in perfection. He knew and practised “She sobre was, simple, and wise withall, fully the secret of his lordship’s wit, The best inorished, eke, that might be ; which amounts simply to this: when And godely of hire speche in generall, he is at a loss for a rhyme, be he ever Charitable, estately, łusty, and fre, so serious, to go into the cornic for it, Tendrehearted and sliding of corage ;

Ne never more ne lacked hire pite, rather than remould the line. The But truely I can nat tell hire age.” Canterbury Tales aboundin specimens,

The reputation of Chaucer has sufa. as of the Frere.

fered much from having his Canter“ Curteis he was, and lowly of servise, bury Tales pat forward, lauded, and Ther n'as no man nowher so vertuous ; edited singly, to the prejudice of his He was the best begger in all his hous.” other works. They may be allowed to

be the wittiest body of poetry in our And in the fine and spirited descrip- language unrivalled in comie description of the Temple of Mars, so much tion, observation, and life, but they admired by Warton and other critics, are greatly deficient in sentiment and he could not resist being carried away feeling. In spite of the array of critics by his love of the ludicrous :

against us, from Warton to Godwin, “ Ther saw I first the derke imagining

we will maintain that the love-quarOf felonie, and all the compassing;

rels of Palamon and Arcite are childThe cruel ire, red as any glede,

ish and frigid in the extreme-its The pikepurse, and eke the pale drede, pathetic “ well-a-waies” more ludiThe smiler, with the knife under the cloke, crous than affecting-and the tale ita, The sleper, brenning with the blacke smoke, self the very antidote to any thing like The treson of the mordring in the bedde, sympathy. The far-famed Griseldis, The open warre, with woundes all bebledde, with the exception of a few passages, The sleer of himself yet saw I there,

we cannot help thinking a most pointHis herte-blood hath bathed all his hair, The naile ydriven in the shode anyght,

less and unnatural story; and we reThe colde-deth, with mouth gaping upright, joice, in the very teeth of Warton's laYet saw I brent the shippe's hoppesterres, mentation, that

Canace and her magic The hunt ystrangled with the wilde beres, ring were cut off in the flower of their The sow freting, the child right in the commencement. The poet wrote them, cradle,

it is said, in “ his green old age," and The coke yscalled for all his long ladcl.we could have conjectured as much.

We in vain seek in them for the natural Some of these sudden quirks and and warm feelings which abound in his changes terribly afflict the grave spirit earlier works, particularly in the Troiof Mr Godwin, who laments most pic lus and Creseide, while we have in their teously that the poet should use such place nothing but pedantry confirme, an expression as the following to the ed—cold paraphrases from Boethius, delicate Creseide,

and Seneca, and bombastic descriptions “ But whether that she children had or

from Statius and Ovid. In the Knightes

Tale, he describes his personages as a none, I rede it nat, therefore I let it gone."

dwarf would a giant, or as a cringing

herald would his feudal lord,-at a Through all his works, indeed, this distance, and in due humility-stiff in.. melodramatic feeling prevails, but es- dialogue, and frigid in soliloquy. In pecially in the Troilus and Creseide, a his 'Troilus, on the contrary, the poet Poem, which, in its good and its bad is at his ease, and enters into the depth qualities, very much resembles Don and minuteness of feeling, as if he was Juan, besides being nearly in the same at liberty to choose his heroe's from stanza. Of its resemblance with re- among his fellow mortals, and treat spect to the quality we speak of, take them as such. Troilus's first sight of the following random specimens: Creseide, “ in habite blacke," going

to the temple, 66 This Diomed, as bokes us declare, Was in his nedes prest and corageous,

" N'as never sene thing to be praised so With stern voice, and mighty limmes Vor under cloude blacke so bright a sterre."

derrc, square, Hardy and testife, strong and chevalrous,

And his first entertaining the passion Of dedes, like his father Tydeus. for her is highly characteristic, and And some men sain he was of tonge large; quite in the easy penetrating style of And hvire he was of Calyjdon and trgc.the Italian octave rhymers :

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“ Within the temple wente him forth, “ For he becamen the most frendly wight, playing,

The gentilest, and eke the most fre, This Troilus, with every wight about ; The trustyest, and one the moste knight, On this lady, and now on that loking, That in his time was, or elles might be: Whereso she were of toune or of without, Ded were his japes and his cruilte ; And upon case befell, that through a rout Ded, his high porte, and all his manner His eye yperced, and so depe it went

straunge, Til on Creseide it smote, and there it stent; And eche of him gan, for a vertue,

chaunge."? And sodainly, for wonder, wext astoned, And gan her bet* beholde, in thrifty wise ;

Mr Godwin's mention of the Troilus O mercy, God !' thought he, where hast is the most unaccountable criticism thou woned, t

we ever read. It accuses the poem, Thou arte so faire and godely to devise ?" that " It is naked of whatever should Therwith his heart began to sprede and rise, most awaken the imagination, astound And soft hé sighed, lest men might him the fancy, or hurry away the soul. It hear,

has the stately march of a Dutch burAnd caught ayen his former playing chear.

gomaster, as he appears in a proces** She n'as not with the leste of her stature; sion, or a French poet 'as he shews But all her limmes so well answering himself in his works. It reminds one, Werin to womanhode, that creature too, forcibly of a tragedy of Racine.” Was never lesse mannishe in seming; This is certainly a most curious comAnd eke the pure wise of hire mening

pliment. Spenser has compared ChauShe shewed well, that men might in her

cer with himself, and Dryden has comguess

pared him with Ovid; but, of all poets, Honour, estate, and womanly noblesse.

Racine, perhaps,was the last we should -« Tho' Troilus right wonder well withal, think of seeing compared with ChauGan for to like hire mening and hire cer. For a serious and affecting poem, chere,

which the Troilus eminently is, it Which somedele deignous was, for she let

seems to us written in the most light Her loke alite aside, in such manere

and airy style; and so far from “ haAscaunces What may I nat stonden ving the stately march of a Dutch here ?'

burgomaster,” its chief fault seems to And after that, her loking gan she light,

be that of ever

slipping down to That never thought him sene so good a prose.” There is not in our language sight.

verse more easy and free, nor at the “ And of hir loke, in him there gan to

same time more acute and spirited,

than the conversations between Panquicken So grete desire, and suche affectioun,

dore and Troilus—they are quite in That in his hertes bottom, gan to sticken the dialogic style of Beppo. And for Of her his fixe and depe impressioun,

truth and pathos, we know of no pasAnd though he erst had pored up and down, sages in the noble author we have alThen was he glad his hornes in to shrinke; luded to, that can surpass the followUnnethes wist he, how to looke or winke. ing extracts :-- it is where Troilus goes “ Lo! he that lete him selven so conning, over the haunts of his lost mistress : And scorned hem that loves paines drien, “Fro thennesforth, he rideth up and doune, Was full unware that love had his dwelling And every thing came him to rememWithin the subtil stremes of her eyen,” &c. braunce,

As he rode forth by places of the toune, The description of the change which In whiche he whiloin had all his pleathe “ tender passion” wrought upon his character, is exceedingly beautiful Lo! yonder, saw I mine own lady daunce; and just :

And in that temple with her eyen clere 56 But Troilus lay then no longer doun,

Me captive caught first, my right lady dere: But gat anon upon his stedè baie,

And yonder have I herde full lustily And in the felde he played the lioun, My derehert Creseide laugh ; and yonder Wo was that Greke that with him met that play daie.

Saw I her once, eke full blissfully ; And in the toune his manner, thenceforth And yonder once, to me gan she saie, aye

Now gode swete! loveth me well, I praye:' So godely was, and gat him so in grace, And yonde, so godely gan she me beholde, That eche him loved that loked in his face. That to the deth mine hert is to her holdle.

saunce ;

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• And at the corner in the yonder house obtain a sight of the Scottish ContinuHerde I mine alderleuest lady dere ation of the Troilus, by Henrysoun. So womanly, with voice melodious

All we do know of it-the incident of Singen so well, so godely and so clere,

the faithless Creseide, afflicted by leThat in my soul, yet methinks I hear The blissful sound : and in that yonder former

lover, is beautifully imagined.

prosy and want, asking alms of her place My lady first me took into her grace.'

It would be an endless affair to disThen thought he thus,

. O blissful Lorde cuss the controversy concerning the Cupide!

origin of this tale. Godwin, we think, When I the processe have in memorie, has sufficiently disproved Tyrwhitt's How thou me hast weried on every side, supposed discovery of its having been Men might a book make of it, like a sto. borrowed from the Philostrato of Bocrie,' &c.

caccio. All the commentators seem to “ And, after this, he to the gates went,

lay too much stress on the poet's own Ther as Creseide out rode, a full gode declaration of its being taken from Lo

lius. It was a common custom with paas ; And up and down then made he nany a the old romancers to give an air of ve wente,

risimilitude to their legend, by referAnd to himself ful oft he said, “Alas ! ring to the authority of some classic Fro henner rode my bliss and my solas ; name, real or pretended. The grave As woulde blissful God, now for his joie,

excuses made by the poet in his CanI might her sene ayen come to Troie !

terbury Tales, that his fictitious per“And to the yonder hill I gan hir guide; sonages so said, and consequently that Alas! and there I took of her my leave ; he must so relate, might have shewn And yonde, I saw hire to her father ride, to the critics the true value of his de For sorow of whiche mine herte shal to claration about Lolius or Lollius, who, cleave,

if there ever was such a person, must And hither home I came when it was eve, have been some such paraphraser as And here I dwel outcast from alle joie, And shall, till I may sene her efter in Dictys or Dares, from whom the poet Troic !'”

gathered merely the names and local

knowledge necessary for his story. We regret never having been able to


But yesterday, and we were one;

Heart seemed to heart so firm united;
And now, ere scarce a day be gone,

The dream is fled, the prospect blighted !
I have not learn'd the grovelling art,

What truth would fain reveal to smother ;
And ah! I have too proud a heart

To share thy bosom with another !
And little did I think, to see

A dream so soft to grief awaken ;
Or that my love should be, by thee,

So fast forgot, so soon forsaken.
The April cloud is seen,-is flown,-

With every passing wind it wavers :
No firmer tie man trusts upon,

When link'd to bliss—by woman's favours.




Dulce est pro patria mori.
HARK !—'twas the trumpet rung !

Commingling armies shout;
And, glancing far these woods among

The wreathing standards float !
The voice of triumph, and of wail,

Of victor, and of vanquish'd, join'd,
Is wafted on the vernal gale;

And Echo hath combined
Her mimic tones, to breathe the tale

To every passing wind.
For Saxon foes invade

A proud, but kingless, realm ;
Oppression draws her crimson'd' blade

To ruin, and o'erwhelm:
'Tis Confray, on destruction bent,

From Freedom's roll to blot a land,
By England's haughty Edward sent:

But never on her mountain-strand
Shall Caledonia sit content,

Content with fetter'd hand.

Not while one patriot breathes,

While every verdant vale,
And mountain-side bequeathes

Some old heroic tale :
The Wallace and The Bruce have thrown

A trail of glory far behind,
The heart, to youth and valour known,

With giant strength to bind ;
While even the peasant, toiling lone,

Recalls their deeds to mind !

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The Cumin lets not home

To tell a bloodless tale ;
And forth, in arms, .with Frazer roam

The flower of Teviotdale ;
In Roslin's wild and wooded glen,

The voice of war the shepherd hears ;
And, in the groves of Hawthornden,

Are thrice ten thousand spears,
Bright as the cheek of Nature, when

May morning smiles through tears.
Three camps divided raise

Their snowy tops on high ;
The breeze unfurling flag displays

Its Lions to the sky.
The tongue of Mirth is jocund there;

Blithe carols hail the matin light;
Though lurking Death, and gloomy Care,

Are watching, in despite,
Bright eyes that now are glancing fair,

Too soon to close in night!

Baffled, and backward borne,

Is England's foremost war:-
The Saxon battle-god, forlorn,

Remounts his dragon-car :

Vol. X.

2 P


A third time warlike cheers are raised

Beneath the noon's unclouded sun:
Upon the patriot band it blazed,

Saw thrice their laurels won,
And hung o'er Roslin's vale amazed,

As erst o'er Ajalon !
Blue Esk, with murmuring stream,

Romantic, journies by
Between its rocky banks, which seem
To woo the summ

With beechen groves, and oaken boughs,

And bloomy wild shrubs, fresh and fair;
While oft the pendent willow throws

Its locks of silver hair
Athwart the waters, which disclose

Its image pictured there.
Three triumphs in a day!

Three hosts subdued by one!
Three armies scatter'd like the spray

Beneath one summer sun.
Who, pausing 'mid this solitude,

Of rocky streams, and leafy trees,
Who, gazing o'er this quiet wood,

Would ever dream of these ?
Or have a thought that aught intrude,

Save birds, and humming bees?

Roslin, thy castle grey

Survives the wrecks of Time;
And proudly towers thy dark Abbaye,

With pinnacles sublime:
But, when thy battlements shall sink,

And, like a vision, leave the scene,
Here,-here, when daylight's glories shrink,

On sculptured base shall lean
The patriot of the land, to think

Of glories that have been !


A Sonnet.
'Twas when mid forests dark the night winds raged,

Tossing their branches with an awful voice;
When clouds lower'd heavy, and the dull drear noise
Of torrents wild, and fierce, and unassuaged,
Fell on the listening ear, that forth I stray'a

Most thoughtful, and in solitary guise,
(For deep truths flash on contemplation's eyes,)
To where the churchyard gloom'd in rayless shade: -
Impressive was the loneliness-in sooth,

My thoughts through pathless labyrinths did run ;

I sate, in darkness, on the grave of one
Whom I had dearly loved in early youth,

And there I mused, till from the turf mine eye
Did shape him out—even like reality!

Till from the turf he rose before mine eye,
Girdled with clouds—even like reality!


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