paintings unappropriated, when it contains landscapes as lovely as ever eyes dwelt upon; barnyard and rural pictures, wherewith many a heart might be gladdened; and groupings of godlike forms and countenances, worthy to lead the conception of the most rapt painter. Nor is this wonderful collection any less remarkable for its diversity than it is for its excellence, for here are heroes than whom none are more majestic, women than whom none are lovelier; here are sights of nature in her gayest and mildest moods, and of the fierce strife of battle; here are portly monks and smiling nuns; choleric stewards and burly millers; mumbling friars, lecherous clerks, cuckolded husbands and gamesome wives. All this have we disposed and arranged into multiform combinations by sublime genius, and yet the great world wags on and heeds them not.

It is a curious circumstance, when the chivalrous bias of his nature is considered, that throughout Chaucer's voluminous writings, scarcely anything is said of the throng of fair and virtuous women that ornamented the brilliant court of Edward the Third and his lovely Queen Philippa; or of the host of great and gallant men who swelled the armies of their sovereign, and made his arms invincible. In the same age with the poct, and in his own land, lived warriors with whose exploits all Europe resounded, and which even vied with the fabulous deeds of Arthur and his round table knights. It was a period prolific in heroes, among whom none were bolder or more courageous than his own countrymen, or more signalized by the virtues of gentleness, honor and generosity. The great battles of Cressy and Poitiers had just been fought, and Europe yet rang with the fame of the victors' prowess, and the story of their knightly courtesy. But Chaucer marks them not. We listen, in silent expectation, to hear a tide of exulting song poured from the bounding strings of his harp, as our imagination pictures him,

"With all a poet's ecstasy

In varying cadence, soft or strong,

Sweeping the sounding chords along ;"

But the vision fades away; his strings are mute; the harp

"is dumb

That knew all tones of passion."

And while we sit musing, Fancy again claims its prerogative; we see the Black Prince and his brother, scar-worn John of Gaunt, the chivalrous De Mauny, the heroic Chandois and the brave Derby, stalk mournfully past, seeming to reproach the poet who refused to celebrate their fame.

It is less to be wondered at that he refrained from celebrating the achievements of King Edward himself, or of his brother the Duke of Lancaster, for the pride of Chaucer was of that noble kind which disdained adulation. But it is truly singular, that a poet, whose pictures of women are so exquisitely tender and delicate, should neglect to do homage to the matchless purity of Queen Philippa, whom all hearts loved; and who was of such "distinguished beauty that the statuaries of those days used to make her their model for images of the Virgin Mary, who was always figured young and beautiful.""

If we further consider, that Chaucer was a poet who delighted to describe splendid pageants and processions; that he was himself a favorite inmate of a court, which was occupied by frequent spectacles of tournaments and martial exercises, and which has been justly named "the theatre of romantic elegance;" that King Edward was from inclination and policy the enthusiastic patron of chivalry and romance; and that he had just instituted the order of the blue garter out of his love for the virtuous

1 Hearne.

Countess of Salisbury, in the midst of feasts and joustings that had been proclaimed throughout Europe; and which were graced by the beautiful and brave of France, Scotland, and Brabant; of Germany, Hainault and Burgundy. If we pause over these facts, it will also appear remarkable, that upon these rich themes -which only required a faithful description to have rendered them as deeply interesting as the most romantic fiction-Chaucer utters no sound. And we vent our disappointment by censuring him because he did not celebrate such noble deeds and brilliant scenes with the same magic pen that transferred to immortality the simple habits and customs of his countrymen, and the rural scenery of his native land; with the melody of its birds, the fragrance of its flowers, its cool and limpid waters, its balmy mornings, and its gladsome months of May.

CHAPTER IV.

Resemblances of Poets-Chaucer and Spenser.-Chaucer and his Translators and Imitators.-Specimens of Dryden's powers as a Translator of Chaucer.

To trace the imitations of poets, or their casual resemblances to one another, would be an occupation far from uninteresting. Not that we could, for an instant, countenance that paltry, envious and dastardly disposition which charges wilful plagiarism upon all resemblances. But the speculation would be curious, as exhibiting to us identical subjects variously considered by master minds; would present to our view, each new beauty or modification of beauty, at the moment of its engraftment; would enable us to institute comparisons between the various artists, and to pronounce intelligently upon the different degrees of skill and ingenuity, or of freshness and originality displayed; and would, finally, cause us to award to each author, with some precision, his particular rank, and yield to him his lawful share of our homage and veneration. It would be delightful and instructive, for instance, to trace the strong and terse thoughts of Chaucer, through the accumulating dust and rubbish of intervening poets, till their rough and manly quaintness are exchanged for Spenser's dreamy visions and daring metaphors, or for Shakspeare's fluent and almost inspired reasonings: and thence again, to witness it, like a pure stream, sink into the earth and roll on, hidden from ordinary sight, till in due time it bursts forth sparkling with the stately and awful imagery of Milton, the elegant finish of Dryden, or the quiet case and dignity of Wordsworth.

Such a study would prove no less absorbing to the philosopher than genial to the poet; and if systematically pursued would challenge the attention of both. Without daring to lay claim to either of these august titles, the writer of these pages has ventured to jot down a few resemblances, which, while they were yet freshly perceived, occasioned throes of thought that have since been rendered doubly pleasant, by the charm which memory ever throws around its objects.

They

Those poets who follow nature most closely; who quell not, but mark the impulses of their own hearts; and who narrowly study their fellow-men in the varied ramifications of their habits, passions and affections; who endorse upon a broad and generous fund of common sense (that best abused of all terms), the higher and more attractive attributes of fancy and imagination, and who spurn the tyrannical guidance of custom, disdaining the manifold trickeries to which the poetical mob resorts; will necessarily possess the highest originality, and the most enduring power; and be the wells from whence their more artistical and perhaps refined brethren will draw inspiration. To the former, these bear-in theory, as certainly as they do in chronological fact-the same relation as Columbus does to modern navigators. are the gifted discoverers of new regions in the world of thought, which a later, more polished, and more scientific generation shall explore, and cultivate, and beautify. We do not mean to assert the eminently fallacious dogma, that Nature-which is the soul of Poetry-can only be found in a state of semi-barbarism, or amid scenes of rural or pastoral life. For it dwells no less constantly in the great city, the populous mart, and the most advanced stages of society, than in the secluded forest or the earliest youth of a nation. The inmates of the stateliest palace are as truly her children, and bow to the supremacy of her laws no less reverentially than their humbler brethren of the field or mountain. The gilded hall and the whitewashed cot, both are