returning, and whoever told the best should have a supper at the expense of the rest. The company assent, and 'mine host' who was both

Bold of his speech, and wise and well taught,

The characters compo

is appointed judge and reporter of the stories. sing this social party, are inimitably drawn and discriminated. We have a knight, a mirror of chivalry, who had fought against the Heathenesse in Palestine; his son a gallant young squire with curled locks, laid in presse, and all manner of debonnair accomplishments; a nun, or prioresse, beautifully drawn in her arch simplicity and coy reserve; and a jolly monk, who boasted a dainty, well-caparisoned horse:

And when he rode, men might his bridle hear

Jingling in a whistling wind as clear

And eke as loud as doth the chapel bell.

A wanton prior is also of the party,-full of sly and solemn mirth, and well beloved for his accommodating disposition:

Full sweetly heard he confession,

And pleasant was his absolution.

We have a pardoner from Rome with some sacred relics, such as a part of the sail of St. Peter's ship, and who is also

Brim full of pardons come from Rome all hot.

In satirical contrast to these merry and interested churchmen, we have a poor parson of a town,

Rich in holy thought and work,

and a clerk of Oxford also, who was skilled in logic:

Sounding in moral virtue was his speech,

And gladly would he learn, and gladly teach.

Among the other characters are a doctor of physic, a great astronomer and student, whose study was but little on the Bible;' a purse-proud merchant; a sergeant-at-law, who was always busy, yet seemed busier than he was; and a jolly Franklin, a freeholder, who had been a lord of sessions, and who was fond of good eating:

Withouten baked meat never was his house,
Of fish and flesh, and that so plenteous;
It snowed in his house of meat and drink.

This character is a fine picture of the wealthy rural Englishman, and it shows how much of enjoyment and hospitality was even then associated with this station of life. The Wife of Bath is another lively national portrait: she is shrewd and witty, has abundant means, and is always first with her offering at church.

Besides these, there are many humbler characters, which, combined with those already noticed, form so genuine a Hogarthian picture that we may well exclaim with Campbell, 'What an intimate scene of English life in the fourteenth century do we enjoy in these tales, beyond what history displays

by glimpses through the stormy atmosphere of her scenes, or the antiquary can discover by the cold light of his researches.' Yet with all the inimitable description and truth to nature with which the Canterbury Tales abound, we are constrained to confess that we have looked in vain throughout the entire poem for any thing that inculcates an important moral lesson. The following brief extracts are all that our space will allow us to introduce from this great work, the last extract, the Good Parson, being somewhat modernized :

:

DESCRIPTION OF A POOR COUNTRY WIDOW.

A poore widow, somedeal stoop'n in age,
Was whilom dwelling in a narwé cottage
Beside a grove standing in a dale.

This widow, which I tell you of my Tale,
Since thilke day that she was last a wife,
In patience led a full simple life,

For little was her cattle and her rent,
By husbandry1 of such as God her sent
She found herself and eke her daughters two.

Three large sowes had she, and no mo,

Three kine, and eke a sheep that highte2 Mall:
Full sooty was her bower and eke her hall,
In which she ate many a slender meal,
Of poignant sauce ne knew she never a deal ;3
No dainty morsel passed through her throat;
Her diet was accordant to her cote:4
Repletion ne made her never sick;
Attemper5 diet was all her physic,

And exercise, and heartes suffisance:

The goute let her nothing for to dance,

Ne apoplexy shente not her head,

No wine ne drank she neither white nor red;

Her board was served most with white and black,

Milk and brown bread, in which she found no lack,
Seindes bacon, and sometime an egg or tway,
For she was as it were a manner dey.9

Mr. Tyrwhitt supposes the word 'dey' to refer to the management of a dairy; and that it originally signified a hind. Manner dey' may therefore be interpreted 'a species of hired or day laborer.'

12 Ventousing, (Fr.) cupping; hence the term, 'breathing a vein.'

D

Nature hath now no domination:

And certainly where nature will not werche,5
Farewell physic; go bear the man to church.
This is all and some, that Arcite muste die ;
For which he sendeth after Emily,
And Palamon, that was his cousin dear;
Then said he thus, as ye shall after hear:
'Naught may the woful spirit in mine heart
Declare one point of all my sorrows' smart
To you my lady, that I love most,
But I bequeath the service of my ghost
To you aboven every creature,

Since that my life ne may no longer dure.
'Alas the woe! alas the paines strong,
That I for you have suffered, and so long!
Alas the death! alas mine Emily!

Alas departing of our company!

Alas mine hearte's queen! alas my wife!

Mine hearte's lady, ender of my life!

What is this world?-What asken men to have?
Now with his love, now in his colde grave-

Alone-withouten any company.

Farewell my sweet-farewell mine Emily!
And softe take me in your armes tway
For love of God, and hearkeneth what I say.
'I have here with my cousin Palamon
Had strife and rancour many a day agone
For love of you, and for my jealousy;
And Jupiter so wis my soule gie,7
To speaken of a servant properly,
With alle circumstances truely;

That is to say, truth, honour, and knighthead,
Wisdom, humbless, estate, and high kindred,
Freedom, and all that 'longeth to that art,
So Jupiter have of my soule part,

As in this world right now ne know I none

So worthy to be loved as Palamon,
That serveth you, and will do all his life;
And if that ever ye shall be a wife,

Forget not Palamon, the gentle man.'

And with that word his speeche fail began;
For from his feet up to his breast was come

1 Called. 5 Work.

2 Muscle.

• Surely.

3 Ruined, destroyed.
7 Guide.

He is able for.

The cold of death that had him overnome;1
And yet, moreover, in his armes two,
The vital strength is lost and all ago; 2
Only the intellect, withouten more,

That dwelled in his hearte sick and sore,
'Gan faillen when the hearte felte death;
Dusked his eyen two, and fail'd his breath:
But on his lady yet cast he his eye;

His laste word was, 'Mercy Emily!'

DEPARTURE OF CUSTANCE.

Custance is banished from her husband, Alla, king of Northumberland, in consequence of the treachery of the king's mother. Her behaviour in embarking at sea, in a rudderless ship, is thus described:

Weepen both young and old in all that place,
When that the king this cursed letter sent;
And Custance with a deadly pale face
The fourthe day toward the ship she went;
But natheless, 3 she tak'th in good intent
The will of Christ, and kneeling on the strond,
She saide, Lord, aye welcome be thy sond.4
'He that me kepte from the false blame,
While I was in the land amonges you,

He can me keep from harm and eke from shame
In the salt sea, although I see not how:
As strong as ever he was, he is yet now:
In him trust I, and in his mother dear,
That is to me my sail and eke my steer.'5

Her little child lay weeping in her arms;
And kneeling piteously to him she said-
'Peace, little son, I will do thee no harm:'
With that her kerchief off her head she braid,
And over his little eyen she it laid,

And in her arm she lulleth it full fast,

And into th' heaven her eyen up she cast.

'Mother, quod she, and maiden bright, Mary!
Soth is, that through womannes eggement,7
Mankind was lorn,8 and damned aye to die,
For which thy child was on a cross yrent:9
Thy blissful eyen saw all his torment;
Then is there no comparison between
Thy woe and any woe man may sustain.

'Thou saw'st thy child y-slain before thine eyc

And yet now liveth my little child parfay:10
Now, lady bright! to whom all woful crien,
Thou glory of womanhood, thou faire May!
Thou haven of refute, bright star of day!
Rue12 on my child, that of thy gentleness
Ruest on every rueful in distress.

'O little child, alas! what is thy guilt,
That never wroughtest sin as yet, pardie?
Why will thine hardé father have thee spilt ?1
O mercy, deare Constable! (quod she,)

As let my little child dwell here with thee;
And if thou dar'st not saven him from blame,
So kiss him one's in his father's name.'

Therewith she looketh backward to the land,
And saide, 'Farewell, husband rutheless!' 2
And up she rose, and walketh down the strand
Toward the ship; her followeth all the press:3
And ever she prayeth her child to hold his peace,
And tak'th her leave, and with a holy intent
She blesseth her, and into the ship she went.
Victailled was the ship, it is no drede,4
Abundantly for her a full long space;
And other necessaries that should need
She had enow, herieds be Goddes grace:
Fhe wind and weather, Almighty God purchase,
And bring her home, I can no better say,
But in the sea she driveth forth her way.

THE GOOD PARSON.

A true good man there was, there of religion,
Pious and poor
the parson of a town.

But rich he was in holy thought and work;

And thereto a right learned man; a clerk

That Christ's pure gospel would sincerely preach,

And his parishioners devoutly teach.

Benign he was, and wondrous diligent,

And in adversity full patient,

As proven oft; to all who lack'd a friend.

Loth for his tithes to ban or to contend,

At every need much rather was he found
Unto his poor parishioners around
Of his own substance and his dues to give:-
Content on little, for himself, to live.

Wide was his cure; the houses far asunder,
Yet never fail'd he, or for rain or thunder,
Whenever sickness or mischance might call
The most remote to visit, great or small,
And, staff in hand, on foot, the storm to brave.
This noble ensample to his flock he gave,
That first he wrought, and afterward he taught.
The word of life he from the gospel caught;
And well this comment added he thereto,
If that gold rusteth, what should iron do?
And if the priest be foul on whom we trust,
What wonder if the unletter'd layman lust?
And shame it were in him the flock should keep,
To see a sullied shepherd, and clean sheep.