The uncouth old spell ness of the period in which he wrote. ing need not deprive any one of the pleasure of enjoying the poem, as a few minutes' practice will accustom the eye and the ear to the strangeness of the orthography and rhythm. It would have been very easy to obviate those last obstacles entirely by giving the reader Dryden's version, instead of the original; but there are a thousand charming touches in Chaucer quite peculiar to himself, and which Dryden, with all his higher polish, could never really improve. Every original work of a man of genius, even when imperfect and faulty, must always possess a life and reality which no imitation, even the most finished, can hope to equal; and in this, as in every other instance, we have preferred carrying our bucket to the fountain head. Let us hope the reader will enjoy the draught offered to him from "Dan Chaucer, well of English undefiled." THE FLOWER AND THE LEAF. ARGUMENT. A gentlewoman out of an arbour in a grove, seeth a great companie of knights and ladies in a daunce upon the greene grasse: the which being ended, they all kneele downe, and do honour to the daisie, some to the flower, and some to the leafe. Afterward this gentlewoman learneth by one of these ladies the meaning hereof, which is this: They which honour the flower, a thing fading with every blast, are such as looke after beautie and worldly pleasure. But they that honour the leafe, which abideth with the root, notwithstanding the frosts and winter stormes, are they which follow vertue and during qualities, without regard of worldly respects. Whan that Phebus his chair of golde so hie, Had whirled up the sterry sky aloft, And in the Boole was entred certainly, When shoures sweet of raine descended soft, Causing the ground fele times and oft, With new greene, and maketh small floures To springen here and there in field and in mede, So very good and wholsome be the shoures, That it renueth that was old and dede, And I so glad of the season swete Than I; for I n'ad sicknesse nor disease. Wherefore I mervaile greatly of my selfe, In which were okes great, streight as a line, Which as me thought was right a pleasant sight, Ful busily herkened with herte and with eare, If I her voice perceive coud any where. And, at the last, a path of little brede I found, that greatly had not used be, For it forgrowen was with grasse and weede, That well unneth a wighte might it se: Thought I, this path some whider goth, pardè; And so I followed, till it me brought To right a pleasaunt herber well ywrought, That benched was, and with turfes new And closed in all the greene herbere, Wrethen in fere so well and cunningly, I sie never thing I you ensure, So well done; for he that tooke the cure It to make ytrow, did all his peine To make it passe all tho that men have seine. And shapen was this herber roof and all, The hegge as thicke as a castle wall, Perceive all tho thot yeden there without Covered with corn and grasse, that out of doubt, So rich a fielde coud not be espide On no coast, as of the quantity, For of all good thing there was plenty. And I that all this pleasaunt sight sie, And as I stood and cast aside mine eie, That ever yet in all my life I sie, Fro bough to bough; and, as him list, he eet And to the herber side was joyning So passing sweetly, that by manifold The nightingale with so merry a note, I stood astonied, so was I with the song And ayen, me thought, she song ever by mine ere. Wherefore I waited about busily On every side, if I her might see; And, at the last, I gan full well aspy Where she sat in a freshe grene laurer tree, On the further side even right by me, Whereof I had so inly great pleasure, Was for to be, and no ferther passe, And more pleasaunt to me by many fold, Of the world was never seene er than So pleasaunt a ground of none earthly man. And as I sat the birds hearkening thus, Me thought that I heard voices sodainly, The most sweetest and most delicious That ever any wight I trow truly And sweet accord was in so good musike, At the last, out of a grove even by, I sie where there came singing lustily, The surcotes white of velvet wele sitting, They were in cladde; and the semes echone, As it were a manere garnishing, Was set with emerauds one and one, By and by; but many a riche stone Was set on the purfiles, out of dout, Of colors, sleves, and traines round about. As great pearles round and orient, And many another stone of which I went On her head of branches fresh and grene, That it was a noble sight to sene, Some of laurer, and some full pleasauntly Chapelets fresh; but there were many of tho That daunced and eke song full soberly, But all they yede in manner of compace, And more richly bescene, by many fold, |