Nature, sending out diseases at the command of Conscience, has been noticed for its resemblance to the description of the Lazar-house, in the eleventh book of Paradise Lost. Kind Conscience* then heard, and came out of the planets, Coughs, and cardiacles, cramps, and toothaches, Phrensies, and foul evil, foragers of Kind! There was "Harowe! and help! here cometh Kind! With Death that is dreadful to undo us all." Age, the hoar, he was in the van-ward, And bare the banner before Death; by right he it claimed. Death came driving after, and all to dust passed, Kings and kaysers, knights and popes. Many a lovely lady, and leman of knights, Swooned, and swelted for sorrow of Death's dints. The portraiture of Age bearing the banner before Death may be allowed to contest the palm with Milton's sublime representation of Death shaking the dart over the head of the victim. Immediately a place Before his eyes appeared, sad, noisome, dark: Of ghastly spasm, or racking torture, qualms Dropsies and asthma, and joint-racking rheum. Dire was the tossing! Deep the groans! Despair And over them triumphant Death his dart Living in the dawn of literature, Langland had not the * Nature. + Foragers. Cardialgia, heart-ach.-Ellis. benefit of those lights by which modern authors have directed their course. The Mæonian star was not yet brought within the scope of poetical vision. He possessed a partial knowledge of French, and was evidently familiar with the Scriptures and the schoolmen. The Visions were especially addressed to the people, and being shaped upon the Anglo-Saxon model, offer a very interesting subject of investigation to the scholar. As a portraiture of manners, they are essentially valuable, both on account of the vigour of the sketches, the truth of their colouring, and the freedom of their application. In reading the analysis given by Whitaker, it is impossible not to be reminded of that allegory, which, in a later age, a Spenser of the people-an appellation not more happy than appropriate-constructed for the delight and edification of the world. The Vision of Pierce Plowman seems to recall the Pilgrim's Progress more freshly than Painter's Pastime of Pleasure, which Mr. Hallam has compared with the story of Bunyan. True Religion, Conscience, Reason, Repentance, are among the characters to whom, so to speak, the dramatic action of the poem is intrusted. The allegory itself is often beautiful and impressive; as in the picture of mankind, summoned by Hope, to unite in the search after Truth, but failing in every effort, until informed that the only path to the Tower of Truth, of which Grace keeps the gate, lies by Meekness and the Ten Commandments. The influence of such a composition upon the popular mind could not fail of being salutary; the coarseness of the descriptions harmonized with the rudeness of the age; and the strictures upon the vices and crimes of the great and powerful, display a remarkable courage and rectitude of intention. But, though we should admit the priority of Langland, our heart, nevertheless, turns to Chaucer, with those feelings of reverence and affection which he has inspired in every poetic bosom. Coleridge said that he took unceasing delight in his works, and that his hilarity of disposition was especially pleasing to him in his old age. The author of Pierce Plowman is a shadowy personage, whom it is impossible to bring clearly before our eyes; but Chaucer stands prominently forward in one of the most interesting epochs of our history. Langland, with a vigorous mind and abundant powers of satire, spoke in the harshest language and with the most unmusical voice; Chaucer, with a fancy infinitely richer, and a vein of humour, more keen and brilliant, combined all the learning and accomplishments of the time. Instead of wandering among the Malvern Hills, he mingled in the pageantry of Edward's court, and cultivated his taste by foreign travel, and by intercourse, not only with the most distinguished persons of his age and country, but with the poets and scholars of the South. It would be difficult to imagine a more delightful subject for a picture than the meeting of Petrarch, Boccacio, Froissart, and Chaucer, at the marriage of the daughter of the Duke of Milan. Sir Philip Sidney marvelled that he should have seen so distinctly in that gray and misty morning of literature. The thoughts, the habits, and the feelings of the fourteenth century are reflected in his verse. If he was not the earliest painter of our manners, he certainly was of our scenery. His landscapes look green in the dews of Spring. Nor does he put in his figures with inferior skill; we see the thirty pilgrims winding out of the Tabard in the Borough. Shakspeare alone enjoyed a wider versatility of genius. The sublimity of Chaucer is brief, vivid, energetic; his simplicity is of nature; his pathos of truth. Though accommodating himself to the popular spirit, he was not altogether uninfluenced by that and more graver solemn train of thought which the labours of his contemporary Wicliffe subsequently diffused. The Canterbury Tales were written, as we have seen, in 1381, while Wicliffe's translation of the Bible is assigned to 1383. The serious vein of sentiment in Chaucer has not been unobserved by Thomson, who calls him the "laughing sage," but, as if to complete the portrait, almost immediately adds:Chaucer, whose native manners' painting verse, Well moralized, shines through the Gothic cloud It has been remarked that we may find religion in the faith of Constance; in the purity and womanly meekness of Grisildis; in the lamentation of Mary Magdalen; in the legend of Hew of Lincoln; and in that most beautiful and affecting story of the Christian Martyr, related by the Prioress. The portrait of Grisildis, in the Clerk's Tale, is drawn with a simplicity and grace that cannot fail to touch the heart and captivate the fancy: Among this poure folk there dwelt a man Which that was holden pourest of hem all: Full often of the welle than of the tonne But though this mayden tendre were of age, Ther was enclosed sad and ripe corage, A few sheep, spinning on the feld, she kept, * Thorpe, Sax., a village. And when she homward came, she wolde bring The which she shred and sethe for her living, That child may don to fadre's reverence. Dryden compared the melody of Chaucer to the rude sweetness of a Scottish tune, which is natural and pleasing, but not perfect. Chaucer applied to his friend Gower the epithet by which every true poet would desire to be distinguished: he called him moral Gower, and the character seems to have been confirmed by the general voice of criticism. Painter, in the Pastime of Pleasure, mentions him as the successor of Chaucer in the censorship of public man ners: As Morall Gower, whose sentencious dewe Kindlying our hartes wyth the fiery leames Gower wanted the embalming power of genius, yet his gentle fancy and extensive learning contributed to awaken the popular taste. Pope found little worth reading in his works. But though he never delights, he often pleases; and his style is easy, luminous, and equable. He is supposed to have been the fellow-student of Chaucer, who mentions him in Troilus and Creseide, that affecting story which received the praise of Sidney, and kindled the imagination of Shakspeare. The death of Chaucer, in 1400, overcast the dawn of our poetry with a cloud, which received only a faint brightness from Lydgate and Stephen Hawes. Lydgate has been praised by Gray with a delicacy and refinement |