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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.

En la forest d'ennuieuse tristesse, Or me desplait qu'à présent je te voye, Un jour m'avint qu'à par moy chemi. L'homme esgaré qui ne scet où il va noye ;

Hélas ! dis-je, souveraine princesse, Je rencontray l'amoureuse déesse,

Mon fait sçavez ; pourquoy le vous diroye? Qui m'appella, demandant où j'aloye.

C'est par la mort qui fait à tous rudesse, Je respondy, que par Fortune estoye

Qui m'a tollu celle que tant amoye ; Mis en exil, en ce bois long-temps a ;

En qui estoit tout l'espoir que j'avoye ; Et qu'à bon droit appeller me povoit,

Qui me guidoit si bien, m'accompaigna L'homme esgaré qui ne scet où il va.

En son vivant; que point ne me trouvoye, En souriant par sa très-grant humblesse

L'homme esgaré qui ne scet où il va. My respondy: amy se je sçavoye

Aveugle suy, ne sçay où aller doye:
Pourquoy tu es mis en ceste destresse ; De mon baston afin que ne forvoye
A mon pouvoir voulentiers t'aideroye : Je vay tastant mon chemin çà et là :
Car ja pieca je mis ton cueur en voye, C'est grant pitié qu'il convient que je soye
De tout plaisir, ne sçay qui l'en osta : L'homme esgaré qui ne scet où il va.

(P. 230.)
One day it chanced that in the gloomy grove
Of sorrow, all alone my steps I bent;
Eo met I there the mother queen of love,
Who call’d me, asking whitherward I went.
Fortune, quoth I, in exile hath me sent
Within this wood long time to weep my woes:
Well mayst thou name a wight so sorely shent,
The wilder'd man that wots not where he goes.

She smiled, and answer'd in her lowliness :
Friend, if I knew why thou dost hither stray,
Thee would I gladly help in thy distress,
In the best manner that in sooth I may :
For erst I put thy heart in pleasure's way;
Nor aught I ken from whence thy grief arose.
It irketh me to see thee here to-day,
The wilder'd man that wots not where he goes.

Alas, quoth I, my sovran lady dear,
Thou knowst my hap: what need I tell it thee?
Death, that doth reave us of all treasures here,
Hath taken her who was a joy to me,
Who was my guide, and held my company,
In whom I did my only hope repose,
Long as she lived; not fated then to be
The wilder'd man that wots not where he goes.

I am a blind man now, fain to explore,
With staff outstretch'd this way and that before,
Feeling the path that none unto me shows.
Great pity 'tis I must be evermore
The wilder'd man that wots not where he goes.

Le temps a laissié son menteau
De vent de froidure et de pluye,
Et s'est vestu de broderye,
De soleil riant, cler et beau.

Il n'y a beste, ne oyseau,
Qui en son jargon ne chante et crye;
Le temps a laissé son menteau
De vent, de froidure et de pluye.

Riviere, fontaine et ruisseau
Portent en livrée jolie,
Gouttes d'argent d'orfévrerie ;
Chascun s'abille de nouveau,
Le temps a laissié son menteau.

(P. 257.)

The Time hath laid his mantle by
Of wind and rain and icy chill,
And dons a rich embroidery
Of sun-light pour’d on lake and hill.

No beast or bird in earth or sky
Whose voice doth not with gladness thrill,
For Time hath laid his mantle by
Of wind and rain and icy chill.

River and fountain, brook and rill,
Bespangled o'er with livery gay
Of silver droplets, wind their way:
So all their new apparel vie ;
The Time hath laid his mantle by.

En regardant ces belles fleurs,

Les oyseaulx deviennent danseurs Que le temps nouveau d'amours prie; Dessus mainte branche fleurie, Chascune d'elle s'ajolie

Et font joyeuse chanterie
Et farde de plaisants couleurs.

De contres, de chants et teneurs
Quant embasmées sont d'odeurs,

En regardant ces belles fleurs.

(P. 258.)
Qu'il n'est cueur qui ne rajeunie,
En regardant les belles fleurs
Que le temps nouveau d'amours prie.

In blinking at the bonny flowers,
When April them to love doth wooe,
And all shine brighter in the bowers,
And all are deck'd with colours new;
No heart there is but youth restores
Amid their breath of balmy dew,
In blinking at the bonny flowers,
When April them to love doth wooe.
The birds are dancing in their glee
Upon the twigs mid blosmy showers;
There sing they loud in their chauntrie
Counter and tenor merrily,

In blinking at the bonny flowers. The life of Charles, Duke of Or- gundy, Louis was assassinated by the leans, might furnish the materials for orders of the latter in the Rue Bara romance, or rather for several ro- bette at Paris, on the 23d of Novem

He was born on the 26th ber, 1407. A formal and feigned reof May, 1391. His father, Louis conciliation took place at Chartres in Duke of Orleans, the second son of a year or two after between the faCharles V. was married in 1389 to milies of the murderer and the murValentina, daughter of the Duke of dered; but Valentina died of grief at Milan. After the death of Charles, seeing the death of her husband unFrance was distracted by factions. revenged. A tissue of odious inThe minority of his son, Charles VI. triguesis entangled with these horrors. made it necessary that a regency The Duke of Burgundy was supposed should be appointed. His four un- to be partly instigated by jealousy of cles contended for this distinction. his wife to the commission of his The King had not been long of age, crime, for which there was the less when the frequent. fits of lunacy, to excuse as that very wife was the fawhich he was liable, again made vourite of the King, as he himself was him incapable of ruling except only the paramour of the Queen, the inat intervals. His brother Louis now famous Isabel. put in his claim to a share in the go- At the age of sixteen, Charles of vernment, and in the disputes which Orleans had married a daughter of ensued between him and two of the this King and Queen, of the same uncles, the Dukes of Berri and Bur. name with her mother, and widow of Richard II. of England. In three arms of the Duke carved in stone are years after (1409) his consort died. still to be seen.t From John, the Thus before the age of twenty, he second son of this Richard Waller, found himself not only an orphan but were descended the Wallers of Bea widower. A second marriage with consfield, of whom I conclude the Bonne, daughter of the Count of Ar- poet Edmund to have been one. magnac, involved him in new troubles. Before the eighth year of Henry VI. The Count had put himself at the as Hasted, in his History of Kent head of a faction opposed to the Duke informs us, the Duke had been comof Burgundy, and from him called the mitted to other custody; for it was Armagnacs. A short truce for a that year enacted in Parliament that while suspended these differences; the Duke of Orleans, the King's till the Count de Saint Pol, who was cousin, then in the keeping of Šir governor of Paris, determined on Thomas Chamberworth, Knight, driving out of the capital all those should be delivered to Sir John who were not in the interest of the Cornwall, Knight, to be by him Duke of Burgundy, and for that pur- safely kept. There is even some doubt pose united a band of 500 bravoes as to the time which his captivity in who were called the Cabochiens, from this country lasted; but the best acCaboche, a butcher, one of the prin- counts, I think, make it twenty-five cipal amongst them. In an evil years in all. During this time he hour, either Charles of Orleans or his acquired such a taste for our language father-in-law sought assistance from as to compose some verses in it. The the English.* The consequence of Abbé Sallier mentions his having this ill-advised measure was the bat- written only two short pieces in Entle of Agincourt, in which it so hap- glish; but in the manuscript of his pened that the Duke himself fell into poems in the British Museum I have the hands of the invaders; for the found three. They are as follows. King of France had, in the mean- I give them not as being particularly time, declared against the Duke of good, but because any verses written Burgundy, and Charles was there in our language by a foreigner at so fore now fighting on the side of the early a time, that is, very soon after King against those very enemies the death of Chaucer, may be regardwhom he had himself invited. In the ed as a curiosity. field of Agincourt he was found lying amongst a heap of slain with some

mances.

Go forth, my hert, with my lady:

Loke that ye spar no bysines signs of life in him, by a valiant sol

To serve her with such lolyness, dier of the name of Richard Waller,

That ye gette her oftyme prively who brought him to Henry V. Waller That she

kepe truly her promes. being desired by that monarch to take Go forth, &c. charge of his prisoner, on their return to England, confined him in his

I must, as a helis body, own mansion at Groombridge, near

Abyde alone in hevynes ;

And ye shal dwell with your mastris Tunbridge, in Kent. This misfortune

In plaisaunce glad and mery. did not come alone, for at the same

Go forth, &c. time he lost his second wife, Bonne of Armagnac. How long he remain- By helis body, I suppose is meant ed in Waller's custody is not known;

one deprived of health or happiness. but he had time enough to rebuild the The word occurs in Chaucer, but house that was assigned for his ha- with a difference in the spelling and bitation. His piety also led him to quantity. . contribute to the repairs of the neigh

A wight in torment and in drede bouring church of Speldhurst, over And healelcsse. the porch of which we are told by

Troilus and Crcseide, the historians of the county that the

Book v. fol. 180, Ed. 1602.

In the paper by the Abbé Sallier, inserted in the Memoires de l'Academie des Inscriptions, tom. xv. p. 795, are some curious particulars of an embassy by Jacques le Grant into England, sent by the Orleans or Armagnac party.

+ See Harris's History of Kent, vol. i. p. 292, and Hasted's History of Kent, vol. is

p. 131.

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My hertly love is in

your governās, John, the brave Count of Dunois, hy 'And ever shal whill that I live may. whom the English were expelled from I

pray to God I may see that day Normandy. That ye be knyt with trouthful alyans.

On the death of Filippo Maria Ye shal not fynd feyning or variaunce

Visconti, Duke of Milan, (in 14:47) As in my part; that wyl I truly say. Charles made an ineffectual attempt My hertly, &c.

to recover that inheritance in right of

his mother, who was sister to the Bewere, my trewe innocent hert,

Duke.
How ye hold with her aliauns,
That somtym with word of plesūns

At the accession of Louis XI. to Resceyved you under covert.

the crown of France, he was so morThynke how the stroke of love comsmert" tified by the dissimulation of that Without warnyng or deffiauns.

monarch, that he retired in disgust Bewere my, &c.

from the court. He died on the first And ye shall pryvely t or appert

of January, 1466, in his 75th year. See her by me in loves dauns,

Besides his poems, and the speech With her faire femenyn contenauns delivered in favour of the Duke of Ye shall never fro her astert.

Alençon, there are remaining some of Bewere my, &c.

his letters, addressed to the “ good From these strains, it would ap- cities of France, or to the king. pear as if the young widower had They are dated from Gergeau sur been smitten by some English lady, Loire, July 14, 1411, and are thus during his long abode amongst us. described by Juvenal des Ursins, Soon after his release, he married who refers to them in the History of Mary, Princess of Cleves, by whom Charles VI. “ Lettres longues et he had one son, Louis XII. of France, assez prolixes, et faites en bel et and two daughters, Mary, the wife of doux langage."$ Jean de Foix Vicomte de Narbonne, The writer of a memoir, prefixed and Joan, Abbess of Fontevrault. to his poems, adds that his tomb, He had another daughter by his first which was in a chapel of the Celeswife, who was also named Joan, and tines, at Paris, has escaped the ra, was married to the Duke of Alençon. vages of time and of the revolution, Among those who most joyfully wel- and is to be found in the depository comed his return to his native coun- of French monuments, in the Rue des try, was his illegitimate brother, Petits Augustins.

Query, for can smart, or comes smart, + Prive and apert is in Chaucer, Cant. T. 6696. In private and in public. Tyrwhitt's Glossary.

Astert. Chaucer Cant. T. 1597, 6550. To escape, Tyrwhitt's Glossary. S See the paper by the Abbé Sallier. Memoires de l'Academie des Inscriptions, t. xvii. Mars. 1742.

THE DOOMED MAN.

The only passenger besides my- larly melancholy expression of couns self on board the Susannah, was a tenance altogether unusual in a Miss Maria B-of Port Glas- sailor : he seemed to have been much gow, who, on the recent loss of her in foreign countries, and was the only parent, was going out to her best informed and most intelligent sister, the wife of a wealthy planter, seaman I ever happened to meet in Barbadoes. She was a good look- with in the merchant service. To ing girl, and enjoyed a great flow of the monotony and confinement of a animal spirits, which made her at voyage every thing affords an as times very amusing ; but, having greeable diversity. Miss Bbeen much spoiled with over in- whose musical attainments were of a dulgence, she was somewhat pettish very superior order, sang charmingly, and self-willed. Captain Gilkison, and accompanied herself on the (the master of the vessel,) was a guitar with great taste and sweetquiet, unobtrusive man, mild in his ness. The captain also played the manners and address, with a singu- tlute with more skill than is the wont of nautical people in general, so that ened ropes--the creaking at the with these resources, and the aid of doubling of the masts, and the yards books and conversation, we made at the slings, now warned us that the time pass pleasantly away, when another squall was coming. the weather would not admit of our The captain hastily stepped to the being on deck.

light and examined his time-piece; I On the eighteenth day after our glanced my eyes over it also, and ship had left the tail of the bank, and could distinguish that the hands had got into the warmer latitudes, pointed to one o'clock. I saw his it came to blow pretty fresh at nine lips slightly quiver, and heard him PM. with a long stretch of a swell mutter as he put it up-" The hour from the SW-I had gone to bed, is come now! I felt a chillness strike and had fallen into a sound sleep, to my heart at these words I when I was awakened about mid- thought our last hour was come night with the noise of feet traversing that the captain, conscious of the the deck, the violent beating with a vessel's inability to hold together handspike at the steerage hatchway, through the squall, had given us up and the rough voice of the boat- for lost. I fancied even that the swain turning out the middle watch violence of the ship’s motion had in with, “ All hands ho! tumble up, creased fearfully. My heart beat tumble up, ye Jubbers !" I imme- with a convulsive fluttering, as if I diately sprang out of bed, hurried on was in the act of flying, each time my clothes, and made the best of my the vessel, left by an exhausted wave, way up the companion-ladder, know- paused-rose straining and quivering there was something more than ing on the ridge of the succeeding usual to do when the whole crew one, and again with the rapidity of were called up at once. A good deal an arrow made a tremendous plunge of bustle prevailed on deck. It bad into the hollow beneath. I tried to turned out what sailors call a coarse, rush forward and learn the worst at dirty night, blowing very hard, and once, but my limbs refused to do dark and dismal all round, except their office. Í endeavoured to make when a flash of lightning shewed us myself heard, but my voice had for the billows boiling and tumbling.am saken me, and my tongue clave to bout us. The ship was labouring the roof of my mouth. I could not hard in a heavy sea-way, sending have moved had we been going to bows in over head and ears, and the bottom, and my only chance of washing the forecastle at every pitch. escape lying in my own exertions. The captain was standing a-breast The squall had now reached us in all of the binnacle, and through a speak- its wrath, and was hurrying us on ing trumpet was issuing his orders to with inconceivable velocity, when a take canvas off the foremast and flash of lightning, or rather a succesease the vessel by the head. I walked sion of flashes, like a sheet of fire, up to his side, and observed by the illumined the whole waste of waters binnacle-light that his countenance around us. The captain was now was much agitated. Aware of the standing within a few feet of me by dislike seamen have, in cases of peril, the gallery-railings, gazing intently to be interrogated and obstructed in to leeward; when all at once he their movements by passengers, I clasped his hands forcibly together, passed without accosting him; and, and with a groan of despair, and in to be as much as possible out of the a suppressed voice of agony, exmen's way, retreated to the hen- claimed, “ My God! there he is .coops at the stern, and, with con- again for the last time !” He residerable anxiety, observed his mo- mained a few seconds, as if regarding tions. More than half an hour something possessed of horrible inelapsed, but still he kept his station; terest, then struck his open palms occasionally walking a few paces to over his eyes, and wildly rushed and fro, then examining the compass, down the companion-way. In vain to give directions to the man at the I had followed the direction of his wheel, and now and then throwing a look, nothing met my sight but long glance over the lee-quarter. A shrill, lines of white waves, pursuing us whistling sound through the rigging with their deafening roar, and threat--the clattering of blocks and slack- ening every instant to break on

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