Thus marching to the trumpet's lofty sound,
Drawn in two lines adverse they wheel'd around,
And in the middle meadow took their ground.
Among themselves the turney they divide,
In equal squadrons rang'd on either side.
Then turn'd their horses' heads, and man to
man,

And steed to steed oppos'd, the justs began.
They lightly set their lances in the rest,
And, at the sign, against each other press'd:
They met. I sitting at my ease beheld
The mix'd events, and fortunes of the field.
Some broke their spears, some tumbled horse
and man,

And round the field the lighten'd coursers ran.
An hour and more, like tides, in equal sway
They rush'd, and won by turns, and lost the day:
At length the nine (who still together held)
Their fainting foes to shameful flight compell'd,
And with resistless force o'erran the field.
Thus, to their fame, when finish'd was the fight,
The victors from their lofty steeds alight:
Like them dismounted all the warlike train,
And two by two proceeded o'er the plain :
Till to the fair assembly they advanc'd,
Who near the secret arbour sung and danc'd.
The ladies left their measures at the sight,
To meet the chiefs returning from the fight,
And each with open arms embrac'd her chosen
knight.

Amid the plain a spreading laurel stood,
The grace and ornament of all the wood:
That pleasing shade they sought, a soft retreat
From sudden April showers, a shelter from the
heat:

Her leafy arms with such extent were spread,
So near the clouds was her aspiring head,
That hosts of birds, that wing the liquid air,
Perch'd in the boughs, had nightly lodging there:
And flocks of sheep beneath the shade from far
Might hear the rattling hail, and wintry war;
From heaven's inclemency here found retreat,
Enjoy'd the cool, and shunn'd the scorching
heat:

A hundred knights might there at ease abide ;
And every knight a lady by his side:
The trunk itself such odours did bequeath,
That a Moluccan breeze to these was common
breath.

The lords and ladies here approaching, paid
Their homage, with a low obeisance made;
And seem'd to venerate the sacred shade.
These rites perform'd, their pleasures they

pursue,

With songs of love, and mix with measures

new;

Around the holy tree their dance they frame, And every champion leads his chosen dame.

I cast my sight upon the farther field, And a fresh object of delight beheld: For from the region of the West I heard New music sound, and a new troop appear'd; Of knights and ladies mix'd, a jolly band, But all on foot they march'd, and hand in hand,

The ladies dress'd in rich symars were seen
Of Florence satin, flower'd with white and green,
And for a shade betwixt the bloomy gridelin.
The borders of their petticoats below
Were guarded thick with rubies on a row;
And every damsel wore upon her head
Of flowers a garland blended white and red.
Attir'd in mantles all the knights were seen,
That gratified the view with cheerful green:
Their chaplets of their ladies' colours were,
Compos'd of white and red, to shade their shin-
ing hair.

Before the merry troop the minstrels play'd;
All in their masters' liveries were array'd,
And clad in green, and on their temples wore
The chaplets white and red their ladies bore.
Their instruments were various in their kind,
Some for the bow, and some for breathing wind
The sawtry, pipe, and hautboy's noisy band,
And the soft lute trembling beneath the touching
hand.

A tuft of daises on a flowery lay

They saw, and thitherward they bent their way To this both knights and dames their homage made,

And due obeisance to the daisy paid.
And then the band of flutes began to play,
To which a lady sung a virelay :
And still at every close she would repeat
The burden of the song, The daisy is so sweet
The daisy is so sweet, when she begun,
The troop of knights and dames continu'd on,
The consort and the voice so charm'd my ear,
And sooth'd my soul, that it was heaven to hear

But soon their pleasure pass'd: at noon of day The sun with sultry beams began to play : Not Sirius shoots a fiercer flame from high, When with his poisonous breath he blasts the sky: [fled,)

Then droop'd the fading flow'rs, (their beauty
And clos'd their sickly eyes, and hung the head
And rivell'd up with heat,lay dying in their bed.
The ladies gasp'd, and scarcely could respire;
The breath they drew, no longer air, but fire;
The fainty knights were scorch'd; and knew
not where

To run for shelter, for no shade was near;
And after this the gathering clouds amain
Pour'd down a storm of rattling hail and rain:
And lightning flash'd betwixt: the field and
flowers,

Burnt up before, were buried in the showers.

The ladies and the knights, no shelter nigh,
Bare to the weather and the wintry sky,
Were dropping wet, disconsolate, and wan,
And through their thin array receiv'd the rain;
While those in white, protected by the tree,
Saw pass in vain the assault, and stood from
danger free,

But as compassion mov'd their gentle minds, When ceas'd the storm, and silent were the winds,

Displeas'd at what, not suffering, they had seen,
They went to cheer the faction of the green:
The queen in white array, before her band,
Saluting, took her rival by the hand; [grace,
So did the knights and dames, with courtly
And with behaviour sweet their foes embraced.
Then thus the queen with laurel on her brow,
Fair sister, I have suffer'd in your wo;
Nor shall be wanting aught within my power
For your relief in my refreshing bower.
That other answer'd with a lowly look,
And soon the gracious invitation took;
For ill at ease both she and all her train
The scorching sun had borne, and beating rain.
Like courtesy was us'd by all in white, [knight.
Each dame a dame receiv'd, and every knight a
The laurel champions with their swords invade
The neighbouring forests, where the justs were
made,

And serewood from the rotten hedges took,
And seeds of latent fire from flints provoke:
A cheerful blaze arose, and by the fire
They warm'd their frozen feet, and dried their
wet attire.

Refresh'd with heat, the ladies sought around
For virtuous herbs, which, gather'd from the
ground,
[made,

They squeez'd the juice, and cooling ointment Which on their sun-burnt cheeks, and their chapt skins they laid : [them eat, Then sought green salads, which they bade A sovereign remedy for inward heat.

The lady of the Leaf ordain'd a feast, And made the lady of the Flower her guest; When lo, a bower ascended on the plain, With sudden seats ordain'd, and large for either train.

This bower was near my pleasant arbour plac'd,
That I could hear and see whatever pass'd:
The ladies sat with each a knight between,
Distinguish'd by their colours, white and green;
The vanquish'd party with the victors join'd,
Nor wanted sweet discourse, the banquet of the
mind.

Mean time the minstrels play'd on either side,
Vain of their art, and for the mastery vied:
The sweet contention lasted for an hour,
And reach'd my secret arbour from the bower.

The sun was set; and Vesper, to supply His absent beams, had lighted up the sky. When Philomel, officious all the day To sing the service of the ensuing May, Fled from her laurel shade, and wing'd her flight Directly to the queen array'd in white : And hopping sat familiar on her hand, A new musician, and increas'd the band.

The goldfinch, who, to shun the scalding heat, Had chang'd the mediar for a safer seat, And hid in bushes 'scap'd the bitter shower, Now perch'd upon the lady of the Flower; And either songster holding out their throats, And folding up their wings,renew'd their notes, As if all day, preluding to the fight, They only had rehears'd, to sing by night. The banquet ended, and the battle done, They danc'd by starlight and the friendly moon: And when they were to part, the laureat queen Supplied with steeds the lady of the green, Her and her train conducting on the way, The moon to follow, and avoid the day.

This when I saw, inquisitive to know The secret moral of the mystic show, I started from my shade, in hopes to find Some nymph to satisfy my longing mind: And as my fair adventure fell, I found A lady all in white, with laurel crown'd, Who clos'd the rear, and softly pac'd along. Repeating to herself the former song. With due respect my body inclin'd, As to some being of superior kind, And made my court according to the day, Wishing her queen and her a happy May. Great thanks, my daughter, with a gracious bow, She said; and I, who much desired to know Of whence she was, yet fearful how to break My mind, adventur'd humbly thus to speak: Madam, might I presume, and not offend, So may the stars and shining moon attend Your nightly sports, as you vouchsafe to tell, What nymphs they were who mortal forms excel, [so well.

And what the knights who fought in listed fields To this the dame replied: Fair daughter, know,

That what you saw was all a fairy show:
And all those airy shapes you now behold
Were human bodies once, and cloth'd with
earthly mould,

Our souls, not yet prepar'd for upper light,
Till doomsday wander in the shades of night;
This only holyday of all the year,
We privileg'd in sunshine may appear:
With songs and dance we celebrate the day,
And with due honours usher in the May.
At other times we reign by night alone,
And posting through the skies pursue

the moon:

But when the moon arises, none are found;
For cruel Demogorgon walks the round,
And if he finds a fairy lag in light, [night.
He drives the wretch before, and lashes into
All courteous are by kind; and ever proud
With friendly offices to help the good.
In every land we have a larger space
Than what is known to you of mortal race:
Where we with green adorn our fairy bowers,
And e'en this grove, unseen before, is ours.
Know farther; every lady cloth'd in white,
And, crown'd with oak and laurel every knight,
Are servants to the leaf, by liveries known
Of innocence; and I myself am one.
Saw you not her so graceful to behold
In white attire, and crown'd with radiant gold?
The sovereign lady of our land is she,
Diana call'd, the queen of chastity:
And, for the spotless name of maid she bears,
That agnus castus in her hand appears:
And all her train, with leafy chaplets crown'd,
Were for unblam'd virginity renown'd;
But those the chief and highest in command
Who bear those holy branches in their hand :
The knights adorn'd with laurel crowns are
they

Whom death nor danger ever could dismay,

Victorious names, who made the world obey; Who, while they liv'd, in deeds of arms excell'd, And after death for deities were held.

But those who wear the woodbine on their brow Were knights of love, who never broke their vow;

Firm to their plighted faith, and ever free From fears, and fickle chance, and jealousy. The lords and ladies, who the woodbine bear As true as Tristam and Isotta were.

But where are those, said I, the unconquer'd nine,

Who crown'd with laurel-wreaths in golden armour shine?

And who the knights in green, and what the train
Of ladies dress'd with daisies on the plain?
Why both the bands in worship disagree,
And some adore the flower, and some the tree?
Just is your suit, fair daughter, said the dame:
Those laurell'd chiefs were men of mighty fame;
Nine worthies were they call'd of different rites,
Three Jews, three pagans, and three Christian
knights.

These, as you see, ride foremost in the field,
As they the foremost rank of honour held,
And all in deeds of chivalry excell'd: [renew
Their temples wreath'd with leaves, that still
For deathless laurel is the victor's due:
Who bear the bows were knights in Arthur's
reign,
[maign:
Twelve they, and twelve the peers of Charle-
VOL. I-16

For bows the strength of brawny arms imply,
Emblems of valour, and of victory.
Behold an order yet of newer date,
Doubling their number, equal in their state;
Our England's ornament, the crown's defence,
In battle brave, protectors of their prince :
Unchang'd by fortune, to their soveregn true,
For which their manly legs are bound with blue.
These, of the Garter call'd, of faith unstain'd,
In fighting fields the laurel have obtain❜d,
And well repaid the honours which they gain'd.
The laurel wreaths were first by Cæsar worn,
And still they Caesar's successors adorn:
One leaf of this is immortality,
And more of worth than all the world can buy.

One doubt remains, said I, the dames in green, What were their qualities, and who their queen? Flora commands, said she, those nymphs and knights,

Who liv'd in slothful ease and loose delights;
Who never acts of honour durst pursue,
The men inglorious knights, the ladies all un-
true;

Who, nurs'd in idleness, and train'd in courts,
Pass'd all their precious hours in plays and

sports,

Till death behind came stalking on, unseen,
And wither'd (like the storm) the freshness of
their green.
[hour,

These, and their mates, enjoy their present
And therefore pay their homage to the Flower.
But knights in knightly deeds should persevere
And still continue what at first they were;
Continue, and proceed in honour's fair career.
No room for cowardice, or dull delay;
From good to better they should urge their way.
For this with golden spurs the chiefs are grac'd,
With pointed rowels arm'd to mend their haste.
For this with lasting leaves their brows are
bound;

For laurel is the sign of labour crown'd,
Which bears the bitter blast, nor shaken falls

to ground:

From winter winds it suffers no decay,
For ever fresh and fair,and every month is May.
E'en when the vital sap retreats below,
E'en when the hoary head is hid in snow
The life is in the leaf, and still between
The fits of falling snow appears the streaky
green.

Not so the flower, which lasts for little space
A short-liv'd good, and an uncertain grace;
This way and that the feeble stem is driven,
Weak to sustain the storms and injuries of
heaven.

Propp'd by the spring, it lifts aloft the head,
But of a sickly beauty, soon to shed;
In summer living, and in winter dead.

For things of tender kind, for pleasure made, Shoot up with swift increase, and sudden are decay'd.

With humble words, the wisest I could frame And proffer'd service, I repaid the dame; That, of her grace, she gave her maid to know The secret meaning of this moral show. And she, to prove what profit I had made Of mystic truth, in fables first convey'd, Demanded, till the next returning May, Whether the Leaf or Flower I would obey? I chose the Leaf; she smil'd with sober cheer, And wish'd me fair adventure for the year, And gave me charms and sigils, for defence Against ill tongues that scandal innocence: But I, said she, my fellows must pursue, Already past the plain, and out of view. We parted thus; I homeward sped my way, Bewilder'd in the wood till dawn of day: And met the merry crew who danc'd about the May.

Then late refresh'd with sleep, I rose to write The visionary vigils of the night.

Blush, as thou may'st, my little book, with shame,

Nor hope with homely verse to purchase fame; For such thy maker chose; and so design'd Thy simple style to suit thy lowly kind.

THE WIFE OF BATH, HER TALE.

IN days of old, when Arthur fill'd the throne,
Whose acts and fame to foreign lands were
The king of elfs and little fairy queen [blown:
Gamboll'd on heaths, and danc'd on every green;
And where the jolly troop had led the round,
The grass unbidden rose, and mark'd the ground:
Nor darkling did they dance, the silver light
Of Phoebe serv'd to guide their steps aright,
And with their tripping pleas'd, prolong the
night.

Her beams they follow'd where at full she play'd,

Nor longer than she shed her horns they staid, From thence with airy flight to foreign lands convey'd.

Above the rest our Britain held they dear, More solemnly they kept their sabbaths here, And made more spacious rings, and revell'd half

the year.

I speak of ancient times, for now the swain Returning late may pass the woods in vain, And never hope to see the nightly train: In vain the dairy now with mints is dress'd, The dairy maid expects no fairy guest, To skim the bowls, and after pay the feast.

She sighs, and shakes her empty shoes in vain,
No silver penny to reward her pain:
For priests with prayers, and other godly geer,
Have made the merry goblins disappear,
And where they play'd their merry pranks be-
fore,

Have sprinkled holy water on the floor:
And friars, that through the wealthy regions run,
Thick as the motes that twinkle in the sun,
Resort to farmers rich, and bless their halls,
And exorcise the beds, and cross the walls
This makes the fairy quires forsake the place,
When once 't is hallow'd with the rites of grace:
But in the walks where wicked elves have been,
The learning of the parish now is seen,
The midnight parson, posting o'er the green,.
With gown tuck'd up, to wakes, for Sunday

next,

With humming ale encouraging his text;
Nor wants the holy leer to country girl betwixt.
From fiends and imps he sets the village free
There haunts not any incubus but he.
The maids and women need no danger fear
To walk by night, and sanctity so near:
For by some haycock, or some shady thorn,
He bids his beads both evensong and morn.
It so befell in this king Arthur's reign,
A lusty knight was pricking o'er the plain;
A bachelor he was, and of the courtly train.
It happen'd as he rode, a damsel gay
In russet robes to market took her way:
Soon on the girl he cast an amorous eye,
So straight she walk'd, and on her pasterns high:
If seeing her behind he lik'd her pace,
Now turning short, he better likes her face.
He lights in haste, and, full of youthful fire,
By force accomplish'd his obscene desire :
This done, away he rode, not unespied,
For swarming at his back the country cried.
And once in view they never lost the sight,
But seiz'd, and pinion'd brought to court the
knight.

Then courts of kings were held in high

*But fair Geneura rose in his defence,

And pray'd so hard for mercy from the prince,
That to his queen the king the offender gave,
And left it in her power to kill or save,
This gracious act the ladies all approve,

love;

[still

And with their mistress join'd in close debate,
(Covering their kindness with dissembled hate;)
If not to free him, to prolong his fate.
At last agreed, they call'd him by consent
Before the queen and female parliament.
And the fair speaker rising from the chair,
Did thus the judgment of the house declare.
Sir knight, though I have ask'd thy life, yet
Thy destiny depends upon my will:
Nor hast thou other surety than the grace
Not due to thee from our offended race.
But as our kind is of a softer mould,
And cannot blood without a sigh behold,
I grant thee life; reserving still the power
To take the forfeit when I see my hour:
Unless thy answer to my next demand
Shall set thee free from our avenging hand.
The question, whose solution I require,
Is, What the sex of women most desire?
In this dispute thy judges are at strife;
Beware, for on thy wit depends thy life.
Yet (lest, surprised, unknowing what to say,
Thou damn thyself) we give thee farther day:
A year is thine to wander at thy will;
And learn from others, if thou want'st the skill.
But, not to hold our proffer'd turn in scorn,
Good sureties will we have for thy return,
That at the time prefix'd thou shalt obey,
And at thy pledge's peril keep thy day.

Wo was the knight at this severe command;
But well he knew 't was bootless to withstand:
The terms accepted, as the fair ordain,
He put in bail for his return again,
And promis'd answer at the day assign'd,
The best, with heaven's assistance, he could
find.

His leave thus taken, on his way he went, With heavy heart, and full of discontent, Misdoubting much, and fearful of the event. 'T was hard the truth of such a point to find, As was not yet agreed among the kind. Thus on he went; still anxious more and more, Ask'd all he met, and knock'd at every door; Inquir'd of men ; but made his chief request To learn from women what they lov'd the best. They answer'd each according to her mind To please herself, not all the female kind. One was for wealth, another was for place; Crones, old and ugly, wish'd a better face. The widow's wish was oftentimes to wed;

*

Will work e'en with the wisest of the kind.
One thought the sex's prime felicity
Was from the bonds of wedlock to be free:
Their pleasures, hours, and actions all their

tongue,

For womankind was never in the wrong.
So noise ensues, and quarrels last for life;
The wife abhors the fool, the fool the wife.
And some men say, that great delight have we,
To be for truth extoll'd, and secrecy :
And constant in one purpose still to dwell
And not our husbands' counsels to reveal.
But that's a fable: for our sex is frail,
Inventing rather than not tell a tale.
Like leaky sieves no secrets we can hold:
Witness the famous tale that Ovid told.

Midas the king, as in his book appears;
By Phoebus was endow'd with asses' ears,
Which under his long locks he well conceal'd
(As monarchs' vices must not be reveal'd,)
For fear the people have 'em in the wind,
Who long ago were neither dumb nor blind:
Nor apt to think from heaven their title
springs,

Since Jove and Mars left off begetting kings..
This Midas knew; and durst communicate.
To none but to his wife his ears of state:
One must be trusted, and he thought her fit
As passing prudent, and a parlous wit.
To this sagacious confessor he went,
And told her what a gift the gods had sent
But told it under matrimonial seal,
With strict injunction never to reveal.
The secret heard, she plighted him her troth,
(And sacred sure is every woman's oath,)
The royal malady should rest unknown,
Both for her husband's honour and her own,
But ne'ertheless she pin'd with discontent;
The counsel rumbled till it found a vent.
The thing she knew she was obliged to hide
By interest and by oath the wife was tied;
But, if she told it not, the woman died.