not as a mere rhyming translator, but as a man who had an honest gift of song and felt their poetry. There passes through the reader's mind a funeral pomp of men who have been carried high on fortune's wheel, and then been bruised to death by its descending stroke. The poem warns the mighty to be humble and the lowly to be well content:

Who climbeth highest on Fortúnés whele
And suddenly to riches doth ascend
An unware turn, afore seen never a dele,
When he lest weeneth maketh him descend.
Fro suché changes who may him defend

But they that be with povert nat dismayed And can with little hold themselves apayed.

That is the measure and the spirit of the poem. The measure is that which Chaucer used in "The Court of Love," in "The Assembly of Foules," in "Troilus and Cressida," in the Man of Law's Tale, and the Clerk's Tale of Griselda. This seven-lined stanza of heroic verse, with its odd line in the middle, where it stands as the last of a quatrain of alternate rhyme and first of a pair of couplets, was throughout the fifteenth century the favourite measure of our poets.

THE STORIE OF THEBES is told by Lydgate as another Canterbury Tale. After a sickness he went in a black cope "on palfrey slender, long and lene," with rusty bridle, and his man before him carrying an empty pack, to the shrine at Canterbury, and by accident put up there at the inn where Chaucer's pilgrims were assembled. There he saw the host of the "Tabard," who thought him lean for a monk, promised him a large pudding, prescribed nut-brown ale after supper, with anise, cummin, or coriander seed at bedtime. But the best medicine is cheerful company. So Dan John supped with the pilgrims, went home with them next day, and contributed for his story the tale of the tragic end of Thebes; making a pause in it when, at nine in the morning, they went down the steep hill at Boughton under Blean. The story is that of the "Thebaid " of Statius, as it had been manipulated by romancers of the Middle Ages. This is the Prologue:

HERE BEGINNETH THE PROLOGUE OF THE STORIE

OF THEBEES.

When brighté Phebús, passed was the Ram
Midde of Apríl, and into the Bulle cam
And Saturne oldé, with his frostie face
In Virginé, i-taken had his place

Maléncolike, and slow of motión
And was also, in th'oppositión
Of Lucina the Mooné, moist and pale
That many showers fro heauen made to fail;
When Aurora, was in the morowe red
And Iupiter, within the Crabbés head
Hath take his paleis, and his mansión;
The lustie tyme, and joly freshe seasón
When that Florá, the noble mightie quene
The soil hath clad in newé tender grene
With her flourés craftely i-meint,
Braunche and bough with red and white depeint,
Fletyng the baume on hillés and on vales,
The time, in sooth, when Canterburie tales
Complet and told, at many sondrie stage
Of men's estatés, in the pilgrimage,
Eueriché man like unto his degree,
Some of disport, some of moralitee
Some of knighthodé, loue and gentillesse
And some also of parfite holinesse,

And some also, in soth, of ribaudrie,

To maken laughter in the companie ;

Each admitted, for none would other greve;

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1 Floures. Sound here in "Fl" each letter, so as to obtain the effect of another syllable. The same occurs in the "br" of "branch" in the next line, and in other places.

Like as the Cook, the Miller and the Reve Acquitted themselves, shortly to conclude, Boistouslie in their termés rude

When they hadden well dronken of the bowl;
And eke also, with his pilled nolle,
The Pardoner, beardles all his chin,
His glasie eyes and face of Cherubin,
Tellyng a tale to anger with the Frere:
As openly, the storie can you lere
Word by word, with euery circumstance
Echone i-writ and put in remembrance
By him that was, if I shall not faine,
Floure of Poetés, throughout all Bretaine,
Whiche soothly haddé most of excellence
In Rhetoriké, and in eloquence.

Read his making, who list the truthé finde
Whiche neuer shall appallen in my minde,
But al waie fresh ben in my memorie,

To whom be youe, praise, honour and glorie
Of well saying, first in our language
Chief Registrer, in this pilgrimage,
All that was told, forgetting nought at all
Feignéd talés, nor thing historiall,
With many proverbes, divers and uncouthe,
By the rehearsal of his sugared mouthe
Of eché thingé, keeping in substaunce
The sentence whole, withouten variaunce,
Bolting the chaffé, sothly for to saine,
Enluminyng the trué pickéd greine
By crafty writing of his sawés sweet
Fro the time that they with him did meet.
First the pilgrimés, sothly euerichone
At the Tabarde assembled one by one,
And fro Sothwerké, sothly for to seye,
To Canterburie ridyng on their weye,
Telling a tale, as I rehearsé can,
Like as the hoste assignéd every man.
None so hardie his biddyng disobeie.
And in this while that the pilgrimés leie
At Canterburie, well lodged one and all,
I not in sothé what I maie it call,
Hap or Fortúné in conclusióun
That me befel, to entre into the toun
The holy saint plainly for to visite
After my sickeness, vowés to acquite,
In a cope of black, and not of grene,
On a palfray, slender, long and lene,
With rustie bridell, made not for the sale,
My man toforné, with a voidé male,
That of fortúné tooke mine inne anone
Where the pilgrims were lodged euerichone,

The samé tyme, their gouernour the hoste
Stondyng in hallé, full of wind and boste
Like to a man wonderous stern and fierce,
Which spake to me, and said anon, "Dan Pierce,
Dan Dominic, Dan Godfrey or Clemént,
Ye be welcomé, newly into Kent,
Though your bridle have neither boss ne bell,
Besechyng you that ye will straightway tell
First of your name, and als of what countre
Withouten moré, shortly, that ye be,
That look so pale and all deuoid of blood,

2 Youe, given.

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As I haue right, I haue thereof no shame."
"Dan Ihon" (he said) "well brouké ye your name.
Though ye be solé, beth right glad and light!
Praiyng you to sup with us this night,
And ye shall haué made, at your deuis,
A greaté puddyng, or a rounde hagis
A franche moile, a tansy or a froise."
To been a Monké, slender is your coise.
Ye haue been sick, I dare mine hed assure,
Or lette feden in a faint pastúre.

Lift vp your head! be glad! také no sorowe
And ye should homé ride with vs to morowe.

I saié when ye rested haue your fill,
After supper slepé will doen none ill;

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If nedé be, sparé ye not to blowe.

To holde winde, by myne oppinion,

3 I not, I know not.

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1 Making, poetry. Black, pronounced b-lack. In next line "palfray" with "fr" separately sounded.

5 Voide male, empty travelling bag; French "maille." bags are still known as "mails."

Our post

And layen aside thy professioun

Thou shalt not choosé, nor thy self withdrawe If any mirthe be founden in thy mawe,

Like the custome of this companie

For none so proudé that dare me denie,
Knight nor knaué, chanon, priest ne nonne,
To tell a talé, plainly as thei konne
When I assign, and see time oportune
And for that we our purpose wol contune.
We will homeward the samé custom vse,
And thou shalt not, pleinly, thee excuse.
Be now well waré, studie well to night!
But for all this, be thou of harté light,
Thy wit shall be the sharper and the bet."

And we anone weren to soper set
And servéd well vnto our pleasance,
And soon there after, by good gouernance,
Unto bedde goeth euery maner wight.
And toward morowe, as sone as it was light,

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6 Franche moile was a dish made chiefly of eggs and sheep's fat. Tansy was a dish made of eggs and cream, flavoured, sweetened, and baked in a shallow dish. Froise was a pancake with sliced bacon in it. 7 Route, snore. First-English "hrutan," to snore. snort, rout in sleeping.

Euery pilgrim, bothé bet and worse,

As bade our hosté, tooke anon his horse
When the sonné rose in the East full clere
Fully in purpose to come to dinere
Unto Ospring, and breaké there our fast.
And when we wern fro Canterburie past
Nought the space but of a bowés draught,
Our host in hasté hath my bridell caught
And to me said, as if it were in game,

"Come forth, Dan Johan, by your christen name, 160
And let us make some maner mirth or play.
Shut your portess,' a twentie deuill waie,

Is no disporte so to patter and saie;

It woll make your lippés wonder draie.

Tellé some tale, and make thereof a iape

For by my rouncie, thou shalt it not escape!

But preaché not of noné holiness.

Ginné some tale, of mirth or of gladness.
And noddé not, with thiné heuie becke;
Tell us some thing, that draweth to effecte
Onely of ioyé, maké no lenger let!"
And when I sawé, it would be no bet,

I me obeyed vnto his bidding

So as the law me bounde in allé thing;
And as I coudé, with a palé chere 2
My tale I gan anone, as ye shall here.

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By diligence of the kyng Amphion

Chief causé first, of his 3 foundación

For which his fame, which neuer shal away,
In honour floureth yet unto this day,
And in storie remembred is and praised.
But how the walles were on height i-raised
It is wonder and marueile for to here.
But if you list I shall you platly lere
The maner wholé, platly in sentence
Under support of your pacience,

As write myne aucthor, and Bochas bothe two,
Redé her bookes, and ye shall finde it so:
How that this kyng, this prudent Amphion,
With his swetenesse, and melodious soun

Withouten craft of any mannés hande,
Full yore ago, middest of Grekes lande.
Whiche is a thyng of the poetés told,
Neuer i-sein neither of yong nor old.
But as Bochas listé to specifie,
Clere expounyng this darké Poesie,
Sith Mercurïé, God of eloquence,
Gave by the might of heauenly influence
Unto this kyng, at his natiuite,
Through glad aspectés, that he shouldé be
Most excellent by craft of Rhetorike,
That in this worlde was noné to hym like;
Whiche singnifieth to hem that ben prudent
The musicall the lustie instrument,
I meane the Harpé, moste melodious
Yové to this kyng by Mercurius

And his song, this aucthour can you teache,
Was nothyng but the craftiness of speache
Used by this kyng, i-called Amphion,
Whereby he made the countrees enuiron
To haué soche luste in his wordés swete
That were so pleasaunt, fauourable and mete
In her earés, that shortly there was none
Disobeïsant with the kyng to gone
Where so euer that hym listé to assigne.
His chere, his porte, was eké so benigne
That through his steryng and exhortacion
With hym thei went, first to buildé this toun
And forsoke, eché man his own countree
By one assent, to maké this citee
Royall and riché, that i-liche was none.
And thus the wallés, made of lime and stone,
Were reised first by singyng of this kyng,
Liche as Poetés feine in her writing,
Passyngé riche and roiall of entaile.
Here maie ye see, how moché maie auaile

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60

The goodlihede and the lowlinesse of a kyng,

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And specially in chere and in speakyng
To his liéges, and to bearen hym faire
In his apporte and shewe hym debonaire,
And not to been too strangé ne solein
In contenaunce outwardé be disdein,
Whiche causeth ofté, who that can aduerte,
Greaté hatred in the peoples harte.
And there upon they priuely woll rowne?
When as a Princé doeth upon hem frowne
Shortly demen for all his excellence,
Among hem selven out of his presénce,

Euerich concludé lich his fantasie,

And thus full ofté gendred is enuie

In folkés hartes, of soleinté and pride
For soche as list not ones to looke a side
To regarden hem when thei lowé loute.
And again kinde it is, out of all doubte,
That any hede, by recorde of the wise,

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Shouldé the foote, out of disdain, despise,

The citee built, that whilom was so strong; And armonié, of his sweté song

By vertue onely of the werlbles sharpe

As his piller, and as his suppoaile.

For finally, ne weré the pooraile
Her bearer vp and supportacion,

Farewell Lordship and dominacion

Throughout the lande, of every high estate. Wherefore, me semeth, more is fortunate

1 Fortess, breviary. French "porte-hors;" Latin "portiforium,"

because carried about out of doors, as here.

2 Chere, face.

3 His for "its," which was not used until the reign of James I.

• Support, the "rt" distinctly sounded.

Of Mercurie the swoté sugred Harpe
Then Mars sweard whetted kene and sharpe;
More accepted, with his aspectés good,
Then is this war god with his lookés wood.
What the goodlihed of a prince auaileth
to winne the hartes of his people.
For humble speaché, with glad contenance
Maie a Prince more sothély auance
Emong his people, hartes for to winne
Of inward loué, whiché will not twinne,
Then golde, richessé, pride or tyrannie,
Other disdaine, daungér or surquedie.
For of Lordés, these clerkés can reporte
But that loué her crouné doe supporte
The fine is ill, and in conclusion
I také recorde, of kyng Amphion

Example good of kyng Amphion

That builté Thebés by his eloquence
More then of pride or of violence;
Noble and riche that like was no wher none;
And thus the wallés, made of lime and stone,
Were reised first by singyng of this kyng
Like as Poetés feinen in her writýng.

How after thopinion of some aucthours, king
Cadmus builte first the citee of Thebes.

But sothély yet, some expositours
Groundyng hem selven upon old aucthours
Sain that Cadmus, the famous oldé man,
Full long afore, the citee first began

And all the grounde of buildyng he first sette
And all the boundés by compas out mette
With thongés out kerue of a bollés side
Whiche he enuiron stretchen mighté wide
To get in lande of a full largé space
Where vpon to builde a dwellyng place.

How the countree of Boece, took first his
name of a Bulles skinne, and after called
Thebes, And how king Cadmus was exiled
out of Thebes, by prowesse of kynge
Amphion.

And calléd was the soile thus getten in
Whilom Boécé, of the Bulles skin,

For shortly he fro thennés was exiled
Neuer after for to dwell in the toun
By the knighthodé of this Amphion,
Whiche he performeth, raising for the nones
The citee Thebes, of mightie square stones
As I you told, a lité here toforne.
And Cadmus thus his kingdome hath lorne
Sceptre and croune, and his powér roiall.
Now haue I tolde unto you ground of all,
That ye well knowe by informacion
Clerely the pith, and thexpoxicion
Of this matter, as clerkés can you tell.
It weré but vain, lenger for to dwell,
I will not tary you on this mattere
Sith my talé, whiché that ye shall here
Upon our waie, will laste a longé while
The space in soth, I suppose, of vii. mile.
And now ye knowé, first how Amphion
Builte and began this citee and this toun,
Reignyng there long after as I rede.

In the original introduction to this new version of "The Governail of Princes," Occleve says that, sleepless with trouble, he got up and walked into the fields, where, thinking of the insecurity of wealth and of the heaviness bred by poverty, of which one can have a secure possession, he met a poor old hoary man, whose greeting, for sickly distress of thought, he did not answer. But the old man called to him, Sleepest thou, man? Awake!" and shook him till he answered at last with a sigh, bidding him go and not increase his grief. The old man bade him talk with him, if he wished ease of his sorrow. Was he lettered?-Yea, somewhat.-Blessed be God. Lettered folk could hear reason, and so "pluck up thine hert, I hope I shall thee cure."-Cure, good man? cure yourself that tremble as you go. You

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1 See "Shorter English Poems," pages 56-64.

are as full of clap as a mill. You annoy me more than you think. It must be a stronger man than you that shall relieve me.-But, my son, said the old man, it will not hurt you to listen.-Peter! good man, you may talk here till evening, but all is in vain, such is my pain of encumbrous thought.Take counsel and it will mend,

"Woe be to him that lust to be alone;

For if he fallé, helpé hath he none

To rise."

He must listen; and first let him tell his grievance. Is it the care of abundance, or the care of poverty, or is he a tormented lover? Say on. You see the beggar is relieved every day, because he shows himself; if he kept close and held his peace he might sit all the day helpless.

"Some man for lakke of occupacioún

Musethe ferther than his witte may streeche, And all thurghe the fendes instigacioún, Dampnable erroure holdethe, and kan not lesche For counseillé ne rede; as did a wrecche Not long agoo, which that for heresye Convict and brent was unto asshen drye.

My lord the pryncé, God him save and blesse !
Was at his dedely castigacioún,
And of his soule hade greté tendirenesse,
Thurstyng soré his salvacioún."

The

That is to say, when John Badby, blacksmith or tailor, was brought to the stake, and a barrel was prepared in which to burn him, Henry, then Prince of Wales, spoke to him kindly, and urged recantation; Badby remaining firm, was put into the barrel, and the burning fuel was heaped round it. prince, moved by his cries of agony, caused the fuel to be cleared from around him, and again, when he was half dead, spoke to him, offering to procure pardon and even a pension. Badby remained firm; the prince with some anger ordered the fuel to be heaped round him again, and he was burned to ashes as a hopeless heretic.

After having given six stanzas to the burning of John Badby, Occleve makes his old man, in a seventh stanza, say that it is for divines to inquire what has become of the heretic's soul-he knows not,

"But woldé God the Cristés foes ech one That as he heldé were yservéd so, For I am sure there ben many mo."

When the old man has preached more upon the sin of heresy, Occleve answers that this is not his trouble; he believes in the sacrament of the altar, and in spite of the fiend in all the articles of faith. That rejoices the old man. And now let him not be despised for his weed: great virtue reigneth oft under an old poor habit. Rich dress is fit for worthy men, but it is ill with men who, if they pay for it, spend all they have upon a gown of scarlet twelve yards wide, with pendant sleeves down on the ground, and the fur set therein worth twenty

pounds or more. There is no telling from afar, by their dress, a lord from a commoner. "O! lordes, it sitte yow amendé this." By my life there goes no less than a yard of broadcloth into a man's tippet. Let every lord forbid his men such great array. What is a lord without his attendance?

"I putté caas his foés hym assaile Sodeinly in the strete, what helpe shalle he Whos slevés encombroús so sidé trayle Do to his lord? He may him not availe. In such a caas he is but a womman,

He may not stonde hym in stede of a man.

His armés two han nigh ynougye to done,

And somewhat more, his slevés up to holde." The tailors soon will have to go into the fields to shape, and spread, and fold, their boards will be too narrow for the cloth that shall be worked into a gown; the skinner, too, will have to go into the fields, his house in London being too small for his trade. There is more from the old man on this head. "In olde time" things were not so. Duke John of Lancaster had not his garments too wide, and yet they became him wonderfully well. If there were now less waste in clothes, virtues would walk more thick among the people.

"Now have thise lordes but litelle nede of bromes
To sweepe away the filthe out of the strete,

Setthé side slevés of penýlees groomes

Wole it up likké, be it drye or wete."

But, said

Truth and cleanness in lords' courts have little honour if they come in narrow clothes. the old man, though my clothes are narrow, good son, have of me no disdain. Then he turned from his poverty to his age, and moralised at length upon age and youth; painting the riot of youth, not without living touches that illustrate customs of the time. The poet answered that he did not contemn his poverty or age, but he did not think him able to ease his vexed mind. Already, however, he had been eased and comforted by his wise counsel, and he would seek further relief of him. Tell me, said the old man,-but first, where dwellest thou?

"In the office of the privé-seel I wone.
To writé there is my custùme and wone,
Unto the seel, and havé twenty yere
And fouré come Estrèn, and that is nere."

The king, then he went on to tell, was gracious enough to him, and had given him an annuity for life of twenty marks. If that were paid, it would stand well enough with him;

"But paiément is harde to gete now adayes,
And that me putte in many foule affrayes."

If he cannot be sure of his annuity, how shall he be able to live when he serves no longer? If now in his green age, and being in court, he hardly, with great pains, obtains payment, when he is old and

A mark was 138, 4d.