can not produce an acorn by putting together 
the materials of which it is composed in the form which 
mother Nature seems to prescribe. The oakiness of the tree 
depends upon starting with an acorn. 

There are some well-known verses in which Goethe him- 
self touches upon this subject. After referring one of his 
traits to his father, another to his mother and others to remote 
ancestors, he concludes with the rueful query : 

Bind nun die Elements nicht 
A us dem Complex zu trennen, 
Was 1st denn an dem ganzen Wicht 
Original zu nennen ? 


What now is the right answer to this question ? Simply this, 
as it seems to me : Nothing in the entire wight can boast of 
originality, but the entire wight is original. The momentous 
facts of heredity are there and must be reckoned with. In a 
certain true sense we are our ancestors. They live in us. 
But we are also something more, something different; not 
because a miracle has intervened, but because the elements 
derived from the past have entered into a new combination 
and in combining have given rise to a product that is unique; 
just as atoms may unite chemically and form a new substance 
the properties of which are not determinable from the ele- 
ments composing it. Strictly speaking, this is true of every 
personality, however humble. It appears in the world as a 
new aggregate of qualities, tendencies and capacities. As such 
it goes its own way and preserves its own being. If compre- 
hended at all, it must be comprehended as an entirety. 

Now the comprehension of personality in its entirety and its 
Eigenart, is one of the hardest things in the world. Ideally 
what we have to do seems perhaps easy enough, being simply 
to see the facts just as they were and let them work upon us 
naturally. But we can not help seeing them in a perspective 
of our own. Some will seem to us more important, others 
less ; and by pressing those which seem more important and 
slighting those which seem less, we are easily led to distort 
the true relation of things. We bring to the study of an 
author a mass of prepossessions from which we can not escape 
if we would. Then perhaps there is a pet theory to exploit 
or some one else's theory to explode. A bit of a discovery 
may afflict us with temporary myopia. You will say per- 
haps that these are only the well-known sources of subjective 
error which have to be guarded against in all scientific study 
whatever, and this is true. But in dealing with personality 
one has especial need of vigilant self-discipline, because one 
inevitably brings to his work, or soon develops, a certain 
amount of sympathy or antipathy. One must be a partisan 
in a greater or less degree. If you try to look at Luther, 


say, with cool impartiality, you will run a great risk of not 
really seeing Luther at all. A certain measure of heat is 
necessary in order to comprehend his heat. Not that one 
must be passionately interested at this late day in all the 
sixteenth-century questions that disturbed his soul ; but one 
must have so trained his historical imagination by aid of the 
documents that one can look at Luther's world through 
Luther's eyes. When that has been done it will be impossi- 
ble to avoid taking sides for or against him, and the attitude 
assumed will color one's entire estimate of the man. 

This brings me to consider the question whether the scien- 
tific spirit in its most perfect manifestation is incompatible 
with a respect for persons. A distinguished German scholar, 
Hermann Paul, expresses the opinion that the Goethe-Jahr- 
buch, because it takes regard for an individual as the starting- 
point of investigation, occupies a position for which there is 
no longer any justification. 1 Now I hold no brief for the 
editor of the Jahrbuchj but to my mind this is a very hard 
saying. Is it the idea that the starting-point ought to be 
regard for truth in the abstract rather than for a person ? If 
this be what is meant one can only ask : Why ? What differ- 
ence can it make what the starting-point of the inquiry is 
provided the result of it is to promote accurate knowledge? 
When Saul found his kingdom it was no less a kingdom 
because he set out to look for his father's asses. It is a 
familiar fact that the most valuable scientific discoveries are 
often stumbled upon accidentally in the course of a search 
for something else. Our concern is not with the starting- 
point, but with the method and the results. 

Or does Professor Paul mean that regard for truth and 
regard for a person are in some way incompatible ? Does he 

1 Grundriss der Germanuchen Philologie, I, 138 : So zeigt sich, z. B., die 
Vermischung von strenger Wissenschaft und Dilettantismus in dem seit 
1880 von Ludw. Geiger herausgegebenen Goethe-Jahrbueh, welches manche 
willkommene Gabe gebracht hat, aber denn doch, indem es die Verehrung 
fur die einzelne Person zum Ausgangspunkt fur die Forschung nimmt, 
einen Standpunkt vertritt, der jetzt iiberwunden sein sollte. 


fear that admiration of Goethe will so warp the mind of his 
admirers that they will be unable to deal critically with him? 
That they will be apt, for example, to treat unimportant 
scraps of writing as important simply because they are his or 
pertain to him ? That they will be predisposed to magnify 
his virtues and to ignore or condone his shortcomings? Well, 
these dangers no doubt exist and many there are who have 
fallen into them. It is necessary to be on one's guard. But 
is it then impossible to admire a man in a large way without 
losing one's head when it comes to dealing with particular 
phases of his life and work? I trow not; and I would 
undertake to prove by notable examples, if it seemed worth 
while, that admiration often co-exists with the most perfect 
critical equipoise. And there is this further consideration. 
One who is intimately familiar with the life and works of 
Goethe will either like or dislike the man indifference is 
not to be thought of. The question then reduces to this : 
Whether love or hate gives the better guaranty of judicial 
fairness. Now for myself I vote unreservedly for love. We 
are less likely to be stampeded by sympathy than by antipa- 
thy. It is certain that the friends of Goethe have written 
much nonsense about him ; but more and worse nonsense has 
been written by his enemies. 

It is just possible, however, that I have not yet hit upon 
the real grounds on which our austere methodologist meant 
to condemn a journal specially devoted to the study of one man. 
Perhaps he meant to teach that before the bar of science it is 
not the man that counts, but only his books, his ideas, his 
style, his tendency, his relation to the movements of his time. 
If this be what is meant and is to be taken as a part of the 
orthodox creed, then I must confess myself a heretic. Why 
should not a personality, especially a unique and command- 
ing personality like that of Goethe, be an object of scientific 
interest for its own sake? If it is scientific to care for the 
life-history of a bug or a worm, why not for that of a man ? 
It may be urged, perchance, that nothing is literary science 


which does not aim primarily at the explanation of literature. 
Granted ; but the works of Goethe are the product and the 
expression of his personality and this is for many precisely 
their most interesting and instructive aspect. The works and 
the life are indissolubly bound up together and what makes 
for a better knowledge of the man must make in the long 
run for a better understanding of the works. Of course it 
does not follow that everything produced by him or left on 
record by those who knew him is important or has even a 
possible value. The laborious collection of his unfinished 
fragments and sketches, his rejected verses, the chips from 
his workshop, his trivial correspondence, his dinner-bills and 
freight-bills, the record of his goings and comings, the gossip 
of his friends and enemies, his chronicles of small beer is a 
business which he himself would have preferred to character- 
ize through the mouth of Mephistopheles. Indeed he has 
made use of that very organ for that very purpose : 

Noch immer gliicklich aufgefunden ! 
Die Flamme freilich 1st verschwunden, 
Doch 1st mir um die Welt nicht leid. 
Hier bleibt genug Poeten einzuweihen, 
Zu stiften Gild- und Handwerksneid; 
Und kann ich die Talente nicht verleihen. 
Verborg* ich wenigstens das Kleid. 

These are precious words which the latter-day Goethe- 
Forscher, in their arduous pursuit of the infinitely little, 
would do well to bear in mind and say over occasionally in 
order to preserve their sense of humor and of proportion. 
But after all the question has another side, which warns us 
while enjoying the devil's fun not to take him for an oracle 
of perfect wisdom. When a man has acquired in the totality 
of his work and influence the importance which Goethe pos- 
sesses for modern Germany, so that he is constantly studied 
by multitudes from every point of view and for the most 
diverse purposes, who can wisely set limits to the publication 
of material concerning him ? What seems trivial and worth- 


less to one will often prove useful to some one else. One can 
not always tell in advance. Upon the whole there is less 
danger of going too far than of not going far enough. The 
man does not live who could safely be trusted to winnow the 
material relating, say, to Faust, with a view to destroying all 
that in his opinion could never by any possibility be of use. 

Thus far then we have found no solid basis for the general 
dogma that regard for a person is an unworthy incentive in 
literary study, though there is no denying that it may lead to 
uncritical habits. Everything will depend, as it seems to me, 
upon the spirit in which the study is carried on. If it is 
mere blind hero-worship, bent on the burning of incense 
rather than the promotion of exact knowledge, then of course 
it is unscientific. Not so, however, if it proceeds from a 
deliberate conviction, based on fact and argument, that the 
man is worth studying more closely than most men because 
of the exceptional importance of his personality. This is a 
perfectly legitimate attitude which requires no sacrifice of 
scientific acribeia. For a man may be greater than his pro- 
ductions, as is actually the case with the man we have been 
considering. My interest in Goethe, at any rate, is some- 
thing quite different from the sum total of the interest I feel 
in the separate volumes of his works. One may go through 
the works in a critical spirit, as Prof. Dowden did lately in 
an article published in the Cosmopolis, and find pretty serious 
defects in all of them. Gotz is certainly weak on the side of 
dramatic construction. Werther is a sentimental tale which, 
I fancy, few of us would care to read at the present time if 
its authorship had chanced to remain unknown. Iphigenie 
and Tasso are elegant exponents of high culture, charming in 
style and correct in form ; but they are not powerful dramas. 
Meister and the Elective Affinities are much too straggling and 
discursive for good novels. The best friend of Goethe can 
easily read himself to sleep in either of them. And as for 
Faust, all the world knows how full of faults that is when 
tried by the conventional canons. Of course there are in 
each case countervailing considerations which a fair criticism 


will always take into account. But in the end it will have 
to be admitted that the great works of Goethe are each and 
all rather vulnerable. Of themselves they hardly suffice to 
account for the commanding position which has been accorded 
him among modern writers, nor for the deep and abiding 
interest taken in him by a vast multitude of thoughtful men 
in all parts of the world. 

What then is the explanation? Simply this, as I conceive: 
That behind the works at every stage is a pre-eminently 
original and powerful personality. It is this personality in 
its entire development, in the totality of its manifestation 
from first to last, that interests us. Napoleon's Voila un 
homme was not the dictum of a hero-worshipper, but of an 
eminently cool observer ; and it suggests a perfectly scientific 
point of view for you and me. One may outgrow the works 
of Goethe or become indefinitely cool toward them as did 
their author himself, who said in 1825 that he could hardly 
read any of them with delight except Hermann and Dorothea; 
which certainly would not suffice in itself for a foundation of 
first-class literary renown. But what one never outgrows who 
has once come under the fascination of it, is the personality 
that informs the works. Not that this personality is in any 
sense canonical. It is not only unscientific, but contrary to 
Goethe's own spirit, to treat any man as an embodiment of 
perfection ; for there are no such men and his central maxim 
was to see things just as they are. Now any one who essays 
to see Goethe just as he was, in his relation to times and 
places, to men and women, to art, science, and philosophy, in 
the varying phases of his experience from youth to age, will 
find like the psalmist that " his feet have been set in a large 
room." And when he has made himself at home there by 
patient study, he will see that the works appear in a new 
light and derive a large part of their importance from their 
relation to personal vicissitudes. 

I have been led to speak at length of Goethe in particular, 
partly because the dogma of Paul, which I have been criticis- 


ing, had reference to the study of Goethe, and partly because 
his case illustrates very forcibly the line of thought which I 
wished to present. But the case is by no means unique. On 
the contrary I think it may be said that every great writer is 
more than his books and is most instructive through his indi- 
viduality. How true this is of Lessing, for example. The 
fame of Lessing to-day rests mainly on two plays and two 
contributions to criticism. But one may read these works 
carefully and find himself at the end quite unable to under- 
stand the saying of Hettner : Dem Deutschen geht das Herz 
auf, wenn er von Lessing redet. Minna von Barnhelm is a 
fairly good play of its kind, but where are its elements of 
immortal greatness ? Put it beside As You Like It and how 
dim is the light with which it shines ! Nathan is richer in 
elements of permanent interest, but chiefly because of its re- 
ligious import. Apart from this its artistic quality is not 
very high, and its religious import interests us largely I do 
not say exclusively because of its relation to Lessing's indi- 
viduality and personal history. The Hamburg Dramaturgy 
and the Laokoon are characterized by great logical acumen 
and by great learning, but not pre-eminently by critical equi- 
poise. They are the works of a brilliant attorney rather than 
of a wise judge. But is Lessing really summed up for those 
who know him well by any such coarse and general verdicts 
as these ? Not at all. The man is more than the works and 
the works, if one would read them to the best advantage 
and comprehend their full significance, must be read in the 
light of biography. 

According to my best insight, then, the interest we all 
instinctively feel in personality is not something to be re- 
pressed, but something to be made much of in our pursuit of 
the science of literature. And that simply in the interest 
of truth. Occupied, as we are apt to be very largely, with 
the generalities of historical and aesthetic criticism, we are 
always more or less in danger of being fooled by half-truths 
and of getting wrong mental images. Against this danger 
the best protection is a lively interest in personality. Who 


has not had some such experience as this? One has read a 
little of some author, a very little, perhaps, but a great deal 
about him, in the histories of literature, in books of reference, 
in popular essays and critiques. One thinks he understands 
the man, perchance one even has the temerity to lecture about 
him. Then one day, for some reason or other, one is led to 
take up the author in earnest, to read all that he wrote and 
to make a thorough study of his life and character. And now 
one finds that one's former ideas were mostly wrong. What 
one knew was really not worth knowing. Thus does grey 
theory play havoc with the green tree of life, and admonish 
us in our 'critical endeavor' to keep as close as we can to 
concrete realities. 

A man, if he is worth studying at all, is nearly always more 
interesting and instructive than the cleverest abstraction that 
can be framed about him. And then the study of personality 
has a useful effect on the student himself; it keeps the mind 
flexible, prevents it from growing mechanical. I am not 
trying to justify literary idolatry it is not a question of 
hero-worship, but of comprehension. We have got rid of all 
the supernaturalism that used to cluster about the idea of 
genius and have resolved the old mystery into more or less 
commonplace elements, like energy, capacity for work, open- 
ness to experience, power of expression. But we have not 
thereby done away with the difference between genius and 
common mortality. The difference is not infinite; we can 
pass from the one to the other by easy gradations. But after 
all the difference is very great and we should recognize it in 
a whole-souled way, while doing what we may to account for 
it by the study of conditions and dependences. All honor to 
the science of historical interpretation ! But when it has done 
its utmost to account for genius as the product of circum- 
stances, it will still remain true that genius is a reality. The 
primates of the mind are there and one of the noblest func- 
tions of literature is to reveal them as they were. 



This paper is a part of a larger study on the general sub- 
ject, < The Loss or Ketention of Weak Syllables in English/ 
which I shall publish at a later time. 

It is well known that there are words like aged, blessed, 
learned, in which the e is silent if the word is a participle, 
but is sounded if the word is an adjective. I am not aware 
that an explanation of this interesting phenomenon has been 
offered, other than the usual untenable one that it is "in order 
to distinguish " the parts of speech. It is my object in this 
paper to show (1) that this, as well as certain closely related 
phenomena, is based on the fact that our speech prefers a 
rhythm consisting of syllables alternately strong and weak, 
and (2) that this has produced different results in the adjec- 
tive from what it has in the participle because the usual 
position of the adjective with reference to the other members 
of the sentence is not that generally occupied by the participle. 

From the start we must exclude from consideration all those 
cases in which the ending -ed is preceded by a d or t; for here 
the e was retained (or restored) because essential to the preser- 
vation of the consonantal frame of the word : faded, gilded, 
intended, wedded, gifted, spirited, noted, etc. 

Where the e of -ed adjoined a vowel (whether stressed or 
unstressed) or a diphthong, it early blended with it : annoyed, 
dignified, etc. These words, too, are therefore excluded from 
further consideration, and the field is clear for the observa- 
tion of the action of rhythmic forces. 

An alternate rhythm implies : 

(1) The retention of a weak syllable between two heavily 
stressed ones. 

(2) A tendency to lose one of two adjoining weak syllables. 
These tendencies were formulated by ten Brink as follows : 
(I) "Schwaches e zwischen dern Hauptton und dem Ne- 



benton hat in englischen Wortern (wo es haufig auf Analogic 
beruht) sowie in englischen Ableitungen aus bezw. Zusam- 
mensetzungen mit fremden Elementen gewohnlich Silben- 
werth " (Chaucer s Sprache und Verskunst, 262). 

(2) " I. Enthalten zwei aufeinander folgende Silben je ein 
schwaches e, so verliert ein von diesen nothwendig seinen 
Silben werth. ... II. Nach unbetonter, jedoch tonfahiger 
Silbe muss ein schwaches e verstummen " (Id., 256, 257). 

Ten Brink himself had occasion to apply principle (2) in 
treating of Chaucer's participles in -ed : " Einem allgemeinen 
Gesetz gemass ( 257) wird das e der Endung -ed, wenn die 
zweitvorhergehende Silbe den Ton tragt, stumin, ohne dass die 
Syncope gewohnlich graphisch ausgedriickt wiirde : punisshed, 
vdnisshed, enlumined, empoisoned u. s. w." (Id., 181). 

To these should be added those words whose simple form 
ends in a consonant + a sonorous consonant (or a semi-vowel) 
-j- e, for example, -tie, -kne, -Iwe, -rj,e, etc. In Chaucer's time 
the sonorous consonant or semi-vowel was not syllabic (Id., 
261) ; thus, whistfo whistfod, herknd herknad, halwd halwdd, harjp 
harjpd, etc. When, shortly after Chaucer's time, the final -e 
became silent, the sonorous consonant when not followed 
by a word beginning with a vowel became syllabic, that is, 
whistfo > whistl, herknd > herkn, etc. Naturally the inflected 
forms also assumed the syllabic /, n, etc. ; but this forced 
the loss of the 9 of -ed- thus, whistfod > whistl(d)d, herkndd > 
herkn(d)d, halwdd > halu(d)d (]> hcelod), haridd > hartfyd, 
just as Chaucer's ladizs, bodids > ladt(&)s, bodlfys, by analogy 
to lady, body, etc. 

There remain for consideration those verbs in which the 
stress falls on the syllable before the -ed, and in which the -ed 
is separated from this stressed syllable by a consonant or a 
consonant combination other than non-sonorous consonant -f- 
sonorous consonant. It is my object to show that in these 
the very same principles apply, except that it is now the weak 
syllable of a following word not a preceding syllable in the 
word itself that causes the loss of the e of -ed. It will be 


observed that, if the e be retained, the words we have to con- 
sider are 1 of this type -^-dd, in which -^- represents a heavily 
stressed syllable and zd represents the weakly stressed ending. 
When a word of this type is followed by a weak word or a 
weak initial syllable of the succeeding word, we again get 
- , and the alternate rhythm favors the loss of the e of -ed 
(cf. (2) page 318). On the other hand, when a word of this type 
is followed by a heavily stressed syllable, we get -^- * -^-, and 
the alternate rhythm as imperatively requires the retention of 
the 6 (cf. (1) page 318). It is, in fact, more difficult to stress 
heavily two succeeding syllables tHan to allow two weak sylla- 
bles to intervene between two heavy ones ; where there is no 
such intervening weak syllable, we usually make a slight 
pause in which to recuperate (cf. my German Orthography 
and Phonology, 274, 2 end), or admit 2, cf. dialectic Look a 
h$re, thdt a wdy. Let the rhythmical force (or the physio- 
logical convenience of utterance) have full sway, and such an 
-ed word will appear in the two forms -ed and -d, the first 
before a heavy stress, the second before a weak syllable. We 
pronounce the word in both ways and, hence, retain, uncon- 
sciously of course, a muscular memory of both ; we also hear 
both forms and, hence, retain an auditory memory of both. 
If the two forms are practically equally distinct and occur 
with about the same frequency, they will probably continue 
side by side, and our phonetic, or rhythmical, or physiologi- 
cal law (however we may choose to designate it) is supreme. 
But if, with practical equality in distinctness, one of the two 
forms occurs much more frequently than the other, that is, if 
we ourselves utter it much more often and hear it from others 
much more often, then the impression it makes upon the mind 
is stronger and fresher, and it is far more likely to suggest 
itself in response to the idea than is the other form, and that, 
too, even when the physical conditions would have favored 

1 That is, if no syllable precedes the stressed syllable ; the few words 
having such a preceding syllable end in this type. 


the rarer form. That is, the results of the phonetic law are 
more or less effaced by the psychological. 

But this need not be the same over the whole ground. If 
on the one hand the word has one function and on the other 
another, and if one form is the more common in the first 
function and the other in the second, the one form is apt to 
prevail in the one case and the other in the other. 

Now, with reference to the words under consideration, I 
took as a basis for my study a prose text that fairly repre- 
sents the language as it was shortly before the e of -ed began 
to become generally silent The Persones Tale of Chaucer. I 
divided the words into three classes : 

(1) Adjectives used attributively and predicatively. 

(2) Participles. 

(3) Adjectives used almost only predicatively, such as 
ashamed, enclyned, etc. They are arranged below according 
as the rhythm would require the type -^&d or the type -^d, 
or as it is neutral, namely, when the word occurs just before 
a pause. First the actual number of cases found is given, 

and then the percents. 

d w 9d~ neutral total 

Adj's, attrib. and pred 12 49 7 68 

Participles 95 10 28 133 

Adj's, only predicate 6 4 10 

Adj's, attrib. and pred 18* 72* 10* 

Participles 71* 8* 21* 

Adj's, only predicate 60* 0* 40* 

That is, in the adjectives used both attributively and predica- 
tively the rhythm favored the retention of the e in 72 per 
cent, of the cases, and favored its suppression in but 18 per 
cent. ; but in the participles it favored the suppression of the 
e in 71 per cent, of the cases, and favored its retention in but 
8 per cent., while in the adjectives used almost only predica- 
tively it favored the suppression of the e in 60 per cent, of 
the cases and in no case favored its retention. In other 
words, the rhythm favored the retention of the e in the 


ordinary adjectives just about as strongly as it favored its 
suppression in the participles and the predicate adjectives. 
Hence, what happened is just what we should expect to 
happen : the -ed became general in the ordinary adjectives, 
and the -d became general in the participles and the predicate 

It may be asked, just how does it happen that the ordinary 
adjective usually stands before a heavy syllable, and the par- 
ticiple and the predicate adjective before a weak syllable? 
This is due to the fact that most aoljectives that are used both 
attributively and predicatively are far more often used attri- 
butively than predicatively, and to the fact that an attributive 
adjective usually stands before a heavy syllable because most 
of our substantives begin with a heavy syllable : th8 wrttch&d 
mdn. The same thing is true when there is a series of adjec- 
tives, for most adjectives also begin with a heavily stressed 
syllable : th& wr&ch&d sinf&l mdn. On the other hand, parti- 
ciples, like verbs, are usually followed by some modifier, and 
this, in the vast majority of cases, is an adverbial group 
beginning with a preposition or a conjunction, or it is a weak 
pronoun. Of the 95 cases that we found above to favor the 
loss of e in the participle, 90 come under the following 
heads : 

53 prepositions, 

18 conjunctions, 

10 pronouns and articles, 

9 weak adverbs and adjectives and dissyllabic adverbs 
beginning with a weak syllable. 

As to the final position it will be observed that the figures 
are as might be expected : it is the predicate adjective that 
occurs there most frequently, 40 per cent. ; while the parti- 
ciples are found in this position less often, 21 per cent., being 
more apt to be followed by adverbial modifiers; and the 
common adjectives, being attributive much more frequently 
than predicate, occur just before a pause least often, 10 per 


The most common adjectives of this kind that are used 
both attributively and predicatively are, perhaps, included in 
the following list : 

*naked *blessed striped 

* wicked *(a)cursed jagged 

*ivretched deuced ragged 

aged *crooked crabbed 

learned peaked dogged 

beloved streaked rugged. 

Of these Chaucer had occasion to use in The Persones Tale 
those marked with an *, as also dampned 'damned/ in which 
the short form has prevailed because of its frequent occur- 
rence between stressed God and a following stressed noun 
like fdol, cf. page 324. deuced is usually an adverb before an 
adjective : deuce'd pretty, aged, learned, (accursed, peaked, 
streaked, striped, crooked, dogged, beloved and blessed are also 
used as participles and then have -d ; beloved and blessed 
hardly occur as predicate adjectives. 

Many adjectives in which we might expect -ed, have -d, 
because in them the participial idea is still more or less alive, 
and because they but recently were, or still are, more fre- 
quently used in the predicate ; so inclined, ashamed, appalled, 
etc. Some are now quite often used attributively, but retain 
the form they acquired when more often used predicatively : 
arched, forced, stuffed, chapped, chopped, diseased, reserved, 
fixed, vexed, ribbed, webbed, etc. In some cases we can still 
see how the attributive use was of later growth, as in the 
case of barbed in consequence of the general introduction of 
barbed wire. Compare also the comparatively recent frequent 
use of unabridged attributively in connection with certain 

The list might be much increased by the addition of such 
words as stubbed, chubbed, scabbed, cragged, etc., for many of 
which forms in -y are more common. So crazed is hardly 
an adjective, crazy being always used attributively at least. 


Sometimes the dissyllabic pronunciation has prevailed in but 
one meaning or use of the adjective : a picked leaf, but picked 
men, often hookdd nose, forked beard, forked lightning, but 
hooked line, forked stick, etc. As to some of these usage is not 

Very many adjectives drop the e because, when used attri- 
butively, it is always or most frequently after an emphatic 
modifier, where their stressed syllable gets weaker stress. 
This corresponds to ten Brink's rule II, 257 (page 319 
above). Thus fdr-j 'etched drgument, I6ng-llmbed fellow, Idrge- 
sbuled mdn, big-mbuthed b6y, good-sited chicken, shdrt-llvedfdith, 
bob-tailed horse, unskilled Idbor, stiff-necked pride, hunch-backed 
woman, crdss-grdined block, hdrd-shelled Baptist, shdme-fdced 
manner, hdre-brdined idiot, hen-pecked husband, God-damned 
fool, hdlf-stdrved children, f6ur-leaved cldver, tw6-edged sword, 
etc. This is made especially clear by the fact that the 
sometimes dropped in such cases, but not when the word 
is used independantly : old-aged mdn, long-winged birds, but 
an dged mdn, a wingtd Nike, etc. As to some usage varies, 
thus bow-legged or bow-legg j d, etc. Children often say leam'd 
for learned because they have long known the participle when 
they first meet the adjective, a good illustration of the way 
analogy often works in such cases. Not infrequently more 
than one force tends in the same direction, thus famed occurs 
most frequently after strong far : a fdr-famed herd, or before 
weak for : fdmedftir deeds bf vdlbr, and armed usually occurs 
after strong well : a well-armed fleet, or before a weak preposi- 
tion : drmed with grins, etc. 

The ending -ly was formerly a heavy syllable, the y being 
long. This, therefore, required before it a weak syllable and 
thus the e was retained in such adverbs as advisZdly, assuredly, 
cdmposedlp, confessedly, fixedly, reservedly not, however, in 
Hl-fdvdr edify, gbod-ndluredly, etc., because these have one weak 
syllable before the -ly anyway. The same is true of deriva- 
tives in -ness, formerly a heavy ending : ctimpdsedn&ss, reserved- 
ness, fixedness, dmdzedness, pleasedness ; but such derivatives 


are now less often used, our feeling for them is largely lost, 
and when we meet with them in reading or are otherwise 
forced to use them, we often allow the analogy of the parti- 
ciple to prevail and omit the e, which we can easily do on 
account of the present weakness of the ending. In poetry 
the fuller forms are still very common. 



The difference in the treatment of final unstressed -e among 
the various ME. dialects has long since been noticed. In Nth., 
according to Morsbach (Mittelenglische Grammatik 6-9), it 
became silent ( u ist stumm") about 1350; in Ml. it was in 
part sounded throughout the fourteenth century, though as 
Morsbach remarks, "in vielen fallen* ist es schon verstumrnt;" 
in WSth. and MSth. it was in general retained throughout the 
century ; while Kt. on the whole retains it intact quite up to 
the middle of the century. 

The usage of the various districts of ML, however, has not 
yet been fully investigated. That of EMI. (in Chaucer) has 
probably been most fully worked out, through the labors of 
Ellis, Child, ten Brink, Kittredge, and others. Concerning 
The Pearl (NWM1.), however, Mr. Henry Bradley wrote in 
1890 (The Academy xxxvm 249) : " The question of the 
final e in the poem needs investigation. It is quite obvious 
that in many cases the e (whether written or not) is not 
sounded as it would have been in Chaucerian verse." It 
is important to note, too, that as a specimen of NWM1. of 
the second half of the fourteenth century, The Pearl is in 
its metrical structure well-nigh unique, and because of this 
structure is of great value in determining the question of the 
pronunciation of -e at this time. Moreover, since its author 
was probably contemporary with Chaucer, it affords a con- 
venient means of comparing the WML with the London usage. 

The present paper is offered as a contribution to the his- 
tory of final unstressed -e in WML It was begun as an 
investigation of this subject alone ; but considerable data on 

1 For the suggestion which led me to write this paper, and for valuable 
assistance in its preparation, I am indebted to Professor O. F. Emerson, of 
Western Reserve University. 


other points having accumulated, it was afterward decided to 
present in addition a brief treatment of some of these points. 1 
The arrangement of material in the paper follows that of the 
Metrical Chapter in Professor Kittredge's Observations on the 
Language of Chaucer's Troilus (Kt.). References (by section) 
are made to this book and to ten Brink's Chaucers Sprache 
und Verskunst (tenB.). The text used is that of Morris 
(EETS. 1, 2d ed. 1869), except as more recent emendations 
have been adopted. The latter have been noted in their 
proper places. 

I. 1. Weak -e is elided before a vowel and usually before 
h-, but in the definite article -e is sometimes preserved (see 
II 2, cp. Kt. 125, tenB. 269). 

(a) Before a vowel : in vche 2 araye, 5 ; My breste in bale, 18 ; so swete a 
sange, 19. In the first 500 lines, 166 instances occur. 

(b) Before h. Elision of weak e takes place before he, hys, hym, hit, ho, 
hir, her (phi.), and hem (with one exception, 1. 551, see I 2) ; before haue 
(inf., pr. ind. and sjc.), hat%, 3 and hade (with one exception, 1. 1142, see I 
2), whether independent or auxiliary; before hente, heue, holde, hope, hurt; 
before here, he\>en, hyder; before harm, holt, honour, how ("hue"), hyre. 

Examples are : Hys prese, hys prys, 419 ; her wylle ho waynes, 131 ; To 
J>enke hir color, 22 ; & wolde her corouneg, 451 ; aboute hem bydeg, 75 ; 
Ofte haf I wayted, 14; What wyrde hats hyder, 249; of that || place had 
}>re sates, 1034 ; of happe more hente, 1195 ; to God || wordes schulde heue, 
314; penne helde vch sware, 1029; cure hope is drest, 860; pas he were 
hurt, 1142; Sir, fele here porchases, 439; No gladder gome || he>en into 
Grece, 231 ; Er date of daye || hider arn we wonne, 517 ; ofte harmes hate, 
388; Bot by }>yse holtes, 921; What more honour (Gollancz's reading), 
475 ; pe topasye twynne how, 1012 ; What resonabele hyre, 523. 

x The general structure of the poem has already been described: see 
Trautmann, Angl. I 119; Kaluza, ESt. xvi 178; Gollancz, Pearl p. xxin f. 

8 In the use of signs I have in general followed Kittredge : -e (in itali- 
cized words -e) indicates a final e written but elided before a vowel or h. 
-e (or -e} indicates a final e pronounced before a vowel or h. Used over a 
vowel in the interior of a word the diaeresis indicates that the vowel is pro- 
nounced, -[e] indicates that the metre requires an e to be pronounced at 
the end of a word which is written without -e in the MS. -e indicates a 
final -e written but not sounded before a consonant (not h). -e- indicates 
syncopated e (and so of other vowels). 

8 1 have followed Morris in using the character 5 for (a) z (sonant spirant), 
(b) h (guttural and palatal spirant), and (c) y (consonant). 


2. Hiatus of -e before a vowel is not found ; before h it 
occurs rarely. 

Ex. pese bot an cure || hem con streny, 551 ; to helle hete (where helle 
is gen.), 643; J>y hys[e] hylleg, 678; & wounde hade, 1142. 

II. Elision of weak -e in monosyllables (cp. Kt. 128). 

1. -e of the definite article is generally elided. The follow- 
ing instances occur : 

The adubbemente, 85 (cp. 109, 121); \>e. empyre, 454; \>e apocalyppej, 
787, 1020, (apokalypce) 983, (apocalyppce) 1008; \>e apostel, 836, 944, 984, 
985, 996, 1008, 1020, 1032, (appostel) 1063; J>e aldermen, 887; J>e vrte, 
893; \>e olde gulte, 942; Ipe emerade, 1005. 

2. -e of the definite article remains unelided in the follow- 
ing instances : 

& ay NJ ofter, J>e alder t>ay were (here >e< OE. instr.), 621 ; J>e innossent, 
666, (innosent) 684, 696, (innocent) 720; >e olde, 941; J>e ast)>e, 1011; J>e 
enleuenj>e gent, 1014; J>e amatyst, 1016. 

3. ne regularly elides -e before a vowel. 

Ex. Nis, 100 ; nys, 951 ; ne is, 1071. Cp. nif he nere, Cl. 21. 

NOTE. No instance of ne before h occurs. Before w in wyte, wyte, ne 
combines with the following word : pou ne woste in worlde, 293 ; I ne 
wyste in Ms worlde, 65. 

III. Pronunciation of final unstressed -e before consonants. 

1. The following considerations lead to the belief that 
before consonants the final unstressed -e of our text is gener- 
ally silent : 

(a) In the first 500 lines 208 words occur (not counting words which 
come at the end of the line or immediately before the caesura) in which 
the metre is best satisfied by not sounding the -e before a consonant (not h), 
as against 43 words in which -e must be pronounced. Of these 208 words 
11.54 per cent, are proparoxytone words (e. g. vn/schande, 14; fortwne, 98; 
enclynande, 236), in which -e earliest lost syllabic value (cp. tenB. 191). 

NOTE. It is interesting to compare these figures with some recording 
Chaucer's usage. In the first 500 lines of The Book of the Duchesse (written 
in similar metre, iambic tetrameter), there are 47 words (not counting 
words which come at the end of the line or just before the caesural pause) 
in which the metre is satisfied by not sounding the -e, and 115 words in 
which -e must be pronounced. 


(b) Variations of spelling in the same word, where -e is not pronounced 
even when written: blys, 729, blysse, 478; coroun, 255, coroune, 205; emerad, 
118, emerade, 1005; fayr, 46, fayre, 1178; gret, 250, grete, 237; ioy, 395, 
ioye, 1197; /am&, 407, Zom&e, 1064; qu&n, 444, gwene, 468. 1 

2. But final unstressed -e is to be pronounced in the follow- 
ing words (the arrangement is alphabetical) : 

(a) Words in which -e goes back to an OE. or ON. inflectional ending or 
to OF. -e. 

(a) Nouns : %s[se], 286 (dat.) ; brymme, 232 (dat.) ; face, 809 (<OF. face) ; 
gemme, 118, 289 OF. gemme) ; glymme, 1088 (dat.) ; grace, 670 (dat., < OF. 
grace) ; grounde, 1173 (dat.) ; helde (here accepting Gollancz's emendation, 
which seems better than Morris's reading), 1193 (dat.) ; helle, 643 (gen. or 
dat.); Aer<[e], 17, 51; herte, 128, 176 2 (ace., < OE. heortan) ; lompe, 1046 
(<OF. lampe) ; lote, 238 (< ON. dat. late); toge, 119 (< OE. lagu) ; mote, 
142 (<OF. mote); mynde, 1130 (dat.); oure, 551 (< OF. ure) ; perre, 730 
(<OF. perree); sor^e, 352 (dat.); speche, 793, 1132 (dat.); sfep[pe], 683 
(cp. stepe, 01. 905, and MDu. steppe) ; sunne, 83 (< OE. wfem. ) ; sut'e, 203 
(< OF. suite); tonge, 100 (ace., < OE. tungan) ; tong[e] t 225 (nom.,<OE. 
tunge) ; vyne, 535 (< OF. vine) ; wolle, 844 (dat.) ; worlde, 476, 657, 761 (dat.) ; 
wounde, 1142 (ace. plu.) ; gere, 588 (dat., cp. MnE. to-day, to-morrow) ; ynde, 
1016 OF. inde). 

(j3) Adjectives: aUe, 292, 1091 (nom. plu.) ; brode, 650 (dat.); dere, 758 
(wnom.) ; fayre, 169, 177, 946 (wacc.) ; forme, 639 (wnom. plu.) ; fowre, 886 
(wnom. plu.) ; fyfie, 1006 (wnom.) ; fyrre, 148 (wnom.) ; fyrsi[(T\, 486, 635, 
1000 (wdat.), 999 (wnom.);/t/r^, 54 (dat. plu.); gret[e], 616 (wgen., cp. 
grete, 637 ; grete, plu., Gaw. 2490) ; hy%e, 395, 1051 (wnom. ), 401 (stnom. ) ; 
*ys[ g ]i 678 (wacc. plu.) ; ttk[e] t 995 (wacc., cp. ilke, Gaw. 1385) ; kynde, 
276 (wnom.); 2on$f[e], 586 (dat.); mucA[e], 776 (dat., cp. muche, Piers 
Plowm. A vni 70) ; nwe, 155 (nom. plu.), 882 (wacc.) ; newe, 894 (nom. 
plu.) ; one, 312 (wnom.) ; quyte, 1137 (wdat.) ; rych\e~\, 68 (nom. plu., cp. 
ryche, 770), 1036 (dat. plu.); same, 1099 (wdat.); scherie, 965 (wnom.); 
eZ/[e], 1046, 1076 (wnom.) ; stytte, 20 (stnom.) ; ienb'e, 136 (wdat.) ; ]>ryde, 
833 (and possibly frydde, 299; wnom.); \rryd\de\, 1004 (wdat.); wlonk^e], 
122 (dat. plu.) ; wynne, 154 (pred. nom. plu.), 647 (stnom.) ; your[e], 497 

NOTE 1. Line 690 is obviously imperfect. Bradley's proposed emenda- 
tion (The Academy Sept. 6, 1890, p. 201 f.) could be scanned, How koyn | 
tise onour | e || con aquyle, since the poet usually retains the French accent. 
If we accept Gollancz's emendation, How kyntly oure lord him con aquyle, 
the line will be taken out of the present discussion. 

x None of the words cited occur at the end of the line; cp. Summary 14. 
2 We might also read: myn herte a brunt, 174. 


NOTE 2. Line 997 lacks the catchword lohan. If we accept Gollancz's 
restoration, the line will scan, As lohan | t>ise stones || in writ | con nemme. 

(7) Verbs: aske, 316, 580 (inf.); oJfe[e], 564 (inf.); carp[e], 381, 949 
(inf.) ; coronde, 767 (pt. 3 sg.) ; dele, 606 (pr. 3 sg. sjc.) ; glente, 1001 (pt. 
3 sg.) ; herde, 873 (pt. 1 sg.) ; hyre, 507 (inf.) ; madd'e, 359 (inf.) ; nedd'e, 
1044 (pt. 3 sg.) ; o%te, 341 (pt. 2 sg.) ; sett, 1201 (inf.) ; lake, 552 (inf.). 

(8) Adverbs : faste, 54 ; seme, 190 ; berinrie, 1061. 
(e) Prepositions: by/ore, 885; bytwen'e, 140. 

(b) Words in which -e has been taken on in ME. 

Nouns: blysse, 397, 611 (nom., -e borrowed from dat. sg. by analogy); 
Qvat-kyn[ne] byng, 771 OE. cynn; -e borrowed from dat., cp. kinne, 
Piers Plowm. B v 639 ; kinne, Orm. 1051) ; worlde, 743 (ace., cp. 11. 476, 

NOTE. These instances of the pronunciation of -e occur in alliterative 
phrases in about 35 per cent, of the examples. Some of these were prob- 
ably stock phrases in alliterative poetry, e. g.,/ayre face, 169, hy%[e] hylleg, 
678. Cp. tenB. 335 and Fuhrman, Die alliterierenden Sprachformeln in Morris' 
EE. Allit. Poems und im Sir Gawayne. 

IV. Elision of close -e (cp. Kt. 129). 

1. The poet seems to elide close -e in me, \e, we, he, ne 
(" neque ") before a vowel or h when the metre demands it. 

The following cases occur: me eschaped, 187 ; & don me in >ys del, 250; 
& pygt me in perles, 768; pou telleg me of Jerusalem, 919; & busyeg \>e 
aboute, 268 ; I hete \>e arn heterly, 402 ; I have >e aquylde, 967 ; O>er pro- 
feren \>e o^t, 1 200 ; We haf standen her, 519 ; When he hit schal efte, 332 ; 
Hymself to onsware he is not dylle, 680 ; So closed he hys mouth, 803 ; Ne 
how fer of folde, 334; Ne Arystotel nawter, 751. 

NOTE 1. The case of J>e 1. 362 is not considered. Gollancz omits the 
word altogether. 

NOTE 2. No instance of elided -e in ye occurs. 

2. Close -e in the above words is not elided before a vowel 
or h in the following instances : 

pou traweg || me in \ Ms dene, 295 ; I do | me ay \\ in hys mys | erecorde, 
366; & take me halte, 1158; pe o$te better, 341 ; I wolde \>e aske, 910; >e on 
Ms syde, 975; So fare we alle, 467; Sir, je haf, 257; ge han ben bote, 373; 
Why stande je idel, 515, (stonde) 533; Ne knawe ge o/, 516; ter most je 
hede, 1051. ' 

3. Instances of the elision of close -e before a vowel or h in 
other words are rare (cp. tenB. 269). 


But cete of God, 952 ; I syge | }>at cyty \\ of gret renoun, 986 ; pis noble 
cite of ryche enpresse, 1097 (cannot be full ecthlipsis) ; be he neuer so 
swyft, 571 ; In ludee hit is, 922. 

4. Examples of hiatus are numerous. 

(a) Before vowels : as ble o/ynde, 76 ; to /re of dede, 481 ; pe nwe | cite \\ u 
leru | sale"m, 792; to be outfleme, 1177. 

(b) Before h : & se her adubbement, 96 ; oper much be hys rewarde, 604 ; 
schal se hys face, 675 ; )>ou may be innome, 703 ; con se hyt be to-done, 914 ; 
He gef | vus to be \\ hys horn | ly hyne, 1211. 

V. Elision or slurring of -o (cp. Kt. 130). 

1 . Final -o of the preposition to is sometimes slurred before 
vowels, rarely before h. 

(a) Before vowels: I wan to a water, 107 ; Er moste | I>ou ceu | er || to 
oTer | counsayl, 319; pe olde | leru | salem || to vn | derstonde, 941 ; tyl )>ou 
to a hil be veued, 976 ; & to euen with J>at worHy lygt, 1073. 

(b) Before h : & nw | [e] men || to hys vyne he brogte, 527 (if we accept 
Gollancz's scansion). 

2. Of the slurring of -o in other words no instances occur. 

3. Instances of hiatus with -o are : 

(a) In to. (a) Before vowels : to on of J?o, 557 ; to ask'e dome, 580 ; dotg to 
endyne, 630; J>er-to is bent, 664; to onswart,, 680; to ysaye, 819. (0) Before 
h: tohaue, 132; to heuen lyste, 500 ; werkmen to hys vyne, 507 ; tohysporpos, 
508; vnto hym brayde, 712; to hys bonerte", 762; to hym warde gon, 820; 
Grouelyng to his fete, 1120 ; t>er-to hade had delyt, 1140. 

(b) In other words, (o) Before vowels : in wo ay wragte, 56 ; hot bio & 
blynde, 83 ; mo iwysse, 151 ; penne v^reg ho vp, 177 ; penne ros ho vp, 437 ; 
For ho is quene, 456 ; Ryjt so is vch, 461 ; Lo ! euen, 740 ; To mo of his mys- 
terys, 1194. (^8) Before h: Ho halde%, 454;/ro hem reparde, 611; >at/ro 
hym sede, 713; fro heuen, 873. 

NOTE. Of elision of -a no instances occur. 

VI. Slurring of -y (cp. Kt. 131). 

1. Final -y is sometimes united by synclisis with the vowel 
of the following word. 

}>at w6r>yly || I w6t | & we"ne, 47 ; But Crystes mersy & Mary & Ion, 383 ; 
Now for synglerty o hyr dousour, 429 ; a lady of lasse aray, 491 ; >e merci 
of God, 576; so holy in hys prayere, 618; Pitously of hys debonerte', 798; 
So cumly a pakke, 929; To loke | on te glory j| of J>ys grac|[i]ous gote, 



934; >er glory & blysse, 959; my frely I wolde be J>ere, 1155; So sodenly 
of, 1178. 

2. Before A, -y is generally retained. 

letty hy%ie, 305 ; by hys lettrure, 751. 

VII. 1. Weak -e in two successive syllables (cp. Kt. 132, 
tenB. 256). 

Ten Brink's rule holds in the inflection of (a) nouns, e. g. schyldere%, 214, 
heuene%, 423 (cp. heuenesse, 735, though heuen-g, 441 would seem to show an 
occasional variation in pronunciation); and (b) verbs, e. g., powdered, 44; 
pynakled, 207; suffred, 554; proferen, 1200.^ 

2. Weak -e- which is inserted between v and a strong sylla- 
ble and sometimes after th (tenB. 61, in) likewise suffers 

Ex. liure^ 1108; neuer, 262; obere-g, 450. In euer and neuer the final 
vowel (<OE. fre, ME. efere, evere) never appears in the text, and in the 
majority of cases both words are monosyllabic (euer in 3 instances, euer 
more probably e'er in 19; neuer in 15 instances, neuer or ne'er in 27). 

VIII. Apocope of weak -e immediately after the syllable 
bearing the main stress. Ten Brink's rule (260, Kt. 135) 
holds in general. 

The only exception noted is byfore, 885, cp. by/ore, 49. 

IX. Slurring of -e- in final syllables when the noun accent 
falls on the syllable immediately preceding (tenB. 259, Kt. 

1. -ej may or may not slur ~e-, the number of instances where it does not 
slur (we are of course not considering words in which -eg comes just before 
the caesural pause) being slightly in the majority. E. g., strete%, 1025, 
nede%, 344, letys, 377, quyke&, 1179, blarney, 275, elle%, 32, 491, 567, agayn%, 
79; butfrytes, 87, syde& 6, wo]>e^ 151, loke%, 1134, blome%, 27, eUe%, 130, 
grayne%, 31. Ten Brink's rule (227) that -eg is syllabic after c, ss, s, sh, ch, 
g, and mute + liquid, holds good. The only apparent exceptions are n/ses, 
191, which may be changed to ros, cp. 11. 437, 506, 519, and wasche%, 655, in 
which -e$ must be regarded as part of an anapaestic foot (pat wasch | eg 
awiiy||). In about two-thirds of the words in which -eg is syllabic, the 
syllable forms the first part of the last foot of the verse. 

2. -ed. In -ede of the pret. sg. both e*s generally lose their syllabic value, 
and even -ed generally slurs -e-, except after roots ending in t or d, as in 


MnE. Exceptions are : iugged, 7 ; stalked, 152 ; loked, 167 ; formed, 747 ; 
ioyned, 1009 ; wakned, 1171 ; o%te, 341 ; coronde, 767 ; herde, 873 ; glente, 1001 ; 
nedd'e, 1044. -ed of the pp. likewise generally slurs -e-, with the same limi- 
tation. Exceptions are: merk'ed, 142; vnlapped, 214; passed, 528; apassed, 
540; dampned, 641 ; enurried, 1027; dosed, 1085; praysed, 1112. 

3. -m. Kegularly syncopated are am, 384, wern, 71, Aan, 373, 554, 776, 
(haueri) 859 ; likewise the greater number of past participles, and of pres. 
and pret. 3d plurals. One instance of the gerund, to lysten, 880, occurs. 
Even in other kinds of words there is a strong tendency to syncopate the e. 
The one exception is withouten, which syncopates in only 9 out of 27 cases 
(withoute, 644, 695). Syncope is more frequent when the following word 
begins with a vowel ; but it does not necessarily occur in the latter case. 

4. -er is slurred when the metre demands it, and this happens in the 
majority of cases. In most instances the following word begins with a con- 
sonant, euer slurs oftener than neuer (see vn 2). o\>er (= or) invariably 
counts as one syllable. Even o\>er (= other) usually slurs; the exceptions 
occur in 11. 206, 209, 219, 842. now]>er (naw>er) slurs in four instances out 
of seven. 

5. -el is also slurred where the metre demands it. The author's usage 
is about equally divided between slurred and unslurred -el. apostel slurs 
three times out of eight ; lyttel four times out of seven. In the majority of 
instances in which slurring occurs the next word begins with a consonant. 

6. -em. The only word noted is baptem, which apparently slurs in 1. 653 
(cp. 1. 627), though it may be read without the slur since it comes directly 
before the caesura. Cp. xiv 2 i. 

NOTE. The remarks in this section do not in general apply to syllables 
coming just before the caesura, where it cannot be determined whether 
syncope (slurring) takes place or not. We may suppose that at least it was 
not so marked as elsewhere in the verse. 

X. The treatment of interior unstressed -e- varies, as in 
Chaucer (Kt. 137); but the tendency is decidedly toward 

E. g. denely, 51 ; iueler, 265, 289, 301, 730, (ioueler) 734, but iueler, 264, 
276, 288, 300, (iuelere) 252 ; kyndely, 369 ; lonely, 693, (louyly) 565; makele^, 
435 (though this may be a trochee), 733, 757, 780, 784; maskele$ (which 
the poet interchanges with makele%, cp. 732, 733, 756, 757, though they are 
distinct in 780), 745, 900, 923, (maskelles) 769, 781, but maskelle^, 756, 768, 
780, (maskelles) 744, (mascelles) 732, depending upon the position of the 
word in the verse; motele%, 899, 925, 961; nau\>eless, 877, (nowbelese) 889, 
(neuer }>e lese) 913, but 'ndwpeles, 950 (cp. xi 2), (neuer J>e les) 901 ; rapely, 
363; semblaunt, 211, but sembelaunt, 1143; sengeley, 8; vr\>ely, 135;/tmde- 
mente%, 993; couenaunt, 562, couenaunde, 563; remnaunt, 1160; generacybun, 
827 ; holtewodes, 75 ; etc. On the other hand we find vmbegon, 210; adubbe- 


ment, 84, 85, 96, 108, 109, 120, (adub[be]ment) 72, but dubbement, 121; vmbe- 
py%te, 204, 1052; mysse%eme, 322. but mysetente, 257. 

XI. Of syncope of other vowels than e and of consonants 
(Kt. 138) several instances occur. 

1. -y-: bodyly, 478, 1090; gentyleste, 1015; hardyly, 3, but hardyly, 695; 
ladyly, 774; wortyly, 47, (worthyly) 846, (worj>ly) 1133; ladyschyp, 578 (this 
can hardly be complete syncope) ; damysel, 489, but damyselle, 361 ; chary te, 
470 ; erytage, 443, but herytage, 417. 

2. -a- : paradys, 248, 321, but paradyse, 137; apocalyppe^ 787, (apocalyppce) 
944, (apokalypce) 983, but apdcalyppe%, 996, 1020, (apokalypes) 834, (appo- 
calyppece) 866 ; lerusalem, 793, 805, 817, 830, 841, 919, 941, 950 (though the 
line may be scanned : & leru | salem || hygt bo>e j nawbeles), but lerusalem, 
792, 804, 816, 828, 840 ; Salamon, 689 ; lohan invariably counts as one sylla- 
ble (spelled /Aon, 984, Jon, 383; rimes with con, 818); margarys, 199, 
(mariorys) 206, but margyrye, 1037; topasye (< MLat. topacius), 1012 ; ama- 
tyst, 1016 ; mates, 770. 

3. -o-: innosent, 684, 696, (innocent) 720, but innoscente, 672, (innocent) 
625, (innossent) 666 (cp. innocens, 708); respnabele, 523 (cp. vnresounable, 
590) ; bgrost, 628 (cp. bros[t], 286) ; corown, 237, 255, coroune%, 451, but 
coroune, 205 ; corounde, 480, (cpronde) 767, 1101, but corounde, 415 ; sup- 
plantore-g, 440. 

4. -th- : On o>er (= or), now}>er see ix 4. wheker best satisfies the metre 
when read as one syllable (130, 581, 604, 826), though it may be regarded 
as part of an anapaestic foot. 

5. -v-: On euer, newer see ix 4. With paraunter, 588, cp. auenture, 64. 
naule occurs in 1. 459, cp. nauel Pat. 278. 

6. Even -wh- may have been syncopated if pronounced as w (cp. wy, 533, 
564) in nawhere, 932 : this satisfies the metre better than the dissyllabic word. 

XII. Apocope of consonants (Kt. 139). 

Few unmistakable instances of apocope occur: rwmen, 26 (rsunne) ; run- 
wen, 874, is best scanned nmnen; founden, 1203, probably leaves off -en. But 
considering the inflected words in -en (pres. and pret. pi. and pp.), we find 
that -en loses its syllabic value before consonants in 66 per cent, of cases, 
showing that at the time of composition the consonant had begun to dis- 
appear in the spoken language, though it was still written. 

XIII. Synizesis (Kt. 142) occurs regularly. 

1. -ia- : glory <fe, 959 ; maryage, 414, (maryag) 778 ; redy~&, 591 ; specyal, 

2. -ie- : feryed, 946 ; myryer, 850 ; myryeste, 199 ; oryent, 3. 


3. -io- : body^on, 62; contryssyoun, 669; generacyoun, 827; gloryom, 799; 
yromylyoun, 43; legyounes, 1121; precious, 4 et pas.; Pymalyon, 750; pyonys, 
44. But pyty of, 1206. 

4. -yi-: Aofo/ iw, 618. 

XIV. The extra syllable before the caesura (Kt. 144). 
Many instances of such an extra syllable undoubtedly occur. 
Whether we are to suppose that -e before the caesura was 
ever pronounced when the next word begins with a consonant, 
is a question. The following list contains all the instances 
which can possibly be cited as supporting the theory of an 
extra syllable (not including words coming before weak h): 

1. -e. (a) Weak nouns : balke, 62 ; folde, 334 ; herte, 135 ; mone, 1057, 1072, 
1081; reue, 542; sunne, 982, 1076; tonge, 898; wele, 133. 

(b) Masc. and neut. nouns with -e or -u in OE. : bale, 18, 373 ; ende, 186 ; 
ryche, 722. 

(c) Fern, nouns in OE. -u: hele, 713; menske, 162; note, 155; saghe, 226; 
tale, 311. 

(d) Monosyllabic fern, nouns with long stem syllable : blysse, 658, 853, 
959 ; blybe, 354 ; heste, 633 ; hyre, 523, 534, 543, 583, 587 ; kyste, 271 ; myrfc, 
92, (mir>e) 1149; payne, 664; queue, 468; rau\>e, 858; rode, 705; sor^e, 352; 
specAe, 235, 471; strete, 971; stride, 20; traw\>e, 495; %Ze, 15; worlde, 65, 
293, 424, 537. 

(e) Masc. and neut. nouns that sometimes show an inorganic or dat. -e : 
banke, 196 ; boke, 837 ; breste, 222, 1103 ; broke, 141 ; burne, 397 ; cly/e, 159 ; 
daye, 517, 541 ; fote, 350 ; fryte, 29 ; #oWe, 165 ; gresse, 245 ; grounde, 434 ; 
0wfce, 942 ; harme, 681 ; Jh/nde, 752 ; lombe, 413, 741, 830, 1127, 1129, (lambe) 
757 ; lorde, 304, 513, 526, 557, 632, 795 ; lyste, 173, 908 ; mote, 855 ; mynde, 
1154 ; rourde, 112 ; sede, 34 ; son^e, 882, 891 ; so]>e, 292 ; twynne, 251 ; vyse, 
254 (< OF. vis) ; werke, 599 ; $ere, 503, 505. 

(f) Romance nouns with inorganic -e: acorde, 509; auenture, 64; 6Zawie, 
715; coroune, 205; corte, 701; crysopase, 1013; date, 529 x ; dystresse, 280; 
0emme, 266; ^aywe, 654; grace, 623, 625; py/e, 671; huee, 842; %e, 128, 
1197; mote ("city"), 948, 973; perle, 12, 24, 36, 48, 53, 60, 221, 228, 229, 
242, 282, 330, 732, 733, 756, 902, 1038, 1104, 1173; perre, 1028 (< OF. 
perre*e); place, 405; sardonyse, 1006; saule, 845; spyce, 938; \_s\tresse, 124 
(the emendation is Gollancz's) ; trone, 835, 1051, 1055, (throne) 1113 ; vine, 
504, 521, 535. 

(g) Proper names : Marye, 425. 

'If we adopt Gollancz's reading, At date of the day, the -e will be 
removed ; but cp. daye, 517, 541. 

336 CLARK 8. NORTHUP. % 

(h) Monosyllabic definite (weak) adjs. : dere, 1208 ; /yrste, 548 ; furfc, 1005 ; 
laste, 547, 571. 

(i) Monosyllabic strong adjs. : dene, 972 ; colde, 50 ; dere, 1183 ; e)>e, 1202; 
grete, 470; large, 609; nerre, 233; quyte, 220, 844; sade, 211; schene, 80; 
smoj>e, 6 ; wor\>e, 100. 

(j) Plu. of monosyllabic adjs. and pps.: atte, 73, 404, 467, 545, 739, 777; 
6oJ>e, 1056 ; fele, 1114 ; none, 440 ; wmme, 508. 
(k) Komance adjs.: plesaunte, 1; ravyste, 1088. 

(1) Advs., preps., and cnjs.: (a) Advs.: atone, 933; fy/ore, 172,1110; efte, 
332 ; euermore, 666 ; /orj>e, 150 ; /yrre, 347; here, 399 ; t'//e, 1177; more, 1190 ; 
gwere, 376; )>enne, 1003. ()8) Preps.: by/ore, 294; by&onde, 158. (7) Cnjs.: 
oy/ore, 530. 

(m) Verbs, pres. ind.: leue, 876; 056, 55f ; rawe, 363; stande, 514. 
(n) Verbs, pres. sjc.: forbede, 379 ; forloyne, 368 ; /ewe, 865. 
(o) Strong prets.: swange, 1059 ; werne, 585. 

(p) Weak prets.: 6wrde, 316; lyste, 181; sayde, 289, 602, 965; sette, 52; 
soste, 730. 

(q) Reduplicating prets. : hy-gte, 305. 
(r) Imperatives : forsake, 743. 

(s) Infinitives : abyde, 348 ; calle, 721 ; Aawe, 928 ; klymbe, 678 ; /aste, 956 ; 
knge, 261; /owe, 1124; make, 176; passe, 299, 707; stryke, 1125; teZ/e, 134; 
temple, 903 ; Me, 344 ; wende, 643 ; wryt>e, 488. 

(t) Perf. participles : (a) Strong verbs : calle, 572 ; fonde, 283, (fonte) 327. 
(0) Weak verbs : keste, 66. 
2. Unaccented terminations ending in a consonant. 

(a) -esl : blybest, 1131. 

(b) -en : coruen. 40 ; drawen, 1193 ; founden, 1203 ; heuen, 490 ; knawen, 
637; Wen, 874 (cp. lade, 1146); reken, 5; selden, 380; standen, 1148; 
stolen, 1065 ; wroken, 375. 

(c) -es : (o) Nouns : apoca/yppes, 996, 1020, (apocalyppce) 1008, (appoca- 
lyppece) 866 ; bales, 807 ; barney 712, 1040 ; 6emes, 83 ; beste%, 886 ; 6071%, 
931 ; oryddes, 93 ; derke%, 1091 ; coroune%, 451 ; corses, 857 ; cra/tes, 890 ; 
dayes, 416; /ereg, 1150; flauore^, 87; yZotwes, 208; forhede%, 871; 
1106; gemmes, 991; ^odes, 79; pv/<e5, 607; Ao&es, 921; Awes, 90 5 

74 ; ii/<Aes, 1198 ; launce%, 978 ; krej, 358 ; maydenne^, 869 ; membre%, 458 ; 
meres, 140 (if we adopt the reading proposed by Holthausen, Bytwen|e 
meres || by myrch|es made), 1166; modes, 884; mydde%, 740; notes, 883; 
perlez, 82, 204, 856, 1102, 1112, 1212; pfonttes, 104; porchase%, 439; 
105; resotmes, 716 ; roMes, 68 ; skyllez, 54 ; spyseg, 25; s/ernes, 115; 
997 (cp. m 2 a N. 2) ; syde%, 198, 218 ; syngnette%, 838 ; sys^S, H79 ; 
)>ow;sa?ides, 1107; Crowes, 875; vergyne%, 1099 ; w/wes, 785 ; webbe%, 71 ; we.'es, 
154; wones, 917; worde%, 307 ; toortes, 42 ; n/s 6 5> ^79. ()3) Advs.: anendes, 
975 ; e//es, 32. (7) Verbs : ot/ddes, 520 ; bygynne%, 561; commes, 848 ; dewyses, 
995; dt/sp/eses, 455; /ares, 129; #aynes, 343; ^/ades, 861; Zestes, 269; /owes, 
403 ; marres, 23 ; menes, 937 ; motes, 613 ; passes, 753 ; sfy&es, 1186 ; trawe% t 
295; wrytes, 1033. 


NOTE. Cp. ix 1, tenB. 227. 

(d) -ed : baptysed, 818 ; blmched, 1083 ; blysned, 1048 ; called, 273; departed, 
378 ; deaysed, 1021 ; dubbet, 97 ; endured, 476 ; eschaped, 187 ; excused, 281 ; 
fayled, 270 ; folded, 127 ; fordolked, 11 ; /or/eted, 619 ; iugged, 804; femed, 1043; 
toiled, 144 ; lyued, 776 ; meled, 589 ; passed, 428 ; payred, 246 ; poyned, 217; 
prayed, 1192 ; py&ed, 1036 ; restored, 659 ; sayd, 593 ; semed, 760 ; sparred, 
1169; fy S ed, 464; wayted, 14. 

(e) Consonant + -le, -re: enZe, 849; sympJe, 1134; table, 1004; tempfe, 
1062; chambre, 904; pwrpre, 1016. 

(f) -el: apostel,985, (appostel) 1053; 0ospe/, 498 ; habel, 676 ; po&6e/, 117; 
ydel, 515, 533. 

(g) -er : a/ter, 256 ; better, 341 ; fcy^er, 374 ; bygynner, 436 ; cewer, 319 ; 
chylder, 714, 718 ; clypper, 802 ; co/er, 259 ; enter, 966 ; ewer, 617 ; fader, 639, 
736 ; forser, 263 ; fynger, 466 ; %der, 249 ; iasper, 1026 ; lenger, 180 ; moder, 
435 ; myryer, 850 ; nawber, 485, 751 ; newer, 4, 19, 333, 367, 724, 916 ; ofter, 
621 ; oj?er, 449, 773 ; ower, 318 ; saffer, 118 ; sawter, 698 ; sw|fer, 954 ; syluer, 
77; byder, 723, 946; water, 107, 122, 139, 230, 365, 647, 650, 1077, 1156. 

(h) -y: cumly, 775; cyty, 986, (cite) 1097, (cyte) 939; /re/y, 1155; glory, 
70, 171, 934 ; gostly, 185 ; Aewy, 1180 ; holy, 618 ; lady, 491 ; ZowyZy, 565 ; 
mersy, 383, (mercy) 670; meyny, 899, 925; pene, 562, (peny) 614; ryfte, 
1007 ; synglerty, 429 ; wor\>y, 616 ; wortyjly, 47. 

(i) Miscellaneous : baptem, 653 (cp. ix 6) ; fenyx, 430 ; kyndom, 445 ; 
lufsoum, 398 ; mornyng, 262 ; payment, 598 ; spyry, 61 ; welkyn, 116 ; wor- 
scAyp, 394. 

XV. Seven-syllable lines. 

1. Lines which lack the initial syllable of the opening 
iambus : 

1, 27, 29, 73, 75, 89, 111, 132, 133, 145, 163, 193, 194, 195, 196 (note the 
quatrain of like verses), 202, 217, 229, 246, 257, 289, 291, 325, 353, 358 
(possibly a word has been omitted after &), 379, 388, 433, 435, 447, 469, 
471, 479, 524 (unless we accept Gollancz's emendation, I [will] you pray), 
537, 545, 558, 559, 561, 564, 569, 573, 616, 635, 638, 646, 650, 661, 699, 706, 
709, 717, 725, 755, 756, 760, 781, 807, 822, 830, 853, 859, 885, 912, 928, 961, 
963, 977, 999, 1002, 1057, 1059, 1061, 1093, 1109, 1120, 1173. 

Of seven-syllable lines as given above there are 77, or one to every 15.73 
lines. 20 of these lines begin stanzas : that is to say, in one-fifth of the 
whole number of stanzas this slight variation of the movement occurs at 
the outset. 

2. Lines which lack a syllable within the line : 

As glemande glas || burnist broun, 990. This could be read, As glem | 
ande glas | [se] || burn | ist broun, cp. glasse, 1025 ; but it seems better to 
accept Gollancz's emendation, [al] burnist broun. 


NOTE. It may be added that over three hundred anapaestic feet are 
found, an average of one for every four lines. Only about forty trochaic 
feet are found. 

XVI. Alliteration (tenB. 334). 

1. Miss M. C. Thomas has rightly remarked (Sir Gawayne 
and the Green Knight, p. 6) that The Pearl is not written in 
alliterative measure. But it is prevailingly alliterative. If 
we consider only stressed syllables as alliterating with one 
another, only 387 lines, or 32 per cent., are without allitera- 
tion. The statistics of the lines showing alliteration are as 
follows : 

Alliterating 2 stressed syllables 547, 45 per cent. 

" 3 " " 192, 16 " " 

4. 49 4 a it 

Double, transverse, and introverted all... 37, 3 " " 

Total number of alliterating lines 825,68 " " 

2. Double alliteration (type aabb) is found in 25 lines, e. g., 
No 6onk so 6yg )>at did me dereg, 102 ; In sauter is sayd a werce owerte, 593. 

3. Transverse alliteration (type abab) occurs in 2 lines : 
.Blod & water of 6rode wounde, 650 ; pat ay schal faste withouten retes, 956. 

4. Introverted alliteration (type abba) is found in 10 lines, 


Bot te tater wats depe I dorst not wade, 143. Other lines are 56, 74, 287, 
290, 862, 960, 1027, 1093, 1171. 

5. Vowel alliteration occurs in only 46 lines, e. g., 261, 
310, 545. Alliteration of a vowel with h is found in about 
25 lines, e. g., 58, 210, 614, 679. 


1. Weak -e is elided before a vowel and usually before h, 
though sometimes preserved in the definite article. Hiatus 
of weak -e before h is rarely found. 

2. It is probable that, in general, final unstressed -e before 
consonants, as written in this poem, was not sounded ; but the 


poet felt at liberty, in the case of many words some occur- 
ring in stock alliterative phrases to sound -e for the sake 
of metre. 

3. The great number of words in which final -e is written 
but unsounded, as compared with the few which sound an -e 
not written, tends to confirm the theory of Fick and Knigge 
that the copyist of the MS. spoke Sth. or SWM1. So far as -e 
is concerned, it is not necessary to suppose, as Gollancz con- 
jectures, that the dialect is artificial. 

4. Close -e is elided before a vowel or h, in me, ]>e, we, he, 
ne (" neque "), when the metre demands it ; close -e in other 
words is rarely elided. Hiatus is frequent. 

5. Final -o is sometimes slurred before vowels, rarely before 
h. Final -y is sometimes united by synclisis with the vowel 
of the following word. 

6. In the treatment of weak -e in two successive syllables 
and of weak -e inserted between v and a strong syllable, and 
in apocope of weak -e immediately after the main stressed 
syllable, the Pearl poet agrees in general with Chaucer. 

7. In final syllables when the noun accent falls on the sylla- 
ble immediately preceding, -e% is syllabic in rather more than 
half the number of instances, and always after c, ss, s, sh, ch, 
g, and mute -f liquid (as in Chaucer) ; -ed, -de of the pret. is 
usually slurred, but is always syllabic after roots ending in t 
or d- -en in the inflection of the verb and in the pp. is usually 
slurred and in other words shows a tendency to slur ; -er is 
usually slurred ; -el slurs about as often as not. 

8. In the treatment of interior unstressed -e-, the tendency 
is decidedly toward syncopation. Some instances are found 
of syncope of other vowels and of -th-, -v-, and possibly 

9. Few unmistakable instances of apocope of consonants 

10. Synizesis occurs regularly. 

11. It seems probable that weak -e before the caesura was 
not sounded. 


12. Seventy-seven lines lack the initial syllable, of which 
twenty are found at the beginning of the stanza. 

13. Alliteration of stressed syllables is found in a little more 
than two-thirds of the whole number of lines. It appears to 
have been neither carefully sought after nor avoided. 

14. At the end of the verse -e may have been sounded up 
to a later date than when occurring in the middle of the verse. 
The final determination of the question probably rests on an 
examination of the rimes, which I intend to make and the 
results of which I hope soon to publish. 



For a number of years a mot passed quietly about in the 
learned world of Paris fortunately without ever committing 
the indiscretion of finding its way into print to the effect 
that Gaston Paris ought to be elected to the French Academy 
in order that there might be in that august body at least 
one member who was an authority on the French language. 
Another and more piquant form of this much appreciated 
pleasantry, was that the one man who, as a matter of course, 
could not expect to be elected to the Academy, happened to 
be the greatest living authority on the subject of its labors. 

Little by little, however, a career of profound scholarship, 
enhanced by the distinction of a rare literary charm and of a 
personality most engaging, came to be more and more recog- 
nized in the influential circles of the French capital, and for 
the last three or four years it had been an open secret, among 
those directly interested, that the "apotheosis" of Gaston Paris 
was only a matter of a little time. Yet when the verdict of 
immortality arrived, it was not a little diverting to note the 
embarrassment of the daily press in endeavoring to set forth 
the claims of the slightly known scholar to so coveted a dis- 
tinction. To describe him as one of the editors of the Romania 
(a review, of the name or of the existence of which most good 
people had never heard), and as the author of an Ultude sur le 
rdle de V accent latin and of a Manuel de Vancienfrangais, which 
was about the extent of the enlightenment accorded to the 
general public, was manifestly inadequate. Jules Lemaltre, it 
is true, in the third series of his Contemporains, and Gaston 
Deschamps, in La Vie litteraire a Paris, of the Temps, had 
discoursed brilliantly on the more salient features of their 
friend's literary reputation, but for the most part the new 
academician still remains a comparative stranger to the grand 

341 ' 

342 H. A. TODD. 

public. This fact, however, in view of the abstruse nature of 
most of his productions, need not be accounted a discredit to 
the intelligent public, while the election of such a candidate 
by the Academy reflects distinguished honor on a body sup- 
posed to be little devoted to the interests of minute and exact- 
ing scholarship. 

If there was ever a notable instance of the influence of 
inheritance and environment on human development, such 
an instance is to be seen in the early predilections and later 
attainments of Gaston Paris. He is the son of his own 
predecessor at the College de France, Paulin Paris, an emi- 
nent savant, an outline of whose career deserves to be briefly 
recorded here. Paulin Paris, the father, was born at Avenay 
(Marne), in the year 1800. In 1828 we find him installed 
in the Department of Manuscripts at the National Library in 
Paris. In 1837 he was elected a member of the Academie 
des Inscriptions et Belles-lettres, and in 1853 became the first 
incumbent of the newly created chair of the Literature of the 
Middle Ages at the College de France. From that time 
forward, until he was succeeded, in 1872, at the College de 
France, by his distinguished son, and even until his death in 
1881, he continued to be an indefatigable and prolific student 
of the Old French language and literature. 

In order that we may have before us from the outset the 
principal data of our proposed study, and at the same time 
may clear from our pathway, by setting them aside in a single 
paragraph, a mass of details that should not be omitted, let 
us make a barren list (yet not, indeed, too easily collected) of 
the external facts of Gaston Paris' early life. 

Gaston Bruno Paulin Paris was born at Avenay, August 
9, 1839. In 1856 he had finished his studies at the College 
Rollin in Paris, and had become a student at the University 
of Gottingen. In 1857 he studied at the University of Bonn. 
From 1858 to 1861 he was a student at the Ecole des Charles, 
where he received, in the latter year, his diploma as Archiviste- 
paleographe, presenting as his thesis an Etude sur le r6le de 


V accent latin dans la langue frangaise, dedicated to Friedrich 
Diez, and published in 1862. In 1863 he translated into 
French the Introduction to Diez' Grammatik der romanischen 
Sprachen (the whole of which work was later published in 
translation, by collaboration). In 1865 he became Docteur- 
es-lettres, his French thesis being the voluminous Histoire 
poetique de Charlemagne, and the Latin thesis, De Pseudo- 
Turpino (disseruit Gaston Paris, juris litter arumque licentiatvg). 
In 1865 he was also one of the founders of the Revue critique, 
which became the receptacle of most of his learned productions 
for the following two or three years. In 1868 he was one of 
the authors of the Recueil de rapports sur Vetat des lettres et le 
progres des sciences en France. In 1869 he became instructor 
in the newly-founded ficole Pratique des Hautes Etudes, where 
he began his epoch-making investigation of the Vie de St. 
Alexis, the publication of which was interrupted by the Franco- 
Prussian war, but which appeared in 1872, receiving the Prix 
Gobert. The year 1872 is also memorable in Romance scholar- 
ship for the founding by Gaston Paris and Paul Meyer of the 
quarterly journal Romania, and for the accession of the former 
to the chair of Mediaeval French Literature till that time 
officially occupied by his father, but which he himself had 
filled for several years as substitute. In 1875 he was one of 
the founders of the Societe des anciens textes franqais. In the 
same year he was named Chevalier (and later Officier) de la 
Legion d'Honneur, and in 1876 was elected Membre de VAcade- 
mie des Inscriptions et Belles-lettres. 

We shall here do well to desist from an incomplete chronicle 
of activities that become, from this time on, too multifarious 
for so arid an enumeration. Suffice it to say that in the Ro- 
mania, the Revue critique, the Histoire litter air e de la France, the 
Memoires de la Societe de linguistique, the Journal des Savants 
and the Revue de Paris, our author has continued down to the 
present moment to display a prodigious literary and scholarly 
activity. Closing now, as was suggested, this paragraph of 
annals, not inglorious though unadorned, let us return to the 

344 H. A. TODD. 

boyhood of our hero, and gather for our pleasure and instruc- 
tion a few of the reminiscences that have been incidentally 
preserved for us by his own gifted pen. Listen, if you will, to 
the dedication to his father of the Histoire poetique de Charle- 

" Mon cher p&re, 

Tout enfant, je connaissais Roland, Berte aux grands pieds 
et le bon cheval Bayard, aussi bien que la Barbe-Bleu ou 
Cendrillon. Vous nous racontiez parfois quelqu'une de leurs 
merveilleuses aventures, et Pimprfssion de grandeur he"roi'que 
qu'en recevait notre imagination ne s'est point effaced. Plus 
tard, c'est dans vos entretiens, dans vos leyons et dans vos 
livres que ma curiosite" pour ces vieux remits, longtemps vague- 
ment entrevus, a trouve" & se satisfaire. Quand j'ai voulu, & 
mon tour, e"tudier leur origine, leur caractere et les formes 
diverses qu'ils ont revalues, votre biblioth^que, rassemble"e avec 
tant de soin depuis plus de trente anne"es, a mis & ma disposi- 
tion des mate'riaux qu'il m'eut e"te" bien difficiles de re"unir et 
souvent, mme de soup9onner. Vos encouragements m'ont 
soutenu dans le cours de mes recherches ; vos conseils en ont 
rendu le r^sultat moins deTectueux. En vous d6diant ce livre, 
je ne fais done en quelque fayon que vous restituer ce qui vous 
appartient. Acceptez-le com me un faible te"moignage de ma 
profonde et respectueuse tendresse." 

As an additional echo from early student days and a further 
testimony to the rare opportunities for development that smiled 
upon this favored youth, we may record the sympathetic words 
that fell from his lips at the celebration at Paris, in 1893, of the 
centenary anniversary of the birth of the founder of Romance 
philology, Fried rich Diez. 

" J'ai bien volontiers accepte" d'etre " he said on that occa- 
sion " avec mon ami Paul Meyer, un des deux presidents de 
ce banquet. Nous sommes en effet sans doute presque les seuls 
Fran9ais actuellement vivants qui aient connu le patriarche de 
nos Etudes et qui lui aient parle" di bocca a bocca. J'ai eu sur- 
tout ce privilege, ayant habite* pendant neuf mois, dans ma 
dix-huitime annexe, la charmante ville [de Bonn] qui 6tait 


devenue sa seconde patrie. ... II me restera toujours de lui 
un souvenir prScieux et doux, fait de vn6ration, de sourire et 
d'attendrissement. La veneration est due & ce qu'a produit de 
vraiment grand cet homme si modeste et qui s'effa9ait si volon- 
tiers ; le sourire me revient involontairement aux l&vres quand 
je le revois avec sa timidite" qu'augmentait son extreme myopie, 
sa casquette verte & longue visi&re, ses mani^res embarrasses, 
la gne avec laquelle il avouait (et prouvait) qu'il parlait m6di- 
ocrement ces langues romanes qu'il posse"dait si bien ; mais le 
sourire fait bient6t place a une Emotion attendrie quand je 
repense a son extreme bienveillance pour Pe*colier inconnu qui 
lui e"tait un beau jour arrive" de Paris, & la bonte" qui Sclairait 
son visage quand ses yeux incertains m'avaient enfin reconnu 
dans le demijour de son paisible cabinet, aux promenades qu'il 
me permettait de faire a ses c6te"s, r^pondant (en fran9ais, mal- 
gre" Peffort qu'il lui fallait faire) a mes questions souvent bien 
peu reflechies, aux encouragements si chaleureux qu ? il donna 
bient6t a mes premiers essais." 

Having thus caught a glimpse of the formative influences 
affecting the mind and heart of the future scholar, we are in 
some degree prepared to address ourselves to the welcome task 
of studying, as the limitations of the present occasion may best 
permit, his aims, and what the French would so aptly term his 
ceuvre. For this purpose it will be convenient to divide the 
remainder of this paper under four heads, covering briefly the 
labors of Professor Paris (1) in Philology proper (using that 
word as at present accepted in this country) ; (2) in Literary 
History; (3) in Criticism and Belles-lettres; (4) in Education. 


Leaving out of the account a brief study of an Epitrefarcie 
pour le jour de Saint-Etienne in the Jahrbuchfur romanische 
und englische Literatur for 1862 (and I cannot refrain from 
noting that it stands immediately next to an article by our 
own Prof. Francis A. March, entitled "Die National-literatur 
der Vereinigten Staaten von Nord->Amerika in den Jahren 1860- 

346 H. A. TODD. 

61" and treating of Hawthorne's Marble Faun, Holmes 3 s Elsie 
Venner, Theodore Winthrop's Cedl Dreeme, and George Wm. 
Curtis's Trumps), the first essay of Gaston Paris in the field of 
philology (though he had already tried his hand in another 
line, as we shall see later), was his Etude sur le r6le de I'accent 
latin. To this treatise of 132 pages Diez devotes in theJahr- 
buch an eight-page review, in which he remarks : 

"Herr Paris war, als er seine These unternahm, mit 
allem ausgerustet, was zu ihrer Losung erforderlich war. 
Ich bemerke nur, dass ihm auch J)eutschlands grammatische 
Literatur sehr wohl bekannt ist. Dazu zeugt seine Arbeit 
von Beobachtungsgeist und unabhangigem Urtheil : jeder, 
der sich mit der franzosischen Grammatik in Wissenschaft- 
licher Weise beschaftigt, sei er Sch tiler oder Meister, wird aus 
ihr lernen konnen. Sie macht der neuen Schule Ehre. . . ." 

And, in conclusion : 

" Ich schliesse diese Anzeige mit dem Wunsche, Herr Paris 
moge fortfahren, die romanische Sprachwissenschaft mit seinen 
schatzbaren Beobachtungen zu bereichern." 

In order to appreciate the sincerity of this wish, in view 
of the little recognition that the work of Diez himself had 
received at this time in France, we have only to quote a few 
lines again from the centenary address of Gaston Paris. They 
will serve also to illustrate the state of Romance scholarship 
in France at the date at which Gaston Paris began his own 
work there. 

" Ses travaux [c'est-a-dire, les travaux de Diez] vraiment 
admirables de finesse et de penetration sur la litterature pro- 
ven9ale etaient en France comme non avenus, et VHistoire 
litteraire continuait, longtemps apres qu'ils avaient paru, a 
publier sur les troubadours des notices ou Ton n'en tenait 
aucun compte. Sa grammaire, hativement et maladroitement 
resumee, dans sa partie fran9aise, par Ampere, provoquait 
les sarcasmes de Ge"nin, qui pensait ecraser Fauteur sous le 
reproche d'avoir traite le franpais l commie il eut fait le Sanscrit 


ou le persepolitainj et ne rencontrait que le scepticisme a 
1'Ecole des Chartes m6me, ou Guessard se faisait fort d'op- 
poser a chacune des regies de Diez autant d'exemples qu'il 
en avait donne pour 1'appuyer." 

In the Jahrbuch for 1865 is to be found, if I am not mis- 
taken, the first adventure of Gaston Paris in the fascinating 
field of the original editing of mediaeval texts. His article is 
entitled Fragment d'un petit poeme devot du Commencement du 
XII s Siecle. It is a critical edition in diminutive of what 
has since been more generally known by German scholars as 
Die Paraphrase des Hohen Liedes, and is the forerunner, in 
this direction, of a long line of texts critically constituted and 
annotated by Gaston Paris. But it was not until 1872 that 
the work appeared that was destined not only to set its author, 
at a single bound, in the front rank of philological scholars, 
but also to serve as a model to all subsequent investigators : 
La Vie de Saint Alexis : poeme du XI e siecle. In this exten- 
sive work the editor applies for the first time rigorously and 
on a large scale those thorough-going principles of manuscript 
classification, restitution of readings and forms, and historical 
and critical investigation, which constitute the foundations of 
all philological scholarship, whether applied to fields ancient 
or modern. In regard to the spirit in which the work was 
carried on, the author himself remarks in his preface : 

" Je serais heureux qu'il [ce volume] obtlnt Papprobation 
du monde savant s'il pouvait ainsi contribuer a faire appre- 
cier favorablement et par consequent a affermir notre jeune 
Ecole des Hautes Etudes. C'est par elle que s'est introduit 
chez nous P usage de ces conferences pratiques, si necessaires a 
c6te des cours proprement dits, qui peuvent seules propager 
efficacement les me"thodes et cr6er ce qui nous manque le plus, 
une tradition scientifique." l 

1 Perhaps almost the only criticism of a general nature that could be 
applied to this work is its failure in some cases to grasp the bearing of 
certain principles not at that time fully understood, such as the nature 
of accent doublets (car, quer) and the influence of analogy in such words as 
amour, epoux. 


348 H. A. TODD. 

As early as 1870 Paris had published, in theJahrbuch, his 
first contribution to the lexicology of the Old French lan- 
guage, under the modest title of Contributions aux Glanurea 
lexicographiques de M. Scheler. With this little article began 
a series of elucidations of the difficulties and obscurities of 
the Old French vocabulary and phraseology that may be 
aptly characterized by calling attention to the fact that one 
of the difficult phrases unsuccessfully grappled with in the 
Jahrbucli at this early date by Scheler, Paul Meyer and him- 
self, and later by several other scholars, was fully explained 
by him in a similar article twenty-two years afterwards. 
(Boute-en-courroie. Cf. Jahrbuch, xi, 148, and Rom., xxi, 

We have now reached the date of the founding by Paul 
Meyer and Gaston Paris of the quarterly journal Romania. 
Its first article is by M. Paris, entitled Romani, Romania, 
Lingua romana, Romancium ; and its opening words are as 
follows : 

" Le nom de langues romanes, actuellement recu dans la 
science, rend sensible & tous le lien qui re"unit les idiomes 
auxquels on 1'applique et Forigine de leur communaute. Ce 
nom ne leur est attribue que depuis assez peu de temps ; le 
mot roman Iui-m6me, avant d'etre reserve & 1' usage auquel 
nous Pappliquons, a recu souveut des significations plus ou 
moins speciales. L'objet des pages qui suivent est d'etudier 
1'histoire, le sens primitif, les applications successives et les 
formes di verses du mot roman et de ceux qui s'y rattachent, 
et de justifier ainsi le titre que nous avons donne a ce recueil." 

Of the journal thus auspiciously launched it has been esti- 
mated that over a fourth part, from that day to this, has been 
contributed by the joint founders, while of this fourth, it is 
probable that something more than half is the share of M. 
Paris, about equally divided between constructive philology 
and literary history, on the one hand ; and criticism in these 
two fields, on the other. How characterize such a wealth of 
productiveness? For the philological side, let it suffice to 


hint at critical editions of the Vie de Saint Leger and the 
Passion du Christ, of Mainet, of Lais inedits, of Jean Renaud, 
of Martin le Franc, of the Lai de la Rose. As a model of 
phonological research, we have his Phonetique frangaise: o 
ferme. In the domain of historical grammar, under the title 
Le Pronom neutre de la 8 e personne en frangais, the author 
writes (as I have recently had occasion to say in the American 
Journal of Philology) a on an obscure and almost unknown 
Old-French monosyllable, a richly annotated article of six- 
teen pages, which for graceful directness of treatment, charm 
of style and intrinsic interest, not to speak of sound and pene- 
trating scholarship, is notably worthy of the member of the 
French Academy which Gaston Paris has since become." In 
addition to these and other philological productions, there still 
deserve to be mentioned his Extraits d^e la Chanson de Roland 
and Extraits de Joinville critically prepared for elementary use. 


With such a training and such a predilection for minute 
and painstaking philological research, it might perhaps be 
occasion for surprise that a similarly strong bent for studies 
in literary history, such as was displayed in so remarkable a 
manner in the Histoire poetique de Charlemagne, should not 
have been stifled or neglected. It seems, however, on the con- 
trary, that the splendid philological equipment of our author 
has only been a stimulus to him to bring to bear his linguistic 
insight and attainments upon the solution of the many exist- 
ing problems in literary history. In the first volume of the 
Romania he writes, "Sur un vers du Coronement Loois," a full- 
length treatise on the relations to each other of the various 
elements that go to make up the northern and the southern 
" Guillaume " cycles. Next, it is the Roman du Chdtelain de 
Coucy that engages his facile pen, and the history of whose 
origin and development he traces with masterly hand. As a 

350 H. A. TODD. 

specimen of the style of treatment let us follow for a few 
lines taken at haphazard the course of our author's study : 

"Avant d'examiuer les sources et le fondement historique 
de ce romaii, signalons quelques passages interessants pour 
Phistoire des mreurs et des usages, que nous n'avons pas 
releves dans Panalyse precedente. 

" Bien que le heros du roman soit appele chdtelain, c'est-ji- 
dire gouverneur, de Couci, il ne paralt pas habiter ce chateau. 
Son manoir est a trois lieux de Chauvigni. ... II sejourne 
en outre frequemment a Saint-Quentin, mais il n'y a qu'un 
hostel, c'est-a-dire qu'il est re9u habituellement chez un bour- 
geois. Cette distinction entre le manoir ou domicile reel, qui 
est aux champs, et Yhostel en ville, est a signaler : elle marque 
la transition entre le moyen age ou les seigneurs n'habitaient 
que leurs chateaux, et Fepoque plus moderne ou ils passent 
au moins une grande j3artie de Panne"e dans les villes ; les 
hdtels des families nobles e"taient sans doute a Porigine, comme 
celui du chatelain [de Couci] les maisons bourgeoises ou ils 
descendaient d'habitude." 

Most extensive of the studies that Gaston Paris has devoted 
to French literary history are, on the one hand, the series of 
papers on the Old French Epic, such as his Chanson du Peleri- 
nage Charlemagne, his Episode d'Aimeri de Narbonne, his Le 
Carmen de Prodicione Guenonis et la Legende de Roncevaux, 
and La Date, et la Patrie de la Chanson de Roland; and on 
the other hand, his Etudes sur les Romans de la Table Ronde : 
Lancelot du Lac; Le Conte de la Charrette; Guinqlain, ou le 
Bellnconnu; Tristan, etc. Of these collective studies it can 
only be said that they surpass in interest and importance 
anything that has been done on the same subjects by other 
scholars; while the titles mentioned represent only a frag- 
mentary portion of the author's contributions to literary 


Passing from the theme of constructive scholarship to that 
of learned criticism, one who is acquainted with the output of 


Gaston Paris in both fields would perhaps find it difficult to 
decide, so eminently does he excel in each direction, in which 
of the two domains his more important labor lies. 

On entering, in 1893, upon the third decade of their joint 
labors as editors of the Romania, MM. Paul Meyer and Gaston 
Paris, in an article placed at the head of the journal, take a 
comprehensive survey of the situation of Romance scholar- 
ship, and this is the manner in which they express themselves 
in regard to scientific criticism : 

"A cote des recherches originales, nous devons reserver une 
place suifisante a Pexamen des travaux d'autrui. Nous le 
disions dans notre programme de 1871: 'La critique des 
ouvrages qui paraltront dans le domaine de nos etudes sera 
une partie importante du recueil.' Et cette partie devient de 
plus en plus considerable, a mesure que la philologie romane 
va se developpant en tous les sens. Nous sommes inondes de 
livres, de periodiques, de dissertations pour le doctorat alle- 
mand (dont beaucoup pourraient sans dommage 6tre presentees 
en manuscrit), de contributions a telle etude, de supplements 
a tels recherches. C'est une maree montante qui menace de 
restreindre la part consacree aux etudes originales. On voudra 
bien nous excuser si trop souvent de bons livres n'ont pas le 
compte rendu qu'ils me"ritent, et si Panalyse de tel ou tel p6ri- 
odique est en retard. C'est que ce genre de travail ne peut 
etre confie au premier venu. La critique exige une experience 
et, s'il est permis de le dire, un tour de main, qui ne sont pas 
communs. Et puis les jeunes erudits de notre temps ne sem- 
blent pas avoir pour cet exercice salutaire le gout que nous 
manifestions, lorsqu'en 1865 nous fondions la Revue critique" 

Only those who have been accustomed year after year to 
read and digest Gaston Paris's fifteen or twenty page reviews 
in solid minion type can fully appreciate all that is signified 
by such a statement. The patient care, ungrudging faithful- 
ness and brilliant critical ability displayed by Gaston Paris in 
each succeeding number of the Romania is something to stir 
the ambition and kindle the zeal of younger scholars every- 
where. Nor is it in the Romania alone, but notably also in 

352 H. A. TODD. 

the Journal des Savants, not to mention the critical journals 
of less importance, that this devotion to what might in other 
cases be regarded as a minor form of scholarship, is exhibited. 


Entering upon the work of higher education in France at 
a period when, as we have seen, the methods of scholarship 
especially in his chosen field were far from being abreast of 
the times, the example, the labors and the ideals of Gaston 
Paris have exerted an untold influence on the educational 
rejuvenation of his much loved country. Yet, strange as it 
may appear, what he has accomplished for the advancement 
of education in his own land is scarcely more than what the 
force of his personality, exercised through devoted pupils of 
his drawn from all the quarters of Europe and America, has 
been able to effect throughout the learned world outside of 
France. One of the external evidences of this fact is the 
great number of books and learned dissertations that have 
been dedicated to him by scholars in all countries, while two 
extensive memorial volumes, one in commemoration of the 
fiftieth anniversary (in 1889) of his birth, and the other of 
the twenty-fifth anniversary (in 1890) of his doctorate each 
composed of scientific papers contributed by former pupils of 
his attest the love and veneration felt for him by all who 
have been accorded the privilege of his friendship. In his 
public acknowledgment of the latter of these volumes (com- 
prising the contributions of no less than forty-five of his earlier 
pupils) M. Paris expresses himself in words that throw a flood 
of light upon the noble aspirations of his life : 

Je me rappelle qu'il y a vingt-cinq ans, dans la premiere 
Ie9on que je fis, aux cours libres de la rue Gerson fondes par 
M. Duruy, je disais que le voeu de tout professeur digne de 
ce nom pour chacun de ses e"lves est le voeu d'Hector pour 
son fils : 

Kot TTore Tt9 elLTrrja-t,' Harpbs S'oye 7ro\\bv afj.eivwv 


Ce voeu s'est realise pour plus d'un de ceux qui, venus de 
France ou de Petranger, ont depuis lors trouve dans mes cours 
et mes conferences leur premiere initiation la science. En 
voyant la fa9on dont ils ont su deVelopper et accroitre le 
germe qui leur avait ete confie", je me dis que ma carriere 
didactique n'a pas Ste" inutile et cela ne me fait pas seulement 
plaisir, cela me prouve que j'ai eu raison (centre Pavis de 
quelques conseillers bien intentionnes), de donner inflexible- 
ment a mon enseignement la direction toute scientifique que 
je lui ai donnee, le tenant Sgalement a Pe"cart de toute pre- 
paration a un examen quelconque et de tout appel a Pinter^t 
d'un public etranger au travail : cela m'a valu quelques heures 
difficiles, ou j'ai pu craindre de me trouver isole, et, par suite, 
d'avoir choisi une mauvaise voie; mais je suis aujourd'hui 
de"livr6 de mes doutes et largement pay e" de mes peines." 

Many are the learned productions and many are the per- 
sonal qualities both private and public that I have failed 
to mention in this brief survey, 1 but there remains one utter- 
ance of the distinguished savant, that may fitly serve as a 
closing paragraph in any attempt to do honor to his name : 
In a memorable lecture delivered on the 8th of December, 
1870, at the College de France, Gaston Paris thus declares 
his profession of intellectual faith : 

Je professe absolument et sans reserve cette doctrine, que 
la science n'a d'autre objet que la verite, et la verite pour 
elle-me'me, sans aucun souci des consequences bonnes ou mau- 
vaises, regrettables ou heureuses, que cette verite pourrait 
avoir dans la pratique. Celui qui, par un motif patriotique, 
religieux et m&me moral, se permet dans les faits qu'il etudie, 
dans les conclusions qu'il tire, la plus petite dissimulation, 
Palteration la plus lege"re, n'est pas digne d'avoir sa place 
dans le grand laboratoire ou la probite est un titre d'admis- 
sion plus indispensable que Phabilete". Ainsi comprises, les 
etudes communes, poursuivies avec le me"me esprit dans tous 

1 Especially to be cited for the convenience of scholars who have yet to 
become acquainted with the work of Gaston Paris, are his Litterature fran- 
qaise au moyen dye, 1 vol. in-16, and his Poe&ie au moyen dge, lemons et lectures, 
2 vol. in-16. 

354 H. A. TODD. 

les pays civilises, forment au-dessus des nationalites restreintes, 
diverses et trop souvent hostiles, une grande patrie qu'aucune 
guerre ne souille, qu'aucun conqu6rant ne menace, et ou les 
&mes trouvent le refuge et I'unit6 que la cite de Dieu leur a 
donnes en d'autres temps. 

H. A. TODD. 



At first thought the word "pastoral" scarcely seems to 
require definition, yet, as a matter of fact, the word has been 
used in several different senses. Usually it has been employed 
to designate a distinct species of literature, but the more care- 
ful critics refer to it as a mode of literary expression. The 
latter view is undoubtedly more accurate, for the pastoral 
treatment may be applied to almost any form of literature, 
lyric, drama or romance. Still it is convenient to speak of 
the pastoral as a species of literature, and this use of the term 
is not misleading if we understand it to refer to the literature 
which is written in the pastoral mode, and which is altogether 
free from, or only slightly affected by, other influences. The 
real difficulty is to state definitely the essential nature of the 
pastoral, its characteristics, and the motives which prompted 
men to produce it. Here again the critics disagree. Some 
seem to regard pastoral literature as a sincere expression of 
man's delight in rural simplicity and content ; others as an 
artificial and insincere portrayal of imaginary rural life. Per- 
haps it is impossible to arrive at a satisfactory definition of 
the pastoral ; certainly a narrow view of the subject based on 
modern prejudice is utterly inadequate. 

Pastoral literature professed to be a portrayal of rural life;; 
therefore it is necessary to examine the methods used by vari- 
ous writers in depicting rural scenes and characters. The 
methods employed were either realistic, based on observation, 
or idealistic, based on imagination. As typical examples of the 
former may be cited Theocritus's Idyl IV, Herrick's Corinna's 
Going A-Maying, Worthsworth's Michael, and Burns's Cotter's 
Saturday Night. The chief motive which prompts men to 



write such poetry is a delight in the beauty of nature, joined 
with a feeling of sympathy and respect for whatever is noble, 
sincere and wholesome in the life of the lowly. Realistic por- 
trayal of country life appeared only at rare intervals in former 
times because the poets, as a rule, were blind to nature's beauty 
and regarded the inhabitants of the country chiefly as subjects 
of ridicule. In modern times, however, this form has been 
cultivated most assiduously. The introduction of shepherds 
is of course purely accidental. It is, therefore, somewhat mis- 
leading to apply to this form the^name pastoral. If it be 
necessary to classify these poems, would not the term " idyl " 
be more appropriate than " pastoral ? " 

Idealized portrayal of rural life results when a writer strives 
to leave out of his descriptions all that is rude, gross or com- 
monplace. The chief motive which actuates men to write this 
kind of literature is a desire to escape from the complexity of 
city life with its vices and follies, and to refresh themselves 
with the simplicity and freedom of the golden age. Idealized 
portrayal of country life, though employed in classic times, 
flourished chiefly during the sixteenth and seventeenth cen- 
turies in Italy, Spain, France and England. This form was 
devoted mainly to shepherd or pastoral life, because shepherds 
were regarded as the most refined type of countrymen. Occa- 
sionally a poet would strive to idealize the life led by farmers 
or fishermen ; but the attempt was regarded with little favor 
by the majority of the poets, and was severely censured by the 
critics. 1 Idealized portrayal of rural life, therefore, may be 
appropriately designated as pastoral literature. Some account 
of its origin and development is necessary in order to under- 
stand why in the later stages idealization was carried to such 
a preposterous extent. 

In the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries we find every- 
where a well defined legend of primitive pastoral life which 

1 Cf. Fontenelle. Poesies Pastorales, avec un traite sur la Nature de V Eclogue. 
Walsh. Preface to Dryden's translation of Virgil's Eclogues. 
The Guardian. Nos. 22, 23, 28, 30, 32. 


was credited by the poets and their readers. It was, in 
reality, an offshoot of the legend of the "golden age," local- 
ized and defined by Theocritus. Though Theocritus placed 
his shepherds in Sicily, other poets selected Arcadia for their 
scene; 1 and finally the shepherd life of Arcadia became one of^ 
the most generally accepted traditions. According to this tradi- 
tion, the Arcadians dwelt amid scenes of quiet rural beauty ; 
they were free from toil (for sheep-tending was regarded as a 
life of leisure) ; they preserved simplicity of manners, and 
spent their time in love-making or in criticising the wicked- 
ness of the city. These were the chief elements of Arcadian 
life, and out of these elements the poets sought to construct 
their rural pictures. In the later stages of pastoral develop- 
ment, when the tradition began to be doubted, some of these 
elements were emphasized and others were subordinated or 
altogether omitted. If the rural scene and simplicity of 
manners were made prominent, the pastoral approached a 
realistic portrayal of rural life ; if the shepherds' disgust of 
city life was emphasized the pastoral became satiric ; if the 
shepherds' art in love-making was elaborated, the pastoral 
became simply amatory verse; finally, if the high honor of 
the shepherds' calling was exaggerated, the shepherd became 
something of an aristocrat with herdsmen and rustics beneath 
him in the social scale. 

In other words pastoral life was idealized by the poets until 
it often lost all resemblance to actual shepherd life in Sicily 
or elsewhere. So the pastoral became in the end a mere mode 
of literary expression;. In the words of Dean Church : 
"Spenser and his contemporaries turn the whole world into a 
pastoral scene. Poetic invention required they thought a scene 
as far as possible from the realities where primary passions 
might have full play. The masquerade, when the poet's sub- 
ject belonged to peace, was one of shepherds; when it was one 

1 Vergil, in his Bucolica, Edoga, vii, speaks of Cory don and Thyrsis as 
"Arcades ambo." Sannazaro and Sidney also laid the scene of their 
romances in Arcadia. 


of war and adventure, it was a masquerade of knight-errantry. 
But a masquerade was thought necessary to raise the composi- 
tion above the trivialities of street, fireside, camp and court, 
to give it dignity and ornament, the unexpected results, the 
brightness and colour that belong to poetry. So the Eliza- 
bethan writers portrayed their thought under the imaginary 
rustics to whom everyone else was a rustic and lived among 
sheep-folds with a background of vales and downs and hills." 1 

Pastoral literature, therefore, includes not only all forms 
of idealized country life based on primitive shepherd life in 
Sicily, Arcadia or elsewhere, but also much literature in which 
the characters represented are shepherds only in name, and in 
which the scene is rural only in a townsman's imagination. 

The importance of the pastoral influence can scarcely be 
overestimated. It affected some of the greatest of the Greek 
and Latin poets, and during the sixteenth and seventeenth cen- 
turies invaded all forms of literature in Italy, Spain, France 
and England. It took possession of the lyric, inspired the 
most famous of the romances, and even entered into the drama. 
But pastoral literature had powerful rivals, and gradually lost 
its hold upon the public. In Italy it degenerated into opera; ? ' 
in Spain it was overwhelmed by " picaresque literature ; " in 
France it was brought into contempt by the affectations of 
petty writers ; while in England, after maintaining an unequal 
struggle with the virile romantic drama, it was finally laughed J^* 
out of existence by the burlesques of the eighteenth century. 2 ^ 

1 English Men of Letters Series: Spenser, pp. 40, 41. 

8 In modern times the pastoral influence occasionally asserts itself, as is 
proved by the following sonnet written some years since by an English 
clergyman : 

" When Daphnis comes adown the purple steep 
From out the rolling mists that wrap the dawn, 
Leaving aloft his crag-encradled sheep, 
Leaving the snares that vex the dappled fawn, 
He gives the signal for the flight of sleep, 
And hurls a windy blast from hunter's horn 
At rose-hung lattices, whence maidens peep 
. To glimpse the young glad herald of the morn. 


So foreign is pastoral literature to modern methods of 
thought that we are sometimes at a loss to account for its 
former popularity. An age of reason and science finds diffi- 
culty in comprehending an age of imagination and poetry. 
Yet if we examine carefully the various characteristics which 
appear in pastoral literature we see that almost all were 
especially adapted to further its popularity during the six- 
teenth and seventeenth centuries. Take for example the 
introduction of supernatural characters and incidents, or of 
mythological allusions. Even as late as the days of the 
Guardian Steele writes : " The theology of the Ancients is 
so very pretty that it were pity to change it." Not until the 
nineteenth century do we find a poet daring to write " Roll, 
happy earth, and bring the wished-for day." l In the six- 
teenth century the audience preferred, " Gallop apace, you 
fiery-footed steeds, towards Phoebus' mansion," even though 
they had as little belief in the beautiful myth as we have 
to-day. Therefore the Greek mythology was retained, and 
served to add poetic coloring to the speeches of English swains. 
Usually, supernatural characters did not appear in person but 
revealed their will by oracles. Yet pastoral writers made 
prodigal use of the supernatural ; sometimes merely for orna- 
ment, sometimes for tragic effect (as in the introduction of 
sorcery and witchcraft), and frequently to aid in the develop- 
Then haply one will rise and bid him take 
A brimming draught of new-drawn milk a-foam ; 
But fleet his feet and fain ; he will not break 
His patient fast at any place but home, 
Where his fond mother waits him with a cake 
And lucent honey dripping from the comb." 

The Poems of Edward Cracroft Lefroy. N. Y., 1897. 

1 Tennyson's Maud. Tennyson, however, is not consistent, but often pre- 
fers the imaginative to the scientific view, as in the following passage from 
The Princess : 

"Till the sun 

Grew broader toward his death, and fell, and all 
The rosy heights came out above the lawns." 


ment of the plot. To a modern reader neither interest nor 
tragic effects can be obtained in this way, even Shakespeare's 
witches no longer arouse the thrill of dread and horror which 
must have held an Elizabethan audience spell-bound, but it 
is altogether probable that supernatural incidents and allu- 
sions aroused the deepest interest in a sixteenth-century reader, 
and certainly they did not create any impression of unreality. 

The love of nature was another emotion to which pastoral 
writers appealed. This finds better expression in pastoral 
poetry than almost anywhere else ij* the literature of the time. 
Still it was nature portrayed by imagination, not from observa- 
tion, and was moreover an extremely limited phase of nature, 
that cultivated and subdued by man. This is precisely the 
aspect of nature which appealed to the city dwellers who 
formed the audience for pastoral writers. The sublimity of 
mountain and ocean aroused only fear and terror ; but a calm 
rural scene breathing quiet content and prosperity was regarded 
with the keenest delight. Even as late as Queen Anne's time 
Steele can truthfully write, " Pastoral poetry not only amuses 
the fancy most delightfully, but is likewise more indebted to 
it than any sort whatsoever. It transports us into a kind of 
fairyland, where our ears are soothed with the melody of birds, 
bleating flocks and purling streams, our eyes enchanted with 
flowery meadows and springing greens; we are laid under 
cool shades and entertained with all the siveets and freshness of 
nature" l This is the manner in which pastoral descriptions 
were regarded by the men of that time. Exact observation 
was not demanded as it is now by our scientifically trained 
senses : the pastoral writer might draw a scene from careless 
observation or imitate one from some classic writer without 
fear of the ornithologist or the botanist. 

It is scarcely necessary to call attention to the popularity 
pastoral poetry gained by making love its main theme. The 
love of man for woman, subordinated as it usually is in real 
life to parental or filial affection, to ambition and a host of 

1 Guardian, No. 22. 


other emotions, has always been the main theme of all forms 
of literature. 1 In the sixteenth century pastoral, as in the 
most popular of nineteenth century novels, the supreme pas- 
sion of lovers fills the whole canvas, and the popularity of one 
form explains the popularity of the other. Pastoral literature 
portrayed love in all its varieties. On this field were fought 
out the conflicting demands of passion and duty. Some pas- 
toral writers like Fletcher and Milton depict chastity ; others 
brand lust in the person of some satyr, or devote themselves 
to the portrayal of the highest spiritual love (exemplified by 
some faithful shepherd). The love scenes, however, seem to 
modern readers long, tedious and over-elaborated. Here again 
we recognize a change of taste ; the modern audience weeps at 
flimsy, sentimental melodramas, the Renaissance audience pre- 
ferred subtle analyses of the causes and effects of love, and 
witty or courtly disquisitions on its nature and scope. Many 
of us care for one as little as for the other, but it is perhaps 
pertinent to inquire whether our horror of the sentimental has 
not crushed out, to some degree, our power to appreciate true 

Doubtless another important reason for the popularity of 
pastoral literature is to be found in its marked poetic color- 
ing. Poetry intrudes even into the domain of prose romance, 
not only appearing in frequent songs and lyrics, but often in 
an impassioned form of prose. In the early pastoral romances, 
such as Sannazaro's Arcadia, we find a very large admixture 
of verse. In fact all pastoral romance is instinct with the 
spirit of poetry and might better be classed as poetry than as 
prose. In the pastoral dramas, also, prose seldom occurs and 
if used is diversified with many songs. Oftentimes a drama- 
tist would discard even blank verse, and write in a shorter 

1 The Stage is more beholding to Love, then the Life of Man. For, as to 
the Stage, Love is ever the matter of Comedies, and now and then of Trage- 
dies. But in Life, it doth much mischiefe : sometimes like a -Syren / some- 
times like a Fury. 

Bacon's Essays, x, " Of Love." 


and more lyrical measure as Fletcher did in the greater part 
of The Faithful Shepherdess. 

. In some cases the popularity of a pastoral was due to its 
hidden allegorical meaning. In the simplest form of allegory 
the characters personified some abstract quality; the surly 
shepherd prefiguring incivility or the wanton shepherdess, 
licentiousness. Sometimes a coarse pastoral loses all its gross- 
ness if we interpret the meaning aright. Very interesting in 
this connection is Fletcher's Faithful Shepherdess, in which 
Clorin, impossible and exasperatin^as a character in the play, 
becomes perfectly intelligible when regarded as the symbol 
of constancy or chastity; Cloe, also, whom even the wide 
sympathies of Charles Lamb could not tolerate, loses half her 
grossness if we regard her as an allegorical character. This 
tendency to allegorical scenes and characters, so stimulating to 
the readers of former times, has now almost died out of our 
literature and has been relegated to pulpit oratory, and the 
various forms of pictorial satire. 

Sometimes a pastoral writer, instead of allegorical charac- 
ters, introduced real characters or events under some easily 
penetrated disguise. In this way a poet defended or revealed 
himself or his friends, and his readers were interested in the 
interpretation of the allusions. This practise began with 
Theocritus, who in his seventh idyl introduces himself under 
the name of Simichidas, and was sanctioned by Vergil, who 
in his eclogues represents his own misfortunes under the names 
of Tityrus and Menalchus. Following their example, Tasso 
(Aminta) exposes his love for Leonore (Silvia), his resentment 
toward Sperone (Mopsa) and his desire to propitiate Pigna 
(Elpino). In like manner Montemayor (in the Diana) reveals 
his own misfortunes, and D'Urfe* goes so far as to include 
almost all the court stories of love and intrigue in the various 
episodes of Astree. It was also a very common practice to 
praise one's family or one's patron under the conventional 
pastoral disguise. Thus Sannazaro in many incidents of the 


Arcadia refers to the misfortunes of his patron Frederick III, 
King of Naples. 

It was an easy step from personal allusion to satire, and 
many pastorals won fame by the keenness of their satirical 
shafts. Daniel's Queen's Arcadia is a most amusing satire on 
the court of King James. Many other pastoral dramatists and 
poets write with a marked satiric intent, sometimes mildly 
ridiculing certain court affectations and sometimes resorting 
to bitter invective against some vicious custom. When the 
satire is keen and is directed against matters deserving satire 
to-day we read it with relish, but usually the persons or cus- 
toms satirized are remote from our modern interests. Never- 
theless we can readily understand how the satiric element 
increased the former popularity of pastoral poetry, especially 
in its later stages. 

Thus by splendor of poetic coloring, by idealized portrayal 
of rural scenes, by skilful use of the old myths, by subtle 
love-disquisitions, by personal allusion, satire or allegory, pas- 
toral literature created and maintained its popularity. More- 
over certain aspects of pastoral poetry which now directly 
repel us were looked upon by the sixteenth century audience 
with toleration or even with pleasure. For example the ever- 
present anachronisms. What had chronology to do with the 
eternally youthful Arcadian life which was conceived to spring 
up in the early history of any country. A critic who begins 
by pointing out carefully the anachronisms in pastoral litera- 
ture will end by writing a log-book of the voyage of the 
Ancient Mariner. As a matter of fact pastoral writers allowed 
their imaginations free rein. If they chose they would mix 
Koman and Italian customs or Greek and Teutonic myths. 
In dramas, representing real life, we have some reason to be 
offended at the anachronisms carelessly introduced by Eliza- 
bethan playwrights, but surely in the visionary land of Arcadia 
we need not demand consistency and realism. 

For the same reason we should be slow to condemn the 
improbable incidents in the pastorals which so often create an 


air of unreality to modern readers. These were taken as a 
matter of course by an audience little given to analysis or 
criticism. This fact is abundantly proved by an examination 
of other departments of literature at the time. Nor is it at 
all improbable that in many cases a pastoral may have been 
intended for a burlesque and keenly appreciated as such by 
the readers. This is undoubtedly true of many of the later 
pastorals in England. The difficulty in forming a correct 
estimate as to certain pastorals is very great, and there 
is hardly a more amusing spectacle than a modern critic 
seriously and ponderously dissecting what was deliberately 
intended for burlesque or delicate raillery, and then explain- 
ing its absurdities by a reference to the childish credulity or 
vivid imagination of the Renaissance. The poets regarded 
Arcadia as a province in which their imagination was unfet- 
tered by terrestrial laws, and naturally their readers accepted 
this view without question. Oftentimes, also, a scene which 
seems to us utterly improbable was accepted and praised for 
its naturalness by the readers of the time. " Probability " we 
must remember is a relative term. No work of the imagina- 
tion can be exactly true to life nor ought it to be for the 
function of art is to make idealized pictures seem real. The 
extent to which idealization can be carried before it leads to 
improbability and unreality varies with the age and even 
with different readers of the same age. 1 

Perhaps the most objectionable characteristic of the pastoral 
writers is their slavish imitations. Not only were incidents 
and suggestions borrowed extensively, but direct plagiarism 
was not held a vice. The same names appear again and again. 
Sometimes a character is stolen, name and all ; oftener, the 
conventional names are apparently distributed at random 
Guarini's Corisca lives again in Fletcher's Cloe. Suggestions 

1 In this connection it is interesting to note different judgments in regard 
to the characters in Dickens's novels how real they seem to some, how 
preposterous to others. 


for the plot are appropriated with the greatest freedom, 1 and 
still more noticeable is the slavish borrowing of descriptions 
of nature. But here again we must remember how exten- 
sively writers in other branches of literature borrowed. There 
is this difference, however, when a dramatist like Shakespeare 
or Hey wood borrowed, he ransacked history, epic, drama, prose 
fiction, in fact everything he could lay hands upon, while a 
pastoral writer limited his thefts almost entirely to earlier 
pastorals. This explains why certain scenes and characters 
appear again and again. This habit of borrowing and re- 
borrowing tended, of course, to reduce the characters to types, 
such as the constant shepherd, the chaste shepherdess, the 
wizard, etc. This tendency to types, far from detracting 
from, probably added to, the popularity of pastoral litera- 
ture in an age which delighted in such books as Overbury's 
Characters. As for the constant borrowing, the audience was 
accustomed to this in all branches of literature. The modern 
dictum of the critics that literature should display the national 
characteristics, should reflect the national life and the pecu- 
liar genius of a people, would have been received with utter 
astonishment during the period we are studying. So far from 
resenting plagiarism from the classics, men welcomed a clever 
paraphrase from the ancient authors and applauded a covert 
allusion, regarding it as a compliment to their own learning. 
We must remember that a cultivated Frenchman or English- 
man of the sixteenth century admitted without question the 
superiority of the Greek, Latin and Italian literatures, and 
was glad to prop up the tender shoots of his own literature 
with the seasoned wood of the classics. 

The employment of rustic dialect, a natural and artistic 
device, was rare among pastoral writers. Theocritus, to be 

1 To give only a few examples : the incident of curing a bee's sting with 
a kiss appears in the romances of Tatius and Durfe"e, and in the pastoral 
dramas of Tasso and Rutter ; Fletcher borrows the trial of chastity from 
Tatius, who in turn copied Heliodorus ; Guarini borrows from Longus the 
device of hunting with dogs a person disguised in a wolf's skin. 


sure, uses the Doric speech, Spenser makes his swains speak 
in a Northern dialect sprinkled with archaic words, and Ben 
Jonson in his Sad Shepherd used many rustic words and 
expressions ; but aside from these writers we find almost no 
attempts to add local coloring of this kind. Nor is it much 
to be regretted; for dialect, unless used with great skill, intro- 
duces countless absurdities, and destroys the illusion. Modern 
realism has " gone mad " over dialect, but the Renaissance 
audience looked at it askance. It is doubtful whether pas- 
toral poetry lost much intrinsicaUy, it certainly lost nothing 
in popularity, by neglecting to use dialect. 

Thus it was that pastoral literature gained and kept a fore- 
most place in popular estimation. Its popularity, though 
based on standards of taste different from ours, was genuine 
and not affected, was widespread and not local, and histori- 
cally is of great significance in tracing the development of 
literature along other lines. 


The pastoral drama originated in Italy. Nowhere save in 
the land of its birth did it attain the popularity, either of the 
short pastoral poems or of the pastoral romances. In Italy, 
however, pastoral drama for two centuries held the highest 
place of honor. It arose very naturally from pastoral eclogues 
(many of which were in dialogue) and was cultivated assidu- 
ously in spite of the fact that the dramatic form is the least 
adapted for the representation of pastoral life. In a drama 
character and plot are the essential elements ; but it was well- 
nigh impossible for a pastoral dramatist to construct either 
vivid characters or an interesting plot, because of the tradi- 
tional limitations of his theme. In a drama, moreover, 
description of rural scenery, which formed one of the most 
pleasing characteristics of other forms of pastoral literature, 

1 This section of the essay, being foreign to the main line of investiga- 
tion, has been gleaned from the usual authorities. 


could not be introduced to any extent. Yet many of the 
characteristics of pastoral literature mentioned above (such as 
satire, allegory and personal allusion) do appear in the pas- 
toral drama; and it is to these rather than to the plot and 
characters that the critic should direct his attention. In spite 
of the inherent difficulties in the construction of a pastoral 
drama, we find that the form was immediately welcomed by 
the Italian aristocracy. This popularity is not difficult to 
explain. The Italian gentry of Renaissance times had a deep- 
seated love for country life. They spent the greater part of 
their time in their beautiful country villas, and when called 
to town for business or pleasure they longed for rural scenes, 
and listened with delight to the idealized reflection of that life 
which they heard on the stage. Moreover, the regular Italian 
drama at the time was in a very rude and undeveloped stage. 
The classic tragedy had attained only equivocal success. " The 
dramatists did not know how to make kings talk, and their 
attempts in lower ranks of life were even more unsuccessful. 
Comedy, on the other hand, lived only among the bourgeois, 
and was given over to trivialities." 1 Failing to represent real 
life on the stage, the Italian writers turned their attention to 
the representation of ideal beings in an idealized manner. 
Passages from Sannazaro's Arcadia were on everyone's lips, 
and the dramatists saw an opportunity to please their audi- 
ences. In less than a century two hundred pastoral dramas 
appeared ; but none approached the beauty of Tasso's Aminta 
and Guarini's II Pastor Fido. So the pastoral drama rapidly 
declined ; it became more and more given to imitation ; and 
finally was absorbed in the opera. In its imitative charac- 
teristic, the pastoral drama shared in the general tendency of 
Italian literature. Note how the later sonneteers were content 
to imitate over and over the masterpieces of the classic age. 

It is not necessary for our purpose to mention these dramas 
in detail. The first was Poliziano's Orfeo (1472), "which 

1 F. Salfi, Litteralure Italien, p. 114. 


begins like an idyl and ends like a tragedy." l This example 
was not followed by later pastoral dramatists who almost 
invariably adopted the form of tragi-comedy. Passing by 
the dramas of Beccaria and Aigente, we note as the next 
important work the famous Aminta of Torquato Tasso. This 
play was acted with great success. at Ferrara in the year 1573. 
Eight years later it appeared in printed form, and immedi- 
ately attained a wonderful popularity, not only in Italy, but 
throughout Europe. Its popularity in England is attested 
by reprints of the Italian editions, ^nd by several translations 
into English, the first of which appeared as early as the year 
1591. 2 Tasso's Aminta had a most important influence on 
the English pastoral drama ; and though it is so well known 
must be discussed at some length. 

The story of the play is very simple, and the action is 
carried on by some half-dozen characters. In the prologue, 
Cupid appears in shepherd's dress. He asserts his freedom 
from the control of Venus, who desires him to inspire only 
the courtiers with love, and states his intention of trying his 
arrows on the Arcadians. He confesses that he has wounded 
the shepherd Aminta, and promises in due time to pierce the 
heart of Silvia. 

In the first scene, Silvia protests to her confidante, Daphne, 
that she desires not love but the chase. She mocks her friend's 
pleading for the necessity of love. The next scene is in a way 
complementary, for in it Aminta tells his dear friend Thirsi 
that he will be constant to Silvia until death. Thirsi seeks 
to encourage him. After this the chorus appears, and sings 
the famous song, celebrating the Age of Gold. 

1 Ward, History of the English Drama, I, 581. 

8 This translation was made by Abraham Fraunce, who tried to construct 
an English poem by combining a translation of Tasso' s Aminta (as far as v, 
2) with a translation of Thomas Watson's Amyntas. The first complete 
translation was made by Henry Reynolds in 1628. See Scott, Elizabethan 
Translations from the Italian. Publications of the Modern Language Associa- 
tion, Vol. xi, No. 4, pp. 404, 405, 438. 


In the second act, evil enters in the person of the Satyr, 
who resolves to ravish Silvia as she bathes in the fountain. 
His plan is foiled by Aminta, who, sent to the fountain by 
the matchmaker Thirsi, finds Silvia bound naked to a tree. 
He releases her, but receives no word of thanks ; for, over- 
come with shame, she flees from him into the secrecy of the 
forest. All join in the search, and at last one of the shep- 
herdesses finds her veil torn and stained with blood. Aminta, 
not doubting that she has been slain by wild beasts, rushes 
madly away from his friends to seek relief in suicide. The 
chorus sings the praises of fidelity and a constant heart, 

Silvia, who had escaped from the wolves, is found by Daphne, 
who tells her of Aminta's rash resolve. This arouses Silvia's 
pity, and, when a messenger appears and tells how Aminta has 
thrown himself from a precipice, she resolves to follow him to 
the other world. At this point, the chorus sings of love and 
death. Aminta, however, is saved by overhanging bushes, 
and all his sorrows are forgotten in the arms of Silvia. The 
play ends with a mocking choral song which celebrates easily- 
obtained love, far beyond that accompanied (as was Aminta's) 
with tears and suffering. 

The drama is not to be judged by this simple story ; it holds 
its position because of its beautiful lyric choruses, its subtle 
reasonings on love, and its revelation of Tasso's own love and 
opinions. Moreover, the play is full of personal allusions, 
some of which have already been commented upon (see p. 362). 

The Aminta made the sylvan fable (as it was called) the 
fashion in Italy. " It was the first successful attempt to 
modernize the classic eclogue, and to fill it with romantic 
passion ; its purity of style and harmony of verse ; its fine 
lyrics and adaptations from the ancients, combined with its 
passionate love and delicate delineations procured for it many 
imitators." l 

But Tasso's effort was not destined to be unrivaled. In 
1585 Guarini's II Pastor Fido was acted in Ferrara. This 

" * Nannucci, Literatura Italiana, p. 120. 


play is not an imitation of Tasso's, but a rival; and it attained 
to equal fame. GuarinFs drama is far less simple than Tasso's 
masterpiece. He increases the number of characters, main- 
tains a kind of underplot and in many ways elaborates his 
theme. The prologue is delivered by the god of the river, 
Alfeo, instead of by Cupid, and is devoted to the praises of 

At the opening of the play, we find Arcadia filled with 
mourning, because of Cynthia's wrath. Without entering 
into the causes of this, or the varijwis measures taken by the 
Arcadians to appease the goddesses, it is sufficient to mention 
the final oracle which declared that all would be well when 
two of divine race should, of their own will, unite in love, 
and when a faithful shepherd should atone for the sins of a 
faithless nymph. The play is devoted to the fulfilment of 
this oracle. The priests plan for a union between Sylvio, 
descended from Hercules, and Amarillis, descended from Pan. 
But to the perplexity of all Sylvio refuses love and devotes 
himself to the chase, while Amarillis falls in love with her 
faithful lover, Mirtillo. Corisca, a wicked nymph, who is 
jealous of Amarillis plans to bring disgrace upon her, by 
beguiling her into a cave with a shepherd named Coridon. 
Her plan, however, miscarries ; for Mirtillo, seeing Amarillis 
enter the cave, thinks she has become false to him, and rushes 
in to punish her. Here the two are discovered before the 
laggard Coridon arrives. By the law of the land Amarillis, 
having violated her troth-plight to Sylvio, must die. Mir- 
tillo offers himself as a substitute, and is saved only by the 
discovery that he is really of divine race and his true name is 
Sylvio. This being the case, it is decided that Amarillis has 
not violated her troth-plight to Sylvio (for that is Mirtillo's 
real name), and that their marriage will fulfil completely the 
oracle. The underplot is taken up with the wooing of the 
huntsman Sylvio by Dorinda, who finally wins his love. 

On the whole, the plot is skilfully constructed, and has 
interest if judged merely from the point of view of a play- 


wright. The choruses, though inferior to those in the Aminta, 
have very great beauty. There is considerable personal allu- 
sion and satire in the play, also much refined analysis of love 
in all its phases. 

II Pastor Fido held the stage for a long time, and when 
published went through twenty editions in twelve years. It 
became the accepted model of the English pastoral drama- 
tists, who imitate both its general spirit and many details. 
The first English translation, by Charles Dymock, appeared 
in the year 1602, and several others followed, the best of 
which was Fanshawe's, published in 1647. 1 

None of the later Italian pastoral dramas attained to the 
fame of the Aminta and // Pastor Fido, nor do they appear 
to have had any marked influence on the development of the 
English pastoral drama. The Italian poets were content to 
copy and imitate Tasso and Guarini, and most of the English 
dramatists followed their example. 

Yet the English pastoral drama is not to be regarded 
merely as an offshoot of the Italian. Several pastoral plays 
were constructed by the English playwrights from materials 
borrowed from pastoral romances, Italian, Spanish, French 
or English ; a few dramas were based on current pastoral 
traditions ; and a very small number of plays appear to have 
been constructed from original plots. 


In order to trace the extent of pastoral influence in the 
English drama,. it will be necessary, not only to make some 
analysis of the elements entering into each play considered, 
but especially to note the general spirit or " atmosphere " of 

1 Many references attest the admiration felt by English writers for 
Guarini's drama. As late as the time of Isaac Walton we find Guarini 
cited to prove that dignity is not necessarily absent from a playwright. 
See Walton's Life of Sir Henry Wotton, p. 84. London, 1864. 


the play. If the pastoral element predominates so that it- 
colors the whole play, the drama may be said to have the 
pastoral atmosphere, and may be classified as a pastoral 
drama. 1 If, on the other hand, the pastoral atmosphere is 
obscured by the introduction of other elements, the play does 
not strictly deserve to be termed a pastoral drama. A free 
combination of elements was the practice of the more skilful 
playwrights and undoubtedly led to the production of more 
interesting plays for pastoral scenes and characters are re- 
stricted within too narrow a range for the best comedy, and 
when employed in tragedy they fail to stir the deeper emotions. 
On the other hand this introduction of elements foreign to the 
pastoral spirit oftentimes disturbs the general effect and brings 
in irritating incongruities. The dramatists, however, who used 
this method followed the example of the writers of pastoral 
romance, who frequently mingle pastoral with non-pastoral 
elements. In the English drama the chief elements combined 
with the pastoral were (1) the " mythological " element, con- 
cerned with the gods and goddesses of the Greek theology; 
(2) the "forest" element, bringing in outlaws and hunters; 
and (3) the "court" element, introducing kings and courtiers. 
Each of these elements brings with it a characteristic atmos- 
phere, which in each case is distinct from the pastoral 
atmosphere. For example, a drama in which the Greek gods 
and goddesses play the principal r6les transports us immedi- 
ately into a supernatural realm, and we judge the play by 
peculiar standards, usually seeking for some underlying alle- 
gory or allusion. The Elizabethan dramatists did not favor 
such plays as these, but John Lyly wrote one play at least, 
The Woman in the Moon, which belongs in this class. Here 
we are in the dawn of history; we witness the creation of 

1 This seems on the whole the best basis of classification ; for the pastoral 
was a foreign influence of peculiar nature, and almost all attempts to com- 
bine it with other influences violate artistic unity. Other elements, how- 
ever, combine without incongruous effects, as the court and camp in All's 
Well That Ends Well. 


the first woman, Pandora, and no scene nor character is 
brought in which interferes with the general impression of 
primitive times when gods and goddesses associated familiarly 
with mankind. In other words, the atmosphere of the play 
is consistently mythological. This is distinct from the Arca- 
dian atmosphere; for in Arcadia supernatural beings do not 
appear in bodily form, but express their will by oracles and 
seers. Both mythological and pastoral plays give an im- 
pression of unreality, but this results in the former from the 
impossibility of the episodes, in the latter from their improba- 
bility. Two English dramas have come down to us which 
combine mythological and pastoral coloring, viz., The Arraign- 
ment of Paris 1 and The Maydes Metamorphosis. 2 

In Peele's play, the pastoral influence gently and naturally 
insinuates itself for the scene is laid "in Ida Vales," where 
the gods and goddesses roamed in company with shepherds 
and shepherdesses. Pan, the god of shepherds, and Paris a 
shepherd under the protection of Venus, cannot of course be 
termed Arcadians, but they suggest Arcadia. CEnone, how- 
ever, as well as Colin, Thestylus, Hobbinel, Diggon and 
Thenot are genuine Arcadians. The other characters are 
gods and goddesses, and bring with them the mythological 
atmosphere. The extent of the pastoral influence will appear 
from an examination of the plot. A brief prologue intro- 
duces Ate, who tells how she has brought the fatal apple from 
the golden tree of Proserpine and has cunningly left it in 
" Ida Vales." In the first scene the goddesses Juno, Pallas 
and Venus are given presents by Pan, Faunus, Silvanus and 
Pomona. Up to this point no trace of pastoral influence 
appears. In the next scene, however, CEnone implores Paris 
to remain true to her and with him she sings what may be 
termed a pastoral eclogue. 

1 The Arraignment of Paris, A Pastorall. Presented before the Queen's 
Maiestie by the Children of her Chappell. Imprinted at London . . . ., 1584. 

2 The Maydes Metamorphosis. As it hath been sundrie times acted by 
the children of Powles. 


The second act is devoted to the dispute between Juno, 
Pallas and Venus about the golden apple, and the decision 
of Paris in favor of Venus. It is needless to say there is 
nothing pastoral in this act. 

The third act opens with Colin's song, bewailing his unre- 
quited love. Then three shepherds discuss the nature of love 
in true pastoral style. At the close of the scene Mercury 
appears and overhears (Enone's lament (a pastoral lyric). 
He tells her he is come to fetch Paris before Jove's throne. 
This scene is mainly pastoral. Jtaene second also is to be 
classed as pastoral, for it contains the account of the death of 
Colin (who is unmistakably a faithful shepherd in Arcadian 
parlance), the dirge sung over his body, and the punishment 
of his scornful mistress Thestylis. The last part of the scene 
is not pastoral, for it contains only Mercury's conversation 
with Venus. 

The last two acts of the play are in no sense pastoral, 
Paris defends himself before the gods, and Diana, charged 
with the responsibility of determining " who is the fairest," 
renders a decision in favor of Eliza (Queen Elizabeth). To 
summarize : about one-third of the play is pastoral, namely, 
Act. I, Sc. 2, Act III, Sc. 1, and part of Act III, Sc. 2. 

There are several things to be noted about this play ; first, 
that Peele on the title-page termed the play "a pastorall." 
This merely shows with what vagueness the term was used 
by the dramatists, or perhaps it may have been added by the 
printer to tempt readers. At this early date the influence of 
the Italian pastoral drama had not penetrated into England, 
and the mythological and pastoral elements were confounded. 
Still it must be admitted that Peele has combined them with 
great skill. He has given us, as it were, a picture of primitive 
Arcadian life when gods and goddesses conversed familiarly 
with shepherds. In the next play to be considered, the two 
elements were welded together with far less art. 

The Maydes Metamorphosis resembles The Arraignment of 
Paris in nothing save the blending of mythological and pas- 


toral elements. No sources of the play have been discovered, 
the author is unknown, and the date when the play was first 
acted is still in doubt. 1 About one-third of the play is pas- 
toral, as will appear from an analysis of the plot. The 
prologue is apologetic, stating the author's "good intent" and 
beseeching attention to the play. Nothing is said as to the 
author's intention to write a pastoral drama, and probably 
such a thought never entered his mind. 
. The first scene contains the conversation between Eurimene 
(the heroine) and her hired murderers. They tell her that 
they have been commanded to murder her because she has 
inspired the Duke's son Ascanio with love. By her entreaties 
she softens them, and they kill a goat and dye her veil in its 
blood. Then, taking this proof of her death, they abandon 
her in the forest. This scene contains nothing pastoral. 

In the next scene Silvio, a ranger, and Gemulo, a shepherd, 
find Eurimene and offer to protect her. They tell her of the 
joys of their respective callings. She ends the contention by 
accepting a cottage from one and a flock of sheep from the 
other. This scene is in the pastoral mode. 

In the second act, Ascanio sends his page, Joculo, to search 
for Eurimene. Meanwhile he lies down and bewails his fate. 
A drowsiness steals over him, and while he sleeps Juno and 
Iris appear. The rest of the act concerns Juno, Iris, Somnus 
and Morpheus. At the end fairies are introduced. Nothing 
in the second act suggests pastoral influence. 

At the opening of the third act, Apollo discourses with the 
three Charities, who seek to find out the cause of his grief. 
After their departure, he confesses that his melancholy is 
caused by love for Eurimene. Next follows his wooing of 
Eurimene, and her request for a boon. Apollo vows to fulfil 
anything she may ask, but to his consternation she requests 
to be unsexed, to be changed from maid to man. Apollo, 
perforce, grants her request. The act closes with the visit of 

1 For a discussion of the authorship and date, see Baker, Endimion Intro- 


Joculo to the seer Aramanthus, and the latter's prophetic 
utterance. In this whole act there is nothing pastoral, though 
of course the seer Aramanthus suggests similar characters in 
pastoral literature. 

The first part of the fourth act, containing the conversation 
of Ascanio, Joculo and the Echo, is in the pastoral mode ; 
as is also the visit to Ararnanthus. Afterwards, Silvio and 
Gemulo, both in love with Eurimene, agree to accept her 
decision. Eurimene (now a boy) meets them and tells them 
that she is Eurimene's brother a*d that Eurimene has dis- 
appeared. This act has throughout a pastoral coloring. 

In the fifth act we have the extraordinary wooing of Ascanio 
and Eurimene, in which Eurimene confesses her manhood. 
The seer advises them to go to Apollo and pray that Euri- 
mene's womanhood be restored. News comes from court that 
the Duke has pardoned Ascanio and Eurimene, and longs to 
see them united. All go to Apollo's palace and the muses 
intercede for Eurimene. Apollo consents and crowns their 
happiness by revealing that Eurimene is the long lost daughter 
of the seer Aramanthus. In the end Silvio and Gemulo de- 
part forlorn and Apollo sings the closing song. Some of the 
incidents in this act suggest pastoral influence, but the general 
impression is not pastoral. 

The whole play is a curious blending of diverse elements, 
pastoral, mythological, fairy and others. Only four of the 
characters could possibly be termed pastoral, Silvio, a pas- 
toral ranger; 1 Gemulo, a shepherd; Aramanthus, a seer (who 

1 Silvio, though called a ranger, has no kinship with English foresters, 
but is a true Arcadian. This is sufficiently clear from his speech in the 
first act: 

"Diana, with her bowe and arrows keene, 
Did often use the chase in Forrests greene, 
And so, alas, the good Athenian knight, 
And swifte Acteon herein tooke delight, 
And Atalania, the Arcadian dame, 
Conceived such wondrous pleasure in the game 
That with her traine of Nymphs attending on, 
She came to hunt the Bore of Calydon." 

Old English Plays. Ed. Bullen, I, p. 113. 


supplies the place of the oracle), and Eurimene who lives for 
a time as a shepherdess. 

Several plays of John Lyly are often referred to as pas- 
toral, and still oftener are said to combine mythological and 
pastoral elements. Moreover, Love's Metamorphosis is termed 
on the title-page, "A witty and courtly pastorall." But Lyly, 
like Peele, has a faint conception of the traditional Arcadian 
life. His placing the scene in Arcadia, has no more signifi- 
cance than his choice of Lincolnshire for the scene of Gattathea 
or of Utopia for The Woman in the Moon. These three plays 
have the same atmosphere and it is foreign to pastoral tradition. 
Lyly apparently had no intention of representing pastoral life 
in Arcadia : none of his plays contain genuine pastoral charac- 
ters, and very few pastoral scenes occur. 1 Most of Lyly's plays 
are to be classed as mythological or allegorical. If we are to 
term them pastoral we must broaden the definition of pastoral 
beyond all reason. Lyly appears to have had a peculiar defi- 
nition of his own for pastoral, and even when tried by this 
test none of his plays are pastoral. 2 

We come next to a consideration of the dramas which 
mingle pastoral characters with huntsmen and foresters. No 
drama preserves consistently the true forest atmosphere unless 
it may have been the play of Robin Hood and Little John, which 
is not extant. 3 The forest atmosphere is distinct from the pas- 

1 The characters of Tyterus and Melebeus in Gallathea may possibly be 
termed pastoral. The pastoral scenes are in Love's Metamorphosis : I, 1, 2 ; 
III, 1; IV, 1. 

*"At our exercises, souldiers call for tragedies, their object is bloud; 
courtiers for comedies, their object is love ; countrimen for pastorals, sheep- 
heards are their saints," prologue to Midas. This observation is curious 
in two respects. The date of Midas is 1588-9, and up to this time no 
English drama containing pastoral characters had appeared except Peele's 
Arraignment of Paris. Must we conclude that pastoral dramas existed then 
which have been lost? Secondly, countrymen are not fond of pastorals, 
either in the form of romance or drama, for pastorals are the delight of 
city-dwellers. Probably the truth of the matter is that Lyly thoughtlessly 
inserted this allusion to fill out the antithesis. 

8 We have only a glimpse of this forest life in Munday's Downfall of Robert, 
Earl of Huntington, and the sequel, The Death of Robert, Earl of Huntington. 


toral, because one represents a desire to secure freedom from 
tyranical laws, the other freedom from court intrigue and the 
complexity of city life. The forest element, moreover, never 
became conventionalized. It was English and Teutonic to 
the core. Two plays alone combine forest and pastoral scenes 
and characters, Shakespeare's As You Like It 1 and Jonson's 
Sad Shepherd. In Shakespeare's play there are of course 
other elements beside the " forest " and the " pastoral." The 
first act has the " court " atmosphere. This act, however, is 
short, and constitutes a kind of introduction to the main action, 
which takes place in the forest. As You Like It was written 
about the year 1599, and the Sad Shepherd at least fifteen 
years later. 2 

To determine the extent of pastoral influence in As You 
Like It, it will be necessary to examine the sources. Lodge's 
Rosalynde, the direct source and probably the only one, 3 may 
be regarded as an attempt to treat an old story in the pastoral 
mode. Lodge retained the bare outline of the Tale of Game- 
lyn, but obliterated all traces of the forest and substituted the 
pastoral atmosphere. The following table contains a list of 

1 In no other play of Shakespeare's does any considerable pastoral ele- 
ment enter. Part of two scenes of The Midsummer Night's Dream (I, 1, 
and II, 2) are unmistakably pastoral. In The Winter's Tale, however, the 
pastoral element borrowed from Greene's Pandosto is so completely subordi- 
nated that we can hardly say it exists at all. Who would ever speak of 
Perdita as an Arcadian? In all probability Shakespeare realized hovr 
little dramatic power existed in the pastoral theme, and was too wise to 
risk the experiment of writing a true pastoral drama. 

* Mr. Fleay identifies The Sad Shepherd with The May Lord, which must 
have been written before 1619, for Jonson mentioned it to Drummond when 
he visited him in that year. Whether this identification be substantiated 
or not, internal evidence seems to point to about this period for the 
date of composition. The Sad Shepherd was first printed in the folio of 

8 " There is no evidence in As You Like It, which is to me at all con- 
clusive that Shakespeare drew any the smallest inspiration from The Tale 
of Gamelyn." H. H. Furness, Appendix to As You Like It, Variorum Ed. 

Lodge, on the other hand, undoubtedly read the Tale of Qamelyn. 


the characters in Gamelyn, Rosalynde, and As You Like It y the 
pastoral characters being italicized : 



As You LIKE IT. 

Sir John of Burdeuxs. 

Sir John of Bourdeaux. 

Sir Koland de Bois. 


f Saladyne, 

r Oliver, 


1 Fernandine, 

I Jacques, 


I Rosader. 

v Orlando. 

Adam, the spencer 

Adam Spencer 


(a young steward). 

(an old servant). 

The outlawed king. 


Duke, Senior. 


The Norman, a wrestler. 

Charles, the wrestler. 



(King of France). 

(the usurper). 













Le Beu. 




Sir Oliver Mar-text. 

From an examination of the separate scenes or episodes, we 
find that The Tale of Gamelyn preserves throughout the forest 
atmosphere. The action takes place in three localities; Sir 
Johan's house, the market-place (where the wrestling occurs), 
and the neighboring forest. This wood is Sherwood forest, 
the nameless " maister outlawe " is evidently Robin Hood, and 
Gamelyn is " Young Gammell," nephew of Robin Hood, in 
the ballad of Robin Hood and the Stranger. 1 No trace of 

1 " I rede that we to wode goon . ar that we be found, 
Better is us ther loos . than in town y-bounde." 

11. 605-6. 


pastoral or "court" influence is to be found in the poem. 
These were added by Lodge, being invented by him or 
borrowed from some unknown source. 

The action in Rosalynde is located at Sir John's house, at 
the tilting-ground (where the wrestling takes place in presence 
of the court), and in the " Forrest of Ardenne." Sir John's 
sons are metamorphosed into courtiers (Rosader " vailed bonnet 
to the king, and lightly leapt into the lists"). Moreover, 
several "court" characters are added, chief among them being 
Rosalynde and Alinda (Shakespeare's Celia). This gives to 
the first part of the romance a distinct "court" coloring. But 
fully three-fourths of the story takes place in the " Forrest 
of Ardenne." Lodge makes this an Italian pastoral forest 
inhabited by true Arcadians. Montanus and Phoebe sing 
sonnets, and Montanus and Corin recite eclogues ; the dis- 
guised shepherd Rosader (Shakespeare's Orlando) makes love 
to the disguised shepherdess Rosalynde in a "wooing eclogue." 
For the king of outlaws in Gamelyn is substituted the King 
of France. This change is not important, for the king takes 
little part in the plot, and is neither a pastoral nor forest 

The scene in As You Like It is mainly " forest." This is 
accomplished by bringing into prominence the exiled Duke 
and his companions. They live the life of outlaws, not of 
shepherds. In this forest environment Silvius and Phoebe 
become sadly out of place. In a word, Lodge's Forrest of 
Ardenne is Arcadia; Shakespeare's is Sherwood. But what 
shall be said of the lovers, Oliver and Celia, Rosalind and 

" Our maister is i-crowned . of outlawes kyng." 

1. 660. 

[Tidings came to the master outlaw] 
" That he shoulde come horn . his pees was i-mad." 

1. 689. 

" Tho was Gamelyne anon without tarrying, 
Maad maister outlawe and crowned here kyng." 

1. 694. 
See also Tak of Gamelyn: Introduction by W. W. Skeat. 


Orlando? In Lodge's romance we have seen how these 
characters became purely conventional pastoral characters 
from the moment they entered the forest. Not so in 
Shakespeare. Celia, neither by word nor action reveals that 
she is a shepherdess, or desires to become one. She buys 
a sheep-fold simply to elude pursuit. In the character of 
Oliver, Shakespeare greatly reduced the pastoral coloring. 
His prototype, the courtier Saladyne, becomes a shepherd for 
Alinda's (Celia) sake, and woos her in true pastoral style, 
but Oliver's wooing is omitted entirely from As You Like It, 
and only briefly referred to by Oliver in conversation with 
Orlando and by Rosalind in her famous speech, "They no 
sooner met but they look'd ; no sooner look'd but they lov'd ; 
no sooner lov'd but they sigh'd ; no sooner sigh'd but they 
asked one another the reason ; no sooner knew the reason, 
but they sought the remedy" (V, 2). Yet Oliver, though a 
minor character, must be counted an Arcadian. In the end 
he says to Orlando, " My father's house, and all his reven- 
new, that was old Sir Rowlands, will I estate upon you, and 
heere live and die a Shepherd " (V, 2). Orlando, generally, 
and Rosalind, always, are free from pastoral taint. When 
Orlando hangs sonnets on the trees and soliloquizes, " Hang 
there my verse in witness of my love" (III, 2); when he 
battles with the lioness and conquers her, then we recognize 
the pastoral element. Rosalind, however, never adopts the 
pastoral tone, nor does she bear the faintest trace of the 
Arcadian. Corin, a typical Arcadian in Lodge's story, is 
naturalized by Shakespeare into a rural character, an Eng- 
lish shepherd. "Sir, I am a true labourer; I earn that I 
eat, get that I wear, etc." (Ill, 2). In only two important 
characters, Silvius and Phoebe, does Shakespeare preserve the 
full pastoral coloring. Finally, not one of the new characters 
introduced by Shakespeare bears the stamp of Arcadia. 1 

1 By the most liberal allowance the pastoral scenes and episodes in As 
You Like It include only the following : The conversation between Corin 
and Silvius, and the purchase of the sheep-farm by Rosalind and Celia, 1 1, 


In general we may say that Shakespeare subordinated the 
pastoral element as much as possible, and brought back the 
true forest atmosphere which Lodge had entirely omitted. 
In all probability Shakespeare did this consciously in order 
to make a better play. He may have done it unconsciously 
by allowing free rein to his Teutonic nature. At any rate 
the means he used to subordinate the pastoral element is 
interesting : (1) by expanding the court scenes from Lodge, 
and adding Le Beu and the clown ; (2) by making prominent 
the forest life of the royal outlaw* (which is barely touched 
upon by Lodge), and adding Amiens and Jacques; (3) by 
introducing real rustics, Corin, William and Audrey, to take 
the place of shepherds ; (4) by condensing pastoral episodes 
and descriptions, and decreasing the number of pastoral lyrics 
(Lodge has eighteen, Shakespeare only three) ; (5) by assign- 
ing only a few speeches to Sylvius and Phoebe (these are 
typical pastoral characters, and are given an important part 
in Lodge's Rosalynde) ; (6) by replacing the long pastoral 
wooing between Saladyne (Oliver) and Alinda (Celia) with 
an indirect reference of a few lines ; (7) by giving an air of 
parody to Orlando's wooing of Rosalind (in other words, 
making them natural characters who burlesque pastoral woo- 
ing). Therefore, As You Like It, though it exhibits strong 
pastoral influence, and contains some pastoral scenes and 
characters, does not give a final impression of pastoral it 
has not the Arcadian atmosphere. This explains why most of 
the critics have been loath to class it among pastoral dramas. 1 

4; Orlando's soliloquy and his sonnets, III, 2; Corin's speeches, III, 4; 
the dialogues between Silvius and Phoebe, III, 5; between Orlando and 
Rosalind, IV, 1 ; between Silvius and Rosalind, and between Oliver and 
Celia, IV, 3; the whole of V, 2; and finally the conversation of Rosalind, 
Orlando and the Duke, and of the second brother and the Duke, V, 4. 

1 "As You Like It is the most ideal of any of this author's plays. It is a 
pastoral drama in which the interest arises more out of the sentiments and 
characters than out of the actions or situations." Hazlitt. 

" Less fascinating than Shakespeare's other comedies. The dramatist 
has presented us with a pastoral comedy, the characters of which, instead 


Ben Jonson's Sad Shepherd, however, has been termed by 
almost all the critics a pastoral drama, notwithstanding the 
fact that the forest element predominates, and the scene is 
Sherwood not Arcadia. Unfortunately the drama has come 
down to us in unfinished form. Out of one thousand lines 
less than four hundred are devoted to pastoral episodes or 
dialogues. The remaining lines, recounting the hunting 
of the stag, the conversations of the witch and her son, the 
allusions to forest superstitions and the final search for the 
witch by Robin Hood and his merry crew : these certainly 
give to the play the atmosphere of the forest. ' We have seen 
how Shakespeare subordinated and almost obliterated the pas- 
toral element he found in Lodge. Ben Jonson on the other 

of belonging to an ideal past age, are true copies of what nature would 
produce under similar conditions." Halliwell. 

" Phoebe is quite an Arcadian coquette ; she is a piece of pastoral poetry ; 
Audrey is only rustic. A very amusing effect is produced by the contrast 
between the frank and free" bearing of the two princesses in disguise and 
the scornful airs of the real shepherdess." Mrs. Jameson. 

" For vigorous natures, temporarily out of tune, the poet offers a whole- 
some medicine throughout this airy romantic life, which, however, is not 
to be regarded as the sentimental ideal of a normal condition which has 
been overwhelmed and lost in society. What the shepherds and shep- 
herdesses in conventional pastoral poetry really are (without intending to 
appear so), namely, fugitives from a false social condition enjoying fora 
while a sort of masquerade and picnic freedom in place of such, Shake- 
speare gives us honest and true his romantic dwellers in the forest of 
Ardenne. And this is the very reason why he catches the genuine tone 
of this careless, free, natural existence, which, in the case of the ideal 
shepherds of the Spanish, French or Italian writers, is cabined and con- 
fined by merely another form of artificial intercourse The genius of 

the British poet rises above the conventional forms of the South which it 
had borrowed, and many of the scenes of this comedy are transformed into 
a diverting parody of the sentimentalism of pastoral poetry." F. Kreyssig, 
Vorksung&n, etc., Vol. in, p. 243, Berlin, 1862. 

" Such a life as Rosalind led in the Forest ... . is to the German mind 
well-nigh incomprehensible, and refuge is taken, by some of the most 
eminent Germans, in explanations of the 'Pastoral Drama' with its 'senti- 
mental unrealities' and contrasts,' etc." H. H. Furness, The Variorum 
Shakespeare, As You Like It, p. viii. 


hand wove together the two threads, pastoral and forest, 
apparently regarding them of equal importance and seeing 
no incongruity in the combination. The title-page (in the 
folio) is significant The Sad Shepherd, A Tale of Robin 
Hood. The characters, moreover, are divided into two nearly 
equal groups, the pastoral group headed by Aeglamour and 
Earine, the forest group by Robin Hood and Maid Marian. 
In general the pastoral incidents serve as an underplot, utterly 
foreign in spirit to the main plot, yet interwoven in such a 
way as to show Jonson's skill in plot-construction at its best. 
The underplot 'is consistently pastoral throughout, Aeglamour, 
Karolin, and the rest are Arcadian shepherds in every word 
and action. The main plot, so far as its incidents are con- 
cerned, is consistent with the forest traditions ; but here and 
there in descriptive passages the classical coloring so insepara- 
ble from Jonsou's work somewhat mars the general " forest " 
effect. When the plots intermingle, and foresters and Arca- 
dians appear together on the stage, the effect is necessarily 
incongruous. But Jonson has constructed an interesting and 
in the main an original plot, and has expressed it in such 
exquisite poetry that many critics do not perceive that he 
failed in the task he set himself. This was to transplant the 
pastoral into English soil. To do this a poet must idealize 
English shepherd life. 1 Jonson, on the other hand, merely 
took the foreign Arcadian shepherds and tried to make them 
English by transporting them to Sherwood Forest, and mak- 
ing them guests of Robin Hood. In this connection it is 
interesting to note Jonson's own idea of a pastoral which he 
gives in the prologue to The Sad Shepherd. After defending 
his introduction of mirth into a pastoral, he condemns those 
who claim " that no style of pastoral should go Current, but 
what is stamped with Ah ! and O ! " and adds indignantly, 

1 The nearest approach to such portrayal is Allan's Ramsay's Gentle Shep- 
herd, but even here realism enters so largely that the term pastoral drama 
is somewhat inappropriate. 


" As if all poesie had one character In which what were not 
written, were not right." Evidently there was a feeling 
abroad when Jonson wrote, that clownish mirth was incon- 
sistent with the seriousness and dignity of Arcadian life. 1 
But the pastoral writers occasionally introduce comic scenes 
and Jonson's practice therefore was not altogether an innova- 
tion. Certainly no one now would condemn him for intro- 
ducing comedy. Jonson's condemnation of the use of the 
exclamations Ah ! and O ! is quite as sensible (though this 
sounds like a direct hit at Daniel 2 rather than a general attack 
on writers of pastorals.) Finally Jonson's remark about the 
rules of the critics which condemn all that departs from 
traditional practice, is a well-merited rebuke. However it 
does not apply to the criticism made against Jonson ; we do 
not condemn his innovation because it is an innovation, but 
because it brings in irritating incongruities. This has been 
noted by Mr. Swinburne in his Study of Ben Jonson. "A 
masque included also an anti-masque, in which the serious 
part is relieved and set off by the introduction of parody and 
burlesque : but in a dramatic attempt of higher pretention 
this intrusion of incongruous contrast is a pure barbarism 
a positive solecism in composition. The collocation of such 
names and such figures as those of Aeglamour and Earine 
with such others as Much and Maudlin, Scathlock and Scarlet 
is no whit less preposterous or less ridiculous, less inartistic 
or less irritating than the conjunction in Dekker's Satiromastix 
of Peter Flash and Sir Vaughan of Ross, with Crispinus and 
Demetrius, Asinius and Horace, and the offense is graver, 

1 Drummond of Hawthorndon voices this opinion in his Conversations, 
p. 224 : " Jons^on (in his play) bringeth in clowns making mirth and foolish 
sports, contrary to all pastorals. 

In Daniel's pastoral play, Hymen's Triumph, "Ah " and " O " are used 
so frequently as to become a mannerism well deserving of censure. See 
11. 167-171, 386, 401, 402, 410, 414, 639, 674, 718, 749, 1109, 1124, 1214, 
1322, 1419, 1428, 1518-9, 1535, 1645, 1654, 1703, 1734. 


more inexcusable and more inexplicable in a work of pure 
fancy or imagination than in a satiric play." 1 

A large number of plays combine pastoral and court scenes. 
Real kings and queens, real lords and ladies converse inti- 
mately with the Arcadian swains and nymphs, or more 
commonly the introduction and conclusion of a play is given 
up to court scenes and characters, and the main part of the 
action is carried on in Arcadia. The general custom of the 
playwrights was to take a pastoral romance, and either to cut 
out altogether the pastoral scenes 0r to change them beyond 
recognition ; then to construct a play out of the remaining 
court episodes. So it happened that many plays, though taken 
from pastoral sources and carelessly termed pastoral dramas by 
the critics, really preserve absolutely the atmosphere of the 
court. The distinction between the court and the pastoral 
atmospheres is sufficiently obvious. The former appears in 
plays where the characters are drawn from observation or 
from Italian models ; they are real courtiers in the real court 
environment. When, however, a courtier disguises himself 
as an Arcadian, when he seeks the company of shepherds and 
speaks and acts like an Arcadian, then to all intent and 
purposes he is a pastoral character. In most of the plays com- 
bining court and pastoral element the former predominates. 

Three plays contain court and pastoral elements, Henry 
Glapthorne's Argalus and Parthenia? The Thradan Won- 

1 Swinburne : A Study of Ben Jonson, p. 87-88. 

Mr. Ward in his History of the English Drama takes a different view of 
this drama. Though he grants the absurdity of introducing the Lowland 
Scotch dialect in Sherwood Forest, and admits that passages here and there 
have too great classical colouring, yet he claims that Jonson on the whole 
has "with singular freshness caught the spirit of the greenwood." More- 
over, the Arcadian shepherds introduced, seem to him beings of a definite 
age and country, and the combination of these with Robin Hood seems "a 
lucky combination dim cult to be repeated." Ward, History of the English 
Drama, I, p. 586. 

* Argalus and Parthenia. As it hath been acted at the court before their 
Maiesties and at the Private-House in Drury Lane. By their Maiesties 
Servants. The Author, Henry Glapthorne, . . . 1639. Mr. Fleay thinks 
that the play was first acted in 1638. Chron. of the Eng. Drama., II, p. 245. 


der, 1 attributed to Webster, and Thomas Forde's Love's 
Labyrinth. 2 

In Argalus and Parthenia, Glapthorne has taken an episode 
from Sidney's Arcadia and has treated it so as to subordinate 
as much as possible the pastoral element. The atmosphere 
of the play is, in general, that of the court ; the main char- 
acters are princes and warriors ; and the scenes are laid either 
at court or at the tilting ground. As a kind of under plot, 
there is introduced the love-making of Clitophon, "an in- 
constant shepherd," Strephon, "a foolish shepherd," and 
Alexis, " another swaine," with three shepherdesses. These 
characters talk and act like pastoral characters, but they 
appear only for a short time on the stage, (I, 2 and II, 2.) 

The Thracian Wonder and Love's Labyrinth were founded 
on Greene's pastoral romance Menaphon. The Author of 
The Thracian Wonder subordinated and almost eliminated 
the pastoral element he found in the romance. The principal 
characters are the King of Thrace, his brother, daughter, son- 
in-law and grandson. Consequently the atmosphere of the 
play is that of the court and camp. A few pastoral char- 
acters are introduced, however ; Antimon (a mere shadow of 
the shepherd Menaphon, in Greene's romance,) Tityrus, a 
merry shepherd, and Palaemon, a mad shepherd. The last 
part of Act I ; the conversation between Tityrus and Radagon 
and the consulting of the oracle in Act II ; the wooing of 
Ariadne in Act II and IV : these are all the scenes that could 
possibly be termed pastoral. 

Love's Labyrinth preserves much more of the pastoral 
coloring. This fact, together with the comparative rarity of 
the play justifies a more detailed analysis. 

1 The Thracian Wonder. ... By John Webster, ... 1661. ... Mr. 
Fleay considers this to be the same play as War Without Blows and Love 
Without Suit. By Thomas Heywood, 1598. The identification seems 
probable. See Chron. Eng. Drama, I, p. 287. 

' 2 Love's Labyrinth or The Royal Shepherdesse. A Tragi-Comedie. By 
Tho. Forde, . . . 1660. 


The first Act of the play contains nothing pastoral. It 
relates how Damocles, King of Arcadia, angered by the 
clandestine marriage of his daughter Sephestia to Maximus, 
Prince of Cyprus, condemns her and her babe Plusidippus to 
the mercy of the sea. Maximus offers his life in exchange 
but is refused ; the king's brother Lamedon also intercedes in 
vain, and finally determines to share the exile of the lovers. 
A storm separates the exiles, Sephestia and her uncle Lamedon 
are wrecked on a remote coast of Arcadia, and find refuge with 
the shepherd Menaphon. Maximum, cast up on another part 
of the coast, resolves to spend the rest of his life as a shepherd. 
The babe, Plusidippus, is found upon the seashore by outlaws 
who take him as a present to the King of Thrace. 

The remainder of the play is almost equally divided between 
the pastoral and the court element. There are three centres 
of the action ; the court of King Damocles ; the court of the 
King of Thrace ; and the home of the shepherd Menaphon. 
King Damocles is smitten with remorse, as year after year 
passes by without tidings of his daughter or grandson, and 
finally he leaves his throne and goes to seek them. The part 
played by the King of Thrace is very small. He adopts as 
his son the babe Plusidippus and in the course of time plans 
for the boy a marriage with his own daughter. The plan 
miscarries, for Plusidippus when he grows to manhood is dis- 
satisfied with the princess and goes into Arcadia to seek a 
shepherdess in marriage. The fortunes of Sephestia, Lamedon 
and Maximus form the pastoral incidents of the play. Mena- 
phon, who protects Sephestia and Lamedon, belongs to a com- 
mon type, the heart-free shepherd. He boasts of his freedom 
to his friend Doron. 

" Fond love no more, 
Will I adore 

Thy feigned Deity ; 
Go throw thy darts, 
At single hearts, 

And prove thy victory. 


Whilst I do keep 
My harmless sheep, 

Love hath no power on me ; 
'Tis idle foules 
Which he controules 

The busie man is free." 

Before long, Menaphon begins to fall under the spell of 
Sephestia's beauty, and, from time to time, he woos her with 
songs (one of which, Love's Duel, is taken from Anacreon ; 
another from Greene's romance). Sephestia rejects his love, 
and finally leaves him and becomes a shepherdess, living with 
her uncle Lamedon. They become enamoured with Arcadian 
life. Lamedon recites its praises as follows : 

"How happy are these shepherds! here they live 
Content, and know no other cares, but how 
To tend their flocks, and please their Mistris best. 
They know no strife, but that of love, they spend 
Their days in mirth ; and when they end, sweet sleeps 
Repay, and ease the labours of the day. 
They need no Lawyers to decide their jars, 
Good herbs, and wholesome diet, is to them 
The only JEsculapius ; their skill 
Is how to save, not how with art to kill. 
Pride and ambition are such strangers here, 
They are not known so much as by their names. 
Their sheep and they contend in innocence, 
Which shall excell, the Master or his nocks. 
With honest mirth, and merry tales, they pass 
Their time, and sweeten all their cares : 
Whilst Courts are fill'd with waking, thoughtful strife, 
Peace and content do crown the Shepherds life." 

The years pass swiftly by and Sephestia becomes famous 
for her beauty and wit. At last she meets Maximus at a 
shepherds' feast. They fail to recognize each other. Their 
love, however, revives and Maximus succeeds in winning her 
consent to a marriage. Menaphon laments his loss in a song 
taken from Greene's romance, " Ye restless cares, etc." His 
grief is increased by the taunts of his former mistress Pesana 
(the forsaken shepherdess). 


The conclusion of the play relates how King Damocles and 
Plusidippus came to Arcadia, and how both fell in love with 
the beautiful shepherdess Sephestia. She recognizes them as 
her father and her son, and reveals her identity. A general 
reconciliation ensues, and Maximus is reunited to Sephestia. 

A comedy element is introduced into the drama by the woo- 
ing of Camela by Doron, " a foolish shepherd : " 

"Carmela. What does the mouth of your affection water ? " 

"Doron. Water ? No, it fires. I'm so all afire that I dare not go amongst 

my flocks for fear lest I should burn up all their pasture, if thou dost 

not showre down some dew of comfort to cool me." 

Doron, failing of success, hires a poet to write verses for him, 
and in the end he wins Carrnela's love. 

Forde follows his original very closely. He reduces the 
pastoral element, however, by placing Plusidippus at court 
(in the romance he is brought up among shepherds) and by 
cutting out many pastoral incidents. The whole drama is 
about equally divided between court and pastoral scenes. 

John Day's lie of Gulls and James Shirley's Arcadia are 
often mentioned as pastoral dramas, for no better reason 
apparently than that they were both founded upon Sidney's 
famous romance. In The lie of Gulls the court atmosphere 
is preserved throughout. There are no shepherds nor shep- 
herdesses among the characters, nor even courtiers disguised 
as shepherds. Though the scene is laid in an island (satiri- 
cally termed " the He of Gulls ") near Arcadia, and though 
ambassadors come from Lacedaemon ; yet the action might 
have been localized, just as well, at any court in Christendom. 
The characters are the Duke, Duchess, princes, princesses and 
their servants, and the play is devoted to the working out of 
various love intrigues. The plot, as stated above, was taken 
from Sidney's Arcadia, but pastoral scenes, characters and 
allusions were carefully avoided. 

Shirley, in The Arcadia followed Day's example, using in 
the main the same episodes, but adding the supposed death of 


Basilaus and the trial scene. In this way Shirley introduced 
tragic effects, and made the play a tragi-comedy instead of a 
pure comedy. Dametas though termed a shepherd is really a 
clown, while in Day's play he is both clown and knave. Both 
plays, however, preserve throughout the court atmosphere and 
are not in the slightest degree pastoral. 1 


England did not give so cordial a welcome to the pastoral 
drama as did Italy, for in England the pastoral impulse 
sought expression chiefly in pastoral poems and romances. 
Moreover, the wonderful success of the drama along other 
lines than pastoral made the English poets little desirous of 
trying experiments. So it happened that the pastoral drama 
was a late and scanty growth in England. Not until the 
opening of the seventeenth century did the English play- 
wrights seriously turn their attention to pastoral drama. We 

1 The following plays and poems have been classed by various writers as 
pastoral dramas : The Faery Pastorall, or Forrest of Elves, by W. P., Esquier. 
This play exhibits no trace of pastoral influence. It is made up of fairy 
and forest elements, and the humor is supplied by a pedagogue and his 
blundering boys. Omphale, or The Inconstant Shepheardesse, by R. Braith- 
waite, 1623. There is no play bearing this title. Braithwaite's production 
is a short pastoral poem. La Pastorelle de FlorimZne, acted before Prince 
Charles and the Prince Palantine, by the French maids of the Queen at 
Whitehall, 1635. A pastoral play undoubtedly, but hardly belonging to 
English Literature. Amphrisa, the forsaken Shepheardesse, by Th. Hey wood, 
1637. This is a dramatic poem or masque, and therefore does not come 
within the scope of our discussion. In The Cyprian Academy, a pastoral 
romance by Robert Baron (1647), occurs on p. 16 a short pastoral play in 
three acts, entitled, Oripus and Hegio, or The Passionate Lovers. This piece 
is more of the nature of a masque than a regular drama. Love in its Extasie, 
or The Large Prerogative, 1649. This play reflects throughout the court 
atmosphere. The Shepherds' Holiday, by Sir William Denny, 1651. This 
is a pastoral eclogue, not a drama. Thyrsis, by John Oldraixon, 1697. 
This is a short play of one act, printed with four other dramatic pieces in a 
curious volume entitled, The Novelty, Every act a play, being a Short Pastoral, 
Comedy, Masque, Tragedy and Farce after the Italian manner. 


have found twelve plays which preserve consistently the pas- 
toral atmosphere, which are due to pastoral influence alone, 
and which represent characters which are either traditional 
Arcadians or courtiers disguised as such. These plays with 
one exception, Gay's Dione, appeared within the short period 
1605 to 1660. As a class they represent a comparatively 
unimportant division of the English drama. Many show 
youthful or amateur work ; several were never acted at all ; 
and none attained popularity, the majority being written for 
some special occasion or for representation at Court. 

In dealing with these plays we propose to consider the 
sources, the characteristics of the verse, the satiric, allegorical 
or personal allusions, and the part each drama played in the 
development of pastoral drama in England. In the case of 
dramas not easily accessible an outline of the plot will be 
given. The list of English pastoral dramas, arranged in 
their probable chronological order, is as follows : 

1. The Queen's Arcadia by Samuel Daniel ; acted 1605. 

2. The Faithful Shepherdess by John Fletcher ; acted 1608. 

3. Hymen's Triumph by Samuel Daniel; acted 1614. 

4. The Careless Shepherdess by Thomas Goffe; written 
before 1629. 

5. Rhodon and Iris by Ralph Knevet; acted 1631. 

6. The Shepherds' Paradise by Walter Montague; acted 

7. Amyntas, or The Impossible Dowry, by Thomas Ran- 
dolph ; written 1632-4. 

8. The Shepherds' Holiday by Joseph Rutter; printed 

9. Love's Riddle by Abraham Cowley; written 1632-6. 

10. Astraea by Leonard Willan ; printed 1651. 

11. The Enchanted Lovers by William Lower; printed 

12. Dione by John Gay; written 1720. 

Six of these plays were constructed on Italian models ; the 
rest were based upon pastoral romances or were constructed 


from original plots. For purposes of comparison we shall 
consider first the imitations of the Italian pastoral drama, the 
earliest of which was DaniePs Queen's Arcadia. The life of 
Samuel Daniel, poet, masque-writer and dramatist, is too well 
known to require any detailed account here. It is interest- 
ing, however, to note that Daniel while in Italy actually met 
Guarini, and that he was personally interested in the first 
English translation of II Pastor Fido. 1 The Queen's Arcadia 
was first acted, as set forth in the title, at Christ's Church, 
Oxford, before the queen in August, 1605. The prologue, 
which expands the thought contained in the motto, " chi non 
fa, non f alia" proves that Daniel had a well-conceived theory 
as to what a pastoral should be. The main thought is as 
follows : " The humblest rank of words best accords with 
rural passions which use not to reach beyond the groves and 
woods where they were bred : where men, shut out, retired 
and sequestered from public fashion, seem to sympathize with 
innocent and plain simplicity. Therefore it is a mistake to 
make shepherds discuss the hidden mysteries and arts of state 
which neither they nor the dramatists who represent them 
know anything about. So we will not show, in the view of 
state, a counterfeit of state, but erect our scene on the ground 
whence our humble argument has birth, and thus if we fall 
we fall but on the earth." 

If this modest and somewhat obsequious prologue is to be 
taken seriously, it shows that Daniel intended to write a 
strictly pastoral drama, and especially to avoid mixing in the 
" court " element. He does not seem to realize, however, 
the difficulty of constructing out of the simple elements of 
pastoral life an interesting play. We have seen how Tasso 
and Guarini accomplished this by the introduction of lyrical 
choruses of surpassing beauty, and how pastoral writers in 
general sought by personal allusion, satire and the like to 
arouse the interest of their readers. DaniePs practise, how- 

a See Daniel's sonnet prefixed to Dimock's translation of 11 Pastor Fido, 


ever, differs somewhat from his theory ; he introduces several 
characters whose experience reaches far "beyond the groves 
and woods," and he attacks with amusing and penetrating 
satire many evils of his own days. Yet the atmosphere of 
the play is Arcadian throughout, and the characters are all 
pastoral except a few corrupt visitors from without. The 
scene, moreover, is consistently Arcadian, as the following 
descriptions attest : 

" For this poore corner of Arcadia here, 
This little angle of the world you see, 
Which hath shut out of doore, all t'earth beside, 
And is bard up with inountaines, and with rocks ; 
Have had no intertrading with the rest 
Of men, nor yet will have, but here alone, 
Quite out of fortunes way, and underneath 
Ambition, or desire, that weighes them not, 
They live as if still in the golden age, 
When as the world was in his pupillage. 
* * * * * * * 

thus they make themselves, 

An everlasting holyday of rest 

Whilst others work." m, 1, 1023-1 035. 1 

" This montaynous Arcadia, shut up here 
Within these Rockes, these unfrequented Clifts, 
The walles and bulwarkes of our libertie, 
From out the noyse of tumult, and the throng 
Of sweating toyle, ratling concurrency ; 
And have continued still the same and one 
In all successions from antiquitie ; 
Whil'st all the states on earth besides have made 
A thousand revolutions, and have rowl'd 
From change to change, and never yet found rest." 

v, 3, 2202-2211. 

The time chosen for the action is a comparatively late 
period of Arcadian history when the primitive honesty of the 
golden age is threatened by intruders from without. The 
play opens with the lament of two old Arcadians, Melibaeus 

1 The references throughout are to Daniel's Queen's Arcadia. Ed. Grosart, 


and Ergastus, for the evils growing up about them diseases, 
lawsuits, extravagance of dress. They first learn the cause of 
these evils by overhearing a conversation between Colax, a 
returned traveller, and Techne, a "subtle wench" of Corinth. 
Colax is trying to persuade Techne to procure him the love 
of the shepherdess Cloris, and thus to separate her from her 
lover Amyntas. Techne, hoping to win Amyntas for her- 
self, readily consents. The old men resolve to expose the 

In the second act Sylvia, the jealous lover, warns Cloris 
against men. She laments the loss of her lover Palaemon, 
whose falseness is attested by Colax. Cloris resolves to abjure 
the company of men. In this frame of mind she repulses 
Techne's pleadings for Colax. Techne changes her tactics, 
and offers her a new head-dress, hoping thus to gain some 
influence over her. As a companion scene, Daniel here intro- 
duces Palaemon, the jealous lover, who rails at woman's 
baseness because Sylvia (as testified by Colax) has deserted 
him for another. The old men, who have overheard all, 
moralize on the success of the evil which comes clothed in 

The third act introduces the secondary agents of corrup- 
tion, Lincus, a pettifogger, and Alcon, a quack-salver. The 
rogues are interrupted by Daphne, a shepherdess, who has 
been ruined by Colax. She applies to Alcon for medicine and 
he promises to prepare it. Meanwhile Techne has arranged a 
meeting with Cloris at the cave of Erycina, and has sent 
Colax there in her stead. Her next plot is to send Amyntas 
also to the cave where (she tells him) he will find proofs of 
Cloris's unfaithfulness. In this way she hopes to win him for 
herself. The old men again moralize on the villainous plots 
they are witnessing. 

In the fourth act Techne meets Amyntas returning from 
the cave. Having seen Cloris and Colax enter the cave, he 
believes his mistress is guilty. Still he refuses to be com- 
forted by Techne's feigned sympathy, and tells her he is 


resolved to put himself to death. Techne, left alone, grows 
remorseful, and decides to seek Cloris and unite her to her 
lover. She finds Cloris laughing at the sorry figure cut by 
Colax when he wooed her in the cave. She grows serious, 
however, on learning from Techne of Amyntas's fatal resolve 
and she rushes off to prevent it. The act closes with the 
usual tirade of the old eavesdroppers. 

In the fifth act occurs the main part of the underplot which 
is concerned with the love of Amarillis for the huntsman 
Carinus. Meanwhile Amyntas hfis attempted to carry out 
his resolve by taking poison. He is brought back to life by 
the care of Cloris, assisted by an herb-woman. Finally the 
old men call together a large hunting party and, when all are 
assembled, expose the villains. The rogues are banished, 
and all the lovers are united. Arcadia regains its primitive 
honesty and simplicity. 

The influence of Guarini and Tasso is very evident in this 
drama. The incident of the meeting in the cave and the 
wooing of the huntsman are from the former poet, while the 
attempted suicide and the recovery of Amyntas are borrowed 
from Tasso. With the exception of these poets, Daniel seems 
to have had no models. Altogether, Daniel has constructed 
an interesting and, in the main, an original plot. In con- 
struction it is open to some adverse criticism. Each act 
closes with a dialogue between the two old men who really 
constitute a kind of chorus to the play. This leads to repe- 
tition and monotony. Are we to imagine these two old 
eavesdroppers hidden behind a tree and appearing at stated 
intervals from their place of concealment? Another fault in 
construction is the mechanical arrangement of several scenes 
in pairs. Moreover, the secondary agents of corruption, Alcon 
and Lincus, are not connected closely enough with the main 
plot. This gives one the impression that they are introduced 
only to satirize tobacco for the delectation of King James. 

In delineation of character Daniel is more successful than 
most pastoral writers. Melibaeus and Ergastus, to be sure, are 


not individualized, but this is not necessary, for they represent 
the "providence" of the play. Cloris is well-drawn. Her 
distrust of men is a natural consequence of what she has 
heard ; her amusing account of Colax's attempt on her virtue 
shows her courage and wit; while her final submission to 
love (an incident borrowed from Tasso^is highly poetic and 
natural. Her lover Amyntas arouses far more sympathy in 
the reader than does his original, Tasso's Aminta. His rejec- 
tion of Techne is manly and consistent, as is also his reference 
to Cloris. His attempted suicide, moreover, is justified by a 
sufficient motive : here Daniel again improves on his origi- 
nal. The evil agents are all clearly delineated, especially 
Techne, who, by her repentance, almost deserves a better fate. 
Daphne, the erring maid, is drawn with a master's hand. 
Her words are truly pathetic ; and in the end when all are 
made happy save herself, we realize the fine artistic conscience 
of the dramatist. Amarillis, the forward shepherdess, and 
the huntsman Carinus (Guarini's Dorinda and Silvio) are 
altogether shadowy and unsuccessful as characters in the play. 
The characters of Montanus and Acrysius (Guarini's Montano 
and Titiro) are still more shadowy, and are dragged in at the 
end without any apparent reason. 

DaniePs verse is in general smooth and melodious. The 
whole play is written in decasyllabic iambic verse, there being 
no songs or choruses in shorter measures. The prologue is 
in quatrains, rhyming alternately, with an occasional couplet. 
The main part of the play is in blank verse diversified by 
rhymed couplets and by quatrains rhyming alternately. 1 Yet 
the general effect of the whole is not that of blank verse, 
since fully one-fourth of the lines are rhymed. The close 
connection of pastoral drama with pastoral poetry is seen in 
lines 430 to 500, and 800 to 860. These two passages really 
constitute related pastoral love lyrics. 2 In general, Daniel's 

1 See n, 3 and 4. 

8 On the analogy of the titles in TotteCs Miscellany one might call the first 
selection "The Forsaken Nymph recites her love, and rails at her Lover." 


verse flows on in a leisurely fashion often delighting to ex- 
pand to three lines what might better be expressed in one. 
Occasionally, however, the poet writes with admirable terseness. 
For example : 

"There is no misery unlesse compared" (757). 

.... "Since love knew never Lord 

That could command the region of our will" (1901). 

" Ah, 'tis the silent rhetoricke of a looke, 
That works the league betwixt the States of hearts" (2159-60). 

The chief metrical license in the play is the ellipsis of the 
final letters in such words as " the," " he," " they." This is 
resorted to so frequently to smooth out a verse that it becomes 
a blemish. 

Of the general characteristics of pastoral literature, enumer- 
ated above, 1 the one chiefly noticeable is satire. The whole 
play is satiric in character ; the corrupted Arcadia represent- 
ing England. In the characters of Lincus and Alcon, the 
dramatist satirizes pettifoggers and quacks ; in Colax, returned 
travellers ; in Techne, the cosmetic-sellers and perfumers. 
Corinth (282) may stand for France. The most amusing 
satiric passage, however, is the "counterblast against tobacco" 
inserted to please King James. Alcon tells how he bought 
from a seaman a certain pestiferous herb, grown in the Island 
of Nicosia, and introduced its use among the Arcadians, 

" I thought how well 
This new fantastical devise would please 
The foolish people here growne humorous. 

now with strange 

And gluttonous desire, they exhaust the same 
Insatiate to devour th' intoxicating fume. 
And whereas heretofore they wonted were 
At all their meetings, and their festivalls, 
To passe the time in telling witty tales, 
In questions, riddles and in purposes, 
Now they do nothing else but sit and sucke, 

And spit and slaver, all the time they sit. 

***#*# * 

1 Secp. 363. 


Another age will finde the hurt of this, 

And they will wonder with themselves to think 

That men of sense could ever be so mad, 

To sucke so grosse a vapour, that consumes 

Their spirits, spends nature, dries up memorie, 

Corrupts the blood, and is a vanitie." m, 1. 

The Queen's Arcadia contains comparatively few references 
to supernatural characters or agencies. Daniel follows tradi- 
tion in not admitting gods and goddesses into the action of 
the drama. He even suppresses all mention of oracles, and 
limits his supernatural characters to a satyr, who is mentioned 
but not brought into the action. Allusions to the Greek myths 
are frequent, but are used simply for ornament. 

Most of the characters in the drama belong to the con- 
ventional types ; the faithful shepherd, Amyntas ; the shep- 
herdess, devoted to virginity, but overcome at last by the 
perseverance of her lover, 1 Cloris (Compare Tasso's Sylvia) ; 
the shepherdess who wooes a reluctant swain, 1 Amarillis (Com- 
pare Shakespeare's Helena, M. S. N. D., n, 1); the rival 
shepherds, Amyntas and Carinus. In his delineation of the 
jealous lovers, Palaemon and Sylvia, Daniel apparently fol- 
lowed no pastoral model. This applies also to the character 
of Daphne. There is probably no allegorical meaning under- 
lying The Queen's Arcadia, nor is there any attempt to describe 
rural scenery. 

As a whole the play is an interesting attempt to construct 
a pastoral drama in English, which should strictly follow 
tradition and especially the examples of Tasso and Guarini. 
Daniel failed to equal his models, not because he lacked skill 
in construction, but because he lacked the highest poetic 

Hymen's Triumph, Daniel's second venture in pastoral 
drama, will be considered next, though Fletcher's Faithful 

1 These types occur so frequently in the pastoral dramas that for uni- 
formity and convenience I shall term the first the heart-free shepherdess, 
and the second the forward shepherdess. 


Shepherdess preceded it by several years. As a matter of fact, 
Daniel borrowed nothing from Fletcher, but sought inspira- 
tion again from the Italian dramatists. Hymen's Triumph 
was performed at Somerset House, at the marriage of Lord 
Roxburgh in February, 1614, and was published in January 
of the following year. 1 The main purpose of the play is not 
satiric, 2 but an attempt to represent idealized pastoral life as 
Daniel imagined it. 

Hymen's Triumph opens with jan allegorical prologue.* 
Hymen, Envy and Jealousy proclaim to the audience their 
determination to enter Arcadia and take possession of the 
hearts of the swains and nymphs. Such a prologue might be 
prefixed, of course, to almost any drama. It is not meant 
that these allegorical figures are included among the dramatis 
personae of the play. All the characters concerned are genu- 
ine Arcadians, and the drama preserves strictly the pastoral 
atmosphere. 4 

The first scene contains the lament of Thirsis (a faithful 
shepherd) for his lost Silvia. He has found in the forest her 
veil, torn and bloody, and concludes that she has fallen a 
prey to some wild beast. Palaemon (type of the confidant or 
consoler) tries to allay the grief of Thirsis, but his efforts are 
vain. Finally he leaves his friend, and Thirsis seeks to divert 
his mind by listening to the singing of his boy : 

" Had sorrow ever fitter place 

To act his part, 

Then in my heart, 
Where it takes up all the space 

Where is no veine 

To entertaine 
A thought that weares another face. 

1 Fleay, Chronicle of the English Drama, I, 94. 

8 A few passages are slightly flavored with satire. See n, 1, and n, 2, 11. 
649-656. The references are to Daniel's Hymen's Triumph. Ed. Grosart, 

3 Cf. synopsis of prologue to Tasso's Aminta, on p. 368. 

*The foresters of II, 1, are true Arcadians, especially Montanus, who 
belongs to the type of the surly shepherd. 


Nor will I sorrow ever have, 

Therein to be, 

But onely thee, 
To whom I full possession gave : 

Thou in thy name 

Must holde the same, 
Untill thou bring it to the grave." 

In the second scene Cloris, a nymph in love with Thirsis, 
sends to him a message by her boy Clarindo (who is really 
the lost Silvia in disguise). In a soliloquy, Clarindo explains 
why she has disguised herself. It was necessary in some way 
to avoid being forced into a marriage with Alexis. She hopes 
that now he will accept her disappearance as a proof of her 
death and will marry some other shepherdess. Then she can 
reveal her identity and marry Thirsis. Her mistress does not 
suspect her real sex, and she hopes that she can deceive others. 
So she sets out joyously to deliver the message of her mistress 
to Thirsis. On the way she is wooed by Phillis, who, on 
being rejected, is inconsolable. The act closes with the fine 
song of the first chorus : 

" Love is a sicknessefull of woes, 

All remedies refusing; 
A plant that with most cutting growes 
Most barren with best using. 

Why so? 

More we enjoy it, more it dyes, 
If not enjoy'd, it sighing cries, 
Hey ho. 

Love is a torment of the minde, 

A tempest everlasting, 
And Jove hath made it of a kind, 
Nor well, nor full nor fasting. 
Why so? 

More we enjoy it, more it dyes, 
If not enjoy'd, it sighing cries 
Hey ho." 

The second act introduces the foresters Silvanus, Dorcus 
and Montanus. They lament the " golden age " of Arcadia 


when love was the only master of the heart. They ascribe 
the change to the introduction of wealth. Montanus recounts 
how his mistress Phillis embraced the boy Clarindo, and vows 
to be revenged. His friends try to dissuade him. Montanus 
leaves them and seeks Phillis. The wily shepherdess tells 
him that so far from seeking to embrace Clarindo she had 
with difficulty checked his presumption. Montanus is com- 
pletely deceived, and rushes off to punish the innocent boy. 
Meanwhile Clarindo (Silvia) reports to her mistress her inter- 
view with Thirsis. She relates hmv Thirsis talked only of 
Silvia and refused to entertain the thought of any new love. 
Then follows the second chorus : 

" Desire that is of things ungot, 
See what travaile it procureth, 
And how much the minde endureth, 
To gaine what yet it gaineth not : 
For never was it paid, 
The charge defraide. 
According to the price of thought." 

In the third act Palaemon again seeks to comfort Thirsis. 
Alexis, he says, has overcome his grief for Silvia and is about 
to marry. Why should not he (Thirsis) do the same? Thirsis 
defends constancy and relates to his friend an oracle he has 
received : 

" Go youth, reserve thyself; the day will come 
Thou shall be happy and return again." 

Thirsis adds that in his curiosity he asked the oracle when 
that day should come, and the oracle had answered, "The 
day thou diest." Palaemon wisely leaves the lover to his 
grief. Fortunately the father of Silvia has overheard the 
conversation and he is filled with admiration for the con- 
stancy of Thirsis. The act closes with a nuptial song by the 
chorus of shepherds. 

The fourth act opens with a soliloquy of Thirsis, in which 
he tells how he found carved on a tree the words, "Thy 
Silvia lives, and is returned." He cannot believe in the 
truth of the message, though it is written in a cipher known 


only to Silvia and himself. His soliloquy is interrupted by 
the entrance of Clarindo, who has been sent a second time 
by Phillis. Thirsis does not recognize her, but being pleased 
with the appearance of the boy asks for a story. Clarindo 
tells him her own misfortunes under the name of Julia. 1 
Thirsis is too dull to comprehend that Julia, Silvia, and 
Clarindo are one and the same person. Finally Clarindo 
leaves him, and on her return to her mistress is met by the 
jealous Montanus, who accuses her of familiarities with Phillis, 
and then in a fit of passion stabs her to the heart. Thirsis, 
hearing her cries, hastens to her aid. He discovers she is a 
women, and at last recognizes his Silvia. He swoons upon 
the body and the chorus sings : 

" Were ever chast and honest hearts 
Expos'd unto so great distresses? 
Yes : they that act the worthiest parts 
Most commonly have worst successes. 
Great fortunes follow not the best 
Its virtue that is most distrest. 

Then fortune why doe we admire 

The glory of thy great excesses ? 
Since by thee what men acquire, 

Thy worke and not their worths expresses. 
Nor dost thou raise them for their good : 
But t' have their illes more understood." 

The fifth act recounts how Thirsis and Silvia were healed 
by Lamia (compare the healing of Amyntas in The Queen's 
Arcadia). Then, after a humorous dialogue between Phillis 
and her nurse, the play ends with a song of the chorus. 

" Whoever saw so faire a sight, 
Love and virtue met aright : 
And that wonder Constancy, 
Like a Comet to the eye 
Seldom ever scene so bright ? 
Sound out aloud so rare a thing, 
That all the Hills and Vales may ring. 

1 The passage, lines 1475-1641, is one of the most beautiful in the play, 
but is too long for quotation. 


Looke Lovers looke, with passion see, 

If that any such there bee: 

As there cannot but be such 

Who doe feel that noble touch 

In this glorious company. 

Sound out aloud so rare a thing, 

That all the Hills and Vales may ring." 

As a whole, this play is better constructed than The Queen's 
Arcadia. There is less repetition and monotony, and fewer 
unnecessary and detached characters. The faults in construc- 
tion are first, the delay of the omcle until the third act (if 
introduced earlier it would have explained the depth of 
Thirsis's grief and aroused more sympathy for him) ; and 
secondly, the hurried close. In the last act all the characters 
should have been assembled and a double marriage celebrated. 
Perhaps, also, Montanus should have married Phillis. 

In respect to character delineation, Daniel succeeds best in 
Silvia, Thirsis, and the nurse Lydia. Palaemon, however, is 
a failure. Montanus (type of the sullen shepherd) is well 
portrayed. The chorus, an awkward task for any dramatist 
to manage, is brought in naturally and according to pastoral 

Daniel's indebtedness to Tasso and Guarini is very great. 
Thirsis is borrowed directly from Tasso, while Medorus and 
Clarinus, the fathers of the heroland heroine, are taken from 
Guarini. For the oracle, Daniel had recourse to D'Urfe's 
Astree. The incidents in the play, however, are in the main 
original with Daniel. 

The supernatural element is not employed, save in the 
oracle, and even here it is really unnecessary to the plot. 
There are no gods, goddesses, satyrs or fauns. Dreams are 
regarded as sacred by Medorus, but ridiculed by Clarinus. 
Anachronisms are almost entirely lacking. In both of Daniel's 
pastoral dramas great care was taken to avoid this fault. 

The versification of Hymen's Triumph is interesting. The 
first fourteen lines of the dedication may be regarded as a 
sonnet; to this are added quatrains, and the whole is con- 
cluded by three couplets. The prologue is written in blank 


verse, diversified with occasional rhyming lines. This prac- 
tise is continued throughout the play, about one-fourth of 
which is in rhymed couplets. In the songs and choruses 
Daniel uses a shorter line and writes usually in stanzas. 

But, perhaps, the most noteworthy feature of the play is 
the treatment of love. Many passages are devoted to express- 
ing the poet's ideal of this passion. In the characters of 
Thirsis and Silvia he extols constancy, while in the character 
of Lydia he satirizes the lower views of life entertained by 
the vulgar throng of mankind who are incapable of lofty 

The most famous of English pastoral dramas, Fletcher's 
Faithful Shepherdess was acted in 1608, and published the 
following year. It was " damned " on the stage, but in spite 
of this fact was revived after the restoration of Charles II., 
and, according to Pepys, "much thronged after for the scene's 
sake." 1 This play was extremely popular with the reading 
public, and was reprinted in 1629, 1634, 1656 and 1665. It 
was included in the folio edition of Beaumont and Fletcher 
(1679), and has always been regarded as one of the best 
plays in the collection. Its influence on Milton's Comus is 
very marked, and many other poets have borrowed from, 
or praised, this exquisite pastoral poem. The authorship has 
been assigned by almost all the critics to Fletcher alone, but 
Mr. Fleay finds internal evidence of Beaumont's co-operation 
in the drama. 2 Many critics mention this play as the earliest 
pastoral drama in the language, but it is undoubtedly later 
than Daniel's Queen's Arcadia. 

It is interesting to compare Fletcher's theory in regard to 
pastorals with that of Daniel already quoted. 3 Fletcher says 
in his preface : "A pastoral is a representation of shepherds 
and shepherdesses with their actions and passions, which must 
be such as agree with their nature as depicted in former fic- 
tions and vulgar traditions, adorned with no art save sinking 

1 Pepys' Diary, 1663. 

* Chronicle of the Eng. Drama, I, 178. 3 See page 393. 


and poetry, or such as experience may teach (e. g., the virtues 
of herbs and fountains) ; also it must be remembered that 
shepherds were owners of flocks not hirelings." This is the 
task Fletcher set himself, but his imagination failed to con- 
struct a consistent picture of the simplicity of a " golden age," 
and his shepherds (which his fastidious soul would not permit 
him to taint with any trace of the rustic sheep-tenders of his 
own days) became so idealized as to give little impression of 
reality. The plot is intentionally simple and the characters 
do not impress one as real. Tins is almost inevitable in a 
pastoral drama, and a critic misses the whole value of the 
work if he confines himself to a consideration of the plot and 
characters. However, it is only fair to point out the skill in 
the technique, the touches which show Fletcher to have been 
a born playwright. All the characters are introduced in the 
first act in such a way that each makes a distinct impres- 
sion on the reader; the tragic element in the wounding of 
Amoret is sufficient to rouse sympathy without too great 
apprehension ; and all the characters are brought together 
naturally at the end of the play for their respective rewards 
and punishments. The central figure, which gives unity to 
the plot, is of course Amoret, the loving shepherdess ; the 
good genius (the providence of the play) is consistently enough 
placed in Clorin, the chaste votaress, and her servant the satyr; 
the evil to be overcome is the plotting of the sullen shep- 
herd and Cloe. The play is noteworthy as one of the few 
English dramas which preserve the unities. The unity of 
time is strictly observed, the play beginning in the evening 
and ending at dawn the next day. The unity of place is in 
the main observed, each scene being placed in a wood close to 
a village. The unity of action, however, is occasionally vio- 
lated. The weak points in the construction of the plot are in 
twice wounding Amoret; in the absurd success of Clorin's 
ruse to get rid of Thenot ; and in the pardoning of Cloe. 
Yet, on the whole, the plot may be said to be skilfully im- 
agined, and it certainly compares favorably with the entangled 


inartistic plots of so many pastoral dramas. The principal 
characters are treated so as to arouse a proportionable interest. 
Daphnis, however, is assigned too important a part. Here 
Fletcher fails Daphnis might have been omitted. He is 
introduced not to forward the plot, but to represent a certain 
phase of love. 

This brings us to a consideration of the allegory which 
seems to underlie this play. We have seen how fond the 
pastoral poets were of disguised allegory. Usually it was 
not thought necessary to prefix a key to the allegory as 
Spenser did in the Faery Queen. The pastoral writers pre- 
ferred to leave the interpretation to the reader's imagination. 
It seems not improbable that Fletcher in this respect has 
followed the general practise, and that the allegory of The 
Faithful Shepherdess is intended to symbolize the various 
phases of love. Such an interpretation of The Faithful Shep- 
herdess explains many of the absurd incidents as well as the 
general unreality of the characters. If this view of the play 
be the correct one, we may conclude that Fletcher represents 
in allegorical form at least five phases of love, first, spiritual 
love ; second, constancy ; third, chivalrous worship of woman ; 
fourth, physical love ; and fifth, lust. Fletcher's portrayal of 
spiritual love in Amoret, Daphnis and Perigot is as beautiful 
as Milton's portrayal of chastity in Comus. Amoret's and 
Perigot's conversation (I, 2), Daphnis's guileless words to 
Cloe (I, 3), and especially Perigot's wounding of Amarillis 
(III, 1) all these arouse only a smile of incredulity if we 
judge the characters as human beings, but if we regard them 
as poetic idealizations of the highest spiritual love, we at 
once find them perfectly consistent. In the second phase, 
constancy, the same reasoning holds. Abstractly considered, 
Clorin's devotion to her dead lover is highly beautiful, and 
we can understand the admiration it caused in Thenot, and his 
disappointment when he supposes her to be on the point of 
yielding to human desires (IV, 5). In real life, however, or 
in a play representing real life, Clorin would be altogether 


impossible and exasperating, and her ruse to get rid of Thenot 
would be equally unjustifiable. Thenot, apparently, is intro- 
duced simply to represent a chivalrous idolatry of woman 
a mediaeval conception based on the worship of the Virgin 
Mary and the saints which raises certain favored women 
above human passions. 1 Physical love Fletcher seems abso- 
lutely to condemn. It is capable of being refined into spiritual 
love, however, as is illustrated in the characters of Amarillis 
and Alexis. The treatment of lust in Cloe and the sullen 
shepherd passes all bounds if we jfidge them as real personages, 
but can easily be justified if we regard them as allegorical 
characters. Fletcher intends to show the degradation of love, 
when divorced from the spiritual nature and given over to 
brutal excesses. It must be admitted, however, that the 
pardon of Cloe while the sullen shepherd is condemned 
is an inconsistency whether we regard her as a real or an 
allegorical character. 

In fine, the inconsistencies in the play are those which 
appear in almost all allegories. When an abstract quality is 
personified, some absurdity is sure to result. But if we regard 
the play as a representation of certain phases of love, as they 
were regarded by many men of the time, the drama gains an 
added interest and loses much of its inconsistency. Never- 
theless few thoughtful men can accept the conclusions which 
Fletcher suggests, first, that constancy to a dead lover and a 
vow of virginity is supremely holy; secondly, that spiritual 
love between the sexes is necessarily destroyed by any taint of 
physical love (another mediaeval conception making marriage 
a degradation) ; and thirdly, that the deification of women is 
in itself commendable. Finally, though all may assent to the 
doom pronounced on the lustful, yet few will accept Fletcher's 
portrayal of it as legitimate art. 

1 Thenot may represent the general sentiment that desire ceases when it 
attains what it seeks. But this interpretation is probably too cynical for 
the general spirit of the play. 


Why then is the play not forgotten ? It seems that the 
true answer is to be found in its poetic beauty and melodious 
versification. Metrically, the play is an interesting study. 
The first scene begins with about fifty lines of very musical 
blank verse. In the rest of the play, however, blank verse 
is seldom employed the whole play containing less than 
three hundred unrhymed lines. The greater part is in 
rhymed decasyllabic verse. About four hundred lines are 
written in octosyllabic couplets. For the songs more diversi- 
fied metres are preferred, and their beauty alone is sufficient 
to preserve the drama from oblivion. Moreover, passages 
of great poetic merit occur in almost every scene. Clorin's 
opening speech in renunciation of the joys of life ; the satyr's 
speeches throughout; Perigot's wooing of Amoret (I, 2). 
Cloe's speeches, if we can pardon the licentious touches, are 
of great poetic beauty ; so are the words of the priest of Pan 
(II, 1 and V, 5) and of Clorin as she sorts the herbs (II, 2). 
The real value of the play, therefore, is to be found best by 
treating it as a lyrical love poem. 

Satirical passages are rare in The Faithful Shepherdess. 
There may be a thrust against city and court in Arnoret's 
speeches (I, 2) ; against women (II, 3 and III, 1). Nor is 
the drama noteworthy for its treatment of nature. There 
are no set descriptions. Many enumerations of trees, plants, 
flowers and fruits are given, but in general the scenery is left 
to the imagination of the reader. 

A pastoral dramatist is hardly deserving of censure for 
the introduction of anachronisms, yet Fletcher's treatment of 
love is exasperating in this respect. The marriage rite is not 
mentioned, and we are justified in thinking that Fletcher 
wishes to represent Arcadian life in too primitive a stage to 
enjoy the rite imposed on mankind by social and religious 
laws. What then should have been his treatment of the rela- 
tion of the sexes? Evidently, either complete freedom in 
sexual relations, or union after mutual vows. The former 
was farthest from his thoughts, the latter is censured. So the 


absurd consequence follows that his amorous Arcadians must 
pass their lives in the purgatory of the betrothed pair, with 
clasped hands and chaste embraces. This is the only conclu- 
sion logically to be deduced from Fletcher's play. Still, logic 
is not to be expected in Arcadia, and Milton's Comus reflects 
the same absurdity. In both cases we see the persistence of 
mediaeval conceptions in regard to the holiness of virginity, 
and the degradation of physical love. 

Fletcher's treatment of the supernatural is interesting. The 
English folk-lore witches, fairies *fnd goblins are mixed with 
the Greek nymphs and satyrs. Clorin can cure "men or 
cattle charmed with powerful words or wicked art." The 
beautiful mediaeval superstition that virginity was unassaila- 
ble by evil is frequently referred to. From the Greek, through 
the Italian pastoral writers, Fletcher borrows the god of the 
river. He entirely discards the mechanism of the oracle. 
Direct plagiarism is not resorted to. Fletcher, like Daniel, 
borrowed only suggestions from Tasso and Guarini. The 
title implies that Fletcher intended to write a companion 
piece to Guarini's II Pastor Fido. The English play is to be 
regarded as a rival, not an imitation of the Italian drama. 

The English dramatists were apparently discouraged by 
the failure of Fletcher's play, Jonson never finished his Sad 
Shepherd, and a number of years elapsed before an English 
dramatist attempted to place a pastoral scene upon the stage. 
About the year 1625 Thomas Goffe wrote The Careless Shep- 
herdess. 1 It was performed before the King and Queen at 
Whitehall, and afterwards (1629) at Salisbury Court theatre. 
The first edition bears the date 1656. 2 

'The title-page reads, " The Careless Shepherdess. A Tragi-Comedy. 
Acted before the King and Queen, and at Salisbury Court, with great 
applause. Written by T. G. Mr. of Arts. Pastorem Tittere pingues Pas- 
cere oportet oves, deductum ducere Carmen, London .... 1656." 

8 The exact date of composition is uncertain. While a fellow at Oxford 
(1615 to 1623) Goffe was writing plays of an entirely different sort trage- 
dies on Greek models. Still he may have written this play during that 
period. It is more probable, however, that he wrote it afterwards between 


Very little is known of the life of Thomas Goffe. He was 
born in the year 1592; educated at Westminster School, and 
at Christ's Church, Oxford. After receiving the degrees 
A. B. and A. M. he resided at Oxford until 1623, probably 
as a fellow. During this time he wrote "three excellent 
tragedies," which were acted by the students at Christ's 
Church. In one of these, Orestes, he himself delivered the 
prologue. From 1623 until his death (1629) he held the 
living at East Clandon, Surrey. It was probably during this 
period that he wrote his last and best play, The Careless 
Shepherdess. The Argument prefixed to the 1656 edition 
need not delay us, for in all probability it was not written 
by Goffe. After the Argument, comes the Praeludium, which 
is a comic introduction. A courtier, a lawyer, a citizen, a 
country gentleman and the doorkeeper of the theatre discuss 
the play. The ability of the citizen and country gentleman 
to judge the play is ridiculed by the others, and a thrust is 
given to the poets also, who "of late have drowned their 
brains in sack, and are grown so dull and lazy that they 
may be the subjects of a Play, rather than the authors." 
After this comes the Prologue to the performance at Salis- 
bury Court. First, the author condemns the judgment of the 

the years 1623, when he left Oxford, and 1629, when his death occurred. 
The dates of production can be more accurately ascertained. The play was 
acted before the King and Queen at Whitehall. This must have been 
some time between the years 1625 and 1629, for Goffe himself wrote the 
prologue to their Majesties. The first performance at Salisbury Court 
Theatre was certainly in 1629, for in that year the theatre was opened, and 
a new prologue written by Goffe (whose death occurred July 27, 1629). 
Mr. Fleay (History of the English Stage) finds a record of another per- 
formance at Salisbury Court in 1632. The printed copy (1656) contains 
an argument for the play, which was probably written by the editor, while 
the Praeludium and the two Prologues were undoubtedly written by Goffe. 
This seems to the writer the correct interpretation of the evidence. Mr. 
Fleay ( Chronicle of the Eng. Drama, I, 247) has confused the performance 
at Whitehall with that at Salisbury Court ; he is also in error as to the date 
of Goffe's death, which was certainly in 1629, as is attested by the registry 
of burials at East Clandon, Surrey. 



groundlings who scorn the play because of its rural scenery 
and costume. Then he adds, indignantly, 

" Would it be proper, think you, for a swain, 
To put on Buskins, and a lofty strain ? 
Or should a Shepherdess such praises vent, 
As the Spring-Garden Ladies complement; 
Should a rough Satyre, who did never know, 
The thing we call a Taylor, Lord-like go 
In Silks and Sattins ? Or a Country Lasse 
Wear by her side a Watch or Looking-Glasse. 
Faith, Gentlemen ; such Solecisms as these 
Might have done well in the Antipodes : 

The Author aims not to show wit, but art. 

He could have writ high lines, and I do know 

His pains were double to descend so low : 

Nor does he think it infamy, to confess 

His stile as Careless as his Shepherdess. 

Good voices fall and rise, and Virgil, who 

Did Oeorgicks make, did write Aeneids too. 

Laurel in woods doth grow, and there may be 

Some wit in Shepherds' plain simplicity : 

The pictures of a Beggar and a King 

Do equal praises to a Painter bring ; 

Meadows and Groves in Landskips please the eye 

As much as all the City bravery. 

May your ears too accept this rural sport, 

And think yourselves in Salisbury Plain not Court." 

The sentiment expressed here is very similar to that in 
Daniel's prologue to The Queen's Arcadia, 1 namely, that the 
style of pastoral should be unstudied and the whole impres- 
sion consistently rural. However, Goffe like Daniel and the 
other pastoral poets sees rural life through a pastoral medium, 
and the atmosphere of his play. is consistently Arcadian. The 
short prologue, " to their Majesties at White-Hall/' is merely 
apologetic, and contains nothing worthy of note. The rarity 
of the play, however, justifies an account of the plot. In the 
first scene Philaretus bewails Cupid's cruelty, because Aris- 
mena (the careless shepherdess) does not return his love. His 

1 See page 393. 


father, Cleobulus, overhears his words and upbraids him for 
loving a maid beneath his station. Philaretus defends his 
action, and his father, overcome with rage, disinherits him. 
Philaretus assumes the dress of a common shepherd and goes 
into exile. In the next scene another pair of lovers are intro- 
duced, Lariscus and Castarina. Castarina refuses to entertain 
his suit until her lost father, Paromet, returns from exile. 
Lariscus goes to consult the oracle. 

Act second opens with the visit of the shepherds and shep- 
herdesses to the bower of the goddess Silvia. The goddess 
welcomes them with a song : 

" Come, Shepherds come, impale your brows 
With Garlands of the choicest flowers 

The time allows. 

Come Nymphs deckt in your dangling hair, 
And unto Silvia's shady Bowers 

With haste repair : 

Where you shall see chaste Turtles play, 
And Nightingales make lasting May, 
As if old Time his youthfull minde, 
To one delightful season had confin'd." 

The shepherds and shepherdesses enter. 

u l sh. What Musick's this doth reach our ears? 

Which sounds like that made by the Sphears, 
And so affects the eager sense, 
'Tis ravisht with its excellence. 

2 sh. The Ayr doth smell of Indian spice, 

Or that the sences stupifies, 
Which by Arabian winds is spread 
From the ashes of a Phoenix dead 
Whence is this wonder. 

3 sh. See, see, where 

The lovely Goddess doth appear : 
Fair Silvia, she that orders how, 
Before Pans Altars we should bow, 
And for propition every year 
Of the choice fleece our sheep do bear : 


Pay thankful Sacrifice, that he 

May keep our flocks from danger free 

Instruct us Goddess what's thy will. 

SU. Upon this heavy wood-crown'd hill, 
I do invite you to Pans feast, 
Where each shall be a welcome Guest, 
Then to the Musique of. my voice, 
Move gently on, each with his choice, 
But so that no malicious eye 
See ought to task your modesty ; 
For your delights must alway be 
Attended on by chastity. 


SU. 'Tis time the Sacrifice begin, 
Devotion must be done within ; 
Which done ; you may of Ceres tast, 
And Bacchus gifts, but make no wast : 
For oft where plenty injur'd stands, 
The bounteous Gods do shut their hands : 
The snowy fleeces you have shorn, 
And cropt the golden ears of corn ; 
Lyaeus blood is prest and put 
Into the safe preserving Butt : 
Then when the cold and blustring ayr 
Invites you from the Plains (yet fair), 
To take warm shelters, that may keep 
Yourselves in health, and ek your sheep, 
Will into your numb'd limbs inspire 
An active and preserving fire ; 
Let your expressions then be free 
And gently moving follow me. 

She ascends to the Bower singing, 

On Shepherds on, wee'l sacrifice 
Those spotless Lambs we prize 
At highest rate, for Pan doth keep 
From harm our scat' ring sheep : 

And hath deserved 

For to be served 

With those ye do esteem the best 
Amongst the flock, as fittest for the feast. 


Come Virgins bring your garlands here 
And hang them everywhere : 
Then let his Altars be o'erspread 
With Roses fresh and red : 

Burn Gums and Spice, 

Rich Sacrifice. 

The Gods so bounteous are, ye know, 
Ye mortals cannot pay them what ye owe." 

This scene is followed by one in which Philaretus, in shep- 
herd garb, sings the praises of love. Scene third is devoted 
to a conversation between Castarina and Arismena, in which 
the latter explains why she has forsworn love. 

" Now fie on love, it ill befits, 
Or man or woman know it, 
Love was not meant for people in their wits, 
And they that fondly shew it 
Betray their too much feather'd brains, 
And shall have only Bedlam for their pains. 

To love, is to distract my sleep, 

And waking, to wear fetters, 

To love, is but to go to School to weep, 

Fie leave it for my betters. 

If single love be such a curse, 

To marry, is to make it ten times worse." 

Castarina, doubting her words, accuses her of loving Phila- 
retus. This she denies to Castarina's great joy, because she 
herself loves Philaretus. At this point Philaretus enters and 
Arismena begs him to become reconciled to his father, because 
his love for her is useless. The act closes with the visit of 
Lariscus to the shrine of Apollo. The God is discovered 
playing his harp in accompaniment to a song of the Sybils: 

" We to thy Harp, A polio, sing, 
Whilst others to thy Altars bring 

Their humble prayers 

For length of daies. 
Or else for knowledge of their Fates, 
Which by their prayers thou renovates, 

And dost renue 

Not as their due, 

But as their worth, incites thy love 
To shower thy blessing from above." 


Lariscus kneels and invokes the god, 

"Shall Castarina be my Love? 
Speak Apollo, and if she prove 
But kind unto my vowes, I swear 
Fie offer Incense every year, 
And oft my grateful thanks return, 
And Spices on thy Altars burn." 

Apollo answers : 

" Thou shalt finde crosses in thy love, 
Yet time may make thenf^blessings prove ; 
For when the Virgins o're the Herse, 
Have plac'd the Garland and sad verse, 
And bath'd the cold earth with their tears, 
Thy hope shall overcome thy fears. 
And till that she be dead, shall not 
Enjoy thy love : unty the knot." 

Lariscus complains of the obscurity of the oracle, but the 
god vouchsafes no explanation. 

Meanwhile Bracheus, the father of Arismena, has tried to 
discover by various tricks whether his daughter really loves 
Philaretus. She refuses to entertain the thought of marriage. 
Philaretus overhears the conversation and is filled with despair. 
At this opportune moment Castarina appears and suggests to 
Philaretus that he should love where he would find his love 
rewarded. He yields to her, and as they embrace, Arismena 
and Lariscus return. The former now realizes for the first time 
that she really loves Philaretus. She accordingly makes an 
agreement with Lariscus that they feign love, and so separate 
the pair. The ruse is successful. Philaretus, on seeing Aris- 
mena in the arms of another, feels his old love revive. This 
feeling is intensified when he rescues Arismena from a satyr. 
He decides to reject the love of Castarina, and challenges Laris- 
cus to a duel. The two shepherdesses, however, resolve to stop 
the duel. They follow their lovers to the field and threaten 
to fight a duel together unless the men desist. This threat 
has the desired effect, and the lovers are about to embrace 
when the whole company is carried off by satyrs. The leader 


of the band of satyrs is Paromet (father of Castarina), who 
has taken the disguise of a satyr. He has some difficulty 
in restraining the unruly herd. They place the maidens in 
coffins and sing over them a solemn dirge. The other charac- 
ters of the play 'are captured and brought in bound. All are 
overcome with grief at the death of the shepherdesses. The 
maidens, however, arise from their coffins, the lovers are 
united and the oracle fulfilled. 

The chief comedy element of the play is supplied by the 
adventures of the servant Graculus with the satyrs. Some of 
the scenes describing these are extremely amusing. The inci- 
dent of the duel is original and well-managed. The mock 
funeral, however, is weak, and the conduct of Paromet is not 
sufficiently explained. He has been exiled for some unknown 
cause, and is received back into favor for an unexplained 

Goffe does not appear to have borrowed much from the 
Italian pastoral dramatists, yet in general the play adopts the 
Italian model. Arismena, the careless shepherdess, belongs 
of course to the type of the heart-free Arcadian (cf. Tasso's 
Silvia and Daniel's Cloris). The faithful shepherd is repre- 
sented by Lariscus. The oracle is borrowed from DurfS's 
Astree (see also Daniel's Hymen's Triumph). Graculus re- 
minds us of one of Lyly's pages, and is rather out of place in 
Arcadia. The disguised satyr is a curious invention of the 
author. In one respect the play differs from most pastoral 
dramas. It represents a class of gentlemen in Arcadia who 
are above the rank of shepherds. Traditionally, the shep- 
herds themselves were the aristocrats the highest class in 
the community. This tradition was not always adhered to 
in the pastoral romances, and it is from this source that Goffe 
probably drew. However, Philaretus and his father Cleobu- 
lus are true Arcadians, and might just as well have been 
classed as " rich shepherds." 

Goffe pays more attention to supernatural characters than 
either Daniel or Fletcher, but does not give in any sense a 


mythological coloring to the play. Apollo is brought on the 
stage, but takes no part in the action or dialogue, save to 
speak the oracle. Silvia, a kind of patron saint to the 
shepherds, appears in one scene where she performs the 
office usually assigned to a priest of Pan. The satyrs take 
considerable part in carrying on the plot. One attacks 
Arismena, another Graculus; and all combine under the 
leadership of Paromet to capture the whole company of 

No satiric nor allegorical meanifig can be detected in The 
Careless Shepherdess. The drama must, therefore, be judged 
in respect to plot-construction and character-delineation. It 
is needless to say that it has little merit in either respect. 
Yet the characters do not impress the reader with the unsub- 
stantial unreality of most pastoral characters, and the plot 
has movement and a few really good situations. 1 In poetic 
merit The Careless Shepherdess falls below Daniel's plays ^nd 
infinitely below Fletcher's. The dirge sung over the shep- 
herdesses is especially weak, and with the exception of a few 
passages the general character of the verse is trivial and 
commonplace. The introduction of comic scenes in prose was 
an innovation in pastoral drama. This would certainly have 
been regarded as a blemish by Goffe's contemporaries. There 
was a general impression abroad that a pastoral should not 
descend to prose, and even Ben Jonson, with all his contempt 
for pastoral traditions (see prologue to Sad Shepherd), thought 
it best to write the comic scenes of his Sad Shepherd in poetic 
form. These prose scenes in The Careless Shepherdess cer- 
tainly are incongruous with the general spirit of the play, but 
this is not due to the fact that they are written in prose. The 
incongruity arises from the introduction into these scenes of 
the character of Graculus, who is not in any sense a pastoral 

1 E. g., the duel, IV, 7, and the scene between the satyr and Graculus, 
IV, 5. 


Amyntas, or The Impossible Dowry, 1 was the chief dramatic 
venture of Thomas Randolph. The author was educated at 
Cambridge, where he held both minor and major-fellowships, 
and received his M. A. degree in the year 1632. While he 
was at Cambridge, Randolph wrote two dramatic satires, also 
a comedy, The Jealous Lovers, which was presented by the 
Trinity students before the king and queen in 1632. During 
his residence in London (1 632-'33), Randolph wrote The 
Muses Looking Gtasse, an allegorical satiric play, which was 
acted with success. He mingled with the poets and wits of 
the day, and was especially fortunate in gaining the friend- 
ship of Ben Jonson, who doubtless helped him in many ways. 
Randolph soon became known by his poems, several of which 
were pastoral. Amyntas, or The Impossible Dowry, was written 
sometime during the years 1632 to 1634. Randolph's promis- 
ing career was cut short by his death in 1635, at the age of 
thirty years. 

The scene of Amyntas is laid in Sicily, and u the action takes 
place in an astrological day, from noon to noon." The pro- 
logue is in the form of a comic dialogue between a nymph 
and a shepherd. In this Randolph explains his conception of 
pastoral poetry as follows : 

" Shepherd. Gentlemen, look not from us rural swaines 

For polished speech, high lines, or courtly strains 
Expect not we should bring a labored scene 
Or compliments ; we know not what they mean. 

Nymph. And, ladies, we poor country girls do come 
With such behaviour as we learned at home. 
How shall we talk to nymphs so trim and gay, 
That ne'er saw lady yet but at a May?" 

Randolph's Arcadians, however, do not correspond with 
this conception. We look in vain for rude shepherds or rustic 

1 The title-page reads : Amyntas, or The Impossible Dowry. A pastoral acted 
before the King and Queen at Whitehall. Written by Thomas Randolph. 
"Pastorem, Tityre, pingues Pascere oportet oves, diductum dicere Carmen." Ox- 
ford . . , . 1638. 


shepherdesses. Nothing could be more "polished or courtly" 
than Amarillis's defence of her lover, 1 or Damon's remorseful 
words. 2 

At the opening of the play, Arcadia is represented as suffer- 
ing under the curse of Ceres. An oracle has been received 
from the goddess to this effect : 

" Sicilian swaines, ill-luck shall long betide 
To every bridegroom and to every bride 
Till Cams' blood both quench and kindle fire ; 
The wise shall misconceive me, and the wit, 
Scorned and neglected, shall my meaning hit." 

On receiving this oracle, Caius (the father of Amarillis, the 
heroine) fled the country. Amarillis is in love with Damon, 
but her love is not returned for Damon is more attracted by 
her friend Laurinda. Laurinda is wooed also by the shep- 
herd Alexis, and her impartial treatment of Damon and 
Alexis furnishes some of the most amusing scenes of the 
play. Finally she discovers that Amarillis is in love with 
Damon. She decides, therefore, to accept Alexis, and for this 
purpose arranges a plot to deceive her rival lovers. She 
makes them promise to leave the decision to the first maid 
they meet coming from the temple the next morning. Then 
she arranges that Amarillis shall go first to the temple. The 
plan miscarries for Damon, meeting Amarillis at the temple 
supposes she has purposely put herself in his way. Without 
waiting for her decision, he wounds her with his spear and 
leaves her lying on the ground apparently dead. When she 
revives she refuses to reveal the name of her assailant, though 
commanded to do so by the priest. This generous act con- 
quers Damon, who pleads for her love and forgiveness. 
Laurinda now is free to accept Alexis. The oracle is de- 
clared fulfilled, because Caius' blood (i. e., Amarillis) has 
quenched and kindled fire (i. e., the love of Damon). Caius 
returns just before the fulfilment of the oracle. There is 

, 8. IV, 9. 


much that is truly pathetic in the scene which describes his 
return. On the first sight of his home he exclaims, 

" I see the smoke stream from the cottage tops 
The fearful housewife rakes the embers up 
All hush to bed. Sure no man will disturb me. 
O Blessed Valley ! I the wretched Caius 
Salute thy happy soil." 

Interwoven with this plot is the wooing of Amyntas and 
Urania. Amyntas has received an oracle as follows : 

" That which thou hast not, mayst not, canst not have 
Amyntas is the dowry that I crave. 
Rest hopeless in thy love or else divine 
To give Urania this, and she is thine." 

Naturally enough, Amyntas lost his wits trying to interprete 
this oracle. His mad conversations furnish part of the comedy 
element in the play. Finally he is cured by Caius, and the 
oracle is interpreted to mean "a husband." The chief comedy 
element is supplied by the servant Dorylas, by Mopsus, a 
foolish augur, and by Jocastus, a fantastic shepherd. The 
hallucinations of Mopsus and Jocastus verge on madness, and 
both are cleverly deluded by Dorylas. 

This intricate plot is developed with considerable skill. 
The three pairs of lovers are kept distinct; their trials are 
due to different causes, and solved by different methods. 
Each lover, moreover, is thoroughly individualized, and each 
arouses our sympathy. There are many dramatic situations, 
the most powerful being in the fourth and fifth acts. In 
general the plot seems well adapted for representation on the 
stage, especially if the nonsense of " the augur " Mopsus and 
" the faery knight " Jocastus had a definite meaning to the 

Halliwell-Phillipps, commenting on this play, says, " It is 
one of the finest specimens of pastoral poetry in the language, 
partaking of the best properties of Guarini's and Tasso's 
poetry, without being a servile imitation of either." This 


praise is rather excessive. The quality of the poetry in a few 
scenes of Amyntas may be said to approach Guarini, but as a 
whole Randolph's play is altogether below comparison with 
either Aminta or II Pastor Fido. The farcial element in 
Randolph's play is excessive, and is moreover trivial and 
fantastic. The mere outline of the main plot somewhat 
resembles that of II Pastor Fido. Both plays open with 
Arcadia under a cloud of the wrath of an incensed goddess, 
and the final scene in each play is the sacrifice of the priest's 
son, averted by an ingenious intefpretation of the oracle. In 
characterization Randolph appears more original ; the priests 
are of course conventional, Amarillis also bears the pastoral 
stamp, but most of the characters do not suggest pastoral types. 
Laurinda is thoroughly individual. Her various devices to 
keep both her lovers in subjection form the most enjoyable 
scenes of the play. The characters of Jocastus, Mopsus 
and Dorylas in no way suggest pastoral influence. Dorylas 
reminds us of one of Lyly's pages, or he may have been 
suggested to Randolph by Graculus in Goffe's Careless Shep- 
herdess, or by Joculo in The Mayde's Metamorphosis. The 
persecution of Jocastus by the supposed fairies (III, 4) may 
have been suggested by the similar trick on Falstaff in The 
Merry Wives of Windsor (V, 5), but the indebtedness of Ran- 
dolph is very slight. The wooing of Damon by Amarillis 
(the forward shepherdess) shows, according to Mr. Hazlitt, 
the influence of A Midsummer-Night's Dream. Shakespeare's 
Helena and Demetrius, however, as well as Randolph's Ama- 
rillis and Damon are borrowed from pastoral tradition. 

Amyntas is written entirely in blank verse, save the oracles 
and the letter of Amarillis, which are in rhymed heroic verse. 
There are no songs introduced into the play except those of 
the fairies which curiously enough are in Latin. The author 
does not appear to have had any satiric or allegorical purpose, 
but to have sought to interest his audience by the clever inter- 
weaving of incidents ; by farcial nonsense and horse play in 
the comic scenes; and by the poetic beauty of the pathetic 


scenes. In the main Randolph depends less on the Italian 
pastoral dramatists than either Daniel or Fletcher. Amyntas 
may be classed with Goffe's Careless Shepherdess, as an attempt 
to popularize the pastoral drama by increasing the comic ele- 
ment and somewhat subordinating the highly idealized scenes 
of the Italian pastoral drama. 

The Shepherds' Holiday, 1 by Joseph Rutter, may be classed 
with Daniel's plays, for it was an attempt to construct with- 
out plagiarism an English pastoral drama on Italian models. 
This play is the only extant work of Rutter, except a trans- 
lation of Corneille's The Old. Joseph Rutter was tutor in 
the family of the Earl of Dorset, and to him Rutter dedicated 
The Shepherds' Holiday. The play was first printed in the 
year 1635. Sometime previous it had been acted at White- 
hall before their Majesties. The play was also performed at 
the Cock-pit, but with what success we do not know. 2 It 
had one sturdy admirer at least in Ben Jonson, who wrote 
the following lines in its praise : 

" I have read 

And weigh'd your play ; untwisted every thread, 
And know the woof and warp thereof; can tell 
Where it runs round and even ; where so well, 
So soft, and smooth it handles, the whole piece, 
As it were, spun by nature off the fleece." 

In the prologue Rutter disclaims all satiric intention. Like 
almost all pastoral dramatists he considered it necessary to 
give his ideal of what a pastoral should be. 

"A Shepheards muse gently of love doth sing, 
And with it mingles no impurer thing 
And if there be not in 't what they call wit 
There might have been, had it been thought so fit." 

1 The Shepherds Holy-day. A pastorall tragi-Comoedie. Acted before 
their Majesties at Whitehall by the Queen's Servants. With an elegy on 

the death of the most Noble Lady, the Lady Venetia Digby. London 


8 See Fleay, Chronicle of the Eng. Drama, II, 173. 


These lines represent a common view of the office of the pas- 
toral, that it should be emotional rather than intellectual, and 
that its main theme should be love. 

The play opens with the lament of Thirsis for Sylvia, 
whom he fears has been carried off by wild beasts. This 
calamity is but the culmination of his woe which began with 
his receiving an oracle. 

" Thou shalt enjoy thy Sylvia on that day 
Thou art not Thirsis nor gjae Sylvia." 

Thirsis is so overcome with grief that he refuses to accom- 
pany the shepherds to the court to play before the king. In 
a complementary scene Hylas protests his constancy to Nerina, 
who has been promised by her father to another shepherd 
Daphnis. At first Hylas does not succeed, for Nerina prizes 
her freedom. She is also wooed in vain by Daphnis, who 
sends her as a gift a magic mirror. Meanwhile Daphnis is 
annoyed by the advances of the shepherdess Dorinda. 

In the third act the scene changes to the court, 1 where the 
lost Sylvia (the King's daughter) is kept in captivity. She 
confesses to her maid that she had lived some months among 
the shepherds disguised as a shepherdess, and had learned to 
love Thirsis, the sweetest singer among them. In the next 
scene the King's chief counsellor tells his son of an oracle 
received by the King many years before. 

" If e'er thy issue male thou live to see 
The child thou thinkest is thine, thine shall not be : 
His life shall be obscure, twice shall thy hate 
Doom him to death. Yet shall he escape that fate : 
And thou shall live to see, that not long after 
Thy only son shall wed thy only daughter." 

The counsellor also reveals the fact that Sylvia (supposed to 
be the King's daughter) is really his own child. 

"court" element in Butter's play is so completely overshadowed 
by the pastoral that the drama is classed with the strictly pastoral plays 
rather than with the plays combining court and pastoral elements, such as 
Lov<?8 Labyrinth. 


When the shepherds arrive at the court, they proceed to 
rehearse a masque and Thirsis is forced to help them against 
his will. Sylvia sends a message to Thirsis arranging a 
meeting. Though overjoyed to find her alive, his melancholy 
returns when he discovers her high rank. The lovers are 
discovered together and condemned to death. Meanwhile 
Nerina, through the influence of the magic glass, has fallen 
into a violent sickness, which threatens to end in her death. 
She calls for Hylas; and her father, fearing for her life, agrees 
that she shall become his wife. Nerina soon after falls into 
a trance which all believe to be death. They place her in a 
tomb, and Hylas laments her in a beautiful elegy. After- 
wards Daphnis comes to the grave with a flask of water 
which is to undo the spell of the glass. He recovers Nerina 
and tries to force her to marry him. Hylas rescues her from 
her persecutor. Daphnis in disgrace wanders apart, but is 
met by Dorinda, who still loves him. To her great joy he 
now consents to marry her. Meanwhile the king's execu- 
tioner has discovered a necklace on Thirsis which proves that 
he is the king's lost son. The counsellor now reveals the 
fact that Sylvia is his own daughter, and so Thirsis and Sylvia 
are united and the oracles exactly fulfilled. 

This complex and interesting plot is very skilfully man- 
aged. The three pairs of lovers are kept distinct and their 
fortunes interest us throughout the play. The obscure oracles 
are cleverly fulfilled. The main fault is in Act V, Sc, 4, 
where an opportunity for a powerful scene is lightly passed 
over. In this scene the courtier, Oleander, relates how Thirsis 
was led to death, and how his identity was discovered. This 
incident would have made a powerful scene, and it is difficult 
to understand why Rutter preferred to have it related instead 
of acted. The last two acts contain considerable "court" 
element which is remote from the pastoral, especially in the 
introduction of a masque. In general, however, Rutter pre- 
serves consistently the pastoral atmosphere. The customary 
lament for the loss of the " golden age " is introduced (A. I, 


S. 4), we find likewise a firm belief in oracles prevalent. The 
"court" characters, the king and his counsellor, are mere 
shadows and do not play any prominent part in the action. 
Most of the characters represent the common types, the heart- 
free shepherdess, Nerina ; the forward shepherdess, Dorinda ; 
the lustful shepherd, Daphnis ; the magician, Alcon. Mir- 
tillus may be regarded as a refinement on the conventional 
lustful shepherd. He is a trifler, a gallant, and his introduc- 
tion adds a comedy element that is very pleasing. Rutter 
borrowed largely from Daniel's Hymen's Triumph, especially 
in the early scenes of the drama. The characters of Thirsis 
and Dorinda conform in the main to their originals, Tasso's 
Thirsi and Guarini's Dorinda. The incidents at court were 
probably taken from some pastoral romance, but they may 
have been original with Rutter. 

The Shepherds' Holiday is written in blank verse save a 
few rhymed couplets at the end of scenes. There are four 
songs introduced which are in " fours and threes," or in octo- 
syllabic couplets. Judged simply as a pastoral poem, the 
drama has many excellent passages. 

" Never any love 

Was bought with other price than love, 
Since nothing is more precious than itself 
It being the purest abstract of that fire 
Which wise Prometheus first endowed us with : 
And he must love that would be loved again." I, 2. 

" The messages which come to do us hurt 
Are speedy, but the good comes slowly on." IV, 2. 

" It is better 

Always to live a miserable life 
Than once to have been happy." V, 1. 

"All the world to me 
Will be Arcadia, if I may enjoy 
Thy company, my love." IV, 3. 

In Act IV, Sc. 1 we have a short pastoral poem in which 
the lover laments over the grave of his dead mistress. The 


sonnet on sleep, recited by Mirtillus in the third act, has con- 
siderable merit ; as has the song of Venus in the masque. 

The personal allusions mentioned by Mr. Fleay and Mr. 
W. C. Hazlitt are purely conjectural. Mr. Fleay thinks that 
Stella , mentioned in the fifth act, second scene, is Lady Venetia 
Digby, but it is altogether improbable that Rutter would cast 
a slur on his patroness. 1 Mr. Hazlitt thinks that " Sir Kenelm 
Digby's intimacy with a certain royal personage" is represented 
by Thirsis and Sylvia. This interpretation is scarcely permissi- 
ble for Sylvia is really the daughter of the king's counsellor 
and Thirsis the king's own son. 

As a whole Rutter's play compares favorably with the 
pastoral dramas of Daniel and belongs to the same general 
type. Rutter does not preserve the pastoral coloring so con- 
sistently as Daniel, nor does he follow so closely his Italian 

Rutter's play completes the list of English pastoral dramas 
constructed on the Italian model. None of the six plays 
considered can be called a slavish imitation. All are in the 
main original in plot, but the characters have a close family 
likeness, and certain incidents appear again and again. Daniel 
follows his models the most faithfully; Fletcher preserves best 
the poetic atmosphere, and professedly seeks to rival, not 
imitate, the Italian dramatists. Goffe and Randolph seek to 
enliven their portrayal of pastoral life by the introduction of 
English types, and Rutter has recourse to the court element 
to add contrast and increase the interest of his readers. The 
Italian pastoral dramatists with all their faults had at least 
produced successful acting plays. This can scarcely be said of 
the English dramatists who imitated them. Still less successful 
from an actor's point of view were the English dramatists 
who tried to strike out new paths in the portrayal of pastoral 
life, The six pastoral dramas remaining are dramatic experi- 
ments by poets unschooled in stage methods, and were written 
for some special occasion or merely for recreation. 

1 Note Butter's elegy on the same lady published with the play. 


On May 3, 1631, a pastoral drama, called Rhodon and Iris, 1 
was performed at the Florists' feast in Norwich. The author, 
Ralph Knevet, was tutor or chaplain in the family of Sir 
Wrn. Paston of Oxnead. Very little is known concerning 
the life of Knevet. He was born in the year 1600 and died 
in 1671. For the last six years of his life he was rector at 
Lyng, Norfolk, and within the chancel of his church may 
still be seen a stone bearing the letters Ra. Kn. His writ- 
ings were not extensive : besides Rhodon and Iris he wrote 
A Discourse of Militarie Discipline in verse (1628), Some 
Funeral Elegies to the memory of his patroness, Lady Kather- 
ine Paston (1637); and A Gallery to the Temple, sacred poems, 
which were never printed. His drama, therefore, represents 
the attempt of a man, with small title to the name of poet, 
and none at all to that of playwright, to construct an acting 
drama for a special occasion. Naturally the attempt was 
unsuccessful, and in all probability the play was acted but 
once and only once printed. Still, the drama is distinctly 
original ; it contains an ingenious allegory, and a number of 
strong lines. 

Rhodon and Iris aims to represent allegorically the relation 
and properties of various plants and flowers under the guise 
of pastoral characters. It is due entirely to pastoral influ- 
ence, it has the pastoral atmosphere and the characters, though 
named after various flowers, and in a way symbolizing these 
flowers, are yet referred to as shepherds and shepherdesses. 
On the plains of Thessaly they carry out their various love 
intrigues, and both in word and action conform to the 
traditional Arcadian type. Indeed, if one should change 
the names of the characters and cut out an allusion here and 
there, the allegory would vanish and a strictly pastoral drama 
would remain. Prefixed to the printed edition is the Dedica- 
tion to Mr. Nicholas Bacon of Gillingham, selected for the 

l Rhodvn and Iris. A pastorall, as it was presented at the Florists Feast 
in Norwich, May 3, 1631. Urbis Et Orbis gloria Flora. London, 1631. 
Then follows the dedication signed Ra. Knevet. 


honor, because he was " addicted to a speculation of the ver- 
tues and beauties of all flowers." A letter follows addressed to 
the author's " much respected friends, the Society of Florists." 
In this letter Knevet praises the beauty of flowers; commends 
the feasts of the Society, because " not given to rioting," but 
to a " civil and unspotted meeting," and disclaims all satiric 
purpose for his play. Both in this letter, and in the com- 
mendatory verses which follow, there is evidence that the play 
aroused opposition because of some supposed satire contained 
in it. In the prologue Knevet announces his allegorical intent, 

" Candid spectators, you that are invited 
To see the Lily and the Rose united ; 
Consider that this Comedy of ours, 
A Nosegay is composed of sundry flowers." 

After the usual ridicule of the opinions of the groundlings, 
and an appeal to those of higher understanding, the author 
naively declares, 

" That he no small foole is, though a small Poet." 

Rhodon and Iris is constructed on the simplest lines. 
Martagon (the proud or covetous shepherd) encroaches upon 
the lands of the shepherdess Violetta. She applies for aid to 
her brother Rhodon, who marshals his friends and declares 
war upon Martagon. As the two hosts are about to join 
battle the goddess Flora appears, bids them put up their 
swords and forces Martagon to make restitution to Violetta. 
The love episodes of the play comprise the wooing of Iris by 
Rhodon, and the attempt of the shepherdess Eglantine to win 
the love of Rhodon by means of a love-philter. Poneria 
(Envy) is the originator of the strife. She calls in Agnostus 
(Ignorance) to aid her, and together they encourage Martagon 
in his pride. Poneria also makes a tool of Eglantine, giving 
her a poisoned draught instead of a love-philter for Rhodon. 
Rhodon, however, is cured by Panace and the plot fails. 

Such in brief is the story, but the extreme rarity of the 
play justifies a more detailed account. The first scene intro- 


duces the evil agents, Poneria and Agnostus. The latter rails 
at the light of day. Poneria suggests to him that his wrath 
might better be turned against the florists, 

" This is the day whereon the new Society of 
Florists, have determined to keepe their annual festivals. 

Art and Nature both have try'd 

To make this Feast surpasse all feasts beside 

Unite thy force with mine, then ten to one 

We shall disturbe their mirth, e're we have done." 

The second scene is devoted to a oiscussion of love by Rhodon 
and his friend Acanthus. Rhodon relates that he was "advised 
by his indulgent stars " not to bestow his love on Eglantine. 
Acanthus (type, the heart-free shepherd) exults in his freedom 
from love's yoke, 

" When Sol shall make the Easterne Seas his bed, 
When Wolves and Sheepe shall be together fed ; 
When Starres shall fall, and planets cease to wander, 
When Juno proves a Bawd, and Jupiter a Pander ; 
When Venus shal turn Chast, and Bacchus become sober, 
When fruit in April's ripe, that blossom'd in October ; 
When Prodigals shall money lend on use, 
And Usurers prove lavish and profuse ; 
When Art shal be esteem'd, and golden pelfe laid down, 
When Fame shal tel all truth, and Fortune cease to frown, 
To Cupid's yoke then I my neck will bow ; 
Till then, I will not feare loves fatal blow." 

In the next scene Eglantine, overcome with grief at the deser- 
tion of Rhodon, sings to the accompaniment of her lute : 

" Upon the blacke Rocke of despaire 
My youthfull joys are perish'd quite, 
My hopes are vanish'd into ayre, 
My day is turn'd to gloomy night : 
For since my Rhodon deare is gone, 
Hope, light, nor comfort, have I none. 

A cell, where griefe the Landlord is, 
Shall be my palace of delight ; 
Where I will wooe with votes and sighes, 
Sweet death to end my sorrowes quite ; 


Since I have lost ray Rhodon deare, 
Death's fleshlesse armes why should I feare ? 

Touched by the grief of Eglantine, her servant, Clematis 
invokes the aid of Diana : 

" Thou gentle goddesse of the woods and mountains 
That in the woods and mountains art ador*d, 
The Maiden patronesse of chaste desires, 
Who art for chastity renowned most, 
Tresgrand Diana, who hast power to cure 
The rankling wounds of Cupid's golden arrowes ; 
Thy precious balsome deigne thou to apply, 
Unto the heart of wofull Eglantine ; 
Then we thy gracious favour will requite 
With a yong Kid, than new falne snow more white." 

In the fourth scene Martagon, the tyrant, who has oppressed 
Violetta, and Cynosbatus, the brother of Eglantine, comment 
on the desertion of Rhodon. Martagon secretly rejoices because 
he wants no tie formed between Cynosbatus and Rhodon that 
might oblige the former to champion Rhodon's sister Violetta. 
In the last scene of the act Rhodon visits Iris, immediately 
falls in love and begins to woo her. Acanthus, forgetting his 
scorn of love, pays suit to Panace, a shepherdess, skilled in 
the use of herbs (this is a type constantly appearing in the 
pastoral dramas, but is usually represented by some old man 
or woman). A messenger brings a letter from Violetta com- 
plaining of Martagon's usurpation and imploring aid from 
Rhodon. Rhodon decides to try first a friendly treaty, then 
if necessary declare war. 

In act second Poneria disguises Agnostus with the robe of 
virtue and the cap of knowledge. They decide 

" To delude the world, 

And set the flowers at ods among themselves 
That they in civil enmities embroyled, 
Shall of their pride and glory be dispoyl'd." 

First they meet with Eglantine, who is on the point of tak- 
ing her life. They dissuade her from the thought of suicide 


and promise her by magic to bring back Rhodon's love for 
her. The last scene of the act describes the meeting of 
Rhodon and Martagon. Rhodon appeals to the usurper to 
restore Violetta's lands. Martagon refuses and defies both 
Rhodon and Acanthus. Rhodon replies, 

" Tenacious Tyrant in whose flinty heart 
Nor equity nor justice, ere had part, 
Thy guilty soul shall feel Revenges hand." 

The first scene of act third fs pure comedy. Clematis 
enumerates the dresses, cosmetics and lotions which her mis- 
tress has been induced to procure by Poneria. Another 
servant rails at her for being " a tattling chamber maid " 
and a quarrel ensues. In the next scene Poneria gives 
Eglantine a love-philter for Rhodon, and tells her that she 
will arrange a meeting in the myrtle-grove where Eglantine 
shall counterfeit Iris. Meanwhile Martagon and Cynosbatus, 
having marshaled their forces, visit the haunt of Poneria to 
learn what will be the result of the battle. Another scene 
describes the preparations on the other side. Acanthus, eager 
for battle, charges Rhodon with " tedious cunctations." He 
urges him to order an advance : 

" For now our hostile forces a