Reserving homage to th' Athenian throne, To which the sovereign summon'd Palamon. Unknowing of the cause, he took his way, Mournful in mind, and still in black array.

The monarch mounts the throne, and, placed on high,

Commands into the court the beauteous Emily:
So call'd, she came; the senate rose, and paid
Becoming reverence to the royal maid.

And first soft whispers through th' assembly went
With silent wonder then they watch'd th' event:
All hush'd, the king arose with awful grace,
Deep thought was in his breast, and counsel in
his face.

At length he sigh'd; and, having first prepared
Th' attentive audience, thus his will declared;

"The cause and spring of motion, from above,
Hung down on earth the golden chain of love:
Great was th' effect, and high was his intent,
When peace among the jarring seeds he sent;
Fire, flood, and earth, and air, by this were bound,
And love, the common link, the new creation

crown'd.

The chain still holds; for though the forms decay,
Eternal matter never wears away:

The same first Mover certain bounds has placed,
How long those perishable forms shall last;
Nor can they last beyond the time assign'd
By that all-seeing and all-making Mind:
Shorten their hours they may, for will is free,
But never pass th appointed destiny.

So men oppress'd, when weary of their breath,
Throw off the burden, and suborn the death.
Then since those forms begin and have their end,
On some unalter'd cause they sure depend:
Parts of the whole are we; but God the whole,
Who gives us life and animating soul.
For nature cannot from a part derive
That being which the whole can only give;
He perfect, stable; but imperfect we,
Subject to change, and different in degree.
Plants, beasts, and man, and as our organs are,
We more or less of his perfection share.
But by a long descent, th' ethereal fire
Corrupts; and forms, the mortal part, expire:
As he withdraws his virtue, so they pass,
And the same matter makes another mass.

This law th' omniscient Power was pleased to

give,

That every kind should by succession live:
That individuals die, his will ordains;
The propagated species still remains.

The monarch oak, the patriarch of the trees,
Shoots rising up, and spreads by slow degrees;
Three centuries he grows, and three he stays
Supreme in state, and in three more decays;
So wears the paving pebble in the street,
And towns and towers their fatal periods meet;
So rivers, rapid once, now naked lie,
Forsaken of their springs, and leave their chan.
nels dry.

So man, at first a drop, dilates with heat,
Then form'd, the little heart begins to beat ;
Secret he feeds, unknowing, in the cell:

At length, for hatching ripe, he breaks the shell,
And struggles into breath, and cries for aid;
Then, helpless in his mother's lap is laid:
He creeps, he walks, and issuing into man,
Grudges their life, from whence his own began.
Reckless of laws, affects to rule alone,
Anxious to reign, and restless on the throne:
First vegetive, then feels, and reason last;
Rich of three souls, and lives all three to waste.
Some thus: but thousands more in flower of age:
For few arrive to run the latter stage.
Sunk in the first, in battle some are slain,
And others whelm'd beneath the stormy main.
What makes all this, but Jupiter the king,
At whose command we perish and we spring?
Then 'tis our best, since thus ordain'd to die,
To make a virtue of necessity.

Take what he gives, since to rebel is vain:
The bad grows better, which we well sustain;
And could we choose the time, and choose aright,
'Tis best to die, our honour at the height,
When we have done our ancestors no shame,
But served our friends, and well secured our

fame.

Then should we wish our happy life to close,
And leave no more for fortune to dispose:
So should we make our death a glad relief
From future shame, from sickness, and from grief:

Enjoying, while we live, the present hour,
And dying in our excellence and flower,
Then round our death-bed every friend should run,
And joy us of our conquest, early won:
While the malicious world with envious tears
Should grudge our happy end, and wish it theirs.
Since then our Arcite is with honour dead,
Why should we mourn, that he so soon is freed,
Or call untimely what the gods decreed?
With grief as just a friend may be deplored,
From a foul prison to free air restored.
Ought he to thank his kinsman, or his wife,
Could tears recall him into wretched life!
Their sorrow hurts themselves; on him is lost;
And worse than both, offends his happy ghost.
What then remains, but after past annoy,
To take the good vicissitude of joy ?

To thank the gracious gods for what they give;
Possess our souls, and while we live, to live?
Ordain we then two sorrows to combine,
And in one point th' extremes of grief to join,
That, thence resulting, joy may be renew'd,
As jarring notes in harmony conclude.
Then I propose, that Palamon should be
In marriage join'd with beauteous Emily;
For which already I have gain'd th' assent
Of my free people in full parliament.
Long love to her has borne the faithful knight,
And well deserved had fortune done him right:
'Tis time to mend her fault; since Emily
By Arcite's death from former vows is free.
If you, fair sister, ratify th' accord,
And take him for your husband and your lord;
'Tis no dishonour to confer your grace
On one descended from a royal race:
And were he less, yet years of service past
From grateful souls exact reward at last:
Pity is heaven's and yours: nor can she find
A throne so soft as in a woman's mind."

He said; she blush'd; and, as o'erawed by might,

Seem'd to give Theseus what she gave the knight.
Then turning to the Theban, thus he said:
"Small arguments are needful to persuade
Your temper to comply with my command:"
And, speaking thus, he gave Emilia's hand.
Smiled Venus, to behold her own true knight
Obtain the conquest, though he lost the fight,
And bless'd with nuptial bliss the sweet laborious

night.

[bride;

Eros and Anteros, on either side,
One fired the bridegroom, and one warm'd the
And long-attending Hymen from above
Shower'd on the bed the whole Idalian grove.
All of a tenor was their after life,
No day discolour'd with domestic strife;
No jealousy, but mutual truth believed,
Secure repose, and kindness undeceived.
Thus Heaven, beyond the compass of his thought,
Sent him the blessing he so dearly bought.

So may the queen of Love long duty bless,
And all true lovers find the same success!

Then from their breathing souls the sweets repair
To scent the skies, and purge th' unwholesome air:
Joy spreads the heart, and with a general song
Spring issues out, and leads the jolly months along.
In that sweet season, as in bed I lay,
And sought in sleep to pass the night away,
I turn'd my weary side, but still in vain,
Though full of youthful health, and void of pain:
Cares I had none, to keep me from my rest.
For love had never enter'd in my breast;
I wanted nothing fortune could supply,
Nor did she slumber till that hour deny.
I wonder'd then, but after found it true,
Much joy had dried away the balmy dew:
Seas would be pools, without the brushing air
To curl the waves; and sure some little care
Should weary Nature so, to make her want repair-
When Chanticleer the second watch had sung,
Scorning the scorner sleep, from bed I sprung;
And dressing, by the moon, in loose array,
Pass'd out in open air, preventing day,

And sought a goodly grove, as fancy led my way.
Straight as a line in beauteous order stood,
Of oaks unshorn, a venerable wood;
Fresh was the grass beneath, and every tree
At distance planted in a due degree,
Their branching arms in air with equal space
Stretch'd to their neighbours with a long embrace:
And the new leaves on every bough were seen,
Some ruddy-colour'd, some of lighter green.
The painted birds, companions of the spring,
Hopping from spray to spray, were heard to sing;
Both eyes and ears received a like delight,
Enchanting music, and a charming sight.
On Philomel I fix'd my whole desire,
And listen'd for the queen of all the quire;
Fain would I hear her heavenly voice to sing,
And wanted yet an omen to the Spring.

Attending long in vain, I took the way,
Which through a path but scarcely printed lay;
In narrow mazes oft it seem'd to meet,
And look'd as lightly press'd by fairy feet.
Wandering I walk'd alone; for still methought
To some strange end so strange a path was wrought.
At last it led me where an arbour stood,
The sacred receptacle of the wood:

This place unmark'd, though oft I walk'd the green,

In all my progress I had never seen:

And, seized at once with wonder and delight,
Gazed all around me, new to the transporting sight.
'Twas bench'd with turf, and goodly to be seen,
The thick young grass arose in fresher green:
The mound was newly made, no sight could pass
Betwixt the nice partitions of the grass,
The well united sods so closely lay

1

And all around the shades defended it from day:
For sycamores with eglantine were spread,
A hedge about the sides, a covering overhead.
And so the fragrant brier was wove between,
The sycamore and flowers were mix'd with green,
That nature seem'd to vary the delight,
And satisfied at once the smell and sight.
The master workman of the bower was known
Through fairy lands, and built for Oberon;
Who twining leaves with such proportion drew,
They rose by measure, and by rule they grew:
No mortal tongue can half the beauty tell,
For none but hands divine could work so well.
Both roof and sides were like a parlour made,
A soft recess, and a cool summer shade;
The hedge was set so thick, no foreign eye
The persons placed within it could espy:
But all that pass'd without with ease was seen,
As if nor fence nor tree was placed between.
'Twas border'd with a field; and some was plain
With grass; and some was sow'd with rising grain;
That (now the dew with spangles deck'd the
ground)

A sweeter spot of earth was never found.

I look'd, and look'd, and still with new delight;
Such joy my soul, such pleasures fill'd my sight:
And the fresh eglantine exhaled a breath,
Whose odours were of power to raise from death.
Nor sullen discontent, nor anxious care,
Even though brought thither, could inhabit there:
But thence they fled as from their mortal foe,
For this sweet place could only pleasure know.
Thus as I mused, I cast aside my eye
And saw a medlar-tree was planted nigh:
The spreading branches made a goodly show,
And full of opening blooms was every bough.

A goldfinch there I saw with gaudy pride
Of painted plumes, that hopp'd from side to side,
Still pecking as she pass'd; and still she drew
The sweets from every flower, and suck'd the dew
Sufficed at length, she warbled in her throat,
And tuned her voice to many a merry note,
But indistinct, and neither sweet nor clear,
Yet such as soothed my soul, and pleased my ear.
Her short performance was no sooner tried,
When she I sought, the nightingale, replied.
So sweet, so shrill, so variously she sung,
That the grove echoed, and the valleys rung:
And I so ravish'd with her heavenly note,

I stood intranced, and had no room for thought;
But all o'erpower'd with ecstacy of bliss,
Was in a pleasing dream of paradise.

At length I waked; and looking round the bower
Search'd every tree, and pried on every flower,
If any where by chance I might espy

The rural poet of the melody:

For still methought she sung not far away;
At last I found her on a laurel spray.

Close by my side she sat, and fair in sight,
Full in a line, against her opposite;
Where stood with eglantine the laurel twined;
And both their native sweets were well conjoin'd.
On the green bank I sat, and listen'd long
(Sitting was more convenient for the song);
Nor till her lay was ended could I move,
But wish'd to dwell for ever in the grove.
Only methought the time too swiftly pass'd,
And every note I fear'd would be the last.
My sight, and smell, and hearing were employ'd,
And all three senses in full gust enjoy'd.
And what alone did all the rest surpass,
The sweet possession of the fairy place;
Single, and conscious to myself alone

Of pleasures to th' excluded world unknown:
Pleasures which no where else were to be found,
And all Elysium in a spot of ground.

Thus while I sat, intent to see and hear,
And drew perfumes of more than vital air,
All suddenly I heard th' approaching sound
Of vocal music on th' enchanted ground:
A host of saints it seem'd, so full the quire
As if the bless'd above did all conspire
To join their voices, and neglect the lyre.
At length there issued from the grove behind
A fair assembly of the female kind:
A train less fair, as ancient fathers tell,
Seduced the sons of Heaven to rebel.

I pass their form and every charming grace;
Less than an angel would their worth debase;
But their attire, like liveries of a kind
All rich and rare, is fresh within my mind.
In velvet white as snow the troop was gown'd,
The seams with sparkling emeralds set around:
Their hoods and sleeves the same; and purfled o'er
With diamonds, pearls, and all the shining store
Of eastern pomp: their long descending train,
With rubies edged and sapphires, swept the plain :
High on their heads, with jewels richly set,
Each lady wore a radiant coronet.
Beneath the circles, all the quire was graced
With chaplets green on their fair foreheads placed.
Of laurel some, of woodbine many more;

And wreaths of agnus castus others bore:
These last, who with those virgin crowns were

dress'd,

Appear'd in higher honour than the rest.
They danced around, but in the midst was seen
A lady of a more majestic mien;

queen.

By stature and by beauty mark'd their sovereign
She in the midst began with sober grace;
Her servants' eyes were fix'd upon her face:
And, as she moved or turn'd, her motions view'd,
Her measures kept, and step by step pursued.
Methought she trod the ground with greater grace,
With more of godhead shining in her face;
And as in beauty she surpass'd the quire,
So nobler than the rest was her attire.
A crown of ruddy gold enclosed her brow,
Plain without pomp, and rich without a show:
A branch of agnus castus in her hand
She bore aloft, her sceptre of command!
Admired, adored by all the circling crowd;
For wheresoe'er she turn'd her face, they bow'd:
And as she danced, a roundelay she sung,
In honour of the laurel, ever young:
She raised her voice on high, and sung so clear,
The fawns came scudding from the groves to hear
And all the bending forest lent an ear.

At every close she made, th' attending throng
Replied, and bore the burden of the song;
So just, so small, yet in so sweet a note,
It seem'd the music melted in the throat.

Thus dancing on, and singing as they danced,
They to the middle of the mead advanced,
Till round my arbour a new ring they made,
And footed it about the secret shade.
O'erjoy'd to see the jolly troop so near,
But somewhat awed, I shook with holy fear;
Yet not so much, but that I noted well
Who did the most in song or dance excel.

Not long I had observed, when from afar
I heard a sudden symphony of war;
The neighing coursers, and the soldiers' cry,
And sounding trumps that seem'd to tear the
sky;

I saw soon after this, behind the grove
From whence the ladies did in order move,
Come issuing out in arms a warrior train,
That like a deluge pour'd upon the plain:
On barbed steeds they rode in proud array,
Thick as the college of the bees in May,
When swarming o'er the dusky fields they fly,
New to the flowers, and intercept the sky.
So fierce they drove, their coursers were so fleet
That the turf trembled underneath their feet.
To tell their costly furniture were long,
The summer's day would end before the song:
To purchase but the tenth of all their store
Would make the mighty Persian monarch poor.
Yet what I can I will; before the rest
The trumpets issued in white mantles dress'd:
A numerous troop, and all their heads around
With chaplets green of cerrial oak were crown'd;
And at each trumpet was a banner bound;
Which, waving in the wind, display'd at large
Their master's coat of arms and knightly charge,
Broad were the banners, and of snowy hue,
A purer web the silkworm never drew.
The chief about their necks the scutcheons wore,
With orient pearls and jewels powder'd o'er:
Broad were their collars too, and every one
Was set about with many a costly stone.
Next these of kings at arms a goodly train,
In proud array, came prancing o'er the plain :
Their cloaks were cloth of silver mix'd with gold,
And garlands green around their temples roll'd.
Rich crowns were on their royal scutcheons
placed,

With sapphires, diamonds, and with rubies graced.
And as the trumpets their appearance made,
So these in habits were alike array'd;
But with a pace more sober, and more slow:
And twenty, rank in rank, they rode arow.
The pursuivants came next, in number more;
And, like the heralds, each his scutcheon bore:
Clad in white velvet all their troop they led,
With each an oaken chaplet on his head.

Nine royal knights in equal rank succeed,
Each warrior mounted on a fiery steed:
In golden armour glorious to behold;

The rivets of their arms were nail'd with gold.
Their surcoats of white ermine fur were made:
With cloth of gold between, that cast a glittering
shade.

The trappings of their steeds were of the same;
The golden fringe e'en set the ground on flame,
And drew a precious trail: a crown divine
Of laurel did about their temples twine.

Three henchmen were for every knight assign'd,
All in rich livery clad, and of a kind:
White velvet, but unshorn, for cloaks they wore,
And each within his hand a truncheon bore:
The foremost held a helm of rare device;
A prince's ransom would not pay the price :
The second bore the buckler of his knight;
The third, of cornel-wood, a spear upright,
Headed with piercing steel, and polish'd bright.
Like to their lords', their equipage was seen,
And all their foreheads crown'd with garlands

green.

And, after these, came, arm'd with spear and A host so great as cover'd all the field: [shield, And all their foreheads, like the knights before, With laurels ever green were shaded o'er, Or oak, or other leaves of lasting kind, Tenacious of the stem, and firm against the wind. Some in their hands, beside the lance and shield, The boughs of woodbine or of hawthorn held, Or branches for their mystic emblems took Of palm, of laurel, or of cerria) oak.

Thus marching to the trumpet's lofty sound,
Drawn in two lines adverse they wheel'd around,
And in the middle meadow took their ground.
Among themselves the tourney they divide,
In equal squadrons, ranged on either side.
Then turn'd their horses' heads, and man to man,
And steed to steed opposed, the justs began.
They lightly set their lances in the rest.
And, at the sign, against each other press'd:
They met I, sitting at my ease, beheld
The mix'd events and fortunes of the field.
Some broke their spears, some tumbled horse and

man,

And round the fields the lighten'd coursers ran ;
An hour and more, like tides, in equal sway
They rush'd, and won by turns and lost the day.
At length the nine (who still together held)
Their fainting foes to shameful flight compell'd,
And with resistless force o'erran the field.
Thus, to their fame, when finish'd was the fight,
The victors from their lofty steeds alight:
Like them dismounted all the warlike train,
And two by two proceeded o'er the plain;
Till to the fair assembly they advanced,
Who, near the secret arbour, sung and danced.
The ladies left their measures at the sight,
To meet the chiefs returning from the fight.
And each, with open arms, embraced her chosen
knight.

Amid the plain a spreading laurel stood,
The grace and ornament of all the wood,
That pleasing shade they sought, a soft retreat
From sudden April showers, a shelter from the

heat.

Her leafy arms with such extent were spread,
So near the clouds was her aspiring head,
That hosts of birds that wing the liquid air,
Perch'd in the boughs, had nightly lodging there:
And flocks of sheep beneath the shade from far
Might hear the rattling hail and wintry war;
From heaven's inclemency here found retreat,
Enjoy'd the cool, and shunn'd the scorching heat:
A hundred knights might there at ease abide;
And every knight a lady by his side:
The trunk itself such odours did bequeath
That a Moluccan breeze to these was common
breath.

The lords and ladies, here approaching, paid
Their homage, with a low obeisance made:
And seem'd to venerate the sacred shade.
These rites perform'd, their pleasures they pursue,
With songs of love, and mix with measures new;
Around the holy tree their dance they frame,
And every champion leads his chosen dame.
I cast my sight upon the further field,
And a fresh object of delight beheld:
For, from the region of the west, I heard
New music sound, and a new troop appear'd
Of knights and ladies mix'd, a jolly band:
But all on foot they march'd, and hand in hand.
The ladies dress'd in rich simars were seen
Of Florence satin, flower'd with white and green,
And for a shade betwixt the bloomy gridelin.
The borders of their petticoats below
Were guarded thick with rubies on a row;
And every damsel wore upon her head
Of flowers a garland, blended white and red.
Attired in mantles all the knights were seen,
That gratified the view with cheerful green:
Their chaplets of their ladies' colours were [hair.
Composed of white and red, to shade their shining
Before the merry troop the minstrels play'd;
All in their masters' liveries were array'd,
And clad in green; and on their temples wore
The chaplets white and red their ladies bore,
Their instruments were various in their kind;
Some for the bow, and some for breathing wind
The psaltery, pipe, and hautboy's noisy band,
And the soft lute trembling beneath the touching
A tuft of daisies on a flowery lay
[hand.
They saw, and thitherward they bent their way:
To this both knights and dames their homage

made,

And due obeisance to the daisy paid.
And when the band of flutes began to play,
To which a lady sung a virelay;
And still at every close she would repeat
The burden of the song, "The daisy is so sweet,"
"The daisy is so sweet," when she begun
The troop of knights and dames continued on.
The concert and the voice so charm'd my ear,
And sooth'd my soul, that it was heaven to hear.

But soon their pleasure pass'd: at noon of day
The sun with sultry beams began to play:
Not Sirius shoots a fiercer flame from high,
When with his poisonous breath he blasts the sky:
Then droop'd the fading flowers (their beauty fled)
And closed their sickly eyes, and hung the head;
And, rivell'd up with heat, lay dying in their bed.
The ladies gasp'd, and scarcely could respire:
The breath they drew, no longer air, but fire;
The fainty knights were scorch'd, and knew not
where

To run for shelter, for no shade was near.
And after this the gathering clouds amain
Pour'd down a storm of rattling hail and rain,
And lightning flash'd betwixt; the field and
flowers,

Burn'd up before, were buried in the showers.
The ladies and the knights, no shelter nigh,
Bare to the weather and the wintry sky,
Were dropping wet, disconsolate and wan,
And through their thin array received the rain:
While those in white, protected by the tree,
Saw pass the vain assault, and stood from danger
free.

But as compassion moved their gentle minds,
When ceased the storm, and silent were the winds,
Displeased at what, not suffering, they had seen,
They went to cheer the faction of the green.
The queen in white array before her band,
Saluting took her rival by the hand;

So did the knights and dames, with courtly grace,
And with behaviour sweet their foes embrace.
Then thus the queen with laurel on her brow:
"Fair sister, I have suffer'd in your wo,
Nor shall be wanting aught within my power
For your relief in my refreshing bower."
That other answer'd with a lowly look,
And soon the gracious invitation took:
For ill at ease, both she and all her train
The scorching sun had borne, and beating rain;
Like courtesy was used by all in white, [knight,
Each dame a dame received, and every knight a
The laurel champions with their swords invade
The neighbouring forests, where the justs were
made,

And sere wood from the rotten hedges took,
And seeds of latent fire from flints provoke;
A cheerful blaze arose, and by the fire

They warm'd their frozen feet, and dried their wet

attire.

This bower was near my pleasant arbour placed,
That I could hear and see whatever pass'd.
The ladies sat, with each a knight between,
Distinguish'd by their colours, white and green:
The vanquish'd party with the victors join'd,
Nor wanted sweet discourse-the banquet of the
mind.

Meantime the minstrels play'd on either side,
Vain in their art, and for the mastery vied:
The sweet contention lasted for an hour,
And reach'd my secret arbour from the bower.
The sun was set; and Vesper, to supply
His absent beam, had lighted up the sky;
When Philomel, officious all the day
To sing the service of th' ensuing May,
Fled from her laurel shade, and wing'd her flight
Directly to the queen array'd in white;
And hopping, sat familiar on her hand,
A new musician, and increased the band.

The goldfinch, who, to shun the scalding heats
Had changed the medlar for a safer seat,
And hid in bushes scaped the bitter shower,
Now perch'd upon the lady of the flower;
And either songster holding out their throats,
And folding up their wings, renew'd their notes;
As if all day, preluding to the fight,
They only had rehearsed, to sing by night.
The banquet ended, and the battle done,
They danced by starlight and the friendly moon

And when they were to part, the laureate queen
Supplied with steeds the lady of the green;
iler and her train conducting on the way,
The moon to follow, and avoid the day.

This when I saw, inquisitive to know
The secret moral of the mystic show,
I started from my shade, in hopes to find
Some nymphs to satisfy my longing mind
And as my fair adventure fell, I found
A lady all in white with laurel crown'd,
Who closed the rear, and softly paced along,
Repeating to herself the former song.
With due respect my body I inclined,
As to some being of superior kind,
And made my court, according to the day,
Wishing her queen and her a happy May! [bow,
"Great thanks, my daughter!" with a gracious
She said; and I, so much desired to know
Of whence she was, yet fearful how to break
My mind, adventured humbly thus to speak;
"Madam, might I presume, and not offend?
So may the stars and shining moon attend
Your nightly sports, as you vouchsafe to tell
What nymphs they were who mortal forms excel,
And what the knights who fought in listed fields
so well."

To this the dame replied, " Fair daughter, know
That what you saw was all a fairy show:
And all those airy shapes you now behold
Were human bodies once, and clothed with earth-
ly mould;

Our souls, not yet prepared for upper light,
Till doomsday wander in the shades of night:
This ly holiday of all the year,

We privileged in sunshine may appear;
With songs and dance we celebrate the day,
And with due honours usher in the May.

At other times we reign by night alone,
And, posting through the skies, pursue the moon:
But when the morn arises, none are found,
For cruel Demogorgon walks the round,
And if he finds a fairy lag in light,

[night.
He drives the wretch before, and lashes into
"All courteous are by kind; and ever proud
With friendly offices to help the good.
In every land we have a larger space
Than what is known to you of mortal race:
Where we with green adorn our fairy bowers,
And even this grove, unseen before, is ours.
Know further, every lady clothed in white,
And, crown'd with oak and laurel every knight,
Are servants to the Leaf, by liveries known
Of innocence, and I myself am one!
Saw you not her, so graceful to behold,

In white attire, and crown'd with radiant gold?
The sovereign lady of our land is she,
Diana call'd, the queen of chastity:
And, for the spotless name of maid she bears,
That agnus castus in her hand appears:
And all her train with leafy chaplets crown'd
Were for unblamed virginity renown'd;
But those the chief and highest in command
Who bear those holy branches in their hand.
The knights adorn'd with laurel crowns are they
Whom death nor danger ever could dismay;
Victorious names, who made the world obey:
Who, while they lived, in deeds of arms excell'd,
And after death for deities were held.

But those who wear the woodbine on their brow
Were knights of love, who never broke their vow:
Firm to their plighted faith, and ever free
From fears and fickle chance and jealousy.
The lords and ladies who the woodbine bear
As true as Tristram and Isotta were."
"But what are those," said 1, "the unconquer'd
nine,

Who, crown'd with laurel-wreaths, in golden ar

mour shine?

Who bear the bows were knights in Arthur's reign,,
Twelve they, and twelve the peers of Charlemagne:
For bows the strength of brawny arms imply,
Emblems of valour and of victory.
Behold an order yet of newer date,

Doubling their number, equal in their state;
Our England's ornament, the crown's defence,
In battle, brave protectors of their prince;
Unchanged by fortune, to their sovereign true,
For which their manly legs are bound with blue.
These, of the garter call'd, of faith unstain'd,
In fighting fields the laurel have obtain'd,
And well repaid those honours which they gain'd.
The laurel wreaths were first by Cæsar worn,
And still they Caesar's successors adorn:
One leaf of this is immortality,

And more of worth than all the world can buy."
"One doubt remains," said I, "the dames in
green,

What were their qualities, and who their queen ?" "Flora commands," said she, "those nymphs and knights,

Who lived in slothful ease, and loose delights:
Who never acts of honour durst pursue,
The men inglorious knights, the ladies all untrue:
Who, nursed in idleness and train'd in courts,
Pass'd all their precious hours in plays and sports,
Till death behind came stalking on unseen,
And wither'd, like the storm, the freshness of their

green.

These and their mates enjoy the present hour,
And therefore pay their homage to the Flower.
But knights in knightly deeds should persevere,
And still continue what at first they were;
Continue and proceed in honour's fair career.
No room for cowardice or dull delay,

From good to better they should urge their way.
For this with golden spurs the chiefs are graced,
With pointed rowels arm'd to mend their haste;
For this with lasting leaves their brows are bound;
For laurel is the sign of labour crown'd,
Which bears the bitter blast, nor shaken falls to
From winter winds it suffers no decay, [ground:
For ever fresh and fair, and every month is May.
Even when the vital sap retreats below,
Even when the hoary head is hid in snow,
The life is in the leaf; and still between

The fits of falling snows appears the streaky green.
Not so the flower, which lasts for little space,
A short-lived good, and an uncertain grace;
This way and that the feeble stem is driven,
Weak to sustain the storms and injuries of heaven.
Propp'd by the spring, it lifts aloft its head,
But of a sickly beauty, soon to shed;
In summer living, and in winter dead.
For things of tender kind, for pleasure made,
Shoot up with swift increase, and sudden are de-
cay'd."

With humble words, the wisest I could frame, And proffer'd service, Í repaid the dame :

That, of her grace, she gave her maid to know
The secret meaning of this moral show.
And she, to prove what profit I had made
Of mystic truth, in fables first convey'd,
Demanded, till the next returning May,
Whether the leaf or flower I would obey?
I chose the leaf; she smiled with sober cheer,
And wish'd me fair adventure for the year;
And gave me charms and sigils, for defence
Against ill tongues that scandal innocence:
"But I," said she, "my fellows must pursue;
Already pass'd the plain and out of view."

We parted thus; I homeward sped my way,
Bewilder'd in the wood till dawn of day,
And met the merry crew who danced about the

May.

Then late refresh'd with sleep, I rose to write
The visionary vigils of the night.-
Blush, as thou mayst, my little book, for shame!
Nor hope with homely verse to purchase fame;
For such thy Maker chose; and so design'd
Thy simple style to suit thy lowly kind.

THE WIFE OF BATH.

HER TALE.

IN days of old, when Arthur fill'd the throne, Whose acts and fame to foreign lands were blown

The king of elves and little fairy queen
Gambol'd on heaths, and danced on every green:
And where the jolly troop had led the round,
The grass unbidden rose, and mark'd the ground.
Nor darkling did they dance, the silver light
Of Phoebe served to guide their steps aright,
And, with their tripping pleased, prolong'd the

night.

Her beams they follow'd, where at full she play'd,
Nor longer than she shed her horns they staid;
From thence with airy flight to foreign lands
convey'd.

Above the rest our Britain held they dear;
More solemnly they kept their sabbaths here,
And made more spacious rings, and revell'd half
the year.

I speak of ancient times; for now the swain
Returning late may pass the woods in vain,
And never hope to see the nightly train:
In vain the dairy now with mint is dress'd,
The dairy maid expects no fairy guest
To skim the bowls, and after pay the feast.
She sighs and shakes her empty shoes in vain,
No silver penny to reward her pain:

For priests, with prayers and other goodly geer,
Have made the merry goblins disappear;
And where they play'd their merry pranks before
Have sprinkled holy water on the floor:

And friars, that through the wealthy regions run
Thick as the motes that twinkle in the sun,
Resort to farmers rich, and bless their halls,
And exorcise the beds, and cross the walls,
This makes the fairy quires forsake the place,
When once 'tis hallow d with the rites of grace:
But in the walks where wicked elves have been,
The learning of the parish now is seen,
The midnight parson posting o'er the green,
With gown tuck'd up to wakes; for Sunday next,
With humming ale encouraging his text;
Nor wants the holy leer to country girl betwixt.
From fiends and imps he set the village free,
There haunts not any incubus but he.
The maids and women need no danger fear
To walk by night, and sanctity so near:
For by some haycock, or some shady thorn,
He bids his beads both even song and morn.
It so befell, in this King Arthur's reign,
A lusty knight was pricking o'er the plain;
A bachelor he was, and of the courtly train.
It happen'd as he rode, a damsel gay
In russet robes to market took her way;
Soon on the girl he cast an amorous eye,
So straight she walk'd, and on her pasterns high
If seeing her behind he liked her pace,
Now turning short, he better liked her face:
He lights in haste and full of youthful fire,
By force accomplish'd his obscene desire.
This done, away he rode, not unespied,
For swarming at his back the country cried;
And once in view they never lost the sight,
But, seized and pinion'd, brought to court the

knight.

Then courts of kings were held in high renown, Ere made the common brothels of the town: There, virgins honourable vows received. But chaste as maids in monasteries lived, The king himself, to nuptial ties a slave, No bad example to his poets gave; And they, not bad, but in a vicious age, Had not, to please the prince, debauch'd the stage. Now what should Arthur do? he loved the

knight;

But sovereign monarchs are the source of right!
Moved by the damsel's tears and common cry,
He doom'd the brutal ravisher-to die.
But fair Geneura rose in his defence,
And pray'd so hard for mercy from the prince,
That to his queen the king th' offender gave,
And left it in her power to kill or save.
This gracious act the ladies all approve,
Who thought it much a man should die for love:
And with their mistress join'd in close debate
(Covering their kindness with dissembled hate),
If not to free him, to prolong his fate.
At last agreed, they call'd him by consent
Before the queen and female parliament.
And the fair speaker, rising from the chair,
Did thus the judgment of the house declare:
"Sir knight, though I have ask'd thy life, yet still

Thy destiny depends upon my will;
Nor hast thou other surety than the grace
Not due to thee from our offended race.