1 "Radix malorum est cupiditas."-Covetousness is the root of all evil.-Those critics who supposed that Chaucer, notwithstanding his intimacy with the Latin and Italian poets, and his own hatred of "mis-metre," had no settled rules of versification, would have done well to consider the rhythmical exactitude with which he fits Latin quotations into his lines. See another instance in the extract entitled Gallantry of Translation. He is far more particular in this respect than versifiers of later A wife is the gift of Heaven :-there's no doubt of it. Every other kind of gift, such as lands, rents, furniture, right of pasture or common, these are all mere gifts of fortune, that pass away like shadows on a wall; but you have to apprehend no such misfortune with a wife. Your wife will last longer, perhaps, even than you may desire. A wif? A! Seinte Marie, benedicite! If he be poure, she helpeth him to swinke; A wif to last unto his livěs end; He may not be deceived, as gesse, A wife? Why, bless my soul, how can a man have any adversity that has a wife? Answer me that. Tongue cannot tell, nor heart between a man and his wife. If he is think, of the felicity there is poor, she helps him to work. and never wastes anything. "no." She takes care of his money for him, She never says "yes," when he says "Do this," says he. "Directly," says she. O blessed institution! O precious wedlock! thou art so joyous, and at the same time so virtuous, and so recommended to us all, and so approved by us all, that every man who is worth a farthing should go down on his bare knees, every day of his existence, and thank Heaven for having sent him a wife; or if he hasn't got one, he ought to pray for one, and beg that she may last him to his life's end; for his life, in that case, is set in security. Nothing can deceive So that he werche after his wivěs rede; ; GALLANTRY OF TRANSLATION. In the fable of the Cock and the Fox, the Cock, who has been alarmed by a dream, and consulting about it with his wife Dame Partlet, quotes a Latin sentence which tells us, that " woman is man's confusion," but he contrives at once to retain the satire, and make the lady feel grateful for it, by the following exquisite version: But let us speke of mirthe, and stinte all this. Of o thing God hath sent me large grace: For whan I see the beautee of your face, He has only to act by his wife's advice, and he may hold up his head with the best. A wife is so true, so wise. Oh! ever while you live, take your wife's advice, if you would be thought a wise man. But let us speak of mirth, and put an end to all this. Madame Partlet, as I hope to be saved, Heaven has shown me special favour in one respect; for when I behold the beauty of your face, you are 1 Ye ben so scarlet red about your eyen, It maketh all my dredě for to dien ; Woman is mannes joye and mannės blis.' "Woman is mannes joy and mannes bliss."-Or as the same words would have been written at a later day : : Woman is man his joy and man his bliss. The Latin quotation is from the writings of a Dominican friar, Vincent de Beauvais. Sir Walter Scott was much taken with this wicked jest of Chanticleer's. "The Cock's polite version," says he, "is very ludicrous." (Edition of Dryden, vol. xi. p. 340.) Dryden's translation of the passage is very inferior to the original: "Madam, the meaning of this Latin is, That woman is to man his sovereign bliss." The conventional phrase "sovereign bliss," is nothing compared with the grave repetition and enforcement of the insult in Chaucer: Woman is mannes joy and mannės bliss. so scarlet red about the eyes, it is impossible for me to dread anything. There is an old and a true saying, the same now as it was in the beginning of the world, and that is, Mulier est hominis confusio. Madam, the meaning of this Latin is,-Woman is man's joy and man's bliss. THE DISAPPEARANCE OF THE FAIRIES. In oldě dayes of the King Artòur, Of which that Bretons speken gret honòur, Ther walketh now the limitour himself In the old days of King Arthur, which the Bretons hold in such high estimation, this land was all full of fairies. The Elf-Queen, with her merry attendants, was always dancing about the green meads. Such at least was the opinion a long time ago,-many hundred years. Nowadays we see them no longer; for the charity and piety of the begging friars, and others of their holy brethren, who make search everywhere by land and water, as thick as the motes in the sun - beams, blessing our halls, chambers, kitchens, bowers, cities, boroughs, towers, castles, villages, barns, dairies, and sheep-folds, have caused the fairies to vanish; for where the fairy used to be, there is now the friar himself. You are sure to meet |