ENGLISH POETS,

AND

GEMS OF POETRY.

13

GEOFFREY CHAUCER.

My maister CHAUCER, with his fresh Comedies

Is dead, alas! chief Poet of Britaine,
That whilom made full piteous Tragedies:
The fall of Princes he did also 'plaine,
As he that was of rhyming sovereign

Whom all this land should of good right prefer,
Since of our Language he was the Load-star.

But welaway! so is mine hearte woe

That the honour of English tongue is dead,
Of whom I counsel had, and help in need.

O, Master deare! and father reverent,

My master CHAUCER, flower of eloquence!
Mirror of fruitful wisdom and intent,

O, universal father in science,

Alas! that thou thine excellent prudence,

In thy bed mortal, mightest not bequeath!

JOHN LYDGATE,

What ailed Death ?-Alas! why take thy breath?

Courageous Cambel and stout Triamond

With Canance and Cambine link'd in lovely bond.

XXXI.

WHILOM as antique stories tellen us,

Those two were foes the fellonest on ground,

And battle made, the dreadest dangerous,

That ever shrilling trumpet did resound:

Though now their acts be nowhere to be found,
As that renowned poet them compiled
With warlike numbers, and heroick sound,
Dan CHAUCER (well of English undefiled)
On fame's eternal bead-roll worthy to be filed.

OCCLEVE.

XXXII.

But wicked Time, that all good thoughts doth waste
And works of noblest wits to nought out-wear,
That famous Monument hath quite defaced
And robbed the world of treasure endless dear,
He which might have enriched all us here.

O cursed Eld! the canker-worm of wits;

How may these rhymes (so rude as doth appear)
Hope to endure, sith works of heavenly wits

Are quite devour'd, and brought to nought by little bits.

XXXIII.

Then pardon, O most sacred happy spirit,

That I thy labors lost may thus revive,

And steal from thee, the meed of thy due merit,
That none durst ever while thou was't alive;

And being, dead, in vain yet many strive:

Ne dare I like, but through infusion sweet

Of thine own spirit (which doth in me survive)
I follow here the footing of thy feet,

That with thy meaning so I may the rather meet,

FAIRY QUEEN.-L. 4. Canto 2.

Old CHAUCER, like the morning star,

To us discovers day from far,

His light those mists and clouds dissolved,
Which our dark nation long involv'd;

But he descending to the shades,

Darkness again the age invades,

Next (like Aurora) Spenser rose

Whose purple blush the day foreshows.

DENHAM.

The greatest personage of the fourteenth century, whose name, by the force of his genius, is raised above kings, and transmitted to posterity, is Geoffrey Chaucer, who is hailed as the morning star of English Poetry. The estimation in which he was held attests the influence which he exerted upon his age; he stamped his own image upon it, and time has not effaced the impress which he gave to it.