Chapter II: Front Matter (2)

Here we may allude to the introduction of romantic fiction into English poetry. This had, as we have seen, reigned in France. There troubadours in Provence, and men more worthy of the name of poets in Normandy, had long sung of Brutus, of Charlemagne, and of Rollo. And thence a class, called sometimes Joculators, sometimes Jongleurs, and sometimes Minstrels, issued, harp in hand, wandering to and fro, and singing tales of chivalry and love, composed either by themselves, or by other poets living or dead. (We refer our readers to our first volume of Percy's 'Reliques,' for a full account of this class, and of the poetry they produced.) These wanderers reached England in due time and brought with them compositions which found favour and excited emulation, or at least imitation, in our vernacular genius. Hence came a great swarm of romances, all more or less derived from the French, even when Saxon in subject and style; such as 'Sir Tristrem,' (which Sir Walter Scott tried in vain to prove to be written by the famous Thomas the Rhymer, of Ercildoun, or Earlston, in Berwickshire, who died before 1299;) 'The Life of Alexander the Great,' said to be written by Adam Davie, Marshall of Stratford-le-Bow, who lived about 1312; 'King Horn,' which certainly belongs to the latter part of the thirteenth century; 'The Squire of Low Degree; 'Sir Guy;' 'Sir Degore;' 'The King of Tars;' 'King Robert of Sicily;' 'La Mort d'Arthur;' 'Impodemon;' and, more lately, 'Sir Libius;' 'Sir Thopas;' 'Sir Isenbras;' 'Gawan and Gologras;' and 'Sir Bevis.' Richard I. also formed the subject of a very popular romance. We give extracts from it:--

THE SOLDAN SALADIN SENDS KING RICHARD A HORSE.

'Thou sayst thy God is full of might:
Wilt thou grant with spear and shield,
To detryve the right in the field,
With helm, hauberk, and brandes bright,
On stronge steedes good and light,
Whether be of more power,
Thy God almight, or Jupiter?
And he sent rue to saye this
If thou wilt have an horse of his,
In all the lands that thou hast gone
Such ne thou sawest never none:
Favel of Cyprus, ne Lyard of Prys,[1]
Be not at need as he is;
And if thou wilt, this same day,
He shall be brought thee to assay.'
Richard answered, 'Thou sayest well
Such a horse, by Saint Michael,
I would have to ride upon.----
Bid him send that horse to me,
And I shall assay what he be,
If he be trusty, withoute fail,
I keep none other to me in battail.'
The messengers then home went,
And told the Soldan in present,
That Richard in the field would come him unto:
The rich Soldan bade to come him unto
A noble clerk that coulde well conjure,
That was a master necromansour:
He commanded, as I you tell,
Thorough the fiende's might of hell,
Two strong fiende's of the air,
In likeness of two steedes fair,
Both like in hue and hair,
As men said that there were:
No man saw never none sich;
That one was a mare iliche,
That other a colt, a noble steed,
Where that he were in any mead,
(Were the knight never so bold.)
When the mare neigh wold,
(That him should hold against his will,)
But soon he woulde go her till,
And kneel down and suck his dame,
Therewith the Soldan with shame
Shoulde king Richard quell,
All this an angel 'gan him tell,
That to him came about midnight.
'Awake,' he said, 'Goddis knight:
My Lord doth thee to understand
That thee shalt come an horse to land,
Fair it is, of body ypight,
To betray thee if the Soldan might;
On him to ride have thou no drede
For he thee helpe shall at need.'

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

He leapt on horse when it was light;
Ere he in his saddle did leap
Of many thinges he took keep.--
His men brought them that he bade,
A square tree of forty feet,
Before his saddle anon he it set,
Fast that they should it brase, &c.
Himself was richely begone,
From the crest right to the tone,[2]
He was covered wondrously wele
All with splentes of good steel,
And there above an hauberk.
A shaft he had of trusty werk,
Upon his shoulders a shield of steel,
With the libards[3] painted wele;
And helm he had of rich entaile,
Trusty and true was his ventaile:
Upon his crest a dove white,
Significant of the Holy Sprite,
Upon a cross the dove stood
Of gold ywrought rich and good,
God[4] himself, Mary and John,
As he was done the rood upon,[5]
In significance for whom he fought,
The spear-head forgat he nought,
Upon his shaft he would it have
Goddis name thereon was grave;
Now hearken what oath he sware,
Ere they to the battaile went there:
'If it were so, that Richard might
Slay the Soldan in field with fight,
At our wille evereachone
He and his should gone
Into the city of Babylon;
And the king of Macedon
He should have under his hand;
And if the Soldan of that land
Might slay Richard in the field
With sword or speare under shield,
That Christian men shoulde go
Out of that land for evermo,
And the Saracens their will in wold.'
Quoth king Richard, 'Thereto I hold,
Thereto my glove, as I am knight.'
They be armed and ready dight:
King Richard to his saddle did leap,
Certes, who that would take keep
To see that sight it were sair;
Their steedes ranne with great ayre,[6]
All so hard as they might dyre,[7]
After their feete sprang out fire:
Tabors and trumpettes 'gan blow:
There men might see in a throw
How king Richard, that noble man,
Encountered with the Soldan,
The chief was tolde of Damas,
His trust upon his mare was,
And therefor, as the book[8] us tells,
His crupper hunge full of bells,
And his peytrel[9] and his arsowne[10]
Three mile men might hear the soun.
His mare neighed, his bells did ring,
For greate pride, without lesing,
A falcon brode[11] in hand he bare,
For he thought he woulde there
Have slain Richard with treasoun
When his colt should kneele down,
As a colt shoulde suck his dame,
And he was 'ware of that shame,
His ears with wax were stopped fast,
Therefore Richard was not aghast,
He struck the steed that under him went,
And gave the Soldan his death with a dent:
In his shielde verament
Was painted a serpent,
With the spear that Richard held
He bare him thorough under his sheld,
None of his armour might him last,
Bridle and peytrel all to-brast,
His girthes and his stirrups also,
His ruare to grounde wente tho;
Maugre her head, he made her seech
The ground, withoute more speech,
His feet toward the firmament,
Behinde him the spear outwent
There he fell dead on the green,
Richard smote the fiend with spurres keen,
And in the name of the Holy Ghost
He driveth into the heathen host,
And as soon as he was come,
Asunder he brake the sheltron,[12]
And all that ever afore him stode,
Horse and man to the grounde yode,
Twenty foot on either side.
When the king of France and his men wist
That the mast'ry had the Christian,
They waxed bold, and good heart took,
Steedes bestrode, and shaftes shook.

[1] 'Favel of Cyprus, ne Lyard of Prys:' Favel of Cyprus, and Lyard of Paris, horses of Kichard's. [2] 'Tone:' toes. [3] 'Libards:' leopards. [4] 'God:' our Saviour. [5] 'As he was done the rood upon:' as he died upon the cross. [6] 'Ayre:' ire. [7] 'Dyre:' dare. [8] 'The book:' the French romance. [9] 'Peytrel:' the breast-plate or breast-band of a horse. [10] 'Arsowne:' saddle-bow. [11] 'falcon brode:' F. bird. [12] 'Sheltrou:' 'schiltron:' soldiers drawn up in a circle.

From 'Sir Degore' we quote the description of a dragon, which Warton thinks drawn by a master:--

DEGORE AND THE DRAGON.

Degore went forth his way,
Through a forest half a day:
He heard no man, nor sawe none,
Till it past the high none,
Then heard he great strokes fall,
That it made greate noise withal,
Full soone he thought that to see,
To weete what the strokes might be:
There was an earl, both stout and gay,
He was come there that same day,
For to hunt for a deer or a doe,
But his houndes were gone him fro.
Then was there a dragon great and grim,
Full of fire and also venim,
With a wide throat and tuskes great,
Upon that knight fast 'gan he beat.
And as a lion then was his feet,
His tail was long, and full unmeet:
Between his head and his tail
Was twenty-two foot withouten fail;
His body was like a wine tun,
He shone full bright against the sun:
His eyes were bright as any glass,
His scales were hard as any brass;
And thereto he was necked like a horse,
He bare his head up with great force:
The breath of his mouth that did out blow
As it had been a fire on lowe[1].
He was to look on, as I you tell,
As it had been a fiend of hell.
Many a man he had shent,
And many a horse he had rent.

[1] 'On lowe:' in flame.

From Davie's supposed 'Life of Alexander' we extract a description of a battle, which shews some energy of genius:--

A BATTLE

Alisander before is ryde,
And many gentle a knight him myde;[1]
As for to gather his meinie free,
He abideth under a tree:
Forty thousand of chivalry
He taketh in his company,
He dasheth him then fast forthward,
And the other cometh afterward.
He seeth his knightes in mischief,
He taketh it greatly a grief,
He takes Bultyphal[2] by the side,
So as a swallow he 'ginneth forth glide.
A duke of Persia soon he met,
And with his lance he him grett.
He pierceth his breny, cleaveth his shielde,
The hearte tokeneth the yrne;
The duke fell downe to the ground,
And starf[3] quickly in that stound:
Alisander aloud then said,
Other toll never I ne paid,
Yet ye shallen of mine pay,
Ere I go more assay.
Another lance in hand he hent,
Against the prince of Tyre he went
He ... him thorough the breast and thare
And out of saddle and crouthe him bare,
And I say for soothe thing
He brake his neck in the falling.
... with muchel wonder,
Antiochus hadde him under,
And with sword would his heved[4]
From his body have yreaved:
He saw Alisander the goode gome,
Towards him swithe come,
He lete[5] his prey, and flew on horse,
For to save his owen corse:
Antiochus on steed leap,
Of none woundes ne took he keep,
And eke he had foure forde
All ymade with speares' ord.[6]
Tholomeus and all his felawen[7]
Of this succour so weren welfawen,
Alysander made a cry hardy,
'Ore tost aby aby.'
Then the knightes of Achay
Jousted with them of Araby,
They of Rome with them of Mede,
Many land....
Egypt jousted with them of Tyre,
Simple knights with riche sire:
There n'as foregift ne forbearing
Betweene vavasour[8] ne king;
Before men mighten and behind
Cunteck[9] seek and cunteck find.
With Persians foughten the Gregeys,[10]
There was cry and great honteys.[11]
They kidden[12] that they weren mice,
They broken speares all to slice.
There might knight find his pere,
There lost many his distrere:[13]
There was quick in little thraw,[14]
Many gentle knight yslaw:
Many arme, many heved[15]
Some from the body reaved:
Many gentle lavedy[16]
There lost quick her amy.[17]
There was many maim yled,[18]
Many fair pensel bebled:[19]
There was swordes liklaking,[20]
There was speares bathing,
Both kinges there sans doute
Be in dash'd with all their route, &c.

[1] 'Myde:' with. [2] 'Bultyphal:' Bucephalus. [3] 'Starf:' died. [4] 'Heved: head. [5] 'Lete:' left. [6] 'Ord:' point. [7] 'Felawen;' fellows. [7] 'Vavasour:' subject. [8] 'Cunteck:' strife. [9] 'Gregeys:' Greeks. [10] 'Honteys:' shame. [11] 'Kidden:' thought. [12] 'Distrere:' horse. [13] 'Little thraw:' short time. [14] 'Heved:' head. [15] 'Lavedy:' lady. [16] 'Amy:' paramour. [17] 'Yled:' led along, maimed. [18] 'Many fair pensel bebled:' many a banner sprinkled with blood. [19] 'Liklaking:' clashing.

Davie was also the author of an original poem, entitled, 'Visions in Verse,' and of the 'Battle of Jerusalem,' in which he versifies a French romance. In this production Pilate is represented as challenging our Lord to single combat!

In 1349, died Richard Rollo, a hermit, and a verse-writer. He lived a secluded life near the nunnery of Hampole in Yorkshire, and wrote a number of devotional pieces, most of them very dull. In 1350, Lawrence Minot produced some short narrative ballads on the victories of Edward III., beginning with Halidon Hill, and ending with the siege of Guisnes Castle. His works lay till the end of the last century obscure in a MS. of the Cotton Collection, which was supposed to be a transcript of the Works of Chaucer. On a spare leaf of the MS. there had been accidentally written a name, probably that of its original possessor, 'Richard Chawsir.' This the getter-up of the Cotton catalogue imagined to be the name of Geoffrey Chaucer. Mr Tyrwhitt, while foraging for materials to his edition of 'The Canterbury Tales,' accidentally found out who the real writer was; and Ritson afterwards published Minot's ballads, which are ten in number, written in the northern dialect, and in an alliterative style, and with considerable spirit and liveliness. He has been called the Tyrtaeus of his age.

We come now to the immediate predecessor of Chaucer--Robert Langlande. He was a secular priest, born at Mortimer's Cleobury, in Shropshire, and educated at Oriel College, Oxford. He wrote, towards the end of the fourteenth century, a very remarkable work, entitled, 'Visions of William concerning Piers Plowman.' The general object of this poem is to denounce the abuses of society, and to inculcate, upon both clergy and laity, their respective duties. One William is represented as falling asleep among the Malvern Hills, and sees in his dream a succession of visions, in which great ingenuity, great boldness, and here and there a powerful vein of poetry, are displayed. Truth is described as a magnificent tower, and Falsehood as a deep dungeon. In one canto Religion descends, and gives a long harangue about what should be the conduct of society and of individuals. Bribery and Falsehood, in another part of the poem, seek a marriage with each other, and make their way to the courts of justice, where they find many friends. Some very whimsical passages are introduced. The Power of Grace confers upon Piers Plowman, who stands for the Christian Life, four stout oxen, to cultivate the field of Truth. These are Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, the last of whom is described as the gentlest of the team. She afterwards assigns him the like number of stots or bullocks, to harrow what the evangelists had ploughed, and this new horned team consists of Saint or Stot Ambrose, Stot Austin, Stot Gregory, and Stot Jerome.

Apart from its fantastic structure, 'Piers Plowman' was not only a sign of the times, but did great service in its day. His voice rings like that of Israel's minor prophets--like Nahum or Hosea--in a dark and corrupt age. He proclaims liberal and independent sentiments, he attacks slavery and superstition, and he predicts the doom of the Papacy as with a thunder-knell. Chaucer must have felt roused to his share of the reformatory work by the success of 'Piers Plowman;' Spenser is suspected to have read and borrowed from him; and even Milton, in his description of a lazar-house in 'Paradise Lost,' had him probably in his eye. (See our last extract from 'Piers.')

On account of the great merit and peculiarity of this work we proceed to make rather copious extracts.

HUMAN LIFE.

Then 'gan I to meten[1] a marvellous sweven,[2]
That I was in wilderness, I wist never where:
As I beheld into the east, on high to the sun,
I saw a tower on a loft, richly ymaked,
A deep dale beneath, a dungeon therein,
With deep ditches and dark, and dreadful of sight:
A fair field full of folk found I there between,
Of all manner men, the mean and the rich,
Working and wand'ring, as the world asketh;
Some put them to the plough, playeden full seld,
In setting and sowing swonken[3] full hard:
And some put them to pride, &c.

[1] 'Meten:' dream. [2] 'Sweven:' dream. [3] 'Swonken:' toiled.

ALLEGORICAL PICTURES.

Thus robed in russet, I roamed about
All a summer season, for to seek Dowell
And freyned[1] full oft, of folk that I met
If any wight wist where Dowell was at inn,
And what man he might be, of many man I asked;
Was never wight as I went, that me wysh[2] could
Where this lad lenged,[3] lesse or more,
Till it befell on a Friday, two friars I met
Masters of the Minors,[4] men of greate wit.
I halsed them hendely,[5] as I had learned,
And prayed them for charity, ere they passed further,
If they knew any court or country as they went
Where that Dowell dwelleth, do me to wit,[6]
For they be men on this mould, that most wide walk
And know countries and courts, and many kinnes[7] places,
Both princes' palaces, and poor menne's cotes,
And Dowell, and Doevil, where they dwell both.
'Amongst us,' quoth the Minors, 'that man is dwelling
And ever hath as I hope, and ever shall hereafter.'
Contra, quod I, as a clerk, and cumsed to disputen,
And said them soothly, _Septies in die cadit justus_,
Seven sythes,[8] sayeth the book, sinneth the rightful,
And whoso sinneth, I say, doth evil as methinketh,
And Dowell and Doevil may not dwell together,
Ergo he is not alway among you friars;
He is other while elsewhere, to wyshen[9] the people.
'I shall say thee, my son,' said the friar then,
'How seven sithes the sadde[10] man on a day sinneth,
By a forvisne'[11] quod the friar, 'I shall thee fair shew;
Let bring a man in a boat, amid the broad water,
The wind and the water, and the boate wagging,
Make a man many time, to fall and to stand,
For stand he never so stiff, he stumbleth if he move,
And yet is he safe and sound, and so him behoveth,
For if he ne arise the rather, and raght[12] to the steer,
The wind would with the water the boat overthrow,
And then were his life lost through latches[13] of himself.
And thus it falleth,' quod the friar, 'by folk here on earth,
The water is lik'ned to the world, that waneth and waxeth,
The goods of this world are likened to the great waves
That as winds and weathers, walken about,
The boat is liken'd to our body, that brittle is of kind,
That through the flesh, and the fraile world
Sinneth the sadde man, a day seven times,
And deadly sin doeth he not, for Dowell him keepeth,
And that is Charity the champion, chief help against sin,
For he strengtheth man to stand, and stirreth man's soul,
And though thy body bow, as boate doth in water,
Aye is thy soule safe, but if thou wilt thyself
Do a deadly sin, and drenche[14] so thy soul,
God will suffer well thy sloth, if thyself liketh,
For he gave thee two years' gifts, to teme well thyself,
And that is wit and free-will, to every wight a portion,
To flying fowles, to fishes, and to beasts,
And man hath most thereof, and most is to blame
But if he work well therewith, as Dowell him teacheth.'
'I have no kind knowing,' quoth I, 'to conceive all your wordes
And if I may live and look, I shall go learne better;
I beken[15] the Christ, that on the crosse died;'
And I said, 'The same save you from mischance,
And give you grace on this ground good me to worth.'
And thus I went wide where, walking mine one
By a wide wilderness, and by a woode's side,
Bliss of the birdes brought me on sleep,
And under a lind[16] on a land, leaned I a stound[17]
To lyth[18] the layes, those lovely fowles made,
Mirth of their mouthes made me there to sleep.
The marvellousest metelles mette[19] me then
That ever dreamed wight, in world as I went.
A much man as me thought, and like to myself,
Came and called me, by my kinde[20] name.
'What art thou,' quod I then, 'thou that my name knowest?'
'That thou wottest well,' quod he, 'and no wight better.'
'Wot I what thou art?' Thought said he then,
'I have sued[21] thee this seven years, see ye me no rather?'
'Art thou Thought?' quoth I then, 'thou couldest me wyssh[22]
Where that Dowell dwelleth, and do me that to know.'
'Dowell, and Dobetter, and Dobest the third,' quod he,
'Are three fair virtues, and be not far to find,
Whoso is true of his tongue, and of his two handes,
And through his labour or his lod, his livelod winneth,
And is trusty of his tayling,[23] taketh but his own,
And is no drunkelow ne dedigious, Dowell him followeth;
Dobet doth right thus, and he doth much more,
He is as low as a lamb, and lovely of speech,
And helpeth all men, after that them needeth;
The bagges and the bigirdles, he hath to-broke them all,
That the earl avarous helde and his heires,
And thus to mammons many he hath made him friends,
And is run to religion, and hath rend'red[24] the Bible
And preached to the people Saint Paule's wordes,
_Libenter suffertis insipientes, cum sitis ipsi sapientes_.

* * * * *

And suffereth the unwise with you for to live,
And with glad will doth he good, for so God you hoteth.[25]
Dobest is above both, and beareth a bishop's cross
Is hooked on that one end to halye[26] men from hell;
A pike is on the potent[27] to pull down the wicked
That waiten any wickedness, Dowell to tene;[28]
And Dowell and Dobet amongst them have ordained
To crown one to be king, to rule them boeth,
That if Dowell and Dobet are against Dobest,
Then shall the king come, and cast them in irons,
And but if Dobest bid for them, they be there for ever.
Thus Dowell and Dobet, and Dobeste the third,
Crowned one to be king, to keepen them all,
And to rule the realme by their three wittes,
And none otherwise but as they three assented.'
I thanked Thought then, that he me thus taught,
And yet favoureth me not thy suging, I covet to learn
How Dowell, Dobest, and Dobetter do among the people.
'But Wit can wish[29] thee,' quoth Thought, 'where they three dwell,
Else wot I none that can tell that now is alive.'
Thought and I thus, three dayes we yeden[30]
Disputing upon Dowell, daye after other.
And ere we were 'ware, with Wit 'gan we meet.
He was long and leane, like to none other,
Was no pride on his apparel, nor poverty neither;
Sad of his semblance, and of soft cheer;
I durst not move no matter, to make him to laugh,
But as I bade Thought then be mean between,
And put forth some purpose to prevent his wits,
What was Dowell from Dobet, and Dobest from them both?
Then Thought in that time said these wordes;
'Whether Dowell, Dobet, and Dobest be in land,
Here is well would wit, if Wit could teach him,
And whether he be man or woman, this man fain would espy,
And work as they three would, this is his intent.'
'Here Dowell dwelleth,' quod Wit, 'not a day hence,
In a castle that kind[31] made, of four kinds things;
Of earth and air is it made, mingled together
With wind and with water, witterly[32] enjoined;
Kinde hath closed therein, craftily withal,
A leman[33] that he loveth, like to himself,
Anima she hight, and Envy her hateth,
A proud pricker of France, _princeps hujus mundi_,
And would win her away with wiles and he might;
And Kind knoweth this well, and keepeth her the better.
And doth her with Sir Dowell is duke of these marches;
Dobet is her damosel, Sir Dowell's daughter,
To serve this lady lelly,[34] both late and rathe.[35]
Dobest is above both, a bishop's pere;
That he bids must be done; he ruleth them all.
Anima, that lady, is led by his learning,
And the constable of the castle, that keepeth all the watch,
Is a wise knight withal, Sir Inwit he hight,
And hath five fair sonnes by his first wife,
Sir Seewell and Saywell, and Hearwell-the-end,
Sir Workwell-with-thy-hand, a wight man of strength,
And Sir Godfray Gowell, great lordes forsooth.
These five be set to save this lady Anima,
Till Kind come or send, to save her for ever.'
'What kind thing is Kind,' quod I, 'canst thou me tell?'--
'Kind,' quod Wit, 'is a creator of all kinds things,
Father and former of all that ever was maked,
And that is the great God that 'ginning had never,
Lord of life and of light, of bliss and of pain,
Angels and all thing are at his will,
And man is him most like, of mark and of shape,
For through the word that he spake, wexen forth beasts,
And made Adam, likest to himself one,
And Eve of his ribbe bone, without any mean,
For he was singular himself, and said _Faciamus_,
As who say more must hereto, than my worde one,
My might must helpe now with my speech,
Even as a lord should make letters, and he lacked parchment,
Though he could write never so well, if he had no pen,
The letters, for all his lordship, I 'lieve were never ymarked;
And so it seemeth by him, as the Bible telleth,
There he saide, _Dixit et facta sunt_.
He must work with his word, and his wit shew;
And in this manner was man made, by might of God Almighty,
With his word and his workmanship, and with life to last,
And thus God gave him a ghost[36] of the Godhead of heaven,
And of his great grace granted him bliss,
And that is life that aye shall last, to all our lineage after;
And that is the castle that Kinde made, Caro it hight,
And is as much to meane as man with a soul,
And that he wrought with work and with word both;
Through might of the majesty, man was ymaked.
Inwit and Allwits closed been therein,
For love of the lady Anima, that life is nempned.[37]
Over all in man's body, she walketh and wand'reth,
And in the heart is her home, and her most rest,
And Inwit is in the head, and to the hearte looketh,
What Anima is lief or loth,[38] he leadeth her at his will
Then had Wit a wife, was hote Dame Study,
That leve was of lere, and of liche boeth.
She was wonderly wrought, Wit me so teached,
And all staring, Dame Study sternely said;
'Well art thou wise,' quoth she to Wit, 'any wisdoms to tell
To flatterers or to fooles, that frantic be of wits;'
And blamed him and banned him, and bade him be still,
With such wise wordes, to wysh any sots,
And said, '_Noli mittere_, man, _margaritae_, pearls,
Amonge hogges, that have hawes at will.
They do but drivel thereon, draff were them lever,[39]
Than all precious pearls that in paradise waxeth.[40]
I say it, by such,' quod she, 'that shew it by their works,
That them were lever[41] land and lordship on earth,
Or riches or rentes, and rest at their will,
Than all the sooth sawes that Solomon said ever.
Wisdom and wit now is not worth a kerse,[42]
But if it be carded with covetise, as clothers kemb their wool;
Whoso can contrive deceits, and conspire wrongs,
And lead forth a loveday,[43] to let with truth,
He that such craftes can is oft cleped to counsel,
They lead lords with lesings, and belieth truth.
Job the gentle in his gests greatly witnesseth
That wicked men wielden the wealth of this world;
The Psalter sayeth the same, by such as do evil;
_Ecce ipsi peccatores abundantes in seculo obtinuerunt divitias_.
Lo, saith holy lecture, which lords be these shrewes?
Thilke that God giveth most, least good they dealeth,
And most unkind be to that comen, that most chattel wieldeth.[44]
_Quae perfecisti destrutxerunt, justus autem, &c_.
Harlots for their harlotry may have of their goodes,
And japers and juggelers, and janglers of jestes,
And he that hath holy writ aye in his mouth,
And can tell of Tobie, and of the twelve apostles,
Or preach of the penance that Pilate falsely wrought
To Jesu the gentle, that Jewes to-draw:
Little is he loved that such a lesson sheweth;
Or daunten or draw forth, I do it on God himself,
But they that feign they fooles, and with fayting[45] liveth,
Against the lawe of our Lord, and lien on themself,
Spitten and spewen, and speak foule wordes,
Drinken and drivellen, and do men for to gape,
Liken men, and lie on them, and lendeth them no giftes,
They can[46] no more minstrelsy nor music men to glad,
Than Mundie, the miller, of _multa fecit Deus_.
Ne were their vile harlotry, have God my truth,
Shoulde never king nor knight, nor canon of Paul's
Give them to their yeare's gift, nor gift of a groat,
And mirth and minstrelsy amongst men is nought;
Lechery, losenchery,[47] and losels' tales,
Gluttony and great oaths, this mirth they loveth,
And if they carpen[48] of Christ, these clerkes and these lewed,
And they meet in their mirth, when minstrels be still,
When telleth they of the Trinity a tale or twain,
And bringeth forth a blade reason, and take Bernard to witness,
And put forth a presumption to prove the sooth,
Thus they drivel at their dais[49] the Deity to scorn,
And gnawen God to their gorge[50] when their guts fallen;
And the careful[51] may cry, and carpen at the gate,
Both a-hunger'd and a-thirst, and for chill[52] quake,
Is none to nymen[53] them near, his noyel[54] to amend,
But hunten him as a hound, and hoten[55] him go hence.
Little loveth he that Lord that lent him all that bliss,
That thus parteth with the poor; a parcel when him needeth
Ne were mercy in mean men, more than in rich;
Mendynauntes meatless[56] might go to bed.
God is much in the gorge of these greate masters,
And amonges mean men, his mercy and his workes,
And so sayeth the Psalter, I have seen it oft.
Clerks and other kinnes men carpen of God fast,
And have him much in the mouth, and meane men in heart;
Friars and faitours[57] have founden such questions
To please with the proud men, sith the pestilence time,
And preachen at St Paule's, for pure envy of clerks,
That folk is not firmed in the faith, nor free of their goods,
Nor sorry for their sinnes, so is pride waxen,
In religion, and in all the realm, amongst rich and poor;
That prayers have no power the pestilence to let,
And yet the wretches of this world are none 'ware by other,
Nor for dread of the death, withdraw not their pride,
Nor be plenteous to the poor, as pure charity would,
But in gains and in gluttony, forglote goods themself,
And breaketh not to the beggar, as the book teacheth.
And the more he winneth, and waxeth wealthy in riches,
And lordeth in landes, the less good he dealeth.
Tobie telleth ye not so, take heed, ye rich,
How the bible book of him beareth witness;
Whoso hath much, spend manly, so meaneth Tobit,
And whoso little wieldeth, rule him thereafter;
For we have no letter of our life, how long it shall endure.
Suche lessons lordes shoulde love to hear,
And how he might most meinie, manlich find;
Not to fare as a fiddeler, or a friar to seek feasts,
Homely at other men's houses, and haten their own.
Elenge[58] is the hall every day in the week;
There the lord nor the lady liketh not to sit,
Now hath each rich a rule[59] to eaten by themself
In a privy parlour, for poore men's sake,
Or in a chamber with a chimney, and leave the chief hall
That was made for meales men to eat in.'--
And when that Wit was 'ware what Dame Study told,
He became so confuse he cunneth not look,
And as dumb as death, and drew him arear,
And for no carping I could after, nor kneeling to the earth
I might get no grain of his greate wits,
But all laughing he louted, and looked upon Study,
In sign that I shoulde beseechen her of grace,
And when I was 'ware of his will, to his wife I louted
And said, 'Mercie, madam, your man shall I worth
As long as I live both late and early,
For to worken your will, the while my life endureth,
With this that ye ken me kindly, to know to what is Dowell.'
'For thy meekness, man,' quoth she, 'and for thy mild speech,
I shall ken thee to my cousin, that Clergy is hoten.[60]
He hath wedded a wife within these six moneths,
Is syb[61] to the seven arts, Scripture is her name;
They two as I hope, after my teaching,
Shall wishen thee Dowell, I dare undertake.'
Then was I as fain as fowl of fair morrow,
And gladder than the gleeman that gold hath to gift,
And asked her the highway where that Clergy[62] dwelt.
'And tell me some token,' quoth I, 'for time is that I wend.'
'Ask the highway,' quoth she, 'hence to suffer
Both well and woe, if that thou wilt learn;
And ride forth by riches, and rest thou not therein,
For if thou couplest ye therewith, to Clergy comest thou never,
And also the likorous land that Lechery hight,
Leave it on thy left half, a large mile and more,
Till thou come to a court, keep well thy tongue
From leasings and lyther[63] speech, and likorous drinkes,
Then shalt thou see Sobriety, and Simplicity of speech,
That each might be in his will, his wit to shew,
And thus shall ye come to Clergy that can many things;
Say him this sign, I set him to school,
And that I greet well his wife, for I wrote her many books,
And set her to Sapience, and to the Psalter glose;
Logic I learned her, and many other laws,
And all the unisons to music I made her to know;
Plato the poet, I put them first to book,
Aristotle and other more, to argue I taught,
Grammer for girles, I gard[64] first to write,
And beat them with a bales but if they would learn;
Of all kindes craftes I contrived tooles,
Of carpentry, of carvers, and compassed masons,
And learned them level and line, though I look dim;
And Theology hath tened[65] me seven score times;
The more I muse therein, the mistier it seemeth,
And the deeper I divine, the darker me it thinketh.

[1] 'Freyned:' inquired. [2] 'Wysh:' inform. [3] 'Lenged:' lived. [4] 'Minors:' the friars minors. [5] 'Halsed them hendely:' saluted them kindly. [6] 'Do me to wit:' make me to know. [7] 'Kinnes:' sorts of. [8] 'Sythes:' times. [9] 'Wyshen:' inform, teach. [10] 'Sadde:' sober, good. [11] 'Forvisne:' similitude. [12] 'Raght:' reach. [13] 'Latches:' laziness. [14] 'Drenche:' drown. [15] 'Beken:' confess. [16] 'Lind:' lime-tree. [17] 'A stound:' a while. [18] 'Lyth:' listen. [19] 'Mette:' dreamed. [20] 'Kinde:' own. [21] 'Sued:' sought. [22] 'Wyssh:' inform. [23] 'Tayling:' dealing. [24] 'Rend'red:' translated. [25] 'Hoteth:' biddeth. [26] 'Halve:' draw. [27] 'Potent:' staff. [28] 'Tene:' grieve. [29] 'Wish:' inform. [30] 'Yeden:' went. [31] 'Kind:' nature. [32] 'Witterly:' cunningly. [33] 'Leman:' paramour. [34] 'Lelly:' fair. [35] 'Rathe:' early. [36] 'Ghost:' spirit. [37] 'Nempned:' named. [38] 'Loth:' willing. [39] 'Lever:' rather. [40] 'Waxeth: grow. [41] 'Them were lever:' they had rather. [42] 'Kerse:' curse. [43] 'Loveday:'lady. [44] 'Wieldeth:' commands. [45] 'Fayting:' deceiving. [46] 'Can:' know. [47] 'Losenchery:' lying. [48] 'Carpen:' speak. [49] 'Dais:' table. [50] 'Gorge:' throat. [51] 'Careful:' poor. [52] 'Chill:' cold. [53] 'Nymen:' take. [54] 'Noye:' trouble. [55] 'Hoten:' order. [56] 'Mendynauntes meatless:' beggars supperless. [57] 'Faitours:' idle fellows. [58] 'Elenge:' strange, deserted. [59] 'Rule:' custom. [60] 'Hoten:' named. [61] 'Syb:' mother. [62] 'Clergy:' learning. [63] 'Lyther:' wanton. [64] 'Gard:' made. [65] 'Tened:' grieved.

COVETOUSNESS.

And then came Covetise; can I him no descrive,
So hungerly and hollow, so sternely he looked,
He was bittle-browed and baberlipped also;
With two bleared eyen as a blinde hag,
And as a leathern purse lolled his cheekes,
Well sider than his chin they shivered for cold:
And as a bondman of his bacon his beard was bidrauled,
With a hood on his head, and a lousy hat above.
And in a tawny tabard,[1] of twelve winter age,
Alle torn and baudy, and full of lice creeping;
But that if a louse could have leapen the better,
She had not walked on the welt, so was it threadbare.
'I have been Covetise,' quoth this caitiff,
'For sometime I served Symme at style,
And was his prentice plight, his profit to wait.
First I learned to lie, a leef other twain
Wickedly to weigh, was my first lesson:
To Wye and to Winchester I went to the fair
With many manner merchandise, as my master me hight.--
Then drave I me among drapers my donet[2] to learn.
To draw the lyfer along, the longer it seemed
Among the rich rays,' &c.

[1] 'Tabard:' a coat. [2] 'Donet:' lesson.

THE PRELATES.

And now is religion a rider, a roamer by the street,
A leader of lovedays,[1] and a loude[2] beggar,
A pricker on a palfrey from manor to manor,
An heap of houndes at his arse as he a lord were.
And if but his knave kneel, that shall his cope bring,
He loured on him, and asked who taught him courtesy.

[1] 'Lovedays:' ladies. [2] 'Loude:' lewd.

MERCY AND TRUTH.

Out of the west coast, a wench, as methought,
Came walking in the way, to heavenward she looked;
Mercy hight that maide, a meek thing withal,
A full benign birde, and buxom of speech;
Her sister, as it seemed, came worthily walking,
Even out of the east, and westward she looked,
A full comely creature, Truth she hight,
For the virtue that her followed afeared was she never.
When these maidens met, Mercy and Truth,
Either asked other of this great marvel,
Of the din and of the darkness, &c.

NATURE, OR KIND, SENDING FORTH HIS DISEASES FROM THE PLANETS, AT
THE COMMAND OF CONSCIENCE, AND OF HIS ATTENDANTS, AGE AND DEATH.

Kind Conscience then heard, and came out of the planets,
And sent forth his forriours, Fevers and Fluxes,
Coughes and Cardiacles, Crampes and Toothaches,
Rheumes, and Radgondes, and raynous Scalles,
Boiles, and Botches, and burning Agues,
Phreneses and foul Evil, foragers of Kind!
There was 'Harow! and Help! here cometh Kind,
With Death that is dreadful, to undo us all!'
The lord that liveth after lust then aloud cried.
_Age the hoar, he was in the va-ward,
And bare the banner before Death: by right he it claimed._
Kinde came after, with many keene sores,
As Pocks and Pestilences, and much people shent.
So Kind through corruptions, killed full many:
Death came driving after, and all to dust pashed
Kings and Kaisers, knightes and popes.
Many a lovely lady, and leman of knights,
Swooned and swelted for sorrow of Death's dints.
Conscience, of his courtesy, to Kind he besought
To cease and sufire, and see where they would
Leave Pride privily, and be perfect Christian,
And Kind ceased then, to see the people amend.

'Piers Plowman' found many imitators. One wrote 'Piers the Plowman's Crede;' another, 'The Plowman's Tale;' another, a poem on 'Alexander the Great; 'another, on the 'Wars of the Jews;' and another, 'A Vision of Death and Life,' extracts from all which may be found in Warton's 'History of English Poetry.'

We close this preliminary essay by giving a very ancient hymn to the Virgin, as a specimen of the once universally-prevalent alliterative poetry.

I.

Hail be you, Mary, mother and may,
Mild, and meek, and merciable;
Hail, folliche fruit of soothfast fay,
Against each strife steadfast and stable;
Hail, soothfast soul in each, a say,
Under the sun is none so able;
Hail, lodge that our Lord in lay,
The foremost that never was founden in fable;
Hail, true, truthful, and tretable,
Hail, chief ychosen of chastity,
Hail, homely, hendy, and amiable:
_To pray for us to thy Sone so free!_ AVE.

II.

Hail, star that never stinteth light;
Hail, bush burning that never was brent;
Hail, rightful ruler of every right,
Shadow to shield that should be shent;
Hail, blessed be you blossom bright,
To truth and trust was thine intent;
Hail, maiden and mother, most of might,
Of all mischiefs an amendement;
Hail, spice sprung that never was spent;
Hail, throne of the Trinity;
Hail, scion that God us soon to sent,
_You pray for us thy Sone free!_ AVE.

III.

Hail, heartily in holiness;
Hail, hope of help to high and low;
Hail, strength and stel of stableness;
Hail, window of heaven wowe;
Hail, reason of righteousness,
To each a caitiff comfort to know;
Hail, innocent of angerness,
Our takel, our tol, that we on trow;
Hail, friend to all that beoth forth flow;
Hail, light of love, and of beauty,
Hail, brighter than the blood on snow:
_You pray for us thy Sone free!_ AVE.

IV.

Hail, maiden; hail, mother; hail, martyr trew;
Hail, kindly yknow confessour;
Hail, evenere of old law and new;
Hail, builder bold of Christe's bower;
Hail, rose highest of hyde and hue;
Of all fruite's fairest flower;
Hail, turtle trustiest and true,
Of all truth thou art treasour;
Hail, pured princess of paramour;
Hail, bloom of brere brightest of ble;
Hail, owner of earthly honour:
_You pray for us thy Sone so free!_ AVE, &c.

V.

Hail, hendy; hail, holy emperess;
Hail, queen courteous, comely, and kind;
Hail, destroyer of every strife;
Hail, mender of every man's mind;
Hail, body that we ought to bless,
So faithful friend may never man find;
Hail, lever and lover of largeness,
Sweet and sweetest that never may swynde;
Hail, botenere[1] of every body blind;
Hail, borgun brightest of all bounty,
Hail, trewore then the wode bynd:
_You pray for us thy Sone so free!_ AVE.