without confusion; and the object of their journey gives a fortuitous air to the grouping of individuals, who collectively represent the age and state of society in which they live. It may be added, that if any age or state of society be more favourable than another to the uses of the poet, that in which Chaucer lived must have been peculiarly picturesque ;- -an age in which the differences of rank and profession were so strongly distinguished, and in which the broken masses of society gave out their deepest shadows and strongest colouring by the morning light of civilization. An unobtrusive but sufficient contrast is supported between the characters, as between the demure prioress and the genial wife of Bath, the rude and boisterous miller and the polished knight, &c. &c. Although the object of the journey is religious, it casts no gloom over the meeting; and we know that our Catholic ancestors are justly represented in a state of high good humour, on the road to such solemnities.

The sociality of the pilgrims is, on the whole, agreeably sustained; but in a journey of thirty persons, it would not have been adhering to probability to have made the harmony quite uninterrupted. Accordingly the bad humour which breaks out between the lean friar and the cherub-faced sompnour, while it accords with the hostility known to have subsisted between those two professions, gives a diverting zest to the satirical stories which the hypocrite and the libertine level at each other.

Chaucer's forte is description; much of his moral reflection is superfluous; none of his characteristic painting. His men and women are not mere ladies and gentlemen, like those who furnish apologies for Boccaccio's stories. They rise before us minutely traced, profusely varied, and strongly discriminated. Their features and casual manners seem to have an amusing congruity with their moral characters. He notices minute circumstances as if by chance ; but every touch has its effect to our conception so distinctly, that we seem to live and travel with his personages throughout the journey.

What an intimate scene of English life in the fourteenth century do we enjoy in those tales, beyond what history displays by glimpses, through the stormy atmosphere of her scenes, or the antiquarian can discover by the cold light of his researches ! Our ancestors are restored to us, not as phantoms from the field of battle, or the scaffold, but in the full enjoyment of their social existence. After four hundred years have closed over the mirthful features which formed the living originals of the poet's descriptions, his pages impress the fancy with the momentary credence that they are still alive; as if Time had rebuilt his ruins, and were reacting the lost scenes of existence.

THE PROLOGUE

TO THE

CANTERBURY TALES.

WHANNE that April with his shourès sote1
The droughte of March hath perced to the rote2,
And bathed every veine in swiche3 licour,
Of whiche vertùe engendred is the flour;
Whan Zephirus eke with his sotè brethe
Enspired hath in every holt and hethe
The tendre croppès, and the yongè sonne
Hath in the Ram his halfè cours yronne*,
And smalè foulès maken melodie,
That slepen alle night with open eye,
So priketh hem 5 nature in hir corages";
Than longen folk to gon on pilgrimages,
And palmeres for to seken strangè strondes,
To serve halweys9 couthe 10 in sondry londes ;

5 Them. 6 Their. Holidays. 10 Known.

1 Sweet. 2 Root. 7 Inclination.

3 Such. 8 To keep.

4 Run.

9

And specially, from every shirès ende

Of Englelond, to Canterbury they wende',
The holy blisful martyr for to seke,

That hem hath holpen, whan that they were seke
Befelle, that, in that seson on a day,

In Southwerk at the Tabard as I lay,
Redy to wenden on my pilgrimage
To Canterbury with devoute coràge,
At night was come into that hostelrie
Wel nine and twenty in a compagnie
Of sondry folk, by aventure yfalle3
In felawship, and pilgrimes were they alle,
That toward Canterbury wolden* ride.
The chambres and the stables weren wide,
And wel we weren esed attè beste.

And shortly, whan the sonne was gon to reste,
So hadde I spoken with hem everich on3,
That I was of hir felawship anon,

And made forword erly for to rise,

To take oure way ther as I you devise.

But natheles, while I have time and space,
Or that I forther in this talè pace,
Me thinketh it accordant to resòn,
To tellen you alle the condition
Of eche of hem, so as it semed me,

And whiche they weren, and of what degre;
And eke in what araie that they were inne :
And at a knight than wol I firste beginne.

1 Go.

2 Sick. 3 Fallen. 4 Would. 5 Every one.

A KNIGHT ther was, and that a worthy man,
That fro the timè that he firste began
To riden out, he loved Chevalrie,
Trouthe and honòur, fredom and curtesie.
Ful worthy was he in his lordès werre',
And therto hadde he ridden, no man ferre 2,
As wel in Cristendom as in Hethenesse,
And ever honoured for his worthinesse.

At Alisandre he was whan it was wonne.
Ful often time he hadde the bord3 begonne⭑
Aboven allè nations in Pruce.

5

In Lettowe hadde he reysed and in Ruce,
No cristen man so ofte of his degre.

In Gernade at the siege eke hadde he be
Of Algesir, and ridden in Belmarie.

At Leyès was he, and at Satalie,

Whan they were wonne; and in the Gretè see
At many a noble armee hadde he be.
At mortal batailles hadde he ben fiftene,
And foughten for our faith at Tramissène
In listès thries, and ay slain his fo.
This ilkè worthy knight hadde ben alsò
Sometime with the Lord of Palatie,

Agen another hethen in Turkie :

And evermore he hadde a sovereine pris.

And though that he was worthy he was wise,

And of his port as meke as is a mayde.

He never yet no vilanie ne sayde

34 Been placed at the head of the table. 5 Travelled. Praise.