Of fees and robès had he many on.
So grete a pourchasour was nowher non.
All was fee simple to him in effect,
His pourchasing might not ben in suspecth.
Nowher so besy a man as he ther n'as,
And yet he semed besier than he was.
In termès hadde he casi and domès alle,
That fro the time of king Will, weren falle.
Therto he coude endite, and make a thing,
Ther coude no wight pinche et his writing.
And every statute coude he plaine by rote.
He rode but homely in a medleek cote',
Girt with a seint of silk, with barres" smale;
Of his array tell I no lenger tale.

A Frankelein was in this compagnie ;
White was his berd, as is the dayësie.
Of his complexïon he was sangùin.
Wel loved he by the morwe" a sop ie wina.
To liven in delit was ever his wone,
For he was Epicurès owen sone,
That held opinion, that plein delit
Was veraily felicitè parfitè.

An housholder, and that a grete was he;
Seint Julian' he was in his contrée.
His brede, his ale, was alway after on;
A better envyned' man was no wher non.
Withouten bake mete never was his hous,
Of fish and flesh, and that so plenteous,
It snewed' in his hous of mete and drinke,
Of alle deintees that men coud of thinke,
After the sondry sesons of the yere,
So changed he his mete and his soupère.
Ful many a fat partrich hadde he in mewe",
And many a breme, and many a luce in stewe.
Wo was his coke, but if his saucè were
Poinant and sharpe, and redy all his gere.
His table dormant in his halle alway
Stode redy covered alle the longè day.

At sessions ther was he lord and sire.
Ful often time he was knight of the shire.
An anelace and a gipcierex all of silk,
Hen at his girdel, white as morwè milk.
A shereve hadde he ben, and a countoùr2.
Was no wher swiche a worthy vavasour".
An Haberdasher, and a Carpenter,
A Webbe, a Deyer, and a Tapisere,
Were alle yclothed in o liverè,
Of a solempne and grete fraternitè.

Ful freshe and newe hire gere ypikid' was.
Hir knives were ychaped not with bras,
But all with silver wrought ful clene and wel,
Hir girdeles and hir pouches every dels.
Wel semed eche of hem a fayre burgeish,
To sitten in a gild halle, on the deis'.
Everich, for the wisdom that he can,
Was shapelich for to ben an alderman.
For catel hadden they ynough and rent,
And eke hir wivès would it well assent:
And ellès certainly they were to blame.
It is ful fayre to ben yeleped madàme,
And for to gon to vigiles all before,
And have a mantel reallich1 yborem.

A Coke they hadden with hem for the nones', To boile the chikenes and the marie bones, And poudre marchant, tart and galingalep. Wel coulde he knowe a draught of London ale. He couldè roste, and sethe, and broile, and frie, Maken mortrewès, and wel bake a pie. But gret harm was it, as it thoughtè me, That on his shinne a mormal' haddè he. For blanc manger that made he with the best.

A Shipman was ther, woneds fer by West:
For ought I wote, he was of Dertèmouth.
He rode upon a rounciet, as he couthe,
All in a goune of falding to the knee.
A dagger hanging by a las" hadde hee
About his nekke under his arm adoun.
The hote sommer hadde made his hewe al broun.
And certainly he was a good felaw.

Ful many a draught of win he haddè draw
From Burdeux ward, while that the chapman slepe.
Of nicè conscience toke he no kepe.

If that he faught, and hadde the higher hand,
By water he sent hem home to every land.
But of his craft to reken well his tides,
His stremès and his strandès him besides,
His herberwe, his mone", and his lodemanage,
Ther was none swiche, from Hull unto Cartage.
Hardy he was, and wise, I undertake :
With many a tempest hadde his berd be shake.
He knew wel alle the havens, as they were,
Fro Gotland, to the Cape de finistere,
And every creke in Bretagne and in Spaine :
His barge ycleped was the Magdelaine.

With us ther was a Doctour of Phisike,
In all this world ne was ther non him like
To speke of phisike, and of surgerie :
For he was grounded in astronomie.
He kept his patient a ful gret del
In hourès by his magike naturel.

A trewè swinker, and a good was he,
Living in pees, and parfite charitee.
God loved he bestè with alle his herte
At allè timès, were it gain as smerte,
And than his neighèbour right as himselve.
He wolde thresh, and therto dike, and delve,
For Cristès sake, for every pourè wight,
Withouten hire, if it lay in his might.

His tithes paied he ful fayre and wel
Bothe of his propre swinke, and his catel.
In a tabard he rode upon a mere.

There was also a reve, and a millere,
A sompnour", and a pardonere also,
A manciple, and myself, ther ne'ere no mo.
The Miller was a stout carl for the nones,
Ful bigge he was of braun, and eke of bones;
That proved wel, for over all ther he came,
At wrastling he wold bere away the rams.
He was short shuldered brode, a thikke gnarre,
Ther n'as no dore, that he n'olde heve of barre,
Or breke it at a renning with his hede.
His berd as any sowe or fox was rede,
And therto brode, as though it were a spade.
Upon the cop right of his nose he hade
A wert, and theron stode a tufte of heres,
Rede as the bristles of a sowès eres.
His nose-thirlès blacke were and wide.
A swerd and bokeler bare he by his side.
His mouth as widè was as a forneis.
He was a jangler1, and a goliardeism,
And that was most of sinne, and harlotries.
Wel coude he stelen corne, and tollen thries.
And yet he had a thomb" of gold pardeo,
A white cote and a blew hode wered he.
A baggépipe wel coude he blowe and soune,
And therwithall he brought us out of toune.
A gentil Mancipler was ther of a temple,
Of which achatours mighten take ensemple
For to ben wise in bying of vitaille.
For whether that he paide, or toke by taille,
Algate he waited so in his achater,
That he was ay before in good estate.
Now is not that of God a ful fayre grace,
That swiche a lewèd mannès wit shal pace
The wisdom of an hepe of lered men?

Of maisters had he mo than thriès ten,
That were of lawe expert and curious:
Of which ther was a dosein in that hous,
Worthy to ben stewardes of rent and lond
Of any lord that is in Englelond,

To makn him live by his propre good,

In honour detteless, but if he were wood,
Or live as scarsly, as him list desire ;
And able for to helpen all a shire

In any cas that mighte fallen or happe :
And yet this manciple sette hir aller cappe1.
The Revè was a slendre colerike man,
His berd was shave as neighe as ever he can.
His here was by his erès round yshorne.
His top was docked like a preest beforne.
Ful longè were his leggès, and ful lene,
Ylike a staff, ther was no calf ysene.
Wel coude he kepe a garner and a binne:
Ther was non auditour coude on him winne.
Wel wiste he by the drought, and by the rain,
The yelding" of his seed, and of his grain.
His lordès shepe, his nete, and his deirie,
His swine, his hors, his store, and his pultrie,
Were holly in his reves governing,
And by his covenant yave he rekening,
Sin that his lord was twenty yere of age;
Ther coude no man bring him in arerage.
Ther n'as baillif, ne herde, ne other hine,
That he ne knew his sleight and his covine* :
They were adradde of him, as of the deth.
His wonning was ful fayre upon an heth,
With grene trees yshadewed was his place.
He coude better than his lord pourchace.
Ful ryche he was ystored privily.
His lord wel coude he plesen subtilly,
To yeve and lene him of his owen good,
And have a thank, and yet a cote and hood.
In youthe he lerned hadde a good mistere.
He was a wel good wright, a carpentere.
This reve sat upon a right good stot,
That was all pomelee grey, and highte Scot.
A long surcote of perse upon he hade,
And by his side he bare a rusty blade.
Of Norfolk was this reve, of which I tell,
Beside a toun, men clepen Baldeswell.
Tucked he was, as is a frere, aboute,
And ever he rode the hindrest of the route.

A Sompnour was ther with us in that place, That had a fire-red cherubinnes face, For sauseflemes he was, with eyen narwed. As hote he was, and likerous as a sparwe, With scalled browes blake, and pilled berd: Of his visage children were sore aferd. Ther n'as quicksilver, litarge, ne brimston, Boras, ceruse, ne oile of tartre non, Ne oinément that wolde clense or bite, That him might helpen of his whelkes white, Ne of the knobbes sitting on his chekes. Wel loved he garlike, onions, and lekes. And for to drinke strong win as rede as blood. Than wolde he speke, and crie as he were wood.

And whan that he wel dronken had the win,
Than wold he speken no word but Latin.
A fewè termès coude he, two or three,
That he had lerned out of som decree;
No wonder is, he herd it all the day.
And eke ye knowen wel, how that a jay
Can clepen watte, as wel as can the pope.
But who so wolde in other thing him grope,
Than hadde he spent all his philosophie,
Ay, Questio quid juris, wolde he crie.

He was a gentil harlot and a kind;
A better felaw shulde a man not find.
He wolde suffre for a quart of wine,
A good felàw to have his concubine
A twelve month, and excuse him at the full.
Ful prively a finch eke coude he pull.
And if he found owhere a good felàwe,
He wolde techen him to have non awe
In swiche a cas of the archedekenes curse;
But if a mannès soule were in his purse;
For in his purse he shulde ypunished be.
Purse is the archedekens helle, said he.
But wel I wote, he lied right in dede:
Of cursing ought eche gilty man him drede.
For curse wol sle right as assoiling saveth,
And also ware him of a significavit.

In danger hadde he at his owen gise
The yonge girles of the diocise,

And knew hir conseil, and was of hir redes.
A gerlond hadde he sette upon his hede,
As gret as it were for an alestakeh :
A bokeler hadde he made him of a cake.
With him ther rode a gentil Pardonerei
Of Rouncevalli, his frend and his compere,

The name harlot was anciently given to men as well as women, and without any bad signification. [When the word harlot,' says Gifford, became (like knave) a term of reproach, it was appropriated solely to males: in Jonson's days it was applied indiscriminately to both sexes; though without any determinate import; and it was not till long afterwards that it was restricted to females, and to the sense which it now bears. To derive harlot from Arlotte, the mistress of the Duke of Normandy, is ridi culous.' (BEN JONSON, vol. iii. p. 312.) The word harlott,' Jonson told Drummond, was taken from Arlotte, who was the mother of William the Conqueror; a Rogue from the Latine, Erro, by putting a G to it.' (ARCH. SCOT. vol. iv. p. 100.) This supposition of Jonson's has been discovered since Gifford wrote.]

That streit was comen from the court of Rome.
Ful loude he sang, Come hither, love, to me.
This sompnour bare to him a stiff burdounk,
Was never trompe of half so gret a soun.
This pardoner had here as yelwel as wax,
But smoth it heng, as doth a strike of flax :
By unces heng his lokkes that he hadde,
And therwith he his shulders overspradde.
Ful thinne it lay, by culpons" on and on,
But hode, for jolite, ne wered he non,
For it was trussed up in his wallet.
Him thought he rode al of the newè get,
Dishevele, sauf his cappe, he rode all bare.
Swiche glaring eyen hadde he, as an hare.
A vernicle hadde he sewed upon his cappe.
His wallet lay beforne him in his lappe,
Bret-ful of pardon come from Rome al hote.
A vois he hadde, as smale as hath a gote.
No berd hadde he, ne never non shulde have,
As smothe it was as it were newe shave;
I trowe he were a gelding or a mare.

But of his craft, fro Berwike unto Ware,
Ne was ther swiche an other pardonere.
For in his male he hadde a pilwebere,
Which, as he saide, was Our Ladies veil :
He saide, he hadde a gobbet of the seyls
Thatte seint Peter had, whan that he went
Upon the see, till Jesu Crist him hent'.
He had a crois of laton" ful of stones,
And in a glas he hadde pigges bones.
But with these relikes, whanne that he fond

A poure persone dwelling up on lond,
Upon a day he gat him more moneie
Than that the persone gat in monethes tweie.
And thus with fained flattering and japes",
He made the persone, and the peple, his apes".
But trewely to tellen atte last,

He was in chirche a noble ecclesiast.
Wel coude he rede a lesson or a storie,
But alderbest he sang an offertorie! :
For wel he wiste, whan that song was songe,
He muste preche, and wel afile his tonge,
To winne silver, as he right wel coude :
Therefore he sang the merrier and loude.

[Born about 1325,

LITTLE is known of Gower's personal history. "The proud tradition in the Marquis of Stafford's family," says Mr. Todds, "has been, and still is, that he was of Stitenham; and who would not consider the dignity of his genealogy augmented, by enrolling among its worthies the moral Gower?"

His effigies in the church of St. Mary Overies is often inaccurately described as having a garland of ivy and roses on the head. It is, in fact, a chaplet of roses, such as, Thynne says, was anciently worn by knights; a circumstance which is favourable to the suspicion, that has been suggested, of his having been of the rank of knighthood. If Thynne's assertion, respecting the time of the lawyers first entering the Temple, be correct, it will be difficult to reconcile it with the tradition of Gower's having been a student there in his youth.

By Chaucer's manner of addressing Gower, the latter appears to have been the elder. He was attached to Thomas of Woodstock, as Chaucer was to John of Gaunt. The two poets appear to have been at one time cordial friends, but ultimately to have quarrelled. Gower tells us himself that he was blind in his old age.

Died about 1409.]

From his will it appears that he was living in 1408. His bequests to several churches and hospitals, and his legacy to his wife of 1007., of all his valuable goods, and of the rents arising from his manors of Southwell in the county of Nottingham, and of Multon in the county of Suffolk, undeniably prove that he was rich.

One of his three great works, the Speculum Meditantis, a poem in French, is erroneously described by Mr. Godwin and others as treating of conjugal fidelity. In an account of its contents in a MS. in Trinity College, Cambridge, we are told that its principal subject is the repentance of a sinner. The Vox Clamantis, in Latin, relates to the insurrection of the commons, in the reign of Richard II. The Confessio Amantis, in English, is a dialogue between a lover and his confessor, who is a priest of Venus, and who explains, by apposite stories, and philosophical illustrations all the evil affections of the heart which impede, or counteract the progress and success of the tender passion.

His writings exhibit all the crude erudition and science of his age; a knowledge sufficient to have been the fuel of genius, if Gower had possessed its fire.

In a cronique thus I rede:

Aboute a king, as must nede,

Ther was of knyghtès and squiers
Gret route, and eke of officers:
Some of long time him hadden served,
And thoughten that they haue deserved,
Avancement, and gon withoute :
And some also ben of the route,
That comen but a while agon,
And they avanced were anon.

These olde men upon this thing,
So as they durst, ageyne the king
Among herself compleignen ofte :
But there is nothing said so softe,
That it ne comith out at laste :
The king it wiste, and als so faste,
As he which was of high prudence :

He shope therefore an evidence
Of hem that pleignen in the cas

To knowe in whose defalte it was:

And all within his owne entent,
That non ma wistè what it ment.
Anon he let two cofres make,
Of one semblance, and of one make,
So lich, that no lif thilke throwe.
That one may fro that other knowe :
They were into his chamber brought,
But no man wot why they be wrought,
And natheles the king hath bede
That they be set in privy stede,
As he that was of wisdom slil;
Whan he therto his time sih,
All privěly that none it wiste,
His ownè hondes that one chiste
Of fin gold, and of fin perie',
The which out of his tresorie
Was take, anon he fild full;

That other cofre of straw and mulls
With stones meynd he fild also:
Thus be they full bothè two.

• In Illustrations of Gower and Chaucer by the Rev. J. H. Todd. b Themselves.

d Like.

c Them.

e Saw. f Jewels, or precious stones. g Rubbish. h Mingled.