with and could have given his author's French; and yet one would suspect that he was so acquainted, when it is observed, first, that the English translation which he has added contains thoughts which are in the French, but not in the Latin ;—and secondly, that the mode in which the Latin text is printed, renders it doubtful whether that language be not beyond the author's sphere of comprehension.

The rondeau is as follows, as printed in the "Poëtes Français depuis le XII. siècle jusqu'à Malherbes."

Le temps a laissé son manteau

De vent, de froidure, et de pluye,
Et s'est vestu de broderie,

De soleil luisant, clair et beau;
Il n'y a beste, ni oyseau

Qu'en son jargon ne chante ou crie,
"Le temps a laissé son manteau
De vent, de froidure et de pluye."

Riviere, fointaine et ruisseau
Portent en livrée jolie,

Gouttes d'argent d'orfavrerie:
Chascun s'habille de nouveau ;
Le temps a laissé son manteau
De vent, de froidure et de pluye.

THE season now hath cast away
Its garb of cold, and wind, and sleet,

And decks itself in broidery

Of sunshine bright and flow'rets sweet;

And bird and beast doth each essay
In its own fashion to repeat,-

"The season now hath cast away

Its garb of cold, and wind, and sleet."

Fountain, and brook, and rivulet,
In silver-spangled livery play,
Sparkling, their holiday to greet:
All things are clad in new array,
Because the season casts away

Its garb of cold, and wind, and sleet.

JEAN FROISSART.

THIS celebrated historian belongs to a considerably earlier period than the two last poets, having been born in 1337. He was the author of an immense quantity of ballads, lais, rondels, &c. now in MS. in the king's library at Paris.

Le corps s'en va, mais le cœur vous demeure ;
Tres chere dame, adieu, jusqu'au retour, &c.

THE body goes, the spirit stays;
Dear lady, till we meet, farewell!
Too far from thee my home must be:
The body goes, the soul delays ;-
Dearest of ladies, fare thee well!

But sweeter thoughts that in me dwell The anguish of my grief outweigh ;— Dearest of ladies, fare thee well!

The body goes, the soul may stay.

Reviens, amy; trop longue est ta demeure; &c.

RETURN, my love; too long thy stay;
Sorrow for thee my soul has stung;
My spirit calls thee ev'ry day,-

Return my love, thou stay'st too long.

For nothing, wanting thee, consoles,
Or can console, till thou art nigh:
Return my love, thou stay'st too long,

And grief is mine till thou be by.

CHANSONS NORMANDS.

Ar the close of M. Dubois's volume of "Vaux-deVire et Chansons Normands" (Caen, 1821), there are several songs which he ascribes to the age of Olivier Basselin, i. e. to the latter half of the 14th century. Some doubt has been expressed of the authenticity of these songs, which he states were printed from a MS. of the 15th century; but the Harleian MSS. No. 5242, and the king's MSS. 20. A. XVI., contain several of them with slight variations; and there seems little reason to doubt that they are genuine pieces of popular currency. One specimen must suffice.

L'amour de moy sy est enclos
Dedanc ung joly jardinet,
Ou croist la rose et le muguet,
Et aussy faict la passerose.

THE lady of my love resides

Within a garden's bound;

There springs the rose, the lily there
And hollyhock are found.

My garden is a beauteous spot,
Garnish'd with blossoms gay;
There a true lover guards her well,
By night as well as day.

Alas! no sweeter thing can be,
Than that sweet nightingale ;
Joyous he sings at morning hour,
Till, tired, his numbers fail.

But late I saw my lady cull
The violets on the green:
How lovely did she look! methought,
What beauty there was seen!

An instant on her form I gazed,
So delicately white;

Mild as the tender lamb was she,

And as the red rose bright.