The virtue expulsive or animal,

The will of Christ, and kneeling on the strond, From thilke virtue clepedl natural,

She saide, ‘Lord, aye welcome be thy sond. Ne may the venem voiden ne expell;

*He that me kepte from the false blame, The pipes of his lunges 'gan to swell,

While I was in the land amonges you, And every lacertin his breast adown

He can me keep from harm and eke from shame Is shent3 with venom and corruption.

In the salt sea, although I see not how : He gaineth neither,t for to get his life,

As strong as ever he was, he is yet now : Vornit upward ne downward laxative :

In him trust I, and in his mother dear, All is to-bursten thilke region ;

That is to me my sail and eke my steer. "2 Nature hath now no domination :

Her little child lay weeping in her arm ; And certainly where nature will not werche,5

And kneeling piteously, to him she said Farewell physic; go bear the man to church.

'Peace, little son, I will do thee no harm :' This is all and some, that Arcite muste die ;

With that her kerchief off her head she braid, For which he sendeth after Emily,

And over his little eyen she it laid, And Palamon, that was his cousin dear;

And in her arm she lulleth it full fast, Then said he thus, as ye shall after hear :

And into th' heaven her eyen up she cast. “Nought may the woful spirit in mine heart

Mother, quod she, and maiden bright, Mary! Declare one point of all my sorrows' smart

Soth is, that through womannes eggement, To you my lady, that I love most,

Mankind was lorn, and damned aye to die, But I bequeath the service of my ghost

For which thy child was on a cross yrent :6 To you aboven every creature,

Thy blissful eyen saw all his torment; Since that my life ne may no longer dure.

Then is there no comparison between * Alas the woe! alas the paines strong,

Thy woe and any woe man may sustain. That I for you have suffered, and so long !

* Thou saw'st thy child yslain before thine eyen, Alas the death ! alas inine Emily !

And yet now liveth my little child parfay :7 Alas departing of our company!

Now, lady bright ! to whom all woful crien, Alas inine hearte's queen ! alas my wife !

Thou glory of womanhood, thou faire May ! Mine hearte's lady, ender of my life!

Thou haven of refute,8 bright star of day! What is this world !-- what asken men to have ? Rue on my child, that of thy gentleness Now with his love, now in his colde grave

Ruest on every rueful in distress. Alone—withouten any company.

.O little child, alas ! what is thy guilt, Farewell my sweet--farewell mine Emily!

That never wroughtest sin as yet, pardíe ? And softe take me in your armes tway

Why will thine harde father have thee spilt ? 10 For love of God, and hearkeneth what I say.

O mercy, deare Constable ! (quod she) "I have here with my cousin Palamon

As let my little child dwell here with thee; Had strife and rancour many a day agone

And if thou dar'st not saven him from blame, For love of you, and for my jealousy ;

So kiss him ones in his father's name.' And Jupiter so wis, my soule gie,7

Therewith she looketh backward to the land, To speaken of a servant properly,

And saide, ‘ Farewell, husband rutheless !' 11 With alle circumstances truely ;

And up she rose, and walketh down the strand That is to say, truth, honour, and knighthead, Toward the ship; her followeth all the press : 12 Wisdom, humbless, estate, and high kindred, And ever she prayeth her child to hold his peace, Freedom, and all that ʼlongeth to that art,

And tak’th her leave, and with a holy' intent So Jupiter have of my soule part,

She blesseth her, and into the ship she went. As in this world right now ne know I none

Victailled was the ship, it is no drede,13 So worthy to be loved as Palamon,

Abundantly for her a full long space ; That serveth you, and will do all his life ;

And other necessaries that should need And if that ever ye shall be a wife,

She had enow, heried14 be Goddes grace : Forget not Palamon, the gentle man.'

For wind and weather, Almighty God purchase, 18
And with that word his speeche fail began ; And bring her home, I can no better say,
For from his feet up to his breast was come

But in the sea she driveth forth her way.
The cold of death that had him overnome:
And yet, moreover, in his armes two,

[The Pardoner's Tale.) The vital strength is lost and all ago ;9

In Flanders whilom was a company Only the intellect, withouten more,

Of youngé folk that haunteden follý, That dwelled in his hearte sick and sore,

As hazard, riot, stewés, and taverns, 'Gan faillen when the hearte felte death;

Whereas with harpés, lutés, and gitterns, 16 Dusked his eyen two, and fail'd his breath :

They dance and play at dice both day and night, But on his lady yet cast he his eye ;

And eat also and drinken o'er their might, His laste word was, ' Mercy, Emily!'

Through which they do the devil sacrifice,

Within the devil's temple', in curséd wise, [Departure of Custance.]

By superfluity abominable. (Castance is banished from her husband, Alla, king of Nor. Their oathes been so great and so damnable thumberland, in consequence of the treachery of the king's That it is grisly!7 for to hear them ewear. mother. Her behaviour in embarking at sea, in a rudderless Our blissful Lordés body they to-tear;

Them thought the Jewés rent him not enough ; ship, is thus described.]

And each of them at other's sinné laugh.
Weepen both young and old in all that place And right anon in comen tombesteres 18
When that the king this cursed letter sent :

Fetis19 and small, and youngé fruitesteres,20
And Custance with a deadly pale face
The fourthe day toward the ship she went ;

" Message.
2 Guide, helm.

Incitement But nathelesslo she tak’th in good intent

CYCLOPÆDIA OF

FROM EARLIEST

one:

*

What needeth it thereof to sermon more?
For right as they had cast his death before,
Right so they have him slain, and that anon.
And when that this was done thus spake that
Now let us sit and drink, and make us merry,
And afterward we will his body bury.'
And with that word it happen'd him par casi
To take the bottle where the poison was,
And drank, and gave his fellow drink also,
For which anon they storveno bothé two.

But certés I suppose that Avicenne
Wrote never in no canon ne' in no fenne3
More wonder signés of empoisoning
Than had these wretches two, or their ending.
Thus ended been these homicidés two,
And eke the false empoisoner also.

[The Good Parson.]
A true good man there was there of religion,
Pious and poor—the parson of a town.
But rich he was in holy thought and work ;
And thereto a right learned man ; a clerk
That Christ's pure gospel would sincerely preach,
And his parishioners devoutly teach.
Benign he was, and wondrous diligent,
And in adversity full patient,
As proven oft ; to all who lack'd a friend.
Loth for his tithes to ban or to contend,
At every need much rather was he found
Unto his poor parishioners around
Of his own substance and his dues to give :
Content on little, for himself, to live.

Wide was his cure ; the houses far asunder,
Yet never fail'd he, or for rain or thunder,
Whenever sickness or mischance might call,
The most remote to visit, great or small,
And, staff in hand, on foot, the storin to brave.

This noble ensample to his flock he gave,
That first he wrought, and afterward he taught.
The word of life he from the gospel caught;
And well this comment added he thereto,
If that gold rusteth what should iron do ?
And if the priest be foul on whom we trust,
What wonder if the unletter'd layman lust?
And shame it were in him the flock should keep,
To see a sullied shepherd, and clean sheep.
For sure a priest the sample ought to give
By his own cleanness how his sheep should live.

He never set his benefice to hire,
Leaving his flock acoinber'd in the mire,
And ran to London cogging at St Poul's,
To seek himself a chauntery for souls,
Or with a brotherhood to be enrollid;
But dwelt at home, and guarded well his fold,
So that it should not by the wolf miscarry.
He was a shepherd, and no mercenary.

Tho holy in himself, and virtuous,
He still to sinful men was mild and piteous :
Not of reproach imperious or malign ;
But in his teaching soothing and benign.
To draw them on to heaven, by reason fair
And good example, was his daily care.
But were there one perverse and obstinate,
Were he of lofty or of low estate,
Him would he sharply with reproof astound.
A better priest is no where to be found.

He waited not on pomp or reverence,
Nor made himself a spiced conscience.
The lore of Christ and his apostles twelve
He taught : but, first, he followed it himselve.

(An Ironical Ballad on the Duplicity of Women.)

This world is full of variance
In everything, who taketh heed,
That faith and trust, and all constance,
Exiléd be, this is no drede,
And save only in womanhead,
I can ysee no sikerness;
But for all that yet, as I read,
Beware alway of doubleness.

Also that the fresh summer flowers,
The white and red, the blue and green,
Be suddenly with winter showers,
Made faint and fade, withouten ween, 3
That trust is none, as ye may seen,
In no thing, nor no steadfastness,
Except in women, thus I mean;
Yet aye beware of doubleness.

The crooked moon, (this is no tale),
Some while ishcen4 and bright of hue,
And after that full dark and pale,
And every moneth changeth new,
That who the very sothé) knew
All thing is built on brittleness,
Save that women alway be true ;
Yet aye beware of doubleness.

The lusty6 freshé summer's day,
And Phæbus with his beamés clear,
Towardés night they draw away,
And no longer list t'appear,
That in this present life now here
Nothing abideth in his fairness,
Save women aye be found entere,7
And devoid of all doubleness.

The sea eke with his sterné wawes8
Each day yfloweth new again,
And by the concourse of his lawes
The ebbe floweth in certain ;
After great drought there cometh rain ;
That farewell here all stableness,
Save that women be whole and plein 9
Yet aye beware of doubleness.

Fortunés wheel go'th round about
A thousand timés day and night,
Whose course standeth ever in doubt
For to transmuelo she is so light,
For which adverteth in your sight
Th’untrust of worldly fickleness,
Save women, which of kindly rightlı
Ne hath no touch of doubleness.

What man ymay the wind restrain,
Or holden a snake by the tail !
Who may a slipper eel constrain
That it will void withouten fail !
Or who can driven so a nail
To maké sure newfangleness, 12
Save women, that can giel3 their sail
To row their boat with doubleness !

At every haven they can arrive
Whereas they wot is good passage ;
Of innocence they cannot strive
With wawés, nor no rockés rage ;
So happy is their lodemanagelt
With needle' and stone their course to dress, 15
That Solomon was not so sage
To find in them no doubleness :

1 By accident.
. Storven (perfect tense of starve)-died.

3 The title of one of the sections in Avicenne's great work,
entitled Canun.

8 Doubtless. 1 Fear. 2 Surety, steadfastness.

7 Entire, whole, sound 4 Shining. 5 Truth. 6 Pleasant.

10 Changes
8 Waves.
9 Complote.

13 Guide Il Natural right. 18 Novelty, inconstancy.

15 Manage. 14 Steering, pilotage.

22

JOHN COWER.

Therefore whoso doth them accuse

Waiveth thy lust and let thy ghostl thee lead,
Of any double intention,

And truth thee shall deliver 't is no drede.
To speaké rown, other to muse,
To pinch attheir condition,

However far the genius of Chaucer transcended All is but false collusión,

that of all preceding writers, he was not the solitary I dare right well the soth express,

light of his age. The national mind and the national They have no better protection,

language appear, indeed, to have now arrived at a But shroud them under doubleness.

certain degree of ripeness, favourable for the proSo well fortunéd is their chance,

duction of able writers in both prose and verse.* The dice to-turnen up so down,

Heretofore, Norman French had been the language With sice and cinque they can adrance,

of education, of the court, and of legal documents; And then by revolution

and when the Normanised Anglo-Saxon was emThey set a fell conclusión

ployed by literary men, it was for the special purOf lombés,3 as in sothfastness,

pose, as they were usually very careful to mention, Though clerkés maken mention

of conveying instruction to the common people. But Their kind is fret with doubleness.

now the distinction between the conquering Normans Sampson yhad experience

and subjected Anglo-Saxons was nearly lost in a

new and fraternal national feeling, which recognised That women were full true yfound ; When Dalila of innocence

the country under the sole name of England, and the With shearés 'gan his hair to round ;

people and language under the single appellation of To speak also of Rosamond,

English. Edward III. substituted the use of English

for that of French in the public acts and judicial proAnd Cleopatra's faithfulness, The stories plainly will confound

ceedings; and the schoolmasters, for the first time,

in the same reign, caused their pupils to construe Men that apeach their doubleness.

the classical tongues into the vernacular. The Single thing is not ypraised,

consequence of this ripening of the national mind Nor of old is of no renown,

and language was, that, while English heroism was In balance when they be ypesed, 6

gaining the victories of Cressy and Poitiers, English For lack of weight they be borne down, genius was achieving milder and more beneficial triAnd for this cause of just reason

umphs, in the productions of Chaucer, of Gower, and These women all of rightwisness7

of Wickliffe.
Of choice and free election
Most love exchange and doubleness.
L'Envoye.

JOHN GOWER is supposed to have been born some

time about the year 1325, and to have consequently O ye women ! which be inclinéd

been a few years older than Chaucer.

He was a By influence of your natúre

gentleman, possessing a considerable amount of proTo be as pure as gold yfined,

perty in land, in the counties of Nottingham and And in your truth for to endure,

Suffolk. In his latter years, he appears, like Chaucer, Armeth yourself in strong armúre,

to have been a retainer of the Lancaster branch of (Lest men assail your sikeress),8

the royal family, which subsequently ascended the Set on your breast, yourself t' assure,

throne; and his death took place in 1408, before A mighty shield of doubleness.

which period he had become blind. Gower wrote a

poetical work in three parts, which were respectively [Last Verses of Chaucer, written on his Deathbed.]

entitled Speculum Meditantis, Vor Clamuntis, and Fly from the press,' and dwell with sothfastness ;10 Confessio Amantis ; the last, which is a grave disSuffice unto thy good11 though it be small;

cussion of the morals and metaphysics of love, being For board hath hate, and climbing tickleness,

the only part written in English. The solemn senPressl? hath envy, and weal is blent13 o'er all; tentiousness of this work caused Chaucer, and subSavourl4 no more than thee behoven shall; Redel6 well thyself, that otherfolk can'st rede,

1 Spirit. And truth thee shall deliver 't is no drede.16

* It is always to be kept in mind that the language employed

in literary composition is apt to be different from that used by Pain thee not each crooked to redress

the bulk of the people in ordinary discourse. The literary lanIn trust of her that turneth as a ball;

guage of these early times was probably much more refined Great rest standeth in little business;

than the colloquial. During the fourteenth century, various Beware also to spurn against a nalle ; 17

dialects of English were spoken in different parts of the country, Strive not as doth a crocké18 with a wall ;

and the mode of pronunciation also was very far from being Deemeth 19 thyself that deemest other's deed,

uniform. Trevisa, a historian who wrote about 1380, remarks And truth thee shall deliver 't is no drcde.

that, Hit semeth a grete wonder that Englyssmen have so

grete dyversyte in their owin langage in sowne and in spekyin That20 thee is sent receive in buxomness 21

of it, which is all in one ilonde.' The prevalent harshness of The wrestling of this world asketh a fall;

pronunciation is thus described by the same writer: 'Some Here is no home, here is but wilderness ;

use straunge wlaffing, chytryng, harring, garrying, and grysForth, pilgrim, forth, O beast out of thy stall ;