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this danger, they next arrive at a beautiful crystal temple, " in the mid sea." Their next adventures are on a dark and stormy ocean, where they see fiends and mountains of fire, and Judas, sitting on a rock, well nigh overwhelmed by the waves. All this portion of the wild narrative is told with much force. At length, their seven years' voyage ended, they enter a thick darkness, from whence, after many dangers, they emerge:

"And see,
With joyful hearts, right gratefully,
Beyond the cloud, that bright wall rise,
That round engirdleth paradise."

The description of it, although largely borrowed from Scripture, is yet no servile copy; and the gracefulness of many parts would render them well worthy of transcription, did the space allow. Here the pilgrims wander about,

"Hither and thither, to and fro,
For very joyfulness; and now
They climb a mountain's lofty brow,
And see afar a vision rare
Of angels; I may not declare
What there they saw, for words could ne'er
The meaning tell; and the melodie
Of that same heavenly company,
For joy that they beheld them there,
They heard; but could not bear its sweetness,
Unless their natures greater meetness
To that celestial place had borne.
But they were crushed with joy. ( Return,'
Said they; ' we may not thus sustain.'
Then spake the youth in gentle strain:
'Oh, Brandan! God unto thine eyes
Hath granted sight of paradise;
But know, it glories hath more bright,
Than e'er hath dazed thy mortal sight;

One hundred thousand times more fair

Are these abodes,—but thou could'st ne'er

The view sustain, nor the ecstasy

Its meanest joys would yield to thee;

For thou hast in the body come.

But when the Lord shall call thee home,

Thou, fitted then, a spirit free

From weakness and mortality,

SI 1alt aye remain, no fleshy guest,

But taking here thine endless rest."

The safe return of St. Brandan and his highlyfavoured companions, concludes this singularly graceful and amusing narrative; and we lament, on closing the neatly-written volume, that he who has so well sung the wanderings of the holy and ancient mariner, should have left his own name untold.

Contemporary, or nearly so, was GeofFroi Gaimar, a trouvere, the latter portion of whose work—a metrical history of the British kings—alone remains. This portion extends merely from the episode of Haveloke to the death of the Red King; and the most curious part is his character of that monarch, whom, contrary to the statements of every monkish chronicler, he represents as wise, valiant, and most generous; and of whose death he gives a remarkably full, and, in some respects, different account. His versification, although easy, cannot be compared with that of the foregoing trouvere; nor has the writer found any of those naive remarks and graphic touches, which give such spirit to the narratives of Wace. The following description of the attendants in the hall of the Red King, at Westminster, when it was first opened for his mighty feast, affords some

idea of the enormous scale of magnificence on which these feasts were conducted:

"And now, within his new-built hall,
He held a gorgeous festival.
And many an earl and duke did fare
Thither; and each in mantle rare
Of foreign cloth ; with vair or gris,
Bedecked right well were hundreds three
Of ushers, who right courteously
Stood at the doors, at hand to lead
Each baron up the steps, and then
The band of pages came with speed
To marshal them, right noble men,
With batons in their hands, and they
Appointed each his place that day." j

Part of his account of the Red King's death merits transcription, from the many characteristic circumstances which, whether true or not, it presents. According to Gaimar, Walter Tyrel not only killed the king, but meditated his death for some months previously, in consequence of a dispute which he had had with him.

"And now the king
Within the forest stood, with string
Fixed in the notch;—'twas marshy ground;
And when he saw the fair herd bound
Right past, he chose the tallest out,
(His barons wandering all about,)
And there beside a tree he stood.—
Then, Walter Tyrel in the wood
Drew nigh: but a saddle's length was he,
And leant against an aspen tree;
Then, when the tall stag he espied,
He bent his bow, and from his side
A barbed arrow forth drew he,
(Fledged by a fatal destiny,)
Which missed the stag, who bounded on,
But straight to the king's heart hath gone.

I know not who erst bare that bow,

But the other archers said, I know,

That it was Walter's; like enow

That tale appeared, for he had fled

When this was done, and the king fell dead.*

Beneath four beeches they descried

The Red King's corpse, e'en as he died;

But 'twas not touched until they found

Some monks, who from the neighbouring bound

Came nigh—and then a hunter made

A bed of fern and flowers, and laid

The king thereon." * *

"Now list. The news flew speedily:—
Among his barons there are three,
Who swiftly to the place have gone,
To which Fitz Richard led them on.
Earl Gilbert; and Dan Roger too,
That valiant knight; and Gilbert, who
Was Lord of the Eagle named; and there,
They cried aloud, and tore their hair,
In unmatched woe, and bitter teen,
'Sure such a king was never seen!'
Then all the vassals thither drew,
And all the hunters, when they knew
The sad mischance; and out they spread
Their vests and mantles, and a bed
Of fern and beauteous flowers they made:—
Then caused two palfreys to be brought,
With broidered trappings rich ywrought,
And placed the bier on them; and then
Fitz Hamon, who, of all his men,
Best loved his lord, most tenderly
Lifted the corse, and carefully
Spread over all a mantle gay
And rich, which but a single day
William Muntfichet wore, and there
That gris-lined mantle he with care
Spread o'er the king."

* "Mes ne savom ki li arc sustint,
Mes co disaient li altre archer
K'ele cissi del arc Walter.
11 eschapatjli reis chai."

And thus was he borne to the city of Winchester, in whose cathedral, amid a large concourse of barons and clergy, all weeping most sorely, he was consigned to the tomb.* The foregoing passage is interesting, although possessing little poetical merit; not only as giving a very good specimen of the "all, how, and about it" style, in which the earlier trouveres are very fond of indulging, but as affording what was not improbably the "court version'' of the story of the Red King's death; since surely, unless this statement had obtained currency among the higher classes, Gaimar, writing for the express information both of Custance Fitz-Gilbert, and Adelais, would never have adopted it.

Whether the next celebrated trouvere of this period, master Robert Wace, resided at court, and enjoyed the patronage of the fair Adelais, is unknown; that long ere her death he had become celebrated, seems evident from his account of himself, where he remarks, that early in life he had composed "many romances, learned and rare." Of these, none have been hitherto found, and the fame of this admirable trouvere now rests chiefly on the two works composed in his middle and later years, the "Brut d'Angleterre," and the "Roman du Rou." Wace, although born in the island of Jersey, may be

It is impossible to avoid thinking that this statement of Gaimar's was levelled against that of Malmsbury; and that, in the minute particularizing of each honor done to the lifeless corpse, Gaimar had in view the story of the body lying for many hours unfound, and at length, carelessly thrown upon the charcoal-burner's cart, conveyed in the rudest manner to Winchester. In this statement the reader will observe the details of the " palfreys" with broidered trappings, and the mantle lined with gris, (an undoubted proof of its great cost), which had been worn only a single day, while even the fern and flowers used are described as "beautiful.''

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