that notwithstanding the poems of a grandson of France" were not even printed in that country until 1809, they were translated shortly after they were composed; though the MS. which contains the translations, remained till lately unheeded among the treasures of the British Museum'. Within the last six months, an opulent member of the Roxburghe Club, Mr. Watson Taylor, has had the good taste to print the MS. in question; though, either from being bound down by the vow which is supposed to be taken on admission into the fraternity, or from a littleness of feeling worthy only of a bookseller, who values books by no other criterion than the Hudibrastic one, that "The value of a thing

Is as much money as 'twill bring;" the impression is confined to his confrères. By the world, then, the poetry of Charles d'Orleans must still be read in the original; and as the rarity of the contemporary English version will render it a sealed book to the majority of our readers, it is our purpose to present them with some extracts from the originals, the contemporary translations alluded to, and the elegant versions in the "London Magazine." A few words are first necessary on the volume printed by Mr. Watson Taylor. That gentleman has entitled his book," English Poems by Charles Duke of Orleans:" but there can be little doubt, that not a single line of them was the production of that distinguished individual. It will be seen from our extracts, that they are close, nay, almost literal translations of the French poems; hence, to assign them in their English dress to the duke, and to call them, as Mr. Watson Taylor has done in his preface, " imitations," are unequalled specimens of critical acumen. We have done what we do not believe that gentleman or the person he employed ever took the trouble to do-carefully examined a MS. of selections from Orleans's works in the British Museum, among which are three original "Rondels" in English; but they are so decidedly inferior to the translations in the MS. printed by Mr. Watson Taylor, that it is scarcely possible the duke could have been the translator of his own

tributed, though we know not with what justice, to Mr. Carey, the translator of Dante.

1 Harleian MS. 682. It would appear, however, that the contents of that volume were parts of a larger collection; for the first poem which occurs in it is only a fragment of the long article which occupies twenty pages in the original in the printed volume, namely, from p. 1 to p. 20. The extract translated is that which occurs in p. 18. 2 Royal MSS. 16 F. 2.

writings. But our readers shall judge for themselves; first observing that our extracts from the original French are taken from the printed copy.

En songe, souhaid et penser,

Vous voye chacun jour de sepmaine,
Combien qu'estes de moy loingtaine,
Belle très loyaument amée.

Pour ce qu'estes la mieulx parée,
De toute plaisance mondaine :
En songe, souhaid et pensée,
Vous voy chascun jour de sepmaine.
Du tout vous ay m'amour donnée,
Vous en povez estre certaine :
Ma seule Dame souveraine,

De mon las cueur moult desirée,

En songe, souhaid et pensée.—p. 208.

Contemporary translation in the Harleian MS. 682.

In thought, in wisshis, and in dremes soft,
God wot how that y se yow nyght and day,
Albe that fer y am from yow away,
Whom that y love as feythfully y ought
This say y me, not yow, that ye are wrought
The most plesaunt that evir yet y say1;
In thought, in wisshis, and in dremes soft,
God wot how that y se yow nyght and day.
My love is youre, for noon except y nought
Be seid 2, so thinke ye trouthe y to yow say,
But my soul lady are ye toy day
Withouten choyse as of new fangill thought.
In thought in wisshis and in dremes soft

God wot how that y se yow nyght and day.-f. 74.

Translation in the " London Magazine."

In dream, and wish, and thought, my Love,

I see thee every day;

So doth my heart to meet thee move,

When thou art far away.

For that all worldly joys above

Thou shinest in thy array;

In dream, and wish, and thought, my Love,

I see thee every day.

No care, no hope, no aim I prove,

That is not thine to sway:

O! trust me, while on earth I rove,

Thy motions I obey,

In dream, and wish, and thought, my Love.

I saw.

2 Beside.

3 sole.

till I die.

Faiste d'or et de saffirs bleux :
Car saffir est nommé la jame
De Loyauté et l'or eureux :
Bien luy appartiennent ces deux;
Car Eur et Loyauté pourtraire
Voulu en la très-débonnaire,
Dieu qui la fist de ses deux mains
Et forma merveilleusement;
C'estoit a parler plainement,

Le trésor de tous biens mondains.

N'en parlons plus, mon cueur se pame,
Quant il oyt les fais vertueux
D'elle qui estoit sans nul blame,
Comme jurent celles et ceulx
Qui congnoissoient ses conseulx.
Si croy que Dieu l'a voulu traire
Vers luy, pour parer son repaire
De paradis, où sont les saints:
Car c'est d'elle bel parement,
Que l'on nommoit communément
Le trésor de tous biens mondains.

De rien ne servent pleurs ne plains;
Tous mourrons tart ou briefvement,
Nul ne peust garder longuement

Le trésor de tous biens mondains.-p. 237.

Contemporary translation.

I have the obit of my lady dere

Made in the churche of love full solempnely;
And for hir sowle the service and prayere,
In thought waylyng, have songe hit hevyly.
The torchis sett of sighis pitously,
Which was with sorowe sett a flame,
The toumbe is made als to the same

"In the MS. in the British Museum, it is Cy gist bravement, which is a better reading."

Of karfull cry depaynted all with teeris,
The which richely is write abowt
That here lo lith, withouten dowt,
The hool tresoure of all worldly blys.
Of gold on hir ther lith an ymage clere,
With safyr blew ysett so inrichely;
For hit is write and seide how the safere
Doth token trouthe, and gold to ben happy;
The which that welbisetteth hir hardily:
For whi, hit was an ewrous' trewe madame,
And of goodnes ay flowren may hir name;
For God the which that made hir so, y wys,
To make such oon me thynke a myght ben prowt
For so she was, as right well be she mowt
The hool tresoure of all worldly blys.
O pese, no more, myn hert, astoneth here,
To here me prayse hir vertu so trewly,
Of hir that had no fawt, withouten were 2;
As all the world hit saith as well as y,
The whiche that knewe hir deedis inthorowly.
God hath hir tane, I trowe, for hir good fame,
His hevene the more to joy with sport and
The more to plese and comfort his seyntis,
For, certis, well may she comfort a rowt3,
Noon is the seynt she was here so devout,
The hool tresoure of all worldly blys.

game,

Not vaylith now though y complayne this,
Almost we deye therto, so lete us lowt,
Ffor ay to kepe ther is no wight so stowt
The hool tresoure of all worldly blys.-f. 44".
Translation in the "London Magazine."
To make my lady's obsequies
My love a minster wrought,
And in the chantry, service there
Was sung by doleful thought;

The tapers were of burning sighs,

That light and odour gave;

And sorrows, painted o'er with tears,

Enlumined her grave;

And round about, in quaintest guise,

Was carved: "Within this tomb there lies

The fairest thing in mortal eyes."

Above her lieth spread a tomb
Of gold and sapphires blue;
The gold doth show her blessedness,
The sapphires mark her true :

1 happy.

3

2 war, i. e. dispute?

a large assemblage of persons.

For blessedness and truth in her
Were livelily portray'd,

When gracious God with both his hands
Her goodly substance made:

He fram'd her in such wond'rous wise,
She was, to speak without disguise,
The fairest thing in mortal eyes.

No more, no more: my heart doth faint
When I the life recall

Of her, who lived so free from taint,
So virtuous deem'd by all :
That in herself was so complete
I think that she was ta'en

By God to deck his paradise,

And with his saints to reign;

For well she doth become the skies,
Whom, while on earth, each one did prize
The fairest thing in mortal eyes.

But nought our tears avail, or cries:
All soon or late in death shall sleep:
Nor living wight long time may keep
The fairest thing in mortal eyes.

But we have not room for another specimen of this kind. The following are the three English "Rondels," which may safely be attributed to the Duke of Orleans; and which we insert as evidence of our remark, that he was not the translator of his own poetry:

1

"By helis body," the writer in the "London Magazine" says, "I suppose is meant one deprived of health or happiness. The word occurs in Chaucer, but with a difference in the spelling and quantity: A wight in torment and in drede

And healelesse.

Troilus and Creseide, b. v. fol. 180, ed. 1602."