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A wyf? a seinte Mery, benedicite, How might a man have eny adversité That hath a wyf? certes I can not say. The joye that is betwixen hem tway Ther may no tonge telle or herte think. If he be pore, sche helpith him to swynk; Sche kepith his good, and wastith never a del; And al that her housbond list, sche likith it wel; Sche saith nought oones nay, whan he saith ye; Do this, saith he; al redy, sir, saith sche. O blisful ordre, o wedlok precious! Thou art so mery, and eke so vertuous, And so comendid, and approved eek, That every man that holt him worth a leek, Upon his bare knees ought al his lyf Thanken his God, that him hath sent a wif, Or pray to God oon him for to sende To be with him unto his lyves ende. For than his lyf is set in sikernesse ;1 He may not be deceyved, as I gesse, So that he worche after his wyfes red;" Than may he boldely bere up his heed, Thay ben so trewe and also so wyse. For whiche, if thou wolt do as the wyse, Do alway so, as womman wol the rede.

A wif is keper of thin housbondrye: We may the sike man wayle and wepe, Ther as ther is no wyf the hous to kepe. I warne the, if wisly thou wil wirche, Love wel thy wyf, as Crist loveth his chirche ; If thou lovest thiself, thou lovest thy wyf. No man hatith his fleissch, but in his lif He fostrith it, and therfore warne I thee Cherissh thy wyf, or thou schalt never the Housbond and wif, what so men jape or pleye, Of worldly folk holden the righte weye; Thay ben so knyt, ther may noon harm bytyde, And nameliche upon the wyves side."

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Here is the celebrated prayer with which Chaucer concludes his Canterbury Tales:

"Now pray I to yow alle that heren this litel tretis or reden it, that if ther be any thing in it that likes hem, that therof thay thanke oure Lord Jhesu Christ, of whom procedith alle wille and al goodnes; and if ther be eny thing that displesith hem, I pray hem that they arette it to the defaute of myn unconnyng, and not to my wille, that wolde fayn have sayd better if I hadde connyng; for the book saith, al that is writen for oure doctrine is writen. Wherfore I biseke yow mekely for the mercy of God that ye pray for me, that God have mercy on me and forgeve me my giltes, and nameliche my translaciouns and of endityng in worldly vanitees, whiche I revoke in my retracciouns, as is the book of Troyles, the book also of Fame, the book of twenty-five Ladies, the book of the Duchesses, the book of seint Valentines day, and of the Parliament of briddes, the Taies of Caunteirbury, alle thilke that sounen into synne, the book of the Leo, and many other bokes, if they were in mynde or remembraunce, and many a song and many a leccherous lay, of the which Crist for his grete mercy forgive me the synnes. But of the translacioun of Boce de consolacioun, and other bokes of consolacioun and of legend of lyves of seints, and Omelies, and moralitees, and devocioun, that thanke I oure Lord Jhesu Crist, and his moder, and alle the seintes in heven, bisekyng hem that fray fro hennysforth unto my lyves ende sende me grace to biwayle my gultes, and to studien to the savacioun of my soule, and graunte me grace and space of verray repentaunce, penitence, confessioun, and satisfaccioun, to don in this present lif, thurgh the benigne grace of him that is king of kynges and prest of alle prestis, that bought us with his precious blood of his hert, so that I moote be oon of hem at the day of doom that schal be saved; qui cum

Patre et Spiritu sancto vivis et regnas Deus per omnia

secula. Amen.”

And here is a quaint little address

TO HIS EMPTY PURSE.

To you, my purse, and to none other wight
Complaine I, for ye be my lady dere,

I am sorry now that ye be light,

For certes ye now make me heavy chere,
Me were as lefe laid upon a bere,
For which unto your mercie thus I crie,
Be heavie againe, or els mote I die.

Now vouchsafe this or it be night,
That I of you the blissful sowne may here,
Or see your colour like the sunne bright,
That of yelowness had never pere,
Ye be my life, ye be my hertes stere,
Queene of comfort and of good companie,
Be heavie againe, or els mote I die.

Now purse that art to me my lives light,
And saviour, as downe in this world here,
Out of this towne helpe me by your might,
Sith that you woll not be my treasure,
For I am shave as nere as any frere,
But I pray unto your curtesie,

Be heavie again, or els mote I die.

Of the poets, contemporaneously with and immediately subsequent to Chaucer, remaining to notice in this short introductory sketch, are—

Gower (1325-1408), the "moral Gower," as Chaucer addressed him, and the epithet has stuck to him. He is the author of a triad of celebrated poetical pieces: one in French, the "Speculum Amantis," said to be lost; another in Latin, the "Vox Clamantis ;" and the third, and obviously the most familiar, in English, the "Confessio Amantis." As this latter is composed of a series

of edifying tales, carried through some 30,000 verses, their perusal would require something more than an ordinary share of human endurance. John Barbour was another well-known poet contemporary with Chaucer. He was a Scotchman, and the author of the poem entitled "The Bruce." Of his personal history there is little known. His poem is characterized by great narrative and descriptive powers, and some of his battle-pieces have an animation that might almost be called Homeric.

The author of "The Boke of Philip Sparow" deserves also a passing notice; for there is little of the poetry of the reign of Henry VII. that has such an amount of originality and freshness about it as that of John Skelton, (1460). That the poet was largely appreciated in his day is evident from the fact that he was appointed tutor to the young prince, Henry VIII., and met with considerable patronage from Cardinal Wolsey. But Skelton, afflicted with a satirical temper, made some imprudent attacks upon the great cardinal, through which he had to fly for refuge to the sanctuary of Westminster Abbey, where he died in 1529. Besides his "Philip Sparow," Skelton was the author of another "litle boke," "Colyn Clout," and of a drama in rhyme, extending to over 2500 verses. His works have recently been edited by the Rev. Alexander Dyce.

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THE MERLE AND NIGHTINGALE.

BY WILLIAM DUNBAR.-1460-1530.

[WILLIAM DUNBAR was born at Saltoun, in East Lothian, probably in the year 1460. After having been educated at St. Andrews, he became a Franciscan Friar. He travelled for some years as an itinerant preacher ; subsisting, in accordance with the custom of his order, on alms. But he deplored the constant falsehood, deceit, and flattery, of this mode of life, and at length abandoned it. He was afterwards employed on several embassies; the servility then required in a court, however, filled him with pain. He died about the year 1530; but neither the date nor circumstances of his death are known. His works remained in manuscript until the beginning of the last century; nor were they rescued from obscurity until their language had become so obsolete that many of their beauties could no longer be appreciated.]

N May, as that Aurora did upspring,

IN

With crystal een chasing the cluddes sable,

I heard a Merle with merry notis sing

A sang of love, with voice right comfortable,
Again' the orient beamis, amiable,

Upon a blissful branch of laurel green;

This was her sentence, sweet and delectable,
A lusty life in Lovis service been.

Under this branch ran down a river bright,
Of balmy liquor, crystalline of hue,
Again' the heavenly azure skyis light,
Where did upon the tother side pursue
A Nightingale, with sugared notis new,
Whose angel feathers as the peacock shone ;
This was her song, and of a sentence true,
All love is lost but upon God alone.

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