GLEANINGS FROM THE ENGLISH POETS. Geoffry Chaucer. Born 1328. Died 1400 THE Father of English Poetry, as Chaucer is called, was born in London in the year 1328. Very little is known of his parentage, but he seems to have lived in comfortable circumstances, having been educated at Cambridge and afterwards sent to travel in Italy. The literature of Italy and a meeting with Petrarch in Padua seem to have inspired the traveller to write in his own rude northern tongue. His life seems to have been fortunate beyond that of most poets. Edward III. made him Comptroller of Customs, and gave him a handsome house near Woodstock, where he lived amid all the luxuries of the age. About the same time he made the acquaintance of John of Gaunt, to whom he afterwards became related by marriage. So much did this connection raise his position, that he was afterwards sent to negotiate a marriage between the King and the Princess Mary of France. He mixed constantly in political affairs, and was one of the most stirring men of the time. In 1386 Chaucer became involved in the troubles which befell his patron, and had to flee to Holland. He soon made his peace, for in 1389 he was again taken into favour, and Henry IV. doubled his pension. In his sixtyfourth year he retired to Woodstock, to write his great poem, The Canterbury Tales." He died in London on 25th October 1400, aged seventy-two years, and was the first poet who was buried in the since famous Poet's Corner, in Westminster Abbey. THE GOOD PARSON. (From the "Canterbury Tales.") A GOOD man ther was of religiòun, parsor parishioners A And in adversitee ful patient: And swiche he was yprevéd often sithes. proved, since But rather wolde he yeven, out of doute, Wide was his parish, and houses fer asonder, give In sikenesse and in mischief to visite trouble The ferrest in his parish, moche and lite, farthest, little Upon his fete, and in his hand a staf. This noble ensample to his shepe he yaf, gave That first he wrought, and afterward he taught. That if gold rusté, what shuld iren do? For if a preest be foule, on whom we trust, No wonder is a lewed man to rust. Wel ought a preest ensample for to yeve, 'give And lette his shepe acombred in the mire, left To seken him a chanterie for soules, singing endowment Or with a brotherhede to be withold; unpitying sparing, proud But dwelt at home, and kepte wel his fold, Him wolde he snibben sharply for the nonés. occasion He waited after no pompe ne reverence, Ne makéd him no spicéd consciènce, GOOD COUNSAIL. truth uncertainty wealth, blind desire, benefit FLY fro the presse, and dwell with sothfastnesse, counsel each fortune nail earthen pitcher judge humility forsake, spirit Thomas the Rhymer. About 1300. THOMAS OF ERCILDOUNE, commonly called Thomas the Rhymer, lived about the year 1300, and was born at his father's patrimonial estate of Ercildoune or Earlston, now a small village in Scotland. Few personages are more renowned than he in tradition, having been, shortly after his death, placed in the highest position both as a poet and a prophet. The popular tale bears "that he was carried away to Fairyland at an early age, where he acquired the knowledge and gifts which made him so famous. After seven years' residence there he was permitted to return to earth, and astonish his countrymen by his powers and prophecies. After some time, while making merry in his Tower of Ercildoune, a person came running in and told him that a hart and hind were slowly parading the street of the village; Thomas rose, and left his house, and followed the animals to the forest, whence he never returned." INCIPIT PROPHESIA THOMÆ DE ERSELDOUN. In a lande as I was lent, In the gryking of the day lying peeping Ay alone as I went, In Huntle bankys me for to play; With my tong to wrabbe and wry, It beth neuyer discryuyd for me. Hyr palfra was dappyll gray, All abowte that lady schone. Bryght with mony a precyous stone, mavis wood shady aware lonely lea though twist such, saw ivory crimson orient lonely lea Her hair about her hede it hang, She rode ouer the farnyle, He sayd Yonder is Mary of Might, That bar the child that died for me. bore Certes bot I may speke with that lady bright, Myd my hert will breke in three; I schal me hye with all my might, haste quickly Hyr to mete at Eldyn Tre. even pity leave every Alas, he seyd, ful wo is me, I trow my dedes will werke me care, Whedir so euyr my body sal fare. The figge and als fylbert tre; The nyghtyngale bredyng in her neste, The throstylcock sang wald hafe no rest. might below ground ever dashing faint, want soon want haste That lyggs ouyr yone fayr playn? Yonder is the way to heuyn for ay, lies Whan synful sawles haf derayed their payne. suffered Sees thou, Thomas, yon secund way That lygges lawe undir the ryse? Streight is the way, sothly to say, To the joyes of paradyce. Sees thou, Thomas, yon thyrd way, To the brynyng fyres of helle. Sees thou, Thomas, yone fair castell, Of town and tower it beereth the belle, rising hollow |