CHAP. XXIX. CHAUCER'S POEM ENTITLED THE BOOK OF THE СНАР. 1369. poem. ON occasion of the death of the duchess Blanche, Chaucer produced an epicedium, or Plan of the funeral poem, entitled the Book of the Duchess. The plan of this poem is chiefly historical, and many passages of it have already been inserted in our narrative of the courtship of John of Gaunt with the heiress of Lancaster. It is however given in the Alcyone. form of a vision; and is beautifully prefaced with a recital of the pathetic tale of Ceyx and Alcyone, from the eleventh book of Ovid's Metamorphoses, which Chaucer feigns himself to have read immediately before he fell asleep. A parallel is thus silently produced between the untimely fate of Ceyx Ceyx and XXIX. 1369. who was shipwrecked, and of Blanche, who CHAP. died in the flower of her life, being under thirty years of age; as well as between the exemplary conjugal affection and sorrow of Alcyone, and the anguish excited in the breast of John of Gaunt for the loss of his duchess. Chaucer. Having perused this tale of the Roman Vision of poet, Chaucer falls asleep; but, though sleeping, recollects the preceding circumstances, and considers himself as in bed. He dreams that he is roused from his slumbers by the blowing of a horn, the trampling of horses, and the confused voices of men, preparing for a great hunt. Chaucer rises to join in the chace, and finds that it is the hunting of the emperor Octonyen, or Octavien, the hero of one of the romances of chivalry. The hunt lasts a long time: it being over, Chaucer wanders from the rest of the company; and, following a whelp, who comes up to a Percy on Ancient Metrical Romances, No. 19, apud Reliques, Vol. III. XXIX. 1369. CHAP. him unexpectedly, and fawns upon him with the familiarity of an old acquaintance, he is led, through a beautiful valley, enamelled with flowers, adorned with trees, and peopled with all kinds of gay and sportive animals, to a large oak, at the foot of which is seated a knight, of noble appearance, clothed in black, and seemingly immersed in disconsolate and melancholy contemplations. This knight is John of Gaunt. In a little while, though Chaucer represents himself as wholly a stranger to the knight, they enter into conversation. That they have no previous acquaintance, is apparently feigned, that the illustrious mourner may with the greater probability and propriety enter into the history of his sorrows. Affliction of John of Gaunt. Chaucer dwells emphatically and elaborately upon the depth of his friend's sufferings and anguish. While as yet he had only remarked him unobserved, Chaucer exclaims, It was grete wonder that nature Might suffre any créature To have soche sorow', and he not ded. ver. 467. And Gaunt, venting his anguish in soliloquy, CHAP is made to say, Alas, o dethe! what eyleth the, That thou n'oldest have taken me, Whan that thou toke my lady swete? ver. 481. When he had uttered his complaint, his spirits seemed suddenly to fail him, and his blood retreated to his heart; and that made al His hewé chaunge, and wexen grene 1369. And pale. ver. 496. Chaucer accosts, and expresses a wish to console, him; for which the knight courteously thanks the poet, but adds, No man ne may my sorowe glade, wouldest not. C wax. lost, destroyed. CHAP. 1369. Me's wo, that I live hourés twelve ! Of any sorowe, let him se me; e I wretche, that dethe hath made al naked h And this is paine withouten rede, ver. 563. After many exclamations of this disconsolate nature, the hero at length grows more composed, and, to gratify the curiosity of the poet, enters into the history of his loves. He describes the person and accomplishments of Blanche, the coyness and modesty with which she received his courtship, her slow ever. f wishes. " aversion. uncertainty, doubt. |