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the respective days. These last-named stages may therefore be assumed for the Canterbury Pilgrims.

The important point, however, is not the time occupied, but the arrangement of the tales, and with regard to this, it is found that they are divided into eight groups, in each of which the tales are inseparably linked together in a certain order, by means of allusions in the prologues which are interspersed. The inquiry, therefore, is reduced to the sequence of these groups; and the references in the preceding scheme will give the reasons for placing them in the particular order adopted.

The main difficulty in the foregoing arrangement is, that the tales of the last day are disproportionate to both the distance and the time travelled; for instance, the Squire's, Franklin's, and Second Nun's Tales are supposed to occupy the five miles from Ospringe to Boughton-under-Blean; the Manciple's is begun whilst it is still morning, and yet it is four o'clock before the next, and concluding one, the Parson's, is commenced. However, the last two groups are indisputably connected by topographical allusions, and the inconsistencies, if there are any, are Chaucer's. It must be remembered too, that the whole series, though clearly written with a very definite plan in view, is manifestly incomplete. The Cook's Tale and the Squire's were probably never finished by the author, and of the 34 pilgrims (including Chaucer, the host, the canon and his yeoman) who arrive at Canterbury, only 23 contribute tales, leaving the knight's yeoman, the ploughman, the five city tradesmen, two of the nun's priests, and the Canon undelivered of any authentic tales, to say nothing of the host, who was perhaps reserved for the part of chorus. The Second Nun's and The Shipman's Tales have also inconsistencies shewing want of revision by the author. For a minute and very interesting discussion of these and sundry minor points, the reader must be referred to Mr. Furnivall's work for the Chaucer Society.]

THE ASSEMBLY OF FOULES.

[OF this poem the Chaucer Society has printed no less than nine MSS., besides fragments of two more. Those known to the preceding editor were only two, namely, Fairfax 16 in the Bodleian Library, Oxford, and Ff. I. 6 in the Cambridge University Library. The poem was printed by Urry and Speght.

The system adopted by Urry of forcing every line to consist of ten syllables, by arbitrarily adding expletives or eliding letters, fails to produce even that metrical smoothness which it was his object to obtain; while it renders the language much more obscure than if it had been left in its ancient form, and produces a heterogeneous text which is utterly useless to the grammarian and philologist. Chaucer, of all poets, can least bear to be stretched and lopped by such experiments.

The text of Speght, on the other hand, althougn more or less assimilated in its orthography to the language of the Elizabethan era, has not been subjected to any excruciating emendations of this description. His edition has, therefore, been selected as the basis of the present text; but, wherever it seemed expedient, the reading of the Cambridge MS. Ff. I. 6 has been adopted. The Editor is indebted to the kindness of his friend, James Orchard Halliwell, Esq., for the improvements derived from this source. That gentleman, whose labours in the department of philology have laid the students of our early literature under important obligations, collated the Cambridge MS. with Urry's text; and the results of his collations, submitted to a second comparison with Speght, have enabled the Editor to place before the readers of this edition a text which, if not so perfect in a philological point of view as that of The Canterbury Tales, is considerably purer than that of previous editions, which are in fact mere reprints of Speght, with all his absurd errors of punctuation most conscientiously reproduced.

In some instances where Speght's orthography represents neither the ancient nor the modern grammatical forms, it has been brought to a uniformity with that of The Canterbury Tales.

The structure of The Assembly of Foules is exceedingly inartificial. It opens with an introduction, in which the poet professes himself insensible to love, of whose influence he has never had any practical experience. Employing his thoughts till bed-time with a book, by Cicero, called the Somnium Scipionis, or Dream of Scipio, he falls asleep, and is visited by a dream similar to that about which he has been reading. As in the Somnium Scipionis Scipio Africanus appears in a dream to his grandson, Publius, so Chaucer imagines that he appears to him also, and leads him into a garden where, among many allegorical personages, he sees enthroned on a hill of flowers, the Goddess Nature, before whom, it being St. Valentine's day, the various birds are assembled to choose their mates for the year. A dispute takes place between three eagles for the possession of a formel (female) eagle that sits upon Nature's wrist; and at last, after some wrangling, when there appears no other prospect of bringing the matter to a termination, the claims of the eagles are remitted to the conclave of birds. The conflicting opinions delivered by the jury, which are extremely humourous and characteristic, resolve themselves into a shape almost identical with that of the discussions carried on in the Courts of Love. Nature finally gives her judgment, and the poem closes with a song sung by an appointed band of choristers in her honour.

The similarity between this poem and one of the French Fabliaux et Contes1 of Legrand d'Aussy is sufficiently striking to warrant the supposition that Chaucer was in part indebted to that source for the principal feature in his designthe assembly or parliament of birds. There are three versions of the fabliau, severally entitled Huéline et Eglantine, Le Jugement d'Amour, and Florence et Blancheflor. These 1 Edited by Renouard, Paris. 1829

versions vary in details; but they all turn on the same point -two young ladies who, one loving a knight and the other a clerk, quarrel about the merits of their lovers, and ultimately agree to refer the matter to the adjudication of the Court of Love. Arrived at the precincts of the palace, they reach a fruit-garden, guarded by a nightingale, who is called the Messenger of the God of Love, probably as the harbinger of spring and the season of pleasure. He offers to conduct them, but warns them that they will be required to pay tribute upon entrance. They inquire what is the tribute, and are informed that it is a kiss; to which they reply with a smile, and enter. The Court is presided over by the God of Love in person, who is discovered reposing on a bed of roses, in a saloon hung with bows and arrows. Upon learning the matter in difference, he calls upon the barons of his Court, who, strange to say, are all birds, and proposes to them to resolve the question of respective merits. The falcon, the hawk, the jay, the magpie, and all the most quarrelsome birds, even to the cuckoo, declare for the knight as the more courteous and worthy lover; while the wren, the pigeon, the skylark, and the goldfinch, pronounce for the clerk. The dispute grows high, and the god is obliged to interpose in vindication of the respect due to the Court. The nightingale now advances, throws down his glove, and offers to sustain with arms against all comers the cause of the clerk. The challenge is accepted by the parrot, and the lists are prepared. Each lady arms her own champion. A rose-leaf forms the helmet, a leaf of marigold the coat or gown, and a blade of sharp grass the sword. The wren is appointed to keep silence. At the first charge the nightingale cuts through the helmet of his adversary, who, being disabled, surrenders his sword. The lady who loves the knight dies of despair. The birds assemble about her, erect a tomb of flowers, and engrave upon it these lines, which, assuredly, says the fabliau, were not made by the God of Love:

Ici est Florence enfoïe
Qui au chevalier fu amie.]

THE

HE lyfe so short, the craft so long to lerne,
Thassay so hard, so sharpe the conquering,
The dreadful joy, alway that flit'1 so yerne;
Al this mene I by Love, that my feeling
Astonieth with his wonderful werkyng
So sore ywis, that whan I on him thinke,
Naught wete I wel whether I flete or sinke.
For al be that I knowe not Love in dede,
Ne wot how that he quiteth folk hir hire,
Yet happeth me ful oft in bokes rede
Of his myracles, and of his cruel ire;
There rede I well, he wol be lorde and sire:
I dare not saye his strokes be sore;

But God save suche a lorde! I can no more.

Of usage, what for lust and what for lore,
On bookes rede I oft, as I you tolde.3
But wherfore speke I al this? Naught yore
Agon, it happed me to beholde

Upon a boke was ywriten with letters olde;
And thereupon, a certain thing to lerne,
The longe day ful fast I radde and yerne.

For out of the old fieldes, as men saith,
Cometh al this newe corne fro yere to yere;
And out of olde bokes, in good faith,

The Cambridge MS. reads slydeth. [The correct reading is slit, the contracted form of slideth.-W. W. S.]

2 Chaucer appears to be fond of declaring himself insensible to the fascinations of love. Thus, in Troilus and Cressida, book i.:

Ne dare to love for myn unliklynesse.'

3 He alludes in The House of Fame, also, to his studious habits:

For whan thy labour al don is,
And hast made alle thy reckennings,
Instead of rest and newe things,
Thou gost home to thyn house anon,

And also, dombe as a ston,

Thou syttest at another boke

Til fully dased is thy loke.'

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