CHARLES DUKE OF ORLEANS.

CHARLES was taken prisoner at the battle of Agincourt in 1415. His poetry appears to have been principally written during his stay in England, and is contained in a large and splendid folio MS. in the British Museum [King's MSS. 16. F. II.]. The illuminations are curious, particularly one which contains a view of the Tower of London. It represents the reception and dismission of a messenger by the duke, and immediately precedes a short poem, in which he writes to his correspondent ("mon frère et mon compagnon"), that he was promised liberty to go to France if he could find security for his return; and desires an application to be made to the duke of Burgundy. A few of the songs are in English; and though they show considerable proficiency in a foreign language, they are no very favourable specimens of the author's capacity of employing it for poetic composition.

N'est elle de tous biens garnie,
Celle que j'ayme loyaument?

Il m'est avis, par mon serment,
Que sa pareille n'a en vie ;

Qu'en dites je vous prie?

Que vous en semble vraiement?

N'est elle de tous biens garnie,
Celle que j'ayme loyaument?

Soit qu'elle danse, cante ou rie,
Ou face quelque esbatement,
Faictes en loyal jugement,
Sans faveur et sans flatterie,

N'est elle de tous biens garnie,
Celle que j'ayme loyaument?

Is she not lavishly endow'd,
She whom I love so loyally?

It is my very faith in troth

That one so fair can never be ;

And say'st thou not the same with me?

Tell me, in simple verity,

Is she not lavishly endow'd,
She whom I love so loyally?

Whether she dance, or sing, or smile,
Or whate'er else may do or be,
Give me a voice impartial, free
From favour or from flattery;

Is she not lavishly endow'd,
She whom I love so loyally?

Bien monstrez, printemps gracieux,
De quel mestier savez servir;
Car yver fait cuers ennuyeux,
Et vous les faictes rejouir ;
Si tost come il vous voit venir,
Luy et sa meschant retenue,
Sont contrains et prets de fuir,
A votre joyeuse venue.

Yver fait champs et arbres vieux
Leur barbes de niege blanchir;
Et est si fort et pluvieux

Qu'empres le feu convient mouvir;
On ne puet hors des huys yssir,
Come ung oyseau qui est en mue;
Mais vous faictes tout revenir,

A votre joyeuse venue.

Yver fait le soleil es cieulx
D'un mantel de nues couvrir,

Et maintenant, (loue soit Dieulx !)

Vous estes venu esclarsir

Toutes choses et embellir;

Yver a son paine perdue,

Car l'an nouvel la fait bannir,

A votre joyeuse venue.

WELL thou showest, gracious spring,

What fair works thy hand can bring ; Winter makes all spirits weary,

Thine it is to make them merry :

At thy coming, instant he

And his spiteful followers flee,

Forced to quit their rule uncheering At thy bright appearing.